“What cha up to?” he called. Jack was a pleasant man, but slightly suspicious of people wandering through his neatly kept grounds.
“I’m looking for Nathan. Have you seen him?”
“Over yonder,” he grunted, jutting a dirty thumb over his shoulder. “Orchard.”
Mally nodded and continued on. She walked through mazes of neatly trimmed hedges, under half-naked trees (their leaves scattered thickly on the grass), and past fountains shooting jets of water into the air until she came across the orchard. It was separated from the rest of the grounds by a white fence and rambling bushes.
“Nathan?” Mally yelled, wondering just exactly where in the orchard he could be. She walked around an apple tree, its branches bending from its heavy load, and spotted him. He stood on a stool, picking rusty red apples off a tree.
“Nathan, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said Mally, walking up to him.
“Have you?” Nathan asked, surprised. “I’ve been right here.”
“So I’ve been told,” Mally replied tartly.
“What do you need?” Nathan asked, fighting with a branch.
Mally hesitated, unsure how to go about her questioning.
“Meriyal told me to help you,” she invented.
Nathan’s eyes widened.
“Did she? That’s nice. Archie wants apples for his apple cake tonight and told me the ones Rosa picked were too sweet.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “Why he can’t go pick his own apples …”
Mally let him grumble; she had other things to think about. How was she going to broach the subject of the royal family without being obvious?
“But there’s no point in me complaining,” he continued, though from his tone he fervently wanted to do just that. “Ol’ Archie isn’t going to change any time soon.” Nathan tugged an apple from its branch with more force than necessary. “He’s been dead depressed for years because his original assistant left—though no complaints on Rosa,” he added hastily, shooting a glance at Mally. “I know for a fact that Archie would rather cut off his mustache than lose Rosa.”
“Rosa and Sammy haven’t been here for very long?” asked Mally, placing two apples in the basket with care as Nathan tossed two more on top.
Nathan nodded.
“She came to the castle saying she was a good cook who needed a job. Sammy’s been a right help with Jack, hasn’t he?” said Nathan, grinning. “He’s a good kid. I like him. Keeps his mother on her toes. But honestly!” Nathan suddenly exploded, glaring at the apple in his hand. “Archie is just ridiculous! Did you know that after his old assistant left he gave up mushrooms?”
“Did he?” Mally asked, confused.
“Yes. And Archie’s the crown connoisseur of mushrooms—knows them all. He hates to leave his kitchen so much that he’s given them up!”
Still confused, Mally asked, “Why?”
“Because his old assistant used to pick them for him, but Rosa’s no good at mushroom hunting and no one else in the castle is either—”
“I’m good,” Mally said without thinking.
Nathan stopped midway through throwing an apple into the basket.
“You’re good?”
“My father taught me. I’ve picked them since I was nine.”
Nathan looked so shocked that Mally started to laugh.
“I can prove it to you if you’d like,” she giggled. “Where did his old assistant use to pick them?”
Nathan led her through the ‘hunting’ grounds that were contained by the castle’s walls. Mally was amazed at the large number of trees and meadows that secluded the castle—she could no longer hear the city. The castle was still in clear view, but the solitude and silence sent shivers through Mally.
“Is this where—“” Mally glanced around her, but they were quite alone “—Queen Amara rode her horse?”
“Yes. Every evening. She enjoyed sunsets.”
“Wouldn’t she have had a better view from one of the towers?” asked Mally, tripping over a root. “If she just liked sunsets…”
Mally blushed as she looked up and noticed Nathan staring at her oddly.
“Her Highness enjoyed her hour of solitude,” Nathan stated with enough emphasis on the queen’s title to make Mally blush harder, realizing how rude she had sounded.
She dropped her gaze and mumbled an apology, but Nathan had already turned and continued on. Though she felt like a little child being reprimanded, she wasn’t going to let the subject drop. Mally hurried after him.
“And you don’t believe Alice Spindle killed the king?” she asked. “Do you know of anyone else who could have done it?”
Nathan turned to her in surprise.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Gerda told me. She said that you and Meriyal and Nanette didn’t believe Alice had done it.”
Nathan suddenly looked awkward and embarrassed.
“I told Gerda that to make her feel better,” he admitted. Mally raised her eyebrows. “Look,” he continued hastily. “All evidence pointed—I mean, she was a very sweet girl … I was surprised, just like every one—”
“Could someone have set her up?”
Nathan paused, clearly thinking it over.
“She always gave him his evening drink. After dinner. But the poison was in his goblet. Not in the barrel.”
“Could someone have distracted her and put the poison in the goblet after she’d poured it without her noticing?” Mally asked.
Nathan stared at her.
“Why are you so curious about this?”
Mally shrugged and smiled innocently.
“I’m a curious person.”
Nathan snorted but answered her anyway.
“Alice was easily distracted. I could see something like that happening.”
“But who?” Mally asked, her excitement obvious.
Nathan mimicked her shrug and smile.
“That’s for you to tell me, Miss Curiosity. Now then, about those mushrooms.”
All in all, the day was a success. Mally felt sure now that Alice Spindle had been framed and that the killer was probably still alive. Maybe was still in the castle. But that didn’t get her any closer to the princess.
Nathan, for his part, was giddy over the mushrooms Mally had pointed out to him. Over the next few days, it spread quickly through the castle—at least among the servants—that their newest member was an exceptional mushroom hunter.
Archibald Diggleby was especially excited about the news that reached his ears. A fat, short man with an impressively large, white mustache and a gleaming bald pate, he had never enjoyed the outdoors as much he thought he should. And though he treasured mushrooms above all other ingredients, he found the tedious act of mushroom hunting aggravating and time consuming. After all, he had a kitchen to run, with boiling pots of rabbit and pheasant stews and carefully watched loaves of honeyed-almond and sunflower-wheat, slowly rising and baking, not to mention the preparation of breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, and dinner.
There just isn’t enough time! he would fume to himself, silently. Mushrooms, in his humble opinion, were the crowning jewels of culinary cuisine and it galled him to no end that he had been forced to omit them for so long. If only there was someone he could trust! Archie was a bit pig-headed in the way he wanted things done, and even with people in the castle who knew enough about mushrooms to pick a few safely, he didn’t trust them to do so.
So he was quite beside himself at the talk circulating about someone named Mally Biddle. Wasn’t she the one with blonde hair? he thought to himself. Yes, yes, her face was vivid in his mind’s eye. Fair skinned with smooth, satiny, blonde hair—he never forgot a face. He smiled happily and hummed merrily as he added splashes of wine to a thick sauce. Yes, he would call for her after dinner and see for himself just how accurate the stories were.
When Lita told her Archibald Diggelby had sent for her, Mally was utterly baffled.
“Me? What’s he want with me?”
“Oh, Mally don’t be so thick!” Lita snapped. She had had a hard day. Meriyal had forced her to wash the windows on the west tower with Evelyn. A combination of two such unpleasant things would make anyone cross, so Mally didn’t take the insult to heart. “The news of you being a mushroom hunter’s all over the castle! He wants to quiz you.”
“Quiz me?” Mally repeated nervously.
“Yes, so will you go talk to him?” Lita said wearily. “Archie can have a sour temperament if he doesn’t get what he wants, and I don’t want to be eating gruel for the next week, so impress him!”
“No pressure, Mally,” Gerda winked.
Lita told Mally that a secret passage on the second floor led right into the kitchen, but Mally felt it would be rude to barge in, since she had never actually met Archibald Diggleby and wanted to make a good impression.
Dinner had just finished and Mally hurried down the corridors, weaving between knights with her head down. She spotted Bayard standing with Gibbs and Sir Brian. She hurried her feet.
Her boots clattered loudly in the silent stone passage that led to the kitchen. At the end was a wooden door. Nervously, she tucked a curl of brown hair behind her ear. Her hand hovered in midair momentarily before she took a deep breath and knocked.
The door was wrenched open by a man the same height as Mally, who stood on the other side. Half his round face was covered by a massive white mustache and his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Mally.
“Mister Diggleby, you wanted to see me.”
“You’re not blonde,” he stated.
“No,” Mally said uncertainly, tucking another curl behind her ear.
Archie’s eyes narrowed even more and he snorted in annoyance before saying, “Come in.”
He headed into the kitchen and sat smartly at a large wooden table. The kitchen was enormous. Shining pots and pans hung from the ceiling and long ladles sparkled in between them. The remnants of dinner were heaped upon the counters and a large vat of chicken and garlic soup still steamed on the stove. Even though Mally had already eaten, her mouth began to water at the delightful smell.
“Sit.”
Mally sat.
“I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I don’t like fooling around,” Archie said severely. “That’s why I don’t let people in here, if I can help it.”
Mally felt she was being scolded for some wrongdoing. A door to the right opened and a woman with sleek brown hair tied in a large bun entered carrying a handful of plates.
“Hello,” Rosa McGriff greeted her pleasantly. Mally immediately saw where Sammy got his round cheeks and dimples. “You must be Mally. Archie’s been talking about you nonstop.”
Archie grunted and his mustache twitched irritably.
“Don’t mind me,” smiled Rosa. She walked to the water basin and dumped her load in it with a splash.
“Ahem.” Archie cleared his throat, obviously trying to regain the serious atmosphere. “I have heard you pick mushrooms.”
Mally nodded.
“Good. I have a great fondness for mushrooms and have sadly had to give them up”—Rosa snorted—“due to the lack of highly qualified mushroom hunters in this damn city,” Archie continued with a raised voice. “How long have you been hunting?”
“For eight years. Since I was nine.”
“Who taught you?”
“My father.”
“Who taught him?”
Mally’s eyebrows rose.
“I believe his father,” she answered.
“You believe?” Archie pressed, his eyes narrowing shrewdly as he leaned forward. Mally suddenly felt that she was being interrogated.
“Well, you see I never asked him,” Mally replied and though she had tried to keep her tone casual, she suspected some dryness had made its way through by the stifled snicker that came from Rosa.
Archie’s mustache twitched again. His eyes were reduced to the thinnest of slits as he said sharply, “Fairy cap. What does it look like and where would I find it?” “It’s small and white—the stem rather slender … about the width of my finger,” Mally answered. “It fruits in clusters in the fall after we’ve had a nice burst of cold after a short rain.”
“Hunter’s horn,” Archie shot.
“Smaller than fairy caps with a hollow center and curved edges—like a hunter’s horn, hence the name. Brown or black and slightly speckled. Found in meadows—though it’s more productive in meadows with clover.”
Rosa looked over her shoulder, her mouth open in amazement. Mally tried hard to keep her lips from twitching into a smile.
“Black bonnet! Flat-footed ogre! Death angel!” Archie shouted out, leaning closer and closer to Mally over the table.
But Mally never flinched. She knew them all. She reeled off their descriptions in great detail and described when and where they grew.
“Amanita,” Archie hissed, his eyes glittering in his red face.
“Oh, well, that one is pretty common around here,” said Mally conversationally. She was rather enjoying herself. Rosa had given up washing and had turned around to watch the show. “But I wouldn’t recommend it. Amanita is the most poisonous mushroom in Lenzar—much more so than the death angel or the deadly galerina. It’s terribly tricky to pick fairy caps and white button tops because amanitas look so similar to them. They’re all almost exactly the same size and color and enjoy the same habitat. But fairy caps are a little more pointed than amanitas and as I said before, fruit in clusters. Amanitas don’t appear in clusters. They are more spread out, like white button tops. And white button tops are a tiny bit shorter than amanitas and a little flatter up top. And a white button’s stem is a tad bit thicker at the base than an amanita’s. Oh, and if you look closely enough, fairy caps have a very, very slight tannish hue to them unlike the amanita which is bone white.”
Archie had his hands flat on the table, watching Mally as if mesmerized.
“Is that all?” Mally asked, feeling suddenly hot around the collar as Rosa and Archie continued to stare at her.
“Is that all? Is that all?” Archie shouted, making Mally jump. “You’re what I’ve been waiting for! Your father taught you well!” He laughed and slapped Mally on the back, his mustache more bushy than ever. “Mally, I want you to be my mushroom hunter.”
“But Meriyal … I have other duties …”
“Bah Meriyal and her cleaning! You are my mushroom fetcher! My mushroom procurer! My mushroom hunter!” Archie jutted his fist into the air like a warrior rallying his army.
“All right, when do I start?” asked Mally grinning.
“When?” Archie swiveled in his chair and boomed at Rosa, “Rosa, m’dear, what is for tomorrow?”
Rosa quickly withdrew a very stained piece of parchment from her apron pocket.
“Oooh, the leg of lamb, Archie! Mushrooms would go well with that.”
“Aye, they would. I’m very partial to hunter’s horn with leg of lamb, Mally. Very partial.”
“I’m sure I could get you some … but Meriyal …” Mally insisted once again.
“I’ll handle Meriyal,” Archie said, suddenly severe, but then his gaze softened and he smiled warmly. “You should get to bed. A good night’s rest is required for a day of mushroom hunting!”
Mally rose and turned to the door, but Archie stopped her.
“Not that way. I appreciate you not coming through the passage but we mustn’t be foolish.” Archie walked to a large oil painting of a bowl of fruit that took up half the wall. “You can go through here.”
Ten minutes later, Mally had her covers pulled up to her chin, gazing peacefully at the writing desk beside her bed. She had written to her mother every other day and she had a feeling that tomorrow’s letter would be an exceptionally good one. Susie Biddle would certainly be happy that her daughter was finding mushrooms for the court.
15 Illius Molick
Lita and Gerda were impressed. Archie had kept Mally for over an hour—quizzing and testing her knowle
dge—and they had finally given up on waiting for her and had fallen asleep. But Mally was jerked awake by a pillow hitting her face.
“What happened?” cried Lita as Mally pushed the pillow away. “Archie kept you forever!”
Gerda sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. Ever since the evening when Nathan had asked for her, Mally had noticed that she’d seemed quieter, but not in a bad way. She’d seemed calmer and more peaceful. Mally wondered what Nathan had said.
“Are we eating gruel?” Gerda smiled.
Lita scrunched up her face, steeling herself.
Mally smiled and shook her head.
“HA!” Lita yelled, hugging Mally and jumping up and down. “No gruel! No gruel!”
***
“When are you going to pick them?” asked Lita as they made their way down to the Servants’ Chamber.
“I was planning on asking Archie. I’m still not sure how Meriyal’s going to take this.”
“Mally! Hey, Mally!”
“Hello Christopher.”
Christopher squeezed between Hattie Blancher and Thomas Honeycomb.
“Abigail told me you’re Archie’s new mushroom hunter.”
“Word travels fast,” said Mally grinning shyly.
“Are you really as good as they’re saying?”
“She’s the best I’ve seen.”
Mally turned and saw Nathan. He smiled.
“I’ve never seen Archie so bubbly. He was nearly singing when he told me.”
Mally could hardly eat her breakfast. People sat squeezed around her, wanting to hear again and again how Mally had been discovered.
“What about angel wings?” asked Addison Bell, nearly knocking over a mug of apple juice as he leaned toward her eagerly. “Can you get those?”
“Yes,” said Mally, hastily moving her glass out of harm’s way.
“Oh, oh, and what’s the one …” said Abigail, snapping her fingers. “It turns pink when damaged.”
“The blusher?” asked Mally.
“That’s it!”
“But you have to cook that one forever,” Evelyn scorned. “You don’t want that one. Old man of the woods—now that’s a—”
The Tale of Mally Biddle Page 14