First order of the day would be to open the accursed drapes. She detested the light from the Outside dimmed. Prince Frederic would be similarly disposed, the sloth. He thought nothing of getting up at the noon hour as routine, also perfect.
The drapes felt damp, Clara turned her body, using the strength of her legs for momentum, and with both hands, strode the left side of the drapes to the right, sweeping them behind the large, brass holder, which resembled a semi-circle. Head down, Clara walked quickly to the other side, using the same manner, putting some energy into the opening of that side. Swinging the heavy cloth behind the holder, the heavy material barely captured behind the brass, she turned to survey the Great Forest Outside.
A face loomed in her view, and her breath caught in her throat. By sheer habit, only a small sound escaped her. She realized she was half-naked before a man she did not know and was gazing at her with curious abandon. Her arms, ankles and half her back was showing...and Clara was frightened. This was clearly a different savage from the first. There had been a deep intensity with the former, but this one looked angry.
So this is the female that Bracus will take. He looked down at her obvious surprise and took pleasure in it. Bracus was weak, wanting this one, no female should have a hold over a male. No matter how much their captain thought he kept his feelings to himself, it was obvious to this guard what he felt. He looked at the fragile-looking female before him, trying to fathom what she could possibly offer the Band. She was interesting with her strange eyes, and deep red hair and the pale skin like the full moon. Women were not easy to claim in his clan or anywhere outside, fights would break out. The women had great power of choice over whom they would mate with, be with. This strange sphere held many, from the captain's reports. Reporting was all well and good but he wished to see up close. He watched as she backed away, wrapping the strange garment around herself tightly in an effort to hide her body. Why did she do that? He thought that strange. She seemed frightened of him, and he touched the wall which separated them.
He touched the sphere's wall from Outside and Clara leaped back, yelping. She hated the sound but couldn't help herself, he had startled her. She could not hear him, but he felt differently to her than the other savage. This one... she felt menace from him.
She jumped again as Olive came up behind her, “Is that he? Is that the savage?” she said excitedly.
“No. It is another.”
“Look at how he stares.” Olive had never in all her years, seen a male with so great expanse of skin showing. There was no kindness in his face, no softness. He was all hard angles and planes, all male. Then she saw it... the gills, “Your majesty...”
“Yes, he has them too. I see them.” The gills opened only slightly with his breath.
Both women were well away from the window when Olive asked, “Does he threaten you, my lady?”
“I do not know. But he feels differently than the savage who charged the sphere one day past.”
The savage stared at the two women. The one who had come through a door, entering the room of this woman... the Princess.(He scoffed at such leadership.) She was taller and wider of hip. A good breeder, he thought absently, his gaze roving back over the small form in front of him, her eyes blazing with heat. Yes, he would have her; dismissing the other female; she of the dull brown hair, and eyes which matched. He would have the red-haired one, the Princess. He noticed that she had marks on her throat. Someone had handled her roughly. A female abused...who could have done it? Mayhap females were not prized inside the oddness of this structure? Possibly she liked this interaction...he was puzzled anew. Looking around, the guard resisted his longing to gaze unabated, to plan with her figure before him. Instead, he would take his leave and when the time was right, he would capture her for himself. No one would be the wiser. He looked at her a final time, yes, he supposed he could see what Captain Bracus liked. He would never have it and it pleased him, it would be his secret.
Clara watched him look at her again... a considering look which made her heart speed, and then he ran off. No, that was not entirely accurate, he sprinted to the Great Forest's edge. He turned to look again, as the savage from the prior day had, then melted into the woods as if he had never been.
“I do not think it wise to close the drapes from this point forward, Princess,” Olive said as they stared after the savage.
“Yes, I think the whole group of savages could make an appearance and I, for one, would like to see them advance. This one gave me quite a start. I opened the drapes and there he stood.” Clara felt disconcerted. This did not have any of the excitement or curiosity of the other meeting. It made her anxious.
Olive turned to her, “Did you take in the sheer size? The breadth of chest, the height? He is a huge male!” Olive said in a tone of reverence. Clara would put a damper on that.
“And what of it, Olive? Let us put it in the proper context; would you be this enthralled had there been no barrier?” Olive shook her head, looking chastised.
“Princess, I do apologize, but for the love of the Guardian, he does impress one!” Clara understood that he was different enough from the men inside the sphere to be a novelty, but she could not slip the feeling of foreboding.
“I say that we exercise caution, Olive... and tell no one as yet.”
“But, my lady, the Queen should be told. Or what of Charles?”
Clara deliberated, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth, biting down, nibbling to ease her tension.
“I know not, but I do not wish to have more of the Queen's speculations upon me. With another savage seen at my bedside window,” Clara gestured with her hand to the Outside, “she could imprison me further. Speaking of which.. .I dare say it is time I dress and get to the fields.”
Olive sighed, her lady was stubborn beyond measure. Dare she go behind her back and at the very least, alert Charles that the savages have marked the Princess in some way?
The Princess's finger was suddenly under Olive's nose, “Do not think of it. Tell no one. Your face shows your feelings, Olive, you must learn to school them, especially around the Queen.”
Olive curtsied and thought that may be the end of it.
“I wish to see Sarah before the fields.”
Olive turned, “My lady?” That was an unusual turn. The princess did not typically linger in the morning, preferring to escape the Queen's notice as early as was possible.
“Yes, I wish to see Sarah, and... briefly visit with her.”
“Does she not have schooling, my lady?”
“Yes.”
Olive thought this odd, however, it may ease her mistress if they could confer. She went to the huge wardrobe which held the Princess' articles and clothing. She chose with care, the Princess was not one to enjoy the finer clothing that the Queen did. As summer was upon them now, she felt the linen best suited to the climate with the cotton blouse. She chose low-slung heels in leather, a scarce thing nowadays. She rifled around, slinging silk stockings over her shoulder, gathering the shoes, skirt and blouse, walking the whole of it to the bed and laid it on the made portion. Her thoughts engrossed in the encounter with the savage. He was everything that the princess had said they were. He was by far, the largest man she had laid eyes on. Even with as tall as Charles and [the horrible] Prince Frederic were, these savages were half a head taller, she would have guessed. And the nakedness... it made Olive lust for them, and the Outside. She giggled.
“What say you, Olive?” Clara smiled at Olive; who was prone to be silly.
“Oh, it is nothing, my lady, I was lost in my thoughts,” she looked down, blushing.
“It is the male, yes?”
Olive nodded.
Clara was not sure about all the giggling and silliness that accompanied the supposition of the opposite sex, it was bewildering. She could not figure it. However, there were so few men that she could have considered as a royal, and now that choice had been stolen from her. What was there to suppose? Or, for that matter, to drea
m about. Better to keep her mind about her tasks... her people.
Clara sighed, “Yes, he was... definitely male enough.” Clara said, remembering the height, the menace, the impressive musculature.
“Oh yes mistress, frighteningly male!” she laughed.
Clara turned and threw a pillow at Olive, which winged her alongside her head and she laughed harder, unable to stand upright. Finally, she clutched the pillow and flung it back at Clara, who caught it deftly, hugging it to her chest, she laughed with Olive, just two young women, one a Princess and one her friend, forging an alliance in an uncertain time.
Clara dressed quickly, making sure that her skirt covered the ivory flesh of her ankles, it would not do to show those about, and gathering herself, she proceeded to the kitchen to eat a small bowl of oatmeal and honey. She set her sights on a quick chat with Sarah, her only female friend aside from Olive, a school teacher, wise and true. She would have wisdom to bestow.
CHAPTER 9
The Queen was not about at present so Clara took her meal perched on one of the servant's stools, her favorite place. The cook, William, whom she called Billy, as her father had before her, appraised her with knowing eyes, “Princess Clara, are you about the fields today?”
Clara nodded, “It is best I make myself scarce.”
“How is that different than your normal duties?”
“The Queen was in ill temper last evening and it would be well-advised that I take my leave early.” Clara dug into the oatmeal with relish, she would be hungry soon even with this porridge before her. Billy's eyes roamed her neckline, though high, showed a sliver of a bruise which marked the skin about the lace. She shifted, hoping that little bit of cotton cloth may slide into position.
“She been after you again?” His kind eyes held a long-standing compassion.
She sighed, “Yes. She was unhappy with my behavior at my Day of Birth Celebration.” Clara looked down at her oatmeal, appetite gone.
Billy put his face on his elbows, two hand's breadths away from Clara's, “She is a disastrous monarch, Princess, do not fret. Soon, you will be on the throne and she will not dare injure you then.”
“This is true, as long as the wine flows.”
He looked at the bruise buried on her throat, anger darkening his expression, “If the King were here, this abuse would not happen.” He held his wooden spatula like a weapon, his knuckles turning white from the grip.
“Speak not of that, Billy. We cannot change circumstance.”
“And Prince Frederic,” he sputtered but before he could go on she held up a hand, “Enough, my friend. I am honor-bound to attend my subjects, you know this.”
His sad face regarded her, “I do not have to like it, Princess.”
“Nor I.”
Clara pushed the half-eaten bowl of oatmeal away, standing and brushing off her skirts. Looking up she saw Billy staring at her, “I have prepared a pail for your lunch, my lady.”
Clara inclined her head in thanks, “Thank you so much.”
“You are most welcome. Tell my boys 'hello' for me.”
Clara smiled, thinking of the brothers which were the captains of her small pungy, aptly named, Clara's Folly. It had been Father's, who named it for his small girl that loved the fields and the pearls that lay within.
She scooped up the pail with her lunch, laid in ice...maybe the oysters would be fresh when she needed to eat them. She peeked inside and saw that Billy had packed her favorite, tangerines. She adored tangerines, bought at high price from the Kingdom of Michigan, who had acres of hothouses in which to grow fruit that filled one's palm. Her mouth watered thinking of it like the sweetest of candy.
Clara said her goodbye to Billy, making her way down the long hall which would take her through the middle of the Gathering Room. Upon entering, she glanced at the great clock which was a whisper away from chiming eight o'clock. She was later than she had meant to be, she needed to make haste, speak with dear Sarah, then very nearly run to the fields to be at the pier in one half hour hence.
Clara picked up her skirts, hustling along the corridor until she came to the front door, where the butler waited at the ready.
“Princess Clara,” Peter greeted her.
“Hello, Peter, how do you do?”
“Very well, Princess. Off to the fields?”
Queen Ada never spoke to the servants, she commanded them. Clara loved being the Princess to her people, they gave her purpose in the madness.
“Yes, but not straightaway. First I must chat with Sarah.”
“Yes, mum. Perfect, then the fields.”
He knew her too well, “Yes, then the fields.” she smiled. Peter, like Billy, had been here in the royal family home before she was in existence. They treated her well. Peter's eyes flicked to the mar on her skin, but said nothing. His eyes spoke for him, where hard anger glinted. Ada was not popular and the few that were wise to Clara's abuse made her even less so.
She gave Peter a frightened look, “Do not worry, mum, a word will not be uttered,” he said it tightly, costing him something not to defend her.
She let her relief show on her face, “Thank you.”
He nodded and held the door open.
Clara stepped outside, the concrete stairs, six in all, deep and wide, they stretched before her, curving around both sides of the staircase. Walking to the end of the cobblestone path, opening the iron gate, she turned, latching it behind her. Her hand still resting on the black iron she glanced up at the Royal Manse, loving the look of it, as ostentatious as it was. The stained glass artisans, having outdone themselves with scrolling flowers and animals gracing all the tops of the windows, offering jeweled light inside every nook, albeit interior sphere light. As a child, she had enjoyed playing on the stairwell, the stained glass panel at the turn, one that still enraptured Clara. The scene was one of a fantastical mermaid, a woman captured in a net, the sea all about her in a riot. She had asked her father of it.
*
“There is a sea Clara, far beyond here.”
“Outside, Father?”
“Yes, far beyond the spheres, as the seawater can damage the spheres.”
“What must it be like, Father?”
“You remember the field of Samuel's Pearls?”
“Yes, the field under guard?”
Her father nodded. It was the singular saltwater field, where special protections were in place because of the dangers of saltwater. The rare Samuel's Pearls were cultivated there.
“That was named for my father's father, Samuel.” He saw her expression and laughed, “Yes, there was an actual Samuel. He had a daughter, Stella. And when she was a girl, they would holiday in a place named Cape Cod. This place stood on a great sea, called the Atlantic Ocean. In this place were cold waters, which tasted of salt. There is a ground there, which lay at its feet, of small shells that are crushed, the water moves back and forth on this carpet of sand. Samuel said that his daughter made castles of sand at the edge of this sea.”
Clara stood silently, thinking of a girl her age, at the edge of a great water where the real sun shone, and the wind moved the waters. She sighed with pleasure, “Are there mermaids?”
Father laughed from his belly, “No, those are myth. But, I will tell you...that your eyes remind me of the sea. Those waters look like your eyes, Clara. A part of the sea remains with you. You have only to engage the looking glass to know those waters.”
Clara stared at the mermaid, suspended in raging waters, pearls glistening in hair the color of butter, her eyes a pale lavender blue, the glass increasing the intensity. The pale light from the sphere piercing the glass, she seemed to float on a mist of emerald waters washed by brilliant blue.
She turned to her father, “Tell me more of the sea, Father...”
Clara turned away from the Royal Manse, and with it, the happy memory. She walked down the sidewalk, avoiding the unevenness of the wider street, leaving that for horses and carts, although there were not many. She rounded th
e corner, leaving the treed park to the east of her home and saw the sign hanging off a scrolling iron bracket, which read, School for Children, Reading, Writing and Arithmetic.
She glanced at the sphere wall, distracting herself by looking at the Great Forest Outside. Subconsciously, she was hoping to catch sight of the savages again. Stumbling, she righted herself. She needed to watch her footing, in the transition between the sidewalk and a boardwalk made of wood to the wider street with uneven cobblestone, it was easy to lose ones footing. Careless of her. She hopped up the steps, her light beige linen skirt weighing her legs down as she moved. At least it was not the season for wool! That weighed an hideous amount.
She peered in the window anchored at eye level in a massive door made of oak and used the bell. It chimed shrilly and she saw a smart-looking girl, two years her senior stroll to the door, while faces appeared behind her, curious to see who was visiting. When they saw that it was she, the Princess, hands were raised with hushed whispers behind them.
Sarah's face appeared in the glass, slightly distorted by the waviness of the pane. Her pale blonde hair was plaited in a severe braid on the lower part of her head. Sarah believed in each hair in its place, but she could not contain her impish manner, she was lively, with a friendly countenance, a perfect disposition for a teacher.
“Come in, Clara,” she said Clara's name low, for it would be unseemly for anyone to address Clara thus, and as Clara stepped inside the foyer Sarah asked, “What brings you?”
“I wish to visit but must attend the fields. Mayhap later this evening you can call?”
“Does this have anything to do with your pronouncement last eve?”
Clara smiled, Sarah was anything but stupid, “Yes, and there are other... more sensitive matters I wish to discuss.”
Sarah laughed, clapping her hands together, “Brilliant! Just name your time, Princess.”
Clara grinned, she thought Sarah wonderful. She was just the balm Clara needed and quickly calculated the safest time, “What of half past seven o'clock?”
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