The Tale of Mally Biddle

by M. L. LeGette

  “No,” said Mally, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s a rebel. I think it’s a knight.”

  Lita humphed, but smiled and started replacing candles.

  ***

  The servants ate in the Servants’ Chamber—a small low-ceilinged room next to the kitchen. But not all the servants ate during meal times. Those who served the nobility ate afterwards, either in their bedrooms or the kitchen or the Servants’ Chamber. No one particularly cared if the servants did or didn’t eat in the Servants’ Chamber. Mally wondered if anyone would care if the servants ate at all.

  After her confrontation with Bayard, Mally had no interest in running into him again any time soon, and voted for dinner in their bedroom. Lita agreed. Even though she had been nonchalant about the knights, she hadn’t enjoyed the encounter any more than Mally.

  “I’ll just pop into the kitchen and get us something,” she said, leaving Mally to return to their chamber alone. As Mally made her way to the corridor of ugly oil paintings, she spotted Sir Brian deep in conversation with Gibbs. They were alone, standing in a little nook. Mally couldn’t keep from watching them whisper to each other. Gibbs looked highly unsettled by whatever Sir Brian was saying. She wondered what it was that would make Gibbs—one of the terrifying tax collectors—look so worried …

  She was so immersed in trying to read their lips, that she lost her bearings and walked straight into a tall candle stand. With a startled gasp and a loud clattering, Mally stumbled and caught the stand before it toppled over. Blushing from head to foot, she righted the lopsided candles, dropped a hasty curtsy to Sir Brian and Gibbs, who were both staring, and hurried on her way.

  She breathed freely when she shut her chamber door. But not two breaths had passed before she gasped again.

  “Gibbs!”

  He knew her! Not by name, but he knew her face. She wouldn’t be able to fool him into thinking she was as orphan from Halspeare!

  Mally sunk down on the bed nearest the writing desk and watched their small fire crackle, panic filling up her lungs. Wanting to do something with her hands, she reached over and lit a handful of candlesticks that had broken during their encounter with Bayard. What was she going to do? Gibbs saw many people on his tax collecting trips. Maybe he would just think he was confused and think it an odd likeness. Maybe he would never find out the story she and Ivan were weaving. Why would he even bother? A servant? Who cared about a servant?

  Just then the door opened and a tall woman with long brown hair entered.

  “Oh!” she said, pausing in the doorway. “Who are you?”

  “Mally Biddle.” Mally stood quickly. “I’m a new servant. You must be Gerda.”

  Gerda nodded. She was much older than Mally—probably near the same age as Nathan Cobbs. She had a tired and testy air about her.

  “I hope you enjoy the castle, but I think that’s wishing for a bit much.” She walked over to the bed nearest the fireplace and sat down on it with a deep sigh. “Do you know how many times he asked for mead?” she shot suddenly at Mally.

  “No,” said Mally, startled.

  “Five. And do you know who had to bring them?” asked Gerda angrily, snatching off her shoes.

  “No,” Mally repeated, uncertainly.

  “Me!” Gerda yelled, throwing her shoes down in a clatter. “Me! Not Abigail, not Joan! Me! I can’t stand it! I have half a mind to tell Meriyal to let someone else serve, but I’m sure he’d just make a scene and order for me!”

  Feeling very confused, Mally lowered herself onto her bed and asked, “Who’s he?”

  Gerda breathed through her nose so fiercely, she looked like a flaming dragon.

  “Bayard.”

  Him again, Mally thought wearily. Honestly, how many servants does he terrorize?

  “Why does he want you—” but Mally’s question was cut short as their door opened again and Lita stumbled in carrying a heavy load of bread, wine, steamed carrots, and roast pork.

  “Archie sends his greetings from the kitchen along with a handful of curses.” She slid the platters of food onto her bed, and glancing from the dark look on Gerda’s face to the concern on Mally’s asked, “What’d I miss?”

  “I was just telling Mally about Bayard,” said Gerda, in a tone that matched her sour face.

  “Not him again,” Lita sighed in exasperation. “I don’t think I can handle hearing Bayard’s name again today—I nearly ran into him just now.”

  “You did?” gasped Mally.

  Lita nodded her head vigorously.

  “I barely managed to squeeze behind the tapestry of the fox hunt on the second floor.”

  “He didn’t see you?” asked Gerda quickly, her fierce tone switching to worry.

  “No. I heard him coming before I saw him. Belching away.”

  Mally snorted. Gerda smiled.

  ***

  Mally was used to rising before dawn. It was how life was on the farm and the servants woke just as early. Lita, Gerda, and she had a bit of trouble dressing. Lita and Gerda had been used to sharing their tiny space for a year, but an added body fumbling around in the dim light of their candles for socks and shoes caused much groggy grumblings and stumbling. When finally they were dressed in heavy scarves and gloves—for in the early dawn the castle was frigid—they made their way to the Servants’ Chamber for breakfast.

  The castle was so quiet it seemed like it was a cathedral. Mally didn’t want to talk, not even whisper, for fear of ruining a silence so deep.

  The Servants’ Chamber, however, was not silent. The small room was crammed with the servants, sitting at the benched tables, talking and laughing over plates of ham and biscuits. Lita and Gerda led Mally down a table and managed to squeeze onto a bench.

  “Hello!” A young man with a giant smile thrust out a thin hand to Mally. “Name’s Christopher Banks. Pleasure to meet you!” He was tall and gangly and reminded Mally strongly of a scarecrow she had once made for her mother.

  “Mally Biddle,” said Mally, shaking his hand.

  “I didn’t see you at dinner,” said Christopher, pouring her a glass of juice.

  “We ate in our chamber,” said Lita.

  “Spare a spot?”

  Mally turned and smiled widely. Nathan stood behind Lita and Gerda. Lita scooted closer to Mally and Nathan managed to sit down next to Gerda.

  “Sleep well?” Nathan asked Mally.

  “Very, thank you.”

  “Where are you from, Mally?” asked a curly-haired girl beside her named Betty.

  “Blighten,” Mally said before thinking. She reddened immediately at the confusion upon Betty’s face. Blighten was only known as a farming town. There was no wealth there—no noble families in need of servants. “I was born there,” Mally continued rapidly. “But I went to Halspeare when I was younger … to an orphanage,” she added, remembering the part she had to play. “Corral and Chestnut Orphanage. They helped me find some small service jobs.” Mally was relieved when Betty nodded in understanding.

  “Christopher’s an orphan, too” said Betty, turning to Christopher. “And my grandmother raised me. My parents were some of the first to be put in the dungeon for rebelling. They refused to stop using the late king and queen’s names,” said Betty proudly. “I never saw them again.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Mally.

  “Don’t be, they were very brave,” said Betty with a smile. Then she continued her narrative, “I used to be a maid for a wealthy widower, but I was thrown out by his daughter after he died. Then I came here.”

  “She just threw you out? Like that?”

  Betty shrugged.

  “She didn’t like me. I think she thought I was trying to steal her fur cloaks. I kept a letter opener under my pillow. Rebecca was insane.”

  Christopher laughed and Lita suddenly yelled at a blonde woman standing at another table: “Come here, Joan, and meet Mally.”

  Joan turned at the sound of her name and rushed to them. Before Mally could say hello, Joan
asked the others, “Did you hear about the raid?” She leaned over Christopher’s shoulder, her eyes wide. Lita, Christopher, and Betty all turned their complete attention to Joan.

  “Raid? What raid?”

  “At the Lone Candle,” said Joan. “Word is it happened last night.”

  The glass of juice slipped from Mally’s hand. It clattered on the table, spilling juice all over the wood. Betty grabbed her napkin and mopped up the spill, but Mally and the rest had hardly noticed.

  Lita gasped and covered her mouth.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Joan. “There was a scuffle, I think, but I really don’t know. But supposedly they made a right mess of the place. Broken chairs everywhere.”

  “Why was there a raid?” asked Mally, her hand still held upright, but without her glass of juice.

  “Because the knights were bored, why else?” raged Lita. “They wanted to knock around some furniture and the Lone Candle just happened to be close by! I hate them!”

  “You’re sure no one was hurt?” Mally asked Joan.

  Joan shrugged, her face lined with worry.

  “I hope not,” she said.

  Breakfast wasn’t much fun after that. Joan left their table to spread the news to others. Lita silently fumed beside Mally, and Betty and Christopher were both pale and staring at their plates. Mally was using every ounce of self-restraint not to run straight to the Lone Candle that second. Lita might be right about the knight’s motivations, but Mally had another reason to fear any attacks on the inn: Galen was a rebel.

  When it seemed clear to both Mally and Lita that they weren’t in the mood to eat anymore, they rose and started for the door, but Meriyal suddenly appeared at Mally’s side.

  “I need you to come with me—fitting,” Meriyal explained.

  “I’ll see you later,” Mally said to Lita and she followed Meriyal from the Servants’ Chamber.

  Twenty minutes later, Mally stood on a short stool as two women pinned and altered a servant’s uniform to her size. One of the women was Mildred Bolton, who doted on Mally so much that Mally suddenly felt like a five year old. The other was Evelyn Green, an unpleasant woman who kept “accidentally” poking the needles into Mally’s side. Meriyal stood to one side watching the proceedings.

  “It is your job to keep your uniform clean,” said Meriyal. “Any darning or patching is up to you.”

  Mally nodded. Her mother was the real seamstress of the family but Mally could manage a few stitches.

  “Wrists too thin,” Evelyn huffed under her breath as she pinned a sleeve.

  “Brown is a very attractive color on you, Mally,” praised Mildred.

  Evelyn snorted.

  “Meriyal,” Mally said loudly to drown out Evelyn’s not-so-subtle criticisms, “I have a horse—”

  “Congratulations,” said Meriyal unenthusiastically.

  “And I was wondering when I would be permitted to see him.”

  Meriyal raised an eyebrow.

  “See him?”

  “Yes,” said Mally.

  “Well, you may see him on your day off. You get one day every two weeks—I know that sounds harsh, but it’s all I can allow.”

  Mally was in shock. One day for every fourteen? That was ridiculous!

  “But, Meriyal, I must see him every week!”

  Meriyal stared at her in surprise. Mildred stopped sewing the skirt’s hem and stared up at Mally. Evelyn grumbled something about selfish young people.

  Meriyal seemed to come out of her surprise like a ruffled hen.

  “Every week? He’s a horse!”

  “But—”

  “What a thing to ask!”

  “Indecent. Ungrateful,” added Evelyn with a poke of her needle.

  “But Meriyal! He’ll be depressed!”

  “And what will I be if the curtains are not washed?” Meriyal countered. “If the floors are not waxed? If the dust is not removed? If you don’t want the sanctuary of this castle then you may leave! We earn our safety here!”

  Mally was so shocked by Meriyal’s words that for a moment she wondered if she had just been kicked out of the castle.

  Evelyn smiled contentedly and continued her work, but Mildred turned to Meriyal with a soft smile.

  “It wouldn’t hurt for her to spend a short portion of one day with her horse, Meriyal. Just an hour say … every Thursday? She could run the errands in the city that day—make the trip useful.”

  Mally could hardly believe it, but Meriyal considered Mildred’s request. They were very close in age, Mildred and Meriyal, and then, as she felt another jab in her side, Mally conceded that Evelyn looked a few years younger than Meriyal.

  “One hour every Thursday,” Meriyal ordered, giving Mally a piercing stare. “And you’ll run the errands.”

  Thrilled, Mally jumped from the stool to hug Meriyal in thanks.

  Flustered, Meriyal awkwardly patted Mally on the back.

  “That’s enough of that!” she said gruffly. “Get back up there, and let them finish.”

  13 Loose Ends

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  Lita shook her head, her arms crossed, and her face wearing a look of supreme stubbornness.

  “I can’t clean it,” Christopher begged. “Stoops wants me to shine his swords and he’ll keep me at it all day.”

  “No. No. NO.” Lita shook her head violently with each word, making her long braid swish around her like a whip.

  “I’ll clean the chandelier, Christopher,” said Mally.

  Christopher’s wide eyes latched onto her.

  “Would you?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Sure.”

  “May heaven bless you!” he cried in relief, kissing Mally on either cheek and rushing down the corridor.

  Lita positively refused to even keep Mally company. It made her stomach turn even to see someone so high on a ladder, so Mally made her way alone to the library, where the chandelier waited to be cleaned. Mally was proud of herself. It was just her fourth day in the castle, but she had memorized a good number of servant passages in that time. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still get horribly confused and lost, and come out onto the east wing when she had intended the third floor. Many times she got so disoriented in the weaving, maze-like servant passages that she would have to peek around a tapestry or mirror to get her bearings.

  She ducked into a small room that housed sheets and towels and, glancing over her shoulder, opened a wardrobe. She pushed the heavy cloaks to one side and stepped in, pressing her hands against the wooden back. It swung open, revealing a narrow stone passage with a low ceiling. Every couple of feet, a torch was mounted on the walls; their light flickered as new air swept down the passage. This passage led directly to the library on the second floor and Mally was pleased she wouldn’t have to risk the many floors and corridors of knights. Other passages joined hers and multiple times she waved or nodded to other servants traveling to their various destinations.

  Mally hadn’t heard from Ivan or Galen. She knew that this was to be expected, but the news of the raid had made Mally nervous. She wanted to know for herself that Galen and Olive and Edwin (Galen’s little brother) were all right. For the past day and a half, she had been listening hard for anything the servants were hearing. But tomorrow was Thursday and Mally would be able to enter the city. She would go to the Lone Candle and see for herself how they were. In the mean time she would just have to do the job Ivan had put her in the castle to do.

  Gerda enjoyed talking and Mally had quickly gathered information from her. She now had a nice idea of who had worked in the castle when the Royal family had died.

  “I started work here early that spring,” Gerda had said. “I adored King—” Gerda glanced at their bedroom door to make sure it was closed “—Sebastian and Queen Amara.” Mally had seen this behavior many times already from the servants. No one was allowed to say the late king and queen’s names, but the servant
s did when they were sure a knight was not listening. “They were the most wonderfully kind people. I was devastated when the queen had her riding accident, and I cried for days when His Majesty was poisoned.” Gerda’s eyes had indeed taken on a watery shine. “And I never believed it was Alice Spindle who killed him.”

  “She was a servant,” Lita had supplied.

  “Yes, the sweetest, quietest girl. May she rest in peace.”

  Mally had frowned at Gerda.

  “But she did poison the goblet, right?” she had asked. In Blighten, Alice Spindle was not a polite topic of conversation. At Gerda and Lita’s glares, Mally had added quickly, “Maybe it was an accident?”

  “It was no accident,” Gerda had nearly spat. “She did not put in that poison. She was set up. And I’m not the only one who believes that!” Gerda had exclaimed heatedly when Mally frowned dubiously. “Lita, you don’t believe it!” Gerda had spun around to face Lita who shook her head firmly. “And neither does Meriyal or Nathan or Nanette—”

  “Who’s Nanette?” Mally had quickly interrupted.

  “Nanette Lynwood. She was good friends with Cayla Black. Cayla was the one who first argued against Alice’s guilt,” Gerda had explained. “She left after the princess died. I think she couldn’t handle it anymore.”

  “And the princess died of a fever?” Mally asked, wanting to be sure of the facts.

  “Yes,” Gerda nodded. “Cayla looked like a ghost after it had happened. And Kiora—Kiora couldn’t make any sense of it. It was like she couldn’t believe it.”

  “Were Cayla and Kiora…?”

  “The princess’s nursemaids. They cared for her. Cayla mostly, but Kiora helped.”

  Mally’s eyes lit up. What she needed was to talk to one of these women.

  “Is Kiora still here?” Mally had asked hopefully. “Can you introduce me?” she asked Lita.

  Lita’s widened eyes shot to Gerda who had become very still.

  “Kiora died sixteen years ago,” Gerda had said stiffly. “She jumped from Bosc Bell Tower.”

  Mally had reached the end of her passage and pushed the back of a large painting open a crack. After assuring herself that the coast was clear she swung it open, jumped out of the passage and shut it back.