Had I attempted this exercise at any other point in my life I should have failed, but weeks of slavery had strengthened me immeasurably. Even so, my injured hand could scarcely bear my weight. Night soil oozed onto my cloak, and I wondered why all my adventures involved foul odor. Why could I not for once frolic in a meadow of flowers, or escape in a hamper of fresh laundry? No, I must endure night soil and prison cells and unwashed soldiers...
So occupied, I barely noticed our passage through the gates, and only when the wagon jerked through a sizable puddle, dousing me with chilly water, did I realize we had reached the main road. At least, I consoled myself, dropping into the mud, the wet would remove some of the stink. I had not changed clothes or bathed since my capture, and my short locks were as matted and greasy as sheep's wool. After scrubbing my hands and face, and rinsing the worst of my cloak's soilings, I set off at once for Montagne.
Though Drachensbett is thrice the size of Montagne, its capital lies only half a day's ride from Chateau de Montagne; this I knew already. I now learned a second, bitter truth: the River Road as it winds through Drachensbett is completely devoid of horse merchants and emergency mounts, particularly at dawn. The farther I trudged, in fact, the rarer became settlements of any kind. At one point a merchant passed with a string of donkeys. When he saw what I offered for their purchase, however, he informed me with language that stained the air what he thought of my bits of glass, and me as well.
The sun rose, birds sang their songs of love, but all for naught. I would never reach Montagne in time. Despondent, I approached a peasant boy leading a cow. "Do you happen to know where I could get a horse? I asked wearily.
"Ah, no. But I'm selling this one here, came the answer.
I studied the sweet-faced creature. "Can I ride her to Montagne this morn?
The boy laughed. "No, but she'll give you cream enough if you treat her right.
Knowing I would receive another refusal, I held out my damp handful of glass. "Can I buy her for this?
The boy's eyes grew wide. "They be magic, right?
I nodded and, wincing, uttered the first lie that entered my head: "They're beans.
"Can I have them all? he begged.
"Of course."At once we concluded our business and I led my new purchase down the road, the boy racing off in the other direction. What became of him, I do not know, but to this day I think of him with gratitude.
Approaching the first farmhouse in sight, I at once exchanged the cow for a saddle and a mangy, knock-kneed nag unaccustomed to the pace I demanded of her. I struggled as best I could, forcing the old mare onward by pleadings and kicks as I continually checked behind me, attempting to catch sight of Florian and his ilk among the merchants and travelers now filling River Road.
Ancienne loomed ever larger until the mountain's sheer northern face filled half the sky. Rounding a bend, I could make out Chateau de Montagne on the far horizon, and my heart swelled with pride at my ancestors' genius, the brilliance of the castle's placement. Even from this distance I could discern the slender profile of the Wizard Tower. What an act of desperate bravado that had been, my plunge from that window! I remembered it as ancient history, yet not three months had elapsed since that fateful night.
Now could I see the waterfall's mist, and the switchbacks that carried travelers up the ridge into Montagne. My mare and I were both drenched from the effort of forcing her forward. Well it was that I kept a rearward eye, for at the foot of the ridge I espied a large and brilliantly colored party cantering up the center of the road. Had I met them on the switchbacks, all would have been lost. As it was, I had just time enough to drag my perspiring nag into the ditch, keeping her body between myself and the passing cavalcade, Florian in the midst of horns and banners and tinkling bells.
The moment they left my sight, I raced to follow them. Here I encountered a severe setback, for my ill-tempered mare, once free of her demanding burden, had no intent of permitting my remount, and I was not equestrian enough to force the matter. At last, having battled her for some time in a manner most amusing to passersby, I called surrender and, sending her off to find green pastures, hurried up the switchbacks on foot.
By the time I crested the top I could barely draw breath, so demanding that ascent. But my efforts were at once rewarded, for through my ragged gasps I perceived the glorious mass of Chateau de Montagne, and beyond it the entrance to Market Town, teeming with merchants, country folk, and travelers.
Doing my best to look the part of shepherd, I inserted myself into a family driving lambs to market. The group barely acknowledged my presence, so busy were they with their daunting task, and preoccupied, I am sure, by the promising spectacle of an afternoon's holiday. Yet their company, such as it was, saw me safely into town.
Hiding my face deep beneath my hood, for I was now amid people who had known me all my life, I hastened through the streets to the castle. Here, too, I found fortune, for the guards at the gate paid me no heed, instead giving all their attention to the Drachensbett party that gazed about the inner courtyard in a most offensively proprietary manner.
Slipping through the gates, I crept along the courtyard's perimeter. I was not halfway to my destination, however, when I was detected. "It's Piglet!" a Drachensbett soldier shouted, and as one they sprinted toward me: my escape must have been ill received. However slowly I had trod before, my boots now barely touched the cobblestones, and I attained speeds I would never have imagined possible. Reaching an alley just ahead of their grasping hands, I rounded the corner and dove like a rabbit through the crumbling bas-relief hedgehog.
My head smashed against the far side of the passageway with force enough to bring stars to my eyes. I struggled to silence my wheezing cries. Only an arm's reach away, the men paced and raged at my disappearance, cursing each other for losing me. My throbbing skull, and the stitch in my side as well, were a small price indeed for this spectacle, and my face broke into the first true smile I had known in months. My task was near complete—at my tormentors' expense, no less! I had only to find my double and return at last to my life as princess.
***
Easier said than done, I soon realized, for I had no idea where my double lay. Though moderate for a castle, Chateau de Montagne is quite large enough, and Florian was inside already, approaching ever nearer his supposed bride.
Through secret passageways I raced, not caring who should hear my pounding feet. Where would she be? My pretty little bedroom—etched in my dreams—was empty, as was the throne room, the ballroom, the great hall crowded with castle staff whispering in twos and threes—
Passing a corridor, I espied Lord Frederick on the edge of a chair, the queen pacing the rug beside him. With every pore of their beings they conveyed fearful anticipation, and I knew I must be close.
There, in the next room, lay my Doppelschläferin—but too late! For Prince Florian was bent already over her sleeping form. The buttons and epaulets of his uniform gleamed, and sunlight glinted on curl and crown.
I watched, horror-struck. He leaned closer—
And stepped back. Clearly I was witnessing, if not a failure of nerve, at least a measured consideration of the many consequences his action would soon provoke. With a long and heartfelt exhalation he walked to the window and lay his head against the glass.
The queen in her cunning had selected, I now saw, the most appropriate chamber of all the castle in which to present her enchanted niece. Known only as the Blue Room, it was small but faultless. Brocade of palest blue and gold curtained the windows; the walls were covered with pale blue silk, and the few simple furnishings lent an elegance to the space that the Drachensbett fortress would never know. From the window where Prince Florian now stood, lost in thought, one could see the courtyard below, impeccable in its proportions, the charming mélange of Market Town, and the Montagne valley, lush and green in its verdant mantle.
My double, too, had been placed to best advantage. She was dressed yet in the ball gown and wig I remember
ed all too well, her plump hands on her chest and a spot of rouge on her cheeks. Yet even in her enchanted sleep, a small frown creased her forehead, and I could not but wonder if it was this sullen appearance that gave the prince pause.
His hesitation, however, would prove my salvation. I stripped off my garments, for I had not a second to spare. Wrapping myself in my cloak, not daring even to draw breath, I tiptoed through the portal. To my great good fortune, the prince appeared far too preoccupied to register my faint noise. A step—step—step—and I reached the Doppelschläferin. With a last cautious glance at Florian, I tossed the cloak through the portal and dove into the body.
My double lurked closer to death than I had realized. For several desperate moments I could not draw breath. Panic rose in my throat. I felt entombed in living rock—I labored and fought, willing my way back to life...
And then, with a jerk, I awoke. Not inches from my face was Prince Florian, his eyes shut, bitter resignation clouding his visage, and his lips squeezed in a most disdainful pucker.
Once again, my own lips proved my undoing: "Don't you dare.
The prince leapt back with a cry. Wild-eyed, he stared at me, and waves of horror and recognition crossed his face. "Ben! Benevolence! You are—you were—"
"I am," I inserted. "I am Ben."
"No ... No, no, no!" He sprang for the door, and almost at once I heard the mad clatter of hoofbeats as he galloped from the courtyard, his men following in confusion behind him.
FIFTEEN
Silence permeated Chateau de Montagne. My many trials, culminating in my most perilous escape from Drachensbett and two nights without sleep, had drained me completely. Perhaps the weakness of my Doppelschläferin contributed as well, though I am not expert enough in such matters to speak with authority. Whatever the cause, my race to the window to watch this dramatic departure depleted the last of my strength. Sophia burst into the room just as I collapsed onto the carpet.
How many times in the past weeks had I dreamt of the castle! How often had I longed even for Sophia. Now my eyes fluttered open—only to find the queen looming over me, her hand poised to slap my face.
"She has awakened, Your Majesty!" Lord Frederick cried, clutching her arm.
The queen was not punishing me, I realized with a hot surge of relief; she was merely attempting my resuscitation.
"Praise the heavens!" she exclaimed. "The prince revived her."
"No," I murmured. "He did not. I ... I revived myself."
The queen spun about, focusing on me as a cat might attend an active mouse hole. "What is this? The prince had no role?"
"No," I whispered, the room spinning before my eyes.
"Are you quite certain?" she pursued, again looking ready to strike me in her eagerness for information.
Lord Frederick interjected. "Tell us, dear princess, how we might best assist you."
I swallowed weakly. "I am ... so very, very hungry."
Frantic as she was to learn more of my interaction with Florian, the queen at least recognized my basic requirements. She hastily called an order for sustenance and demanded two strong footmen transport me to my bed.
Carried into the Peach Rooms radiant in the spring sunlight, I beamed with happiness. Once I had despised these chambers; now I cherished them with all my heart.
"We—the need is no longer—" The queen appeared genuinely embarrassed. "Given the trauma of the past months, and of course our fear of witches, it may be safest here—"
She misinterpreted my joy! How could I explain, particularly in my dazed state, that I would have been delighted to return even to my cold and barren cell, so long as I was back in my true home and far from Drachensbett?
"Thank you, Your Majesty" was all that I could manage. A tray appeared, heavy with tarts and creams, miniature tender vegetables, bonbons of all assortments, a pitcher of hot chocolate and, last of all, a steaming cassoulet of lamb and tender white beans.
Catching sight of this dish, I collapsed into hysterical giggles. So long did I laugh that the observers who crowded my bedroom must certainly have considered me mad, however pleasant the madness seemed. Avoiding the beans with care, I worked my way through the tray, though my stomach, empty from my day of flight and emptier still after two months of grim camp fare, had little capacity. At once exhaustion suffused me, and though the queen ached to hear what had transpired in the Blue Room, neither she nor Lord Frederick could extract a single word from my lips, and so left me to a sleep more luxurious and appreciated than any I had ever known.
***
I slumbered without interruption through the afternoon and all the night, and when I awoke at last, I felt as refreshed as the goddess of dawn herself. Dawn, indeed, had already passed, and for a time I luxuriated between my soft sheets, marveling at every detail of my chamber with a fresh and most grateful eye. In my absence, a dove had constructed a nest on the windowsill, and her soft cooing proved most delightful.
Admiring her song, I picked out different, jarring tones as well. At last curiosity conquered sloth, and I stepped to the window that I might identify the source of this discordance.
The noises that so disturbed my rest, I saw now, had been nothing less than the rattle of sword against armor, the twanging test of bow strings, and the stomp of soldiers preparing their stations. About the battlements, archers settled between parapets with their crossbows at the ready, focusing all their attention on the portcullis creaking upward. At last the creaking ended and through that formidable opening rode ten black-uniformed soldiers, and then—
I clutched the sill for support as Prince Florian himself appeared astride his black stallion, surveying the castle in sullen contempt. Gray-bearded men followed behind.
Florian's arrival could mean one thing alone: the demand of my hand. If that was the case, I had to know so as to prepare with all possible speed my defense. I locked the door and located at once a portal behind a hand-painted etching of a hedgehog. Wherever the prince and his minions had been escorted, I would follow, and through the veil of magic observe all that I could of my enemy.
I trotted the narrow passageways, marveling at the newfound comfort of my ball gown. My time as prisoner must have raised my tolerance for pain, or perhaps my relief at returning to Montagne suppressed it. Whatever the explanation, I navigated the passages with a lightness of foot I had never before experienced.
As I suspected, the Drachensbett contingent had been delivered to the throne room. I arrived at my secret portal in time to witness their formal greeting of the queen, the prince glowering and sulky.
"We welcome you to Chateau de Montagne, dear neighbors," Sophia intoned, "and we confess our curiosity as to the meaning of this visit."
The eldest statesman—so I deduced by his appearance and respectful acknowledgment of Lord Frederick—stepped forward. "Your Most Royal Majesty, members of the court, honored burghers"—the guild masters were present as well! I had not noticed, and took the occasion more seriously still—"I am sent as messenger by Renaldo, King of Drachensbett. As you know, the throne of Montagne, while ably guarded by Sophia, Queen Regent, by law and tradition shall pass to her niece, the Princess Benevolence, upon the girl's majority. A powerful spell placed upon the princess left her as dead until yesterday—"
"We did not kiss!" Prince Florian hissed, unable to contain himself. "Nor shall we ever!"
Florian's interruption, his unprecedented disrespect and rancorous scowl, stunned the court.
The ambassador shifted, adjusting his collar. "Ahem.Yes. Be that as it may, the princess's recovery now raises other issues. The obligations of my position and my monarch require I point out that the princess has not, and I fear will never, display the qualities essential to a head of state."
Hidden on the far side of the portal, I fumed and squirmed. Bad enough that I must listen to this searing criticism, but his presentation to the entire Montagne court—some of its members nodding their agreement!—wounded me beyond measure.
"Her a
pathy, languor, and gluttony, her patent disregard for the obligations of her rank and future position—all of which she displayed at the winter's festivities in a manner unforgettable to observers—these liabilities lead to one conclusion: that the ancient nation of Montagne will suffer grievously, and perhaps perish altogether, should she rule." The ambassador drew a breath. "Therefore my king, seeking the security and well-being of the populace of this fair country, makes a Claim of Benevolent Succession to this throne."
Benevolent succession? I had never heard the term. From the anxiety that flashed across the face of Lord Frederick, however, he knew it all too well.
The ambassador waited. Sophia looked to Lord Frederick.
"Greatly we appreciate your solicitous concern for our people," the man began at last. "Benevolent succession, however, is a most serious matter, determining the fate of every man and woman among us, and I beg time to consider your claim ere we reply."
The ambassador nodded. "I could ask nothing less, were I in your position. Shall two months be period enough?"
Lord Frederick turned to his queen, but she remained as a statue. "We would prefer four," he answered at last. "We shall use them wisely."
With more bows and flourishes, the Drachensbett ambassadors withdrew. Soon as the door closed behind them, the queen spoke. "We would be alone. Frederick?"
In small knots of worried discussion, the lords and ladies and burghers made their way from the throne room until only Sophia and her most trusted advisor remained.
"What, pray tell, is benevolent succession?" demanded the queen, free at last to pace off her wrath.
"It is, Your Majesty, a most dreadful turn of events. Many centuries ago, the countries of this region settled upon the practice. When, as in our current condition, the heir to the nation provokes ... concern, and no other heir exists, a neighboring kingdom may claim the throne as theirs, absorbing the land without bloodshed, revolution, or anarchy."
Princess Ben Page 14