A Time of Turmoil

by N M Zoltack

  I will have to keep an eye on him.

  Swiftly, Vivian fetched as many arrows as she could. Some had fallen a fair distance away from the target Noll had set up. The dummy straw person was tied too high for her to bring it down. Despite her dress, she did manage to climb the tree to at least fetch the two arrows that had punctured the legs.

  Hopefully, this was all of the arrows. If not, Tabes could fetch them. Or Noll. Her brother was every bit as stubborn as the rest of the Riveras, and she knew better than to believe that he would not return another day to fire more.

  It was time for her to seek out this Ulric. Just who was he, a servant, to go behind their back and teach the prince how to use arrows? And improperly at that!

  54

  Servant Ulric Cooper

  Ulric rubbed his lower back. He had been chopping and chopping and chopping. For some reason, he felt anxious and agitated. Something was brewing in the air. He could feel it.

  To try to settle himself, he had taken to chopping as much firewood as he could, far more than he typically did in a day. The sun beat down on him, relentless and merciless. He had sweated far more than ever before. Mayhap he should pause and get himself some water to drink.

  He wiped some sweat from his brow and laid down his axe when he spied a beautiful lady walking toward him. He blinked, confused, and recognized her to be Princess Vivian. The only princess, he reminded himself. Rosalynne was now queen. He wished she were the only queen. Sabine was beautiful, and all of the servants and peasants and the nobles seemed to adore her. Ulric did not understand why. She had only been queen for a short period of time, whereas they had known Rosalynne her entire life. Shouldn’t they want their princess to govern over them? Ulric certainly did.

  “Are you Ulric?” Vivian asked breathlessly. She stood before him, the skirt of her dress swirling around her legs. Was that dirt on her hands and her face? Mud on her dress too. What on earth had the princess been doing?

  “I am. Have you need of me?” he asked. “Tell me, and I am yours.”

  She flushed. “Do not lie to me. Have you been teaching my brother how to shoot a bow?”

  He blinked a few times, and his stomach twisted into knots. Ulric placed a foot on the tree stump he was using as the base to chop wood and leaned against his bent knee for support. A wave of dizziness washed over him. He needed both water and sustenance, but that would clearly have to wait.

  “I have been,” Ulric admitted. He wished she had not prefaced her question with such a heavy accusation. Never would he lie to her or anyone else. He might be only a servant, but he cared for others. He would never degrade another by lying. That was not his way.

  “Who gave you the right to do such a thing?” she asked mightily. Her chest heaved, and her anger appeared to be entirely self-righteous, and yet, it confused Ulric. Should not her anger be directed toward her brother instead of himself?

  “Your brother asked me to,” Ulric protested. “He is my prince. Who am I to tell him no?”

  “He is not… You should have asked my sister or myself if this were to be allowed. Honestly, why should a servant who clearly does not know how to use a bow himself teach a prince how to use that same weapon?”

  “Have you…” Ulric bit his tongue to still it. He should not anger her further and explaining himself only would.

  “I have never shot a bow before, but even I can tell that his stance was wrong.”

  He hadn’t realized until then that she carried the bow Noll was practicing with over her shoulder. She held it up. Her long skirt hid her legs from him, so he could not be certain if her positioning was accurate. The way she lifted the bow was not entirely accurate either, although already she held it with more conviction and authority than her brother ever had.

  Ulric sighed. “I have instructed your brother time and again on his stance and the positioning of his fingers. He will listen for the next shot, and then, he would be imprecise again the subsequent time around.”

  Vivian hesitated, the bow still pointed at him. Ulric was grateful that she had not nocked an arrow because she was clearly aiming for him.

  “You think you can do whatever you wish, do you not? You think that you answer to no one?”

  “Certainly not,” he protested, but even he had to admit that he had done wrong. He had known that the prince coming to Ulric for aid meant that the prince was going against the wishes of others. Ulric had not been a fool.

  But he had been stuck. Noll had seen him practicing with the sword. If Ulric had refused to teach the prince, Noll would have most likely informed others of Ulric’s actions. Ulric could have lost his position as a servant at the castle. Who then would have hired him? Ulric’s life would have been in ruins.

  Ulric had had no choice but to instruct the prince as best as possible.

  He winced as he realized he thought of Noll by his name more than he considered him a prince. Ulric had best be mindful of that when he spoke of Noll out loud. If he dared to be so familiar with the prince to his sister, the princess was liable to throw him in the dungeon.

  For a solid five minutes if not longer, the princess gave Ulric a wicked tongue lashing and finished with, “You must learn your place in this world or else you will be displaced from this castle. Have I made myself clear?”

  Ulric shifted to plant his legs both on the ground and bowed lowly. “Forgive me,” he said as apologetically as he could. “I was only trying to help him fulfill his duty. He is a prince, and yet no one treats him like one.”

  “Save for you?” she asked haughtily, lifting her nose high into the air.

  Anger laced through Ulric. He knew he should not say anything, but he could not stop himself.

  “Can you say differently?” he countered.

  Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, but her undercurrent of anger was both visible and vicious. She lowered the bow finally, but he almost felt as if he were more in danger now than before.

  “You have no place to judge me,” she spat out, “and you have no business taking it upon yourself to teach my brother anything. You should not be touching weapons. Who taught you how to use a bow?”

  “I taught myself,” Ulric admitted.

  “A self-taught archer teaching a prince who has never held a bow since… When did you first start to teach him behind our backs?”

  “Since the tournament,” Ulric admitted. “He approached me about it.”

  “Oh, did he now? Why would he do such a thing? Why would my brother who is not the most observant of persons come to you, a servant, and ask you to train him?”

  “He saw me.”

  “With a bow?”

  Ulric hesitated.

  Her eyes flashed. “Do not—”

  “A sword.” Ulric closed his eyes. “He saw me practicing to use a sword.” His eyes opened, and he appraised her reaction. Yes, indeed, she was as shocked and appalled as he thought she would be. Even disgusted too.

  “A sword?” she said, properly scandalized. “How on earth did you get your hands on a sword? You stole form the armory?”

  “Borrowed,” he corrected. “I borrowed a sword. Forgive me, Princess, but I thought it better to teach your brother to use a bow and arrow before even considering teaching him how to use a sword. He wished to learn that instead.”

  “And once you taught him the bow, you would have moved onto the sword then?” She tapped her foot impatiently.

  Ulric hesitated. “I doubt it. Honestly, your brother does not seem to have an aptitude for weapons.”

  “Which is why he has not been trained in them! Do you not realize the terrible, destructive path you have set my poor brother on? He is not like you and me. He cannot handle everything. He cannot learn things as quickly as others, and it most certainly does not help him that his tutor is self-taught himself!”

  “I meant no harm by training myself. As I said, he found me and forced my hand.”

  “Because you knew you were doing wrong and did not wish to be caught for
your crime.”

  “I never stole anything, so tell me what crime it is that I have committed,” he said. His teeth were on edge. Something about this princess got under his skin. While her sister, the queen, was fierce and beautiful, Vivian was only fierce.

  “Why were you even teaching yourself how to use a sword?” she demanded.

  How convenient for her to ignore his question.

  His nostrils flared. “I would like to be a guard.”

  “Servants are not guards. You must learn your place.”

  “I can be a guard. I will be. You will see. I am strong and capable. I have the drive. I will protect Rosa—the queen. I will protect the queen one day.”

  “Oh.” Her hands flew to her mouth. “I see! You have feelings for Rosalynne, is that it? Is she the muse for your warrior ways? You wish to be a guard for the queen herself!” Vivian laughed in his face. “You? You are nothing. Stay away from my family.”

  With that, the princess stalked away.

  Gone were Ulric’s thirst and hunger, replaced only by a terrible rage. For the next hour, he chopped more wood until he would have to hack down more trees for their lumber. It took him another three hours to haul all of that chopped wood inside the shed for storage just outside the kitchen. When he brought in some for the fires necessitated by meal prep for supper that evening, the chef lifted his eyebrows but said not a word.

  Instead of finding other work or eating, Ulric went up the stairs to the servants’ quarters and passed out on his bed. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he was supposed to meet the prince for more training. If Ulric knew what was good for him, he would not show.

  Yet, he planned on it just the same.

  55

  Sir Edmund Hill

  Eventually, Edmund could not continue to watch over the shops. He was reassigned by one of the men-at-arms to guard over the marketplace. It seemed there had been some small quarrels breaking out lately.

  Dutifully, Edmund headed to the marketplace. It was never quite the same from day-to-day. Earlier each morning, the merchants would come with their carts. They would set up their stalls wherever they choose. Mostly, they were in rows but not always. A few sold right out of their carts, wheeling around and perching near crowds of customers. Others had tables. A few would set up bins of their various fruits and vegetables or clothing materials or whatever ware they were selling.

  Each night, the merchants would pack up and return home with their goods for fear that someone would steal their goods overnight. The castle only employed a guard to watch over the marketplace during the sunlit hours. Honestly, as Edmund made his rounds again and again, he reflected on the need for more than one guard, especially if the rumors about quarrels were true.

  Thus far, Edmund saw nothing but the normal hustle and bustle in a typical day in the marketplace. Hordes of people were walking through and between the stalls. Children were scampering about underfoot, laughing and chasing each other. A few customers were bargaining with the merchants, trying to negotiate a cheaper price or else barter. Trading goods often benefited both parties.

  Edmund passed by a young boy who held a bunch of inkwells, quills, and scrolls of parchment. A messenger boy. Not everyone relied on carrier birds. Most times, the messenger boys couldn’t read, so there was no fear that they would learn whatever the message contained. If a bird carried the message, though, and was waylaid, well, anyone and everyone could intercept the message. Some messengers were told the details to report them orally.

  Just a few days ago, Dudley had actually sent Edmund a letter via a messenger boy to say that he was happy to hear that Edmund and Tatum had talked. There still was no mention of when the wedding would be. Edmund hadn’t asked, and it truly wasn’t his business, but he did not think Tatum would have much to offer in the form of a dowry. He did not even know if her parents lived yet.

  Perhaps this was why Edmund thought of Tatum when he saw a necklace with a gemstone that perfectly matched the hue of Tatum’s steel blue eyes. Edmund made a note of the merchant and continued on. Perhaps Dudley would wish to fetch that necklace for his future bride.

  Edmund continued on. A woman was trying to sell flowers. Most were wilted, and she hadn’t sold any. Her shoulders were slumped, and her desperation was clear to see. A man walked by her and flicked a coin her way. It fell to the ground and rolled away.

  A young boy snatched the coin before the flower woman could. Edmund moved forward, ready to cry out and halt the boy, but the woman shook her head to catch his attention.

  “It’s fine,” she said wearily.

  “No it isn’t,” Edmund protested, but she was already walking away.

  A rush of people flowed between them, and Edmund lost track of the woman. He felt badly for her, but he was only a guard. His pay was not that high given that he was provided with armor, a shield, and weapons as well as lodging. Not all guards lived in the barracks. Those who were married lived in a house with their spouse. Perhaps one day Edmund would settle down, but he doubted that would happen any time soon.

  “I saw that! You put that back!” a man shouted from several stalls down.

  Edmund pushed his way forward to see a portly man with one hand on his hip, the other wagging a thick finger at a man with gray eyes and limp hair.

  When the merchant spied Edmund, his eyes lit up with triumph. “Guard! This man stole some of my produce!”

  The man in question turned to Edmund. “I swear I did not. I tripped and fell into his stall, but I didn’t take anything.”

  Edmund eyed the man. He had that look in his eye, the haunted stare of one who was hungry.

  “If you would empty your coin pouch and your pockets please,” Edmund said quietly.

  The man did not grumble and did as asked. As the man had claimed, he had no food of any kind on his person.

  The merchant sputtered, “But I swear I saw him take—”

  “He had no time to hide anything,” Edmund said.

  “No, no time,” the man echoed.

  The merchant narrowed his eyes at the man. “Don’t you come near my stall anymore, you hear?”

  The man nodded. “I wouldn’t want to, given how much of a grump you are. And so nasty too. I bet your produce is full of bugs.”

  A woman had been approaching the merchant’s stall, but at the mention of bugs, she wrinkled her nose and hurried off.

  The man smiled, not maliciously but more playful. “I’ll be off then.”

  Edmund nodded to the merchant and hurried to catch up to the man accused of thievery.

  “You going to arrest me after all?” the man asked, his gait swift, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

  “Not this time, but if you are caught stealing…”

  “One man falsely accuses me, and now, everyone thinks the worst of me,” he complained. “I did nothing wrong except for fall.”

  “We all fall,” Edmund said, “and I’m glad you got up again. Try to keep both feet on the ground from now on.”

  “I will.” The man tried to smile but failed this time.

  “Is something wrong?” Edmund asked.

  “Life doesn’t always go the way you planned it to,” the man said. “You find the woman of your dreams, you marry her, your life falls apart. You wanted love, wanted children, but it’s so hard, so very hard.”

  Edmund patted the man’s shoulder. “All we can do is live one day at a time.”

  “I’ve been telling myself that,” the man said solemnly, his earlier teasing of the merchant long gone. “I just don’t know if that’s enough.”

  “It has to be.”

  “I suppose so.” The man nodded and walked off, quickly swallowed by the crowd.

  Edmund stood there for a long moment. Life didn’t always turn out the way people wished for it to. Sure, Edmund was a knight, but he had been assigned guard duty. He could do so much more, be so much more. He was certain of it.

  Well, hard work and dedication had gotten him this far in life. He would continu
e to do his part, and perhaps one day, he would be rewarded. For now, he would follow his own advice and live each day as if it were his last.

  56

  Queen Rosalynne Rivera

  The days were blurring together for Rosalynne. Her crown was the same size as Sabine’s. It bothered Rosalynne that there were two queens. Sabine had not once gone to one of the peasant gatherings in the throne room. Rosalynne had presided over two so far. Both had gone well enough, although she had not known where to sit, and so she had stood for the entirety of both proceedings. Sabine typically sat in the king’s throne, which struck Rosalynne as distinctly odd. Rosalynne did not wish to also claim that seat, nor did she desire to sit in the throne that had been Sabine’s and Aldith’s. According to the vicar, the throne that had been Rosalynne’s mother had been burned after her death. A new one had to be fashioned for Aldith. Her father, in a fit of rage, had taken an axe to the throne and then set it on fire.

  That rage seemed to be very much alive within Vivian. Whenever Rosalynne saw her sister and her brother in the same room, Vivian would glower at Noll. Rosalynne hadn’t the time to address their quarrel, but she did hope that they would make amends and soon. They only had each other. It frustrated Rosalynne to no end that she could not spend more time with them, but the weight of the crown was so very heavy. If she wished to gain complete control over Tenoch Proper, then she must already act the part. That meant she could not only concern herself with familial matters. The rest of the world must be to her as if they were her family too.

  The peasant families were the hardest ones of all for Rosalynne to help. Most were poor, with too many mouths to feed. She struggled to find ways to help them, and most seemed satisfied with her efforts when they left. A few of the men had been rather brash and bold, and the guards had had to remove them.

  Rosalynne struggled to push the image of the men being dragged away from her mind. She was taking a stolen moment in her room to try to fight through the sensation that followed her most days and nights, that of being overwhelmed.