As often happens when one fight starts, the swarm of people watching them fight amongst themselves. The mood is high and with space lacking, people are jostling each other, shoving, cursing and scrapping.
Two men wrestle to the floor in front of Elsie and she screams, trying to make herself smaller, edging sideways along the wall, desperately trying to move out of their way, desperately looking for Meg or their driver.
They’ve backed her into a corner with no means of escape, frightened tears coursing down her cheeks.
She is stuck.
2
A THIRD MAN PILES ON top of the two near her feet and as he does, the man at the bottom of the pile swings out his foot and kicks Elsie’s shin, before scrambling up at the same time as shoving his hand against the wall, except the wall is Elsie’s stomach and as she doubles over in pain, one of the three men swings out a fist and instead of catching one of his fight mates, it catches Elsie square in the eye.
She is sobbing in pain and whimpering at the sight of the blood on her hand from the wound on her eye and wondering how she will ever escape from this tavern alive, when a familiar voice calls out over the ruckus.
“Elsie!”
Elsie turns at the sound of her name being screamed over the din of the tavern and her legs crumple at the sight of Meg. She had felt like she would never see her again, that she might be stuck in this nightmare forever more.
Meg pushes through the crowd with the driver to reach Elsie, shoving people with her elbows, and punching a man in the gut when he tries to grab hold of her. The driver scoops Elsie up and she clings to him as Meg leads the way to the door. Her fierce expression ensures them clear passage.
Outside in the cool air, with space around them and no one to jostle them, the driver sets Elsie down. Meg hugs her and then shouts at her. “No more adventures.”
Elsie nods. She is happy to do as she’s told. “I cannot believe how loud it was in there. I...”
“Oh, Elsie, you’re hurt,” Meg says, seeing Elsie’s eyes spilling over with tears and the blood pouring out of the cut under her eyebrow. She bites her lip, keeping her angry words to herself. She helps Elsie into the carriage; she’s shivering with shock and cold, the pain and embarrassment of what’s just happened colouring her features.
“We need to get your eye seen to.”
“How?”
Meg sighs. “Leave it to me.”
Elsie stares at her hands, tears blinding her. She has been shut away for so long, ignored and starved of love, but she has never been physically hurt, not once. After giving instructions to the driver, Meg takes her seat next to Elsie and holds her handkerchief against the cut, trying to stem the bleeding.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
Elsie knows that isn’t true, but she loves Meg for taking it easy on her.
“Where are we going? Not back to the castle?”
“Not back to the castle, never back to the castle.”
Elsie smiles at her, grateful that Meg knows her so well.
“Just close your eyes; you’ve had a nasty shock.”
The carriage eventually slows down and Elsie opens her eyes, peering out of the window, a confused expression on her face. “Where are we?”
They are on a dirt track, in the middle of the woods. “We won’t be long,” Meg tells the driver. “We’ll be quite safe. I just need some stuff from the forest, plants and petals to fix Elsie’s eye.”
The driver shrugs.
Meg pulls Elsie along with her. “I just need to make sure he doesn’t...” She trails off. Already the driver has pulled his cap down over his eyes, gearing up for a nap. “Never mind, come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the campsite where the troupe live.” She laughs at Elsie’s confused expression. “Now this might be an adventure.”
“What’s a campsite? What’s a troupe?”
Meg doesn’t answer, just pulls her along. As they thread through the trees, deeper and deeper into the dense forest, where there are no tracks or roads, a gaggle of small children joins them, always eager to see something out of the ordinary. Elsie shakes her head at Meg, her eyes even wider. Their little feet are bare and dirty, the same as their faces. The troupe make their clothes from the most colourful material and Elsie cannot stop smiling at the excited expressions on their faces. “Meg!” One of them calls out and Elsie looks even more confused.
She grabs Meg’s arm. “How do they know you?”
“Come on.” Meg leads the way, enjoying Elsie’s amazement, but nervous about how her sister will react.
“How do you know this place?”
“My sister, Gwenna, lives here with her family.”
Elsie’s eyes are wide, taking in the colourful tents, the colourful clothes, hundreds of grazing horses.
“She married a man who travels with the troupe.”
“Wow.”
Meg leads the way, threading through the tents, the people, the horses, the children, the open fires, the washing hanging on lines, the laughter and the chatter. Elsie cannot take it all in; her head is turning this way and that, trying to keep up with Meg and trying to absorb it all and trying not to stare open mouthed at things she has never seen before. Like bare-chested men washing down wagons with hot, soapy water. Like women feeding babies from their own bodies, with no shame at the world seeing their skin. Like children running in groups, whooping and laughing and shouting with nobody telling them to behave themselves.
She cannot believe that such a place of freedom exists, and she calls to Meg, who turns around, laughing at Elsie’s expression. “Meg, how could you stand to live at the castle with me, knowing your sister lives somewhere like this?”
Meg shakes her head and gestures with her arms. “This isn’t me, not one bit. I like peace and solitude and order and routine.” She doesn’t add that being locked up in the castle is the safest place in the kingdom. “I like a visit, but I like to go home. You’ll see – you’ll have a headache by the time we leave. Look, there’s Gwenna.”
Outside a large tent, there’s quite the gathering, there are men and women sitting in a large circle, singing and playing instruments, and there is a lone woman in the centre of the circle, dancing, wings fluttering.
“She’s such a showoff.”
Elsie cannot take her eyes off the scene before her. After nothing to look at except the four bare walls of her room and an empty garden for the last six years, this is mind boggling to her.
Meg takes Elsie by the hand and brings her closer, and when the adults see who has arrived the music stops and the dancing stops and a hum of anger and fear ripples through the crowd. Gwenna gestures for her sister, and Meg asks Elsie to stay where she is. “You’ll be fine, just give me a second.”
Elsie cannot hear what Meg is saying to her sister, but she can see that her sister is angry with her. She doesn’t understand why and moves closer to hear what’s being said.
“Why have you brought her here? Are you crazy? You’re risking all of our safety. We’ve said goodbye once. Meg!”
Meg takes hold of Elsie’s arm, shooting a furious look at her sister. “The driver is at least a mile away, on the upper track. He didn’t follow us; he couldn’t care less. I promise I wouldn’t bring trouble to your door.”
“What trouble?” Elsie asks, unsure of what the sisters are fighting about.
Gwenna ignores Elsie and nods at her sister. “I hope you’re right.” She scours the treeline looking anxious.
“Please, Gwenna. I wouldn’t have brought her here if I didn’t have to. She needs Bronwen.”
Gwenna visibly relaxes when she can see no sign of movement in the trees, and then shrugs. “Bronwen isn’t here. She won’t be long. You can wait and I’ll finish my dance.” She turns to Elsie. “You are welcome.”
Elsie feels anything but welcome but doesn’t know what to say or do, so follows Meg’s lead. She can see Gwenna talking quietly to a fe
w of the fairies sitting around the fire, who whisper to the person next to them, and on and on, and Elsie knows that they are talking about her – some of them are staring at her with obvious curiosity in their expression, others look openly hostile. She doesn’t know why they don’t like her.
As quickly as the atmosphere turned sour it turns jolly again, and the singers and musicians shift up and make room for the newcomers, most of them recognising Meg, who nods her thanks to them.
“Why don’t they want me here? What have I done?”
Meg pats her arm. “Nothing. Honestly, don’t fret, it’s just sister stuff. Enjoy this.”
The music is hypnotic, and Elsie finds her feet tapping and her hands clapping. She has forgotten completely about her eye, her stomach, her shin. No pain could find her in a place like this; it’s magical.
Gwenna’s hair is swishing, her hips are swaying, arms in the air. Her wings are glittering in the daylight, and she dances and flies, dances and flies, as several others join them. They spin and swap partners as anyone not dancing claps, louder and louder, faster and faster.
Gwenna nods to Meg, and Meg joins her sister. Elsie is open mouthed now. She has known her handmaiden for years and years, but she has never seen her as free as this. Meg beckons for her to join them, but Elsie shakes her head. She is happy to watch.
Meg is laughing as she goes, spinning, spinning, spinning and Elsie is laughing just watching her. She feels freer than she ever has in her life, and she is only watching.
Eventually they stop, and Meg sits beside Elsie. “I’m so sorry, princess, I got carried away.”
“Never apologise for that. It looked wonderful.”
“It was, but Bronwen is back. Come on, come with me.”
Elsie does as she is told; she is past deciding anything on this journey. Her last decision didn’t end well. She ducks inside the large colourful tent and follows Meg to the corner.
A little old woman sits there, her body and hair wrapped in colourful silks.
“This is Bronwen. She’ll fix you up. Bronwen, this is princess Elsie. We’re on our way to the ship, but we got distracted. Elsie tell her where you’re hurt, other than your eye.”
Elsie sits at Bronwen’s instruction, with the strangest feeling that she knows this woman and has met her before. She knows this is impossible. She hasn’t been outside in six years, and before that she would never have visited a campsite or a troupe. She stays quiet as she’s tended to; she doesn’t want to say anything and sound stupid. She’s used to being passive, letting someone dress her or wash her hair. This is no different. It doesn’t hurt at all; she can hardly tell that Bronwen is touching her. She puts some kind of paste on the cut that makes her skin tingle and a small dressing. She touches Elsie’s stomach through her clothes and immediately Elsie feels better, less tender, and then Bronwen does the same for her shin.
“She’s a healer,” Gwenna says, joining them and throwing her arms around her sister. “Sorry, Meg. We’re always on high alert, you know that.”
Meg nods but widens her eyes in warning.
Gwenna says nothing but hugs her. “I’ll miss you, Meggy.”
“I’ll miss you too. Stay safe. We need to go. We can’t miss the ship.”
“Thank you,” Elsie says, tired from her adventures but desperate to know why people don’t seem to like her and why anyone would be on high alert.
Gwenna presses a hamper into her sister’s hands and Meg kisses her cheek.
They thread their way back through the trees, first with company, as many of the children and teenagers follow them, enjoying a change in their daily routine, but who fall off until they are alone. Elsie sighs. “Thank you. I would never have known that all of those people lived in there. It was amazing to see, but why don’t they like me?”
Meg stops and takes Elsie’s arms. “It’s not that they don’t like you. They don’t like anyone. They keep to themselves and they keep hidden. Elsie, please don’t mention them once we are back in the carriage.”
“So, they were angry that you brought me there, not angry with me?”
“Yes. But I assured them that their hiding place was safe.”
Elsie feels better. “It is.”
They climb into the carriage and open the hamper. Meg passes the driver some bread, and within five minutes they are on the move again.
“We have raspberry gin,” Meg says, looking through the basket. “And honey cake.”
Elsie closes her eyes, and within seconds, she is asleep.
She sleeps for more than an hour, and when she wakes Meg pushes a tin cup of raspberry gin and a hunk of ham into her hands. “Drink and eat, we’re nearly at the ship.”
Elsie nibbles the ham. “Did they ask you to stay with me, or did they make you?”
“What difference does it make? I love you.”
“I want to know. Did they ask you to stay with me? Did you have a choice?”
“I did, you know I did. I got to leave, didn’t I? They allowed me to visit my mother.”
Elsie nods. “Every Sunday. And every Sunday I couldn’t breathe until you came back.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I thought you’d stay away. I wouldn’t have come back if I was you.”
Meg holds her tight. “I had to come back. I would never have left you alone.”
“I can never repay what you did for me.”
“You don’t have to. This is a life of my choosing. I wanted to go into service as soon as I was old enough. And I have looked after you for a long time. I served your parents...” They are both crying. “I couldn’t leave you to face all of that on your own.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Elsie takes a drink of her gin. “I suppose I don’t realise how lucky I am.”
“Not lucky.” Meg’s voice is thick with anger. “Your step parents have a lot to answer for.”
Elsie says nothing. She wants to forget her step parents and only look forward. They quietly enjoy the rest of the hamper’s contents, and then the carriage slows down as it negotiates the cobbled streets and the narrow lanes down to the docks.
The driver pulls the carriage in as close to the ship as he can and then he unpacks her belongings, along with Meg’s things, while the two women stand and watch the world go by.
Elsie reaches out to Meg and takes her hand. “I’m scared.”
“I know, my lovely. But we made it this far. I thought highwaymen might have set upon us or murdered us in that tavern.”
Elsie looks shame faced.
“And you’re bound to be scared. But anything is better than where you were and what you’ve been through. It’s time to forget the past and look forward. It’s time to be excited. You’re like a girl in the stories I tell you – all those old tales of warriors, and fighters, and incredible girls. That’s you. There’s a whole unknown life waiting for you on the other side of this sea.”
Elsie doesn’t answer, so Meg just squeezes her hand. There are only ten years between them, but Elsie has always felt that Meg mothers her and she welcomes it.
The docks are noisy, rammed with people and sellers and sailors, men, women and children, and Elsie smiles at the bustle; so different to her own life at the castle. Life at the castle has been quiet and small and lonely. This is so different: she can smell the freshly caught fish; a mix of different foods and the stink of many people all crammed together in one compact space. The noise is overwhelming – with men shouting out to each other or hollering lewd comments at the women who pass them, some shouting back, some choosing to ignore the heckling. Amongst the noise is the screeching and laughter of children playing. She feels dizzy with it all and cannot focus on one thing before something else takes her attention; she’s like a leaf in the wind, being blown this way and that. She sits on a bench and lets the scene wash over her.
She is enjoying it, even though it’s very different to what she’s used to. She watches a little girl; golden curls bouncing
and smiles at her. This is a child who knows freedom and happiness, she can tell. When she runs past Elsie, the ribbon falls from her hair and Elsie picks it up.
“Hey, your ribbon.”
The girl turns and smiles and takes a step toward Elsie, getting knocked off her feet by a group of lads kicking a can. She cries out in indignation and pain, fat tears plopping onto her dress. Elsie scoops her up and sits with her on her lap. “It’s all right. It’s just a little scrape.” Her knee is bleeding, but she’s stopped crying, and she’s just smiling at Elsie, her bottom lip trembling. “Let me put your ribbon back in.”
Elsie sets her on the ground and turns her around to tie the ribbon back into her hair. She lets out a gasp and looks for Meg. Meg is facing the ship, oblivious to Elsie, so she calls out to her. “Meg!” She’s not sure what to do or what to say because she has seen nothing like this. This little fairy girl has got no wings. They’ve been clipped. The edges of what’s left are ragged and Elsie’s eyes fill with tears. This poor little girl; who could have hurt her like this?
The girl snatches her ribbon and runs off, leaving Elsie panicked. Meg takes her by the shoulders. “Elsie, what’s wrong. Has something happened?”
“Meg, we need to do something. That little girl didn’t have any wings. It must have been her parents. We have to help, or tell someone.”
Meg leads her to the ship. “Elsie, we can’t do anything. She’s not yours to save.”
“Meg don’t say that. Please, she needs someone.”
“I’ll tell the captain of the ship and he can tell someone before we sail. He’ll know people here; we don’t.”
Elsie nods, breathing a little easier. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea. Thank you.”
The Rise of the Fairy Queen (The Fairy Queen Trilogy Book 1) Page 2