by Jody Hedlund
“I don’t want to be Princess Emmeline,” I’d responded as often. “I just want to be Emmy, the charcoal burner’s daughter.”
Of course, only Father called me Emmy. Mother insisted on using my given name, Emmeline, because it was more ladylike. While she hadn’t wanted Father to teach me how to be a soldier like him, she’d understood his reasons for doing so: that he wanted me to be prepared for the future, with the ability to fight the enemy and keep myself safe. To balance Father’s training, Mother had worked even harder to shape me into a proper lady worthy of the title of princess.
Bede raced along next to me, easily keeping pace, his paws barely touching the ground. While his tracks wouldn’t matter so much, I made sure not to leave a trail, stepping on stones, large branches, and outcroppings where even the most skilled of trackers would have difficulty tracing my path.
When I reached the coppiced woodland adjacent to the earthen kilns, I allowed myself to slow down. The stumps left from trees Father had once felled had regenerated with new shoots. Some from as far back as ten years ago had grown into multiple stems that were ready to cut again. Others were still young and needed protecting from browsing deer.
The forest was thinner here, lighter and airier, allowing the sunlight to penetrate so the trees could grow again and continue to provide the wood Father needed for making charcoal. At midsummer, bluebells, violets, archangels, and wood anemone formed a colorful carpet all around the copse that I was loathe to trample.
I skirted the new growth and entered the clearing where Father had constructed several domed kilns made of alder and covered with damp turf. Today the kilns were cold and smokeless, waiting for the next production, which Father would start soon after his return. His was an endless job, one he did year-round during the heat of summer as well as the frigid days of winter.
Yet, even with all his hard work, we struggled to survive from one year to the next. The rugs Mother wove on her loom fetched a fair profit when Father sold them at the market. But rather than letting Father buy her anything, Mother always insisted on saving the earnings to use on something for me.
Across the clearing and beyond the herb beds and large vegetable garden, the cottage sat tucked against the edge of the forest, partially concealed by blackthorn and covered with ivy. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the chimney, a sign that Mother had been busy cooking all afternoon in preparation for a special meal to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
At the sight of Father’s mule grazing in the shade of the maple closest to the cottage, my pulse spurted with renewed anticipation. He was home earlier than I’d expected, and I prayed that meant he’d had easy and profitable trading.
“Race you!” I called to Bede.
The red fox bounded with a snort. When I picked up my pace, he scampered to remain at my side.
As I sprinted the last of the way, my worries dissipated, and I couldn’t keep from smiling at the thought of the special evening ahead. We’d feast on the delicious meal Mother had prepared with my favorites of roasted duck and baked vegetables fresh from the garden. Afterward, we’d enjoy a slice of honey cake—the only sweet delicacy we ever ate, and only on my birthday. Finally, after we’d washed dishes, Mother and Father would present me with a gift—always a book that Father managed to find on one of his trips to the market.
What book would they have for me this year? A collection of poetry? Perhaps a text of ancient history? Or maybe even a compilation of maps and descriptions of faraway places?
Whatever it was, I’d adore it, as I always did. And I’d read it until it was near to falling apart, just as I had all the books in the hidden cupboard.
Bede yipped as he ran beside me, his eyes sparkling with excitement, his head bobbing with his effort to outrun me. I lengthened my stride and reached the cottage first.
At the door, I stopped short and pulled myself up straight. Lifting my shoulders and chin, I tucked loose strands of hair back under the cap I wore. Father required me to wear boys’ clothing whenever I went beyond the clearing. Although Mother never liked to see me in the plain garments, she acquiesced so long as I cast them aside and returned to my skirts at home.
From behind, Bede jumped up onto me, tail wagging and tongue lolling again.
“No, I won this time.” I turned and playfully nudged him down.
He tossed his head as though arguing with me.
“I can’t help it if I’m faster than you.” I rubbed a hand between his ears and was bending to plant a kiss there when the door wrenched open with such force I stumbled back.
“Emmy. There you are.” Father filled the doorway, all muscle and brawn. With broad shoulders, a strong square jaw, and rich brown eyes, I guessed he was as handsome now as he’d been eighteen years ago when he’d first met Mother. That had happened during the dangerous days as an elite guard fighting against King Ethelwulf’s invasion of Mercia.
“Father!” I vaulted into him as I always did upon his return. His strong arms surrounded me and lifted me up in a tender but all-encompassing hug. I breathed in the woodsmoke that permeated every part of him, a scent he couldn’t scrub off even when he washed away the black grime he accumulated while tending the kilns.
“I was about to set off in search of you.” He gently lowered me to my feet, studying me with his typical keenness, which told me he hadn’t missed a single detail. He’d likely already figured out where I’d gone, what I’d been doing, and how long I’d been away.
“You’re home earlier than usual.” I eyed him in return. In simple garments that were patched and mended beyond their usefulness, I saw nothing out of the ordinary except he favored his stronger leg, the sign he’d overtaxed himself in his haste.
Every time I pleaded hard enough, he’d tell me the story of how he’d injured his leg while saving Mother, me, and my two sisters, Adelaide Constance and Maribel, from a wolf attack when I’d been but a few days old. He’d single-handedly thwarted the pack sent by King Ethelwulf to track us down. One of the wolves had taken a bite out of his calf, and he’d almost died from the severity of the wound.
Mother claimed she’d saved Father by giving him true love’s kiss. And of course, whenever she brought it up, Father asked her to demonstrate the kiss she’d given him, which she gladly did every time.
Father stood back and waved me into the cottage with his cane. The scent of roasted duck enveloped me and made my stomach rumble. Only when he moved to close the door did I notice the extra energy in his step—an energy that shouldn’t have been there, an energy he never had after days of trekking many leagues to town and back.
I expected Mother to be bustling around the table setting out our wooden trenchers and cups or busily carving the duck. Instead, she was kneeling in front of our clothing chest and folding items into neat stacks on the floor, a bag open at her side.
A vise seized my lungs and squeezed. Was she packing for a trip?
As though sensing my question, she halted and sat back on her heels. Only seventeen years older than me, she could have passed for my sister, not my mother. If she’d been beautiful when she was younger, she was only more so now with her long, lustrous dark hair, her pale and perfect skin, and her trim and yet womanly body. Father said I resembled Mother, which was why Sister Katherine had chosen them to raise me and not one of my siblings.
Her striking green eyes met mine, and I saw in them a mingling of fear and excitement I’d never seen before.
“Emmeline,” she started, her voice containing a note of apology.
I turned my attention to my father. “Is something amiss?”
He didn’t meet my gaze this time and instead limped to the corner where he’d dumped his sacks. “Much has changed in the outside world since my last trip during the winter.”
My muscles tensed, and I braced myself for whatever news he’d share, sensing it wouldn’t be to my liking. “What changes?” I forced the question even though I didn’t want to know.
“Your twin sister has come out
of hiding and is living with Queen Adelaide Constance in Norland.”
I took a rapid step back and almost tripped over Bede, who’d followed me inside and now sat on the rush mat in front of the door. I sank down beside him.
Father was watching my reaction carefully. “Maribel married young Lord Chambers of Chapelhill.”
“Should I know that name?”
“No, you wouldn’t, and that’s not important. What matters is both Maribel and Adelaide are now married.”
Last year on Father’s visit to town, he’d come back with news that my older sister Adelaide—as she preferred to be called—had finally begun her quest to reclaim Mercia’s throne from King Ethelwulf. Upon reaching the age of twenty, she was old enough to rule of her own right.
As such, she’d sailed to Norland and had married the Earl of Langley, who’d left Mercia years before and had been in Norland forming an army of rebels. Since the earl was like a son to Norland’s King Draybane, Adelaide’s marriage had solidified an alliance with Norland as well as gained much-needed troops and financial backing.
Ever since discovering the news, Father had been thrilled. A spark had flared in his eyes and only burned brighter with each passing month.
I, on the other hand, hadn’t wanted to talk about the news with Father, much to his disappointment. I’d done my best to forget all about it.
Now, I had no wish to speak of Adelaide again. And I certainly had even less desire to hear of Maribel’s marriage. “I don’t know why either of their marriages should matter. They don’t affect me.”
“Their marriages do affect you, Emmy. Very much.”
“Why?” My question came out more defiant than I intended. Father knew I had no aspiration to involve myself in Mercia’s affairs, that I was perfectly content with my life the way it was and didn’t want it to change.
He shifted several stones in the interior wall to reveal the hidden cupboard filled with books. He’d discovered the compartment shortly after moving to the cottage and had taken to storing his weapons there. “Everyone I talked to said King Ethelwulf had wanted his son, the crown prince, to marry Adelaide or Maribel, and by doing so, squelch the uprising.”
“Then my sisters are free to continue plotting their uprising. But as you know, I have no inclination to be a part of it.” Bede pushed his nose against my hand, and I tangled my fingers in his hair to keep them from trembling.
“Now that the king cannot have Adelaide or Maribel for Prince Ethelrex, he may set his attention upon you.”
“We are safe here in the forest.”
Father didn’t respond except to lift his double-edged sword from his arsenal. At the sight of the imposing blade, a chill skittered over my skin and caused me to shudder. He rarely took out his weapons, but every time he did, I had the same reaction. Although he’d made certain I knew how to use them proficiently, I hated touching them. Even more, I hated the thought of bringing harm to anyone.
“Emmeline.” Mother stood and brushed down her simple skirt fashioned from the same coarse linen as my clothing. Again, her features radiated apology. “My sweeting, I know you want things to continue as they always have, but we have taught you that this life is not your true destiny.” She waved her hand to the humble cottage.
“It can continue.” My voice wobbled with a plea. “We’re a family, and we’re happy here, are we not?” Mother had always claimed she was happy even though she’d never had other children. After experiencing several miscarriages, she’d told me she was all the more grateful for the opportunity to raise me.
Mother’s eyes shone with sudden tears. “We have cherished each moment of every day we have had with you. But ’twould be selfish of us to hang on to you when your sisters and the cause need you.”
“They need my key and our map. Not me.” I patted the leather pouch at my hip. “We shall find a way to deliver them, and then they’ll be able to locate the treasure without me.”
“They need more than the key and map,” Father cut in, “and you know it.”
I was well aware they needed more. When I’d been but a girl, Father and I had found in the key’s shaft a tiny piece of parchment containing the words, “W.M. Land.” We’d put our minds together and figured out the six letters stood for West Moorland, which spread out to the northwest of Inglewood Forest.
I’d recognized the intricate engraving of the wild boar on the bit of the key as symbolizing strength and courage. I hadn’t needed to study much further to discover West Moorland had long ago been known for its wild boar hunting ground.
Though Father knew the trip would take weeks, he’d traveled to West Moorland to the old hunting ground. After searching for days, he’d finally located the foundation of a hunting lodge that had once belonged to the royal family. He’d dug through mounds of rubble before uncovering a column base in the shape of a boar’s head. There, he’d discovered a keyhole hidden at the back of its open mouth amidst sharply pointed teeth. He’d returned home with a third of the map to the Labyrinth of Death.
Although Father had heard of the fabled labyrinth during his years of elite guard training, like most others he’d doubted its existence. But after finding a portion of the map, we’d both realized the labyrinth was no fable and was likely the resting place of the much-sought-after treasure.
After that, we’d scoured the old books and scrolls in the cottage’s hidden cupboard. Though the pages were yellowed with age, the stone walls had preserved the parchments from mice and other wild animals.
We’d always assumed the manuscripts were simply old history texts. But after finding the map, we’d finally understood just how valuable the books were and why they’d been stored in the isolated cottage. Most of them had references to a labyrinth in one form or another and contained countless clues regarding not only the layout of the maze but also the traps within.
It had taken us several years, but together Father and I had studied the books, cataloged details, deciphered codes, and solved riddles, until at last we’d sketched what we believed to be the rest of the labyrinth, adding in the letters of the various passageways, along with the center room, which we agreed contained the treasure.
I was fairly certain our re-created map was accurate, although I wouldn’t know unless I compared the drawing with the other two original pieces.
The truth was, I had no desire to see the real sections of the map—likely in the hands of my sisters by now. I had no desire to visit the labyrinth. And I had no desire to find a hidden treasure. All I wanted was to stay in Inglewood Forest where I was safe with the two people I loved more than life. And I didn’t want to leave my best friend—Bede.
I scratched behind the fox’s ears and earned a lick. “The ancient prophecy indicates that a wise young ruler—not rulers—will rise up.”
In the process of strapping on the belt he used to carry his weapons, Father paused. “Sister Katherine told us it would take the three of you working together to find the treasure.”
Sister Katherine was one of the nuns at St. Cuthbert’s who had shielded Father and Mother when they’d arrived in the Iron Hills with me and my sisters. She’d helped to orchestrate our hiding places so that King Ethelwulf hadn’t been able to discover our whereabouts. She and another nun were the only two who knew where Mother and Father had taken me. After all these years of seclusion and safety, we were certain they’d never given away the location. We could continue to live together in the forest forever enjoying life as we always had.
And that’s what I planned to do.
As if sensing my resolve, Father shared a glance with Mother. She nodded at him, and he squared his shoulders, took a breath, and then met my gaze levelly. “We’re leaving for Norland at nightfall.”
I stiffened. “No.”
Bede rose to his feet, his fur bristling and his eyes darting between Father and me. Although Bede would never attack Father, he’d do anything to defend me at the slightest hint of aggression. I placed my hand upon his head to soothe hi
m even though I was anything but reassured.
“I don’t want to go.” I tried to speak calmly, but my voice wavered anyway. “You know that.” Father had already tried once to convince me to go to Norland after he’d learned Adelaide was there. I’d refused to leave. He had to know I hadn’t changed my mind since last year.
“We must go. I heard rumors that the king’s men are searching Inglewood Forest for you. It’s only a matter of time before they track you here.”
“The forest covers hundreds of square miles. They won’t find us.” Even as I spoke, I knew I wasn’t being rational, that I was letting my emotions cloud my judgment.
Father’s expression turned grave. “I saw tracks on my way back into our part of the forest. A soldier’s tracks.”
I should have known Father would notice the tracks too. “We can’t assume the worst. The tracks could be from a woodcutter coming to assess the land, or a hunter who’s wandered too far, or even another charcoal burner.”
Father shook his head and pursed his lips. “People are looking for you. And since we don’t know who may be friend or foe, we must go.”
People had always been looking for me, especially in my nightmares, but this couldn’t happen here, not in our safe place.
“No one realizes you and Mother have a child.” Every time we’d had a rare visitor over the years—usually just another charcoal burner—Father had distracted the guest until Mother could hide me.
“Emmy, please try to understand—”
“Why can’t you try to understand how I feel?” My voice had risen with my growing anxiety—an emotion I didn’t want to experience but one that nevertheless swelled in my chest. I scrambled to my feet.
“We only want what is best for you.” Mother held out her hands and walked toward me.
“This is the best. I have all I want.”
“Whether you acknowledge it or not, God made you for more.” Father’s voice turned firm and his eyes steely. “Now, resign yourself to leaving. Help your mother pack. We’ll partake together of your birthday meal, and then we’ll be on our way.”