by Philip Smith
She thought long and hard. If she couldn’t use any of Olivian’s silver, and her own nearly bare jewelry box would not suffice, perhaps her mother had something in her dresser that she could use.
She stepped out of her room carefully, making sure her bare feet hit only the spots on the floor she knew would not creak. She knew the sound of each floorboard by heart. Even though her mother might not mind if she borrowed one small item from her nightstand, at this point in the evening, she didn’t want to risk asking. The princess looked about carefully; better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. After making sure no creeping peepers were about to witness her, she slid through the open door into the bedroom.
The humble room was adorned with two delicately-carved wardrobes, a vanity, and a four-poster bed. Each bedpost was carved as if it was a tree growing up from the ground, with wispy-thin sheets of green linen draping down around the frame like willow branches. Her father had commissioned it years ago to remind Paige’s mother of the forests she had grown up in far to the southeast. The wardrobes stood against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. Paige inhaled the smell of the cedar panels deeply as she wiggled her bare toes on the soft, wispy sheepskin carpet that adorned the floor of the entryway. Between them was mother’s own mahogany vanity, with a small bench upholstered with a soft sheepskin cushion, similar to the rug.
Paige tip-toed over to the dresser and began searching the small drawers and several clay and glass jars neatly placed along the back of the desk in front of the polished silver mirror. Nothing grabbed her attention as she shuffled through the various trinkets and jewelry. Everything from some brass rings to carved bone amulets were arranged in multiple compartments, but none of them seemed to match the wirework of the roses in her necklace.
“Paige!”
Paige’s heart tripled its rhythm at the sound of her name. She jerked her hands away as if the desk had been made of molten brass, but the lace on her sleeve caught one of the glass jars on the table. Her blue eyes widened with horror as the jar teetered off the vanity. She instinctively thrust her foot out and caught the container from crashing on the hardwood floor. It smacked her bare foot and rolled harmlessly across the oak floorboards and under her papa’s dresser.
Paige let out a huge breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She looked quickly to the door. The voice had been her mother’s, but she hadn’t yet heard the telltale squeaking of her mother ascending the steps.
“Yes, Mother?” she called out.
“Your sister and I are going to head out. Shall we wait for you?”
“No, Mother,” she replied, holding her breath.
“Alright, we’ll see you over there. Your father is already at the Grand Hall with the Burgesses, so make sure you lock the door when you leave!”
“Of course, Mother!” Paige responded, listening hard. She heard the sound of her mother and sister talking quietly, then the noise of metal softly tapping more metal as they opened the forged iron latch and then closed the door behind them.
Paige gasped a huge sigh of relief.
“Well, that was close,” she muttered to herself. She looked down at the floor where the jar had fallen. It had apparently rolled so far under her father’s black wardrobe that she couldn’t see it. Paige pouted. Of all the times she’d have to crawl around on the floor, it would be when she was wearing a brand new white dress.
She kneeled down, being careful not to get the skirt caught underneath her as she peered beneath the broad cabinet. The jar had rolled over to the very back of the wardrobe. She reached around blindly till her fingertips brushed the glass. She grabbed the jar tightly and smirked, pleased with herself as she drew her arm back. Her knuckles scraped against the wardrobe’s polished bottom until she hit a rough, sharp bump. Startled, she jerked her hand back, pulling the jar free from the tight space. The tiny scratch on her hand irked her. She wished to discover what injured her, so she looked under the wardrobe once again.
When she couldn’t see anything immediately apparent, she slid her arm back in and began brushing the panel with her fingertips. She found the rough spot and prodded it. It felt like a sharp metal object that was tied to the bottom of the dresser by old leather lacing. Curious, she grasped it and pulled hard. It took a couple tugs, but eventually the object was wrenched free with an echoing ‘thud.’
She stood, grasping the jar with one hand and the mysterious object in the other. Quickly, she set the glass back down on the vanity and looked at the curious object in her right hand. It was a thin silver key wrapped and tied into a small leather piece that had been tacked to the bottom of the dresser. It gleamed in the flickering light, with not a blemish nor even the smallest fleck of tarnish pitting its smooth surface. She pulled the crusty leather away and set it on the nightstand, holding the key up to the lamp on the wall between her mother’s dresser and the floor. It was beautifully crafted; the bit was shaped like any other key, whereas the stem twisted round like a gazelle's horn till it reached the bow. The bow was shaped like two spheres, side by side, one a full circle, the other about two-thirds empty, a waxing moon. It was obvious they were the two moons of Eirensgarth, Taivian and Suntra. The dark and light areas of the moons had been expertly replicated.
It was perfect. Paige didn’t even hesitate. She pulled the necklace chain off and slipped the key onto it, returning it to her neck. The bare silver felt cool against her pale chest. The key matched the necklace exquisitely. When she looked in the mirror, she turned to the left and to the right while stifling a squeal of delight. The best part was that she didn’t have to bother borrowing from her mother. Clearly, this was an extra key to the wardrobe, long forgotten under the dusty dresser. Her father would not likely even miss it.
She tossed her hair behind her tapered ears and placed her fists on her hips, triumphantly smirking at her reflection with renewed confidence.
“All right, now, Paige,” she said to herself, chin held high, the necklace and key dazzling in the flicker of the candles. “Let’s go get you that dance.”
◆◆◆
Every outdoor lantern in the town was lit, the trees and bridges alive with the flicker of firelight and laughter as people made their way to the Great Hall. Children laughed and pushed their way through the steady stream of adults like trout pushing their way through a mountain creek’s current. The sound of joy gave even the chilly early autumn night a glow of warmth that Paige looked forward to every year.
“Hello, Lady Paige!” a small boy called, tossing his arms about in a frantic attempt to get the princess’s attention.
“Hello, Phaelun!” Paige waved back.
The young boy was hardly six-years-old, but he was tall enough to poke his small head over the rail of a bridge parallel to the one Paige was crossing. He waved cheerfully, a set of gold curly locks bouncing about his rosy face. “I’m going to dance at the party!”
“Oh, you are, are you?” Paige gasped in playful surprise. Phaelun nodded furiously, his grin as wide as a watermelon slice. The boy’s father, who had a similar mass of curly blond hair in a thick ponytail, laughed as he picked the boy up so he could see Paige better.
“Yes! Yes, indeed! Can I… can… can I dance with you, Lady Paige?”
“Oh, Phaelun, of course you may!” Paige winked. The boy squealed with delight. The boy’s father mouthed the words “thank you” to Paige with a smile of his own, and the princess laughed merrily.
The laughter caught in her throat after only a moment. Her spine tingled again, like it had the day before. Paige’s gaze fell on the bridge to her left where she noticed two figures walking in the opposite direction of the party.
It was the same two strangers she’d run into in the market, the one’s she’d assumed must be tree worshipers. She recognized them because of the white turbans. They were moving along the bridge at a brisk pace, both scowling and not speaking to one another. She scratched her back and tried to shake off the unusual feeling as she watched the two men stal
k away. She pursed her lips and wondered if she should mention the two men to Papa or her mother. But as soon as the men disappeared into the sea of party-goers, she shrugged off the thought and continued to make her way to the party.
She entered the Great Hall from the the westernmost of the four bridges that connected the town to the primary gathering place of Kaprnaum’s residents. The side of the platform Paige entered on was already cleared for dancing, a separate fire being started in a large, iron brazier. Musicians were setting up drums and harps in the corner, a few of them tuning lyres and practicing some flute notes before the official beginning of the party. People were laughing and calling out to each other as they began to claim spots around the tables and gather in cliques.
The crowd swirled about like the smoke from the fire now roaring in the great hearth while the smell of burning wood mingled with the scent of all manner of delicious treats being served: roast peacock, suckling pig, Dirgah’s Cinna-Knots, and a plethora of other assorted goods that made Paige’s stomach grumble. Beyond the main hubbub, all of the elected officials and the wealthier businessmen of the town had seats and tables reserved for their families on the raised dais. Paige’s father and mother were already by the two large thrones from where they could see the entire village around the Great Hall. They were both laughing and talking to Laird Buckwig, a fat man with ruddy cheeks who ran one of the only public eateries in the village. Her chair sat beside her mother, but Paige decided to hold off heading over until she found Derak.
He was over by the edge of the dance floor, dressed in a bright blue tunic trimmed with white ribbon. His black pants made his newly polished boots stand shine like the moons that were rising high in the sky as the night fell. His hair had been combed, pulled back into a short braid, and topped with a wreath of pine. His bright, cheery smile made Paige’s cheeks flush, but when he shifted his weight to his other foot, her cheeks flushed for a different reason.
“Oh, Derak, that’s simply the most endearing thing I’ve ever heard!” Olivian was gushing, batting her long eyelashes at the handsome apprentice boy. She was flanked by none other than Matildra and three other young single ladies, all of whom were grinning behind their scarves and shawls with knowing smiles.
“Well, it’s not every day someone gets to save a basket of puppies from being drowned in a well,” one of the girls said, giggling. Derak smiled sheepishly, though his expression betrayed his secret pleasure in the praise. Paige had a moment of self-doubt, thinking she might just go sit next to mother after all, but her anger quickly overruled that decision. She marched up to the group with determination thudding with every step her moccasins made.
“Evening, Derak,” she said confidently. The young man turned and looked at her, a mixture of shock and wonder crossing his face.
“By the Creator’s hand,” he said, sucking in a deep breath, “Lady Paige, you look… you…”
“My goodness, Paige, how simply brilliant!” Matildra said with a gasp. “That dress…you actually look respectable!”
Paige simultaneously felt a sense of smug accomplishment and a drive to choke Matildra. The older princess was glaring. She stuck her tongue out at Paige behind his back, and Paige felt the corner of her mouth tug into a satisfied smirk.
“Thank you, you’re too kind, sir,” Paige said, giving a slight curtsy, but not overdoing it. She had her pride, after all.
“Derak was just relaying the sweetest of stories to us!” Matildra piped up. “You simply must hear it, Paige!”
“I’d love to, but I believe the dancing is about to start,” Paige commented absently, looking to where the musicians were beginning to assemble.
“Indeed!” Olivian said, suddenly more chipper. Paige saw the gleam in her eye and was about to ask Derak if he cared to head towards the dance floor when the loud sound of a deep drum thundered across the deck. All eyes turned to the head table where the girls’ papa was standing to greet all the guests. He was wearing the crown of the chieftains, a solid band of silver studded with garnet and inlaid with intricate knotwork of carved bone in the shape of stags and wolves. A pair of stag antlers were riveted to the crown on either side of the head, wrapped in freshly cut holly sprigs, their blood-red berries hanging from the various points of the rack. In addition to his green tunic, a bison robe was wrapped around his already broad shoulders, making him an even more imposing and impressive figure.
“Kapernaum!” he shouted, arms outstretched. “Are you well!?”
The crowd cheered and screamed, stomping feet and beating fists on tables. Papa smiled at them all, making a motion with his hand like he was cleaning something out of his ear. The people shouted and clapped harder with enough fervor to raise the roof, had there been one. Papa smiled, and Paige was sure that a twinkle of mischief was dancing like a wild doe in her father’s eyes.
“Good people! My friends!” He shouted above the din. The crowd immediately repressed the volume of their cheers to hear. “Tonight we celebrate, as one people, another year of success in both the hunts, the gathering expeditions, and the harvest!”
The people cheered again, and the drum began beating a slow, deep rhythm as the chief stepped high onto the table in front of him. Paige sneaked a look past him to her mother. She looked mildly mortified, shaking her head in her hand. Paige stifled a giggle. Her father was always going above and beyond the call of duty when it came to being dramatic for the people, and every time he did, Mother assured them all that she died a little on the inside from the embarrassment.
“We are here to thank the Creator!” he shouted, tossing the crown onto the table with a flamboyant flick of his wrist. The people banged the table in agreement and slowly the crowd began to stop their feet in tandem with the beating of the drum. BOOM, thud. BOOM, thud.
“We are here to feast and make merry with one another, to be thankful for all that our labor and providence have brought us from this, our forest!” He gestured to the trees above.
BOOM, thud.
“The fishermen have brought us trout!”
BOOM, thud.
“The huntsmen; bison and stag!”
BOOM, thud.
“The farmers have clawed our roots and vegetables from the earth!”
BOOM, thud.
“And so for all this, I have but one question for you! Dare I ask again, Alatarians?”
BOOM, thud.
“KAPERNAUM! ARE YOU WELL!?”
The crowd roared and raised goblets high as the stringed instruments and flutes began to play a lively jig that made the boards beneath Paige’s feet shake like a mighty thunder. Her father leapt from the table to the floor and began to dance wildly, screaming and hooting at the top of his lungs like a rooster whose tail feathers had caught on fire. The warriors of the tribe leapt up from their various tables, round shields in their hands and converged on the wild chieftain, slamming their feet to the rhythm of the drums as well, their long, wild hair and beards adorned in various festive arrays. They formed a circle and began chanting to the beat of the drum, their laughter and husky voices cutting through the chill in the early evening sky.
“Hear the drum beat! Feel our thunder!
Put our enemies asunder!
Light the fires! Kiss the ladies!
Dance with children! Feed the babies!
One! Two! Three! GO!
Reap the harvest, beat the SNOW!”
The men whooped and hollered, grabbing large logs and heaving them onto the central hearth, sparks flying up and dancing into the black sky overhead before evaporating into the pantheon of stars above. The crowd screamed and whistled as Papa danced back to his table and jumped back atop of it, much to Mother’s chagrin. The drums pounded several more times and the tune halted with one last deep, bellowing THUD. The crowd erupted with applause as Paige’s father took a bow.
“Thank you, good people!” he shouted above the clapping. “You are too kind. As your chief, I am now proud to announce the official beginning to the Harvest Moons Fe
stival!”
All the young ladies cheered. Derak put his fingers to his lips for a shrill whistle of approval. As the chief raised his goblet high, everyone reached for their own glasses and held them likewise.
“And per request of my beautiful daughter, I’d like to declare the dancing to begin with the Elder Tree dance! Ladies, you know what to do—all firstborn women to the floor and pick your man! Bring on the feast!”
Paige felt her cheeks flush as the crowd cheered. Olivian took one sly look over at her little sister before grabbing Derak’s arm and pulling him towards the dance floor. The drums picked up a moderate beat. The harp began to play as the dancers assembled and imitated the niaid’s age-old steps in the flickering light of the bonfire.
Paige was furious. She hadn’t even entertained the thought that Olivian might go to Papa about it, but she wasn’t surprised. She glared at the couple as the dance began, watching the two young dancers bow and curtsey respectively as the music picked up speed.