A Necklace of Souls

by R. L. Stedman

‘I didn’t want to worry her.’

  My normal sparring partners arrived, seemed relieved they weren’t to sacrifice themselves today, and arrayed themselves around the arena as audience. Some of Alden’s and Owein’s men came too. Wagers were passed — the odds seemed to be against me, which the Castle guards exploited, betting heavily. I had to win. While soldiers take personal damage philosophically, as being part of the job, damage to their purse is viewed most seriously.

  By mutual agreement we fought without weapons. With my brothers’ image of me as an annoying little girl, they found it hard to take me seriously. And they weren’t used to fighting without their lovely long lances or shiny armour. I had the advantage as soon as the sergeant dropped the handkerchief.

  The guardsmen roared their support.

  It was easy to sweep my brothers’ legs out from under them, dance under their guard and punch them in the face. Alden, all brash bluster, was the easiest to dispose of. Owein, with his steadier temperament, was harder, but he was so much slower than Will that it wasn’t long before I kicked up under his guard and twisted his arm so he landed on his face.

  ‘Enough!’ he groaned.

  ‘She’s formidable,’ said Alden quietly. He’d dragged himself off to the corner of the sanded arena. A grinning guardsman wiped his face with a damp towel.

  Owein twisted himself onto his back, and sat up with a groan. ‘How have you learnt this?’

  ‘I had a good teacher.’

  ‘I’d like to meet him,’ said Alden. ‘Truly, this is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  I narrowed my eyes.

  ‘Like you,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you. That speed.’

  ‘You should see Will,’ I said. ‘He’s twice as fast.’ The ache twisted in my heart.

  ‘That’s your teacher?’ asked Owein. ‘Where is he?’

  I shrugged. ‘Gone.’

  Owein looked at Alden, and something seemed to pass between them. They asked no more questions.

  The Firelight Festival occurred every three years at midsummer. When I was small I thought it was especially for my birthday. Alas, such was not the case; the Festival was much older than me. Originally, it had been an anniversary of battle, coupled with an opportunity for midsummer planning; a gathering of landowners, where they would plan next year’s harvests, decide which fields would grow which crops. This would allow the Kingdom to produce a variety of food while ensuring the pastures remained fertile. Or so my governesses had told me.

  Now, serious planning still occurred but mostly the Festival was a grand tourney, a celebration of summer and a week of dancing and general good cheer, when the borders of the Kingdom were opened to all manner of entertainers: mummers, jugglers, tightrope walkers. Despite the flattery of Owein and Alden, it wasn’t my birthday celebrations that everyone looked forward to — it was the grand fireworks show after the party.

  Rosa’s tower guards seemed to be the only ones in the Castle not aware of the Festival. ‘Don’t really pay it much attention, do we, Greg?’

  In their company I felt less the centre of attention and more an actor in a recurring play. Where had they come from, what was their history? Were they brothers? It was hard to tell them apart. They both had aggressively short hair and stubble on their chins. Both were tall and broad with deep voices.

  ‘Oh no, lady,’ they said, their voices identically horrified. ‘Not related at all.’

  ‘Well, how long have you been here?’ I asked.

  Reginald (or was it Gregor?) looked confused. ‘On the doorstep, do you mean, miss?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. Guardsmen.’

  ‘All our lives, miss.’

  Gregor, or Reginald, chimed in. ‘Started as boys, miss. Long time ago, that was.’

  ‘Aye. Before you were born, miss,’ the other man chuckled.

  ‘Do you live in the tower?’ I asked. ‘Because I’ve not seen you anywhere else in the Castle.’

  ‘Aye. Live in the tower, we do, miss.’

  ‘That’s different to the other guards,’ I said.

  ‘Aye,’ said Reginald, or Gregor. ‘Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? We serve the Guardian.’

  ‘So you won’t be going to the Festival?’

  A shake of the head. ‘Not unless the Guardian bids us.’

  ‘An’ she won’t,’ said the other. ‘Not our sort of thing, is it, Greg? All that noise, all them people.’

  ‘Aye. We likes it quiet,’ said Greg in a deep voice that reverberated off the thick stone walls.

  In the tower, Rosa was wearing the necklace. I hated seeing it on her, the bright gems that flashed in the sunlight, sparking rainbows around the room and dazzling my eyes. The great ruby rested on her heart and moved with her chest as she breathed roughly. Her voice wheezed in the quiet room.

  ‘Are you alright?’ I asked her.

  She seemed too short of breath to answer.

  ‘It’s getting to you, isn’t it?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Take it off then,’ I said harshly. I hoped for a miracle, a last-minute reprieve from my fate. But to do that, I needed her to be strong, for how could I live with my freedom if I doomed the Kingdom to be without a Guardian? Someone else could be trained, though, if I wasn’t here.

  She smiled. ‘There is no-one else, Dana. Only you and I have the power to manage this thing.’

  ‘Can you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you manage this thing?’

  ‘For a while,’ she whispered, rubbing her chest. ‘Don’t worry. You have some time.’

  But how long?

  Seated at his desk, Daddy stared out the window, as though searching for escape. Like me, he had no choice in what his life would be.

  He started when I entered. ‘Dana!’

  I smiled. ‘You were miles away.’

  ‘I was,’ he said, his expression rueful. He held out his hand. ‘How are you?’

  His fingers were dry, the skin cracking into black lines. ‘You’ve been digging again.’

  ‘I was born to be a farmer,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ve been out around the fiefs with Owein. Checking their crops.’

  ‘On a gelding?’

  He smiled. ‘A mare.’

  A standing joke of my brothers. Our father, the king, who never rode stallions.

  ‘You’ve been visiting the barons? What for?’

  ‘I wanted to check what the boys had been doing.’

  ‘You’re checking on Alden and Owein?’

  Daddy nodded. ‘Of course. My father checked on me, and I check on my sons.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘My father? He was very different from me. He thought I would be quite unsuitable for the role.’

  ‘But you’re a good king,’ I said, surprised.

  He smiled. ‘Thank you. That’s kind of you, considering.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, ‘for my temper.’

  ‘Oh my dear,’ he said gently, ‘that’s quite alright.’

  We both turned when we heard the footsteps on the stone staircase. ‘That’s Alden now,’ Daddy said.

  Another set of feet, slower and heavier. ‘And that’ll be Owein. I’ve always been able to tell their steps apart, even when they were small.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ I asked. On impulse I’d come up through the gallery, the unguarded entrance, to see him. I wished I’d gone another way; the painted faces of the Guardians reminded me of Rosa, with her pale face and stringy hair and that damned circlet around her neck.

  ‘Actually,’ he sounded surprised that he’d not thought of it earlier, ‘it might be useful to have the Guardian here.’

  ‘I’m not the Guardian,’ I snapped and turned to go, but Alden was at the door and blocked my way.

  ‘Careful, Father,’ he smiled but his eyes were wary. ‘She’ll draw a knife on you.’

  ‘You’re just a sore loser,’ I said.

  He rubbed his bruis
ed cheek meaningfully and smiled again.

  ‘Sore being the right word,’ added Owein. ‘Hello, Father.’ Holding his back, he staggered into the room and collapsed in a chair.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Daddy mildly. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘She did.’ Owein nodded at me.

  ‘She happened to both of us,’ said Alden, sprawled in the other chair.

  ‘Is no-one going to offer me a seat?’ I said.

  Alden waved at the door. ‘My dear sister, after yesterday I think of you as a man. Go find your own chair. I am too bruised to move.’

  ‘Take mine, Dana,’ said Daddy. ‘I prefer to stand anyway. What’s the news, boys?’

  It didn’t seem right, taking the chair of the king, even if he was my father, but he stared at me until I shrugged and sat.

  Alden yawned. ‘The northern coastline is quiet. We had some bad storms last winter and the moorings at Creek’s Head needed repair. The Cammar Beacon will need replacing soon. That’s about it.’

  ‘The western coast had the same storms,’ said Owein, ‘but wasn’t as badly hit. There was a wheat blight on Evrawg’s land, near the Leeren.’

  ‘How was that managed?’ Trust Daddy to worry about the crops.

  ‘The field was burnt. No further sign of the disease.’ Owein grinned. ‘Farmer not happy, though.’

  ‘He’s been compensated?’ Daddy asked.

  Owein nodded. ‘Says it’s not enough. Still, wheat prices aren’t that high this year. We paid him fairly, Father.’

  I’d never thought my brothers were good for anything but flirting and jousting; I hadn’t realized they actually served a useful rather than a decorative purpose.

  A breath in my ear, a stone in my heart; Rosa spoke to me, destroying the moment like a roaring gale rips apart a sunny day. ‘Ask about the ships,’ whispered Rosa. Was she always listening to me? Didn’t I have any privacy?

  I asked about the ships.

  Alden stared at me. ‘Ships? That’s nothing. Fishermen from Creek’s Head were blown off course in a storm. They reported some strange vessels moored in a bay in Less Brittain. Why?’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ said Daddy.

  ‘I didn’t know it was important,’ said Alden. ‘You don’t usually want to know everything.’

  ‘What do you mean by “strange”?’ Owein asked.

  ‘Three of them were huge, with eight or nine masts.’

  Owein snorted. ‘Impossible!’

  ‘It’s what the fishers told me,’ Alden sounded defensive. ‘Their sails weren’t furled. There were about twenty ships all told, varying sizes. They said the masts looked like square clouds, floating above the waves.’ He yawned. ‘I thought that was very poetic.’

  ‘Have they seen these ships again?’ Daddy asked.

  Alden shook his head. ‘They only saw them because of the storm. They wouldn’t normally go as far as Less Brittain. They’re only fishing skiffs.’

  Daddy paced across his study, five wide steps. Baulked by the wall, he turned back then stopped by the empty fire, his hands behind his back. ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘Twenty ships — that could be a thousand men.’

  ‘It could be a trading fleet,’ said Owein. ‘Less Brittain gets them all the time.’

  ‘Well, why anchor in an outlying bay?’ said Daddy. ‘And traders don’t bring enormous ships. They’re not economical. Are you sure that you got the size right, Alden?’

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t see them, Father. But the men I spoke to were very clear. Nine-masted ships, huge things, twice as long as any whale.’

  ‘Did they say anything else about them?’ asked Owein. Like Daddy, he sounded concerned.

  ‘They said their shape was unusual,’ said Alden, frowning. ‘A blunt-nosed prow, high stern. Able to carry a goodly amount of cargo, they said. They didn’t get too close.’

  Daddy looked concerned. ‘So, we have a fleet of strange ships that seems to be trying to keep out of sight. After the Festival, we’ll increase the guards on the coastline. And Alden, send word to the carpenters that we’ll need that beacon replaced urgently. You’d better commandeer a couple of sloops and send them out on reconnaissance.’

  Alden nodded.

  ‘Dana,’ Daddy said. I looked up in surprise. What could I do? ‘Tell the Guardian about this. She’ll need to start searching out those ships.’

  ‘Oh, she already knows,’ I said.

  ‘Do you mean she’s listening?’ asked Owein.

  I would have smiled at Owein’s discomfort if I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts. How much longer would I have? Rosa would need to use the necklace even more now.

  28

  A Performing Dog

  Dressing the Castle in Festival clothing took a great deal of banter. Guards, commandeered by the housekeeper, appeared to enjoy being bossed around by women half their size and moved the bunting and other decorations with sly grins and winks.

  ‘You can dress my tower any time, miss,’ said one fellow and ducked when the chambermaid, armed with a long-handled duster, took a swipe at him.

  ‘Ooh, I likes a bit of rough and tumble,’ said his companion, coughing when she got him in the mouth.

  Streamers and long strings of multi-coloured pennants hung from the topmost part of the towers of the outer keep, rustling in the breeze like the wings of many birds. Brightest of all was the gold and red royal standard that flew from the top gate house. Across the moat, flags and swathes of bright fabric were planted along the roadside and threaded through the trees. Bells were hung between them, and at night I lay awake with my window open, listening to their tinkling music. Only the great tower of the inner keep, Rosa’s eyrie, remained unadorned.

  All this was traditional; the Castle was decorated in this manner every Festival. But this season Daddy, nervous after the report of strange ships, had been adamant that one thing would be different. ‘I want no bunting along the drawbridge.’

  ‘But, dear,’ said Mother, ‘decorating the drawbridge adds a nice, welcoming touch.’

  ‘Not this year, Cyrilla. I want to be able to close it if I need to.’

  She looked at him doubtfully, but when the housekeeper arrived, she relayed the command without comment. Seated on a stool by her feet, I tried to remain calm while she whispered to Ruth, consulting her on important matters: what would I wear? How would my hair be dressed? Tonight was the opening ball of the Festival, the beginning of the week of entertainment that drew nobles and commoners to the Castle. I yawned.

  ‘Don’t fidget, dear,’ said Mother.

  My sixteenth birthday loomed ever nearer. After passing that milestone I’d no longer be able to escape to the schoolroom. Instead, Mother expected that I’d be mixing with adults, making polite, meaningless conversation about the weather at tedious soirees and wearing clothes approved by her. This would mean dresses with tight lacing that showed too much of one’s chest while barely allowing one to breathe, let alone walk.

  But, worst of all, I would no longer be able to fight. Mother had heard of the guards’ wagers and was not impressed.

  ‘Side-saddle and tennis are appropriate activities for a young woman,’ said Mother.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry too much,’ said N’tombe calmly when, furious, I’d returned to the schoolroom, tearful with rage. She’d put her hand under my chin. ‘Poor lady.’

  Was she was talking about Mother or me? Either way, I felt consoled. An enchantress was more likely to get her own way than any queen.

  Above my head, Mother and Ruth seemed to reach an understanding. ‘Can I go now?’ I moaned.

  ‘In just a minute dear.’ She turned to Ruth. ‘Did you speak to the merchant?’

  ‘He has more cream to trade, Your Majesty.’

  ‘And he will come? I would love to meet him.’

  Ruth nodded. ‘The Festival is the best time.’

  Mother pouted. ‘And I’m so busy this week.’ She lifted the skin around her eyes, staring at
herself in the mirror. ‘Still, I need it, Ruth.’ She caught my sulky expression in the mirror. ‘You can go now, Dana. Ruth will bring you your dress later today. And you’d better do her hair too, Ruth, or it will be a bird’s nest by the evening.’

  Ruth delivered my clothing that evening.

  ‘Oh, great,’ I said, as she carefully removed the tissue from the frothing silk. ‘It’s pink! It’ll match my hair.’ I held it against me and made a face in the mirror. ‘Now I look like a real princess.’

  ‘I’m to do your hair too, lady,’ said Ruth.

  Nurse drew herself up to her full five feet. ‘I am Lady Dana’s personal attendant. I should be the one to dress her hair.’

  ‘Nurse, you’re an angel,’ I said hastily, ‘but Mother told Ruth to do this.’

  She deflated. ‘Oh. Well. If the queen commanded it, then who am I to argue?’

  ‘Ruth,’ I asked, as she brushed my hair, ‘what merchant was Mother speaking of?’

  ‘She’s found a new face cream, lady,’ she said grimly. ‘What with you growing up and turning out to be a beauty and all, she’s worried about her age.’

  Me? A beauty?

  She smiled at me in the mirror. ‘Don’t look surprised, lady. You must have noticed.’

  N’tombe stirred, releasing herself from whatever statue-spell she used. ‘You spoke of a cream? This is for her face?’

  Ruth began pulling my hair together in a ponytail. She spoke through the pins in her mouth. ‘Aye. Like magic, it is. Gets rid of all the lines and wrinkles. ’Tis expensive, mind.’ She winked at me. ‘Not for the likes of me.’

  ‘I like you the way you are,’ I said, ignoring Nurse’s jealous sniff.

  If I hadn’t been sulking about Mother, worrying over Will and thinking of Rosa, stuck in her tower, I might have enjoyed the evening. As it was, I hugged the edge of the ballroom until Mother spotted me and sent Owein to drag me onto the dance floor.

  I danced with Owein and then with Alden, and heard mutters, ‘Isn’t it a shame?’ and ‘Too pretty for a tower.’ Friends of my brothers looked at me as a man regards a piece of meat in front of the king: attractive and they’d like it but they know it’s destined for greater things. It wasn’t that I wanted to dance with them. It was that I couldn’t tell them ‘No’ — for they would never ask.