Briarheart

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Shall I move some of your things in there for you?” she asked, looking as pleased as a cat with a choice of cream or fish.

  “Yes, but be careful,” I told her. “The armorer gave it to me, and my new chain mail is in there all wrapped in oiled leather. Make sure you put some canvas in the chest so the gowns won’t get spoiled by the oil.”

  The look on her face was worth the hair pulling I was going to get when she did my hair tonight. It was a blessed shame that my hair was so long that I couldn’t easily do it myself. And the thought of that hair pulling I was about to get gave me an idea to distract her from the chest.

  “Maybe I should cut my hair,” I said aloud, knowing what she would think of that. She was always going on about how “a woman’s hair is her crown of beauty” and how “at least your hair is appropriate.” Belinda turned crimson.

  “Proper ladies do not cut their hair,” she said primly. She left out the part about how only women shameless enough to conduct themselves as if they thought they were equal to men cut their hair because I always added, “And women in holy orders, and those who are very sick, and those who are trying to show they aren’t vain about their looks.” Belinda had stopped using that nonargument weeks ago.

  “But I’m not a proper lady, am I?” I replied. “I’m Aurora’s guardian and one of the Companions. I’m a proper warrior, or I’m going to be, and woman warriors cut their hair all the time.”

  The more I thought about the idea of cutting my hair, the better I liked it. I was always waking up with my head at odd angles if I wasn’t careful to drape my braids over the top of my bed or off to the side. And although my hair made good padding, it was also a damned hot nuisance inside a helmet. If I’d had scissors handy, I’d have done the deed right then.

  Belinda, however, was now furious with me, her face a mask of barely suppressed rage. “Very well, then,” she said, and marched off. I thought I was going to get some peace and quiet, but no, she came marching back with scissors. And before I knew it, she was shearing me right off at the chin.

  For a minute, I was shocked. Then I started laughing as she whacked the second braid off.

  From the look on her face, this was not what she’d expected me to do. She stared at me, stunned, the scissors still in her hand.

  I could hardly believe how much freer such a simple thing made me feel. All my life I’d had this weight of hair holding my head down, tugging at me, getting in the way. It had been far more of a burden than a sign of beauty. My head felt light. In a good way.

  Belinda had expected me to be shocked that I’d gotten what I asked for and start crying because now all my “beauty” was gone. She did not know how to react when I didn’t do that. I ran both hands through my hair, then ruffled it up like you would a dog’s fur. To my slight disappointment, it didn’t curl. I’d rather hoped for curls. Curls always look good no matter how wet or windy the weather.

  I stood up, the two braids of hair falling down to my feet like a pair of coiled snakes, and ran my fingers through my shorn crop again. “This is marvelous, Belinda! Thank you!” I said merrily, and snatched the chaplet she’d left on my little table and put it on my head. “I can’t wait to show Mama and Papa!”

  “Wait!” Belinda bleated, suddenly aware that if anyone got into trouble for this, it was going to be her—but it was too late. What could she do? It wasn’t as if she could glue the braids back on again.

  Mama and Papa were already gone to dinner, so I ran down the stairs and made my “entrance” from the private stair. I really didn’t know what to expect, but the immediate reaction from those who could see me was side-eyed, as if they didn’t know how to react; Mama caught that and turned and looked at me, and her hand flew to her lips. “Miri!” she gasped. “Your hair!”

  But Papa just nodded. “Very practical especially considering you are one of Aurora’s Companions now. It looks both competent and becoming. I strongly approve.” And he said it loudly enough that his voice carried at least to the middle of the Great Hall, which stopped some of the side-eyes.

  “Thank you, Papa. I like it ever so much better than long hair.” I took my place at Mama’s left, then when it appeared that he was not going back to another conversation, I said, “And about Aurora’s Companions… would it be presumptuous of me to ask that we all be seated together at meals from now on? I think we need to…” I searched for the right words. “I think we need to really become like the knights are. Brothers and sisters. Right now, we don’t have much to do with one another outside of training.” Not that we weren’t spending most hours of the day training, but still.

  Papa considered that for a moment. “Not all meals,” he responded. “Not state occasions or great occasions when you really must be with us because of your rank and position. But ordinary meals, yes. In fact, you should all be seated with the squires. It will give them a chance to get to know you, and you them. They will be knights one day, and you will all be as well.”

  “Thank you, Papa!” I replied gleefully. Because that meant no more dressing up for dinner; I could and would arrange for some practical tunics and trews to wear at dinner among the squires, so we and the squires would be dressed equally rather than according to rank. The arms on my tunic would be the Royal Arms, of course, rather than Sir Delacar’s, but that would be the only difference among us. I’d make sure that all the rest had the same sort of outfits too—if Papa didn’t give the orders himself, which he just might. He was very good at taking care of the details that made a difference.

  Belinda had started this, but I was going to finish it to my satisfaction.

  “I think your mother wants to have a word with you after dinner about the genesis of your new hair arrangement,” Papa added, after a long look exchanged with Mama. I nodded. For once I was entirely blameless, so I was actually looking forward to this.

  When Papa signaled the end of dinner, he went to mingle with the Court. Mama and I, however, went back silently up the stairs. When we got to her rooms, which by now had been lit by lamps, I expected that she would finally say something. Before she could, however, we realized that Belinda was sitting on a stool in the common room of the Royal Suite with my braids on her lap and a face full of woe.

  My governess sprang to her feet, clutching the hair in front of her, then went to her knees and sobbed. “Oh, Majesty! Forgive me! It was all my fault; she vexed me so, and before I knew what I’d done, the scissors were in my hand and the hair was on the floor!”

  Now that was a bit of a fib, because we both knew she’d had to go out of the room for the scissors, and she’d had plenty of time to think about what she was going to do while she was looking for them. But I kept my mouth shut since she’d owned up to its being her doing and her idea.

  “Miri, is that true?” Mama asked. Rhetorically, of course, since Belinda was now sobbing theatrically about how sorry she was, with her face buried in the braids. I just nodded.

  “I do truly like it much, much better than long hair, though,” I said. Now Belinda was groveling and weeping into Mama’s hem. “I’d like to keep it this way. Though a bit tidier. I think it’s lopsided.”

  In the candlelight, poor Mama looked as if she couldn’t make up her mind what to feel. Annoyed with Belinda? Pained that I wasn’t turning out to be like her and taking pleasure in being feminine? Amused at my lopsided haircut? Since becoming Queen, she had learned how to control her expression so well that I often couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. Which was good for the Queen but a little hard on me. Finally, she just nodded and turned to Belinda, who was still noisily weeping.

  “That will be enough, Belinda,” Mama said, using that flat, matter-of-fact tone she trotted out only when she needed to. It certainly made Belinda shut up and drop the hem of Mama’s gown. “It’s very clear now that you are entirely the wrong sort of governess for Miri. I believe you’ll have to have another position elsewhere.”

  Belinda looked up, her face frozen in horror, and for the firs
t time, I actually felt sorry for her. Very sorry, in fact, since Mama had just told her that she was being turned away. She was rather old to have to go out and find a new position—not to mention the fact that virtually every lady in the Court who needed and could afford a governess already had one. Now it was my turn to feel guilty. As angry as I’d been with Belinda in the past, she didn’t deserve to be turned out! “Mama—” I began hesitantly.

  But Belinda spoke over me. “Majesty—you’re turning me out?” Her face crumpled, and two huge real tears welled up out of her eyes.

  “I’m—good heavens, you silly thing, of course not!” Mama laughed. “No, I’ll need you for Aurora, who will certainly need the kind of early training you can give her once she’s too old for Melalee. But for Miri, you’re all wrong. So until Aurora is old enough, you’ll be the mistress of my chamber and in charge of my maids. See to it that they keep the Royal Suite, the nursery, and Miri’s room clean, and instruct them in the sorts of needlework needed for mending our apparel and linens. Take them off any other duties but those. It’s time I made some changes to the immediate household anyway. I can make quite a difference in the costs of the Royal Household with some new economies.” Mama made a little face. “Just because I am the Queen is no reason to act foolishly improvident. I wore my gowns turned four times, then cut them down for Miri before I was the Queen, and the King and I can certainly cope with having everything but velvet turned at least once.”

  Now Belinda was back to sobbing into Mama’s hem, this time in burbling gratitude. Mama and I exchanged a look of exasperation. But I was elated. This was exactly the sort of thing that Belinda was good at, and it would be a step up for the maids, who would learn how to refurbish an expensive wardrobe. That was literally a priceless skill—and what was more, it was one they could teach when they were too old to work as maids anymore.

  Right now, they were just chambermaids, part of a crew that cleaned every room in this part of the palace every day. Now they’d only have to clean the Royal Suite, the nursery, and my room. The heavy work they’d been assigned to had been cut in half in favor of needlework. I knew from Belinda’s relentless tutoring in running a household back when we were in our own little household that, while we’d have to hire two more maids, the money the household would save would be made up three or four times over by being economical with our wardrobes.

  “But if Belinda isn’t to be my governess anymore, who is?” I asked. I couldn’t think of anyone I would want. Most of the other governesses I knew about were cut from Belinda’s cloth.

  “You won’t have one,” Mama replied, which shocked me. “You don’t need one any more than a boy your age would still need a tutor if he was training to be a knight. These past weeks, I’ve been watching you run from one lesson to another and never shirk. I don’t think a governess would make you work any harder, and you already know everything Belinda can teach you that is going to be useful to you.” She sighed and smiled. “I should have known all along that you were destined to become a lady knight even if Aurora didn’t need you as her Champion. Swords instead of needles it is.”

  I wanted to hug her in gratitude, but Belinda was still in the way. Mama looked down, a brief flash of annoyance on her face. “Thank you, Belinda, that will do. You’re a good and faithful servant, and I know I can count on you. You might as well keep to your current bedchamber; it’s as convenient to the Royal Suite as any other would be. You may go.”

  That was the royal dismissal, and Belinda knew it. She clambered to her feet and left, walking backward until she came to the doorway, where she curtsied, turned, and left.

  “The struggle between her and Melalee is going to be entertaining,” Mama mused with a slight smile. “I suspect age will defeat Melalee before Belinda does.”

  “And even then, she’ll sit in the nursery and wait for you and Papa to produce a little brother for me,” I said, and Mama flushed prettily.

  “Well, my dear, even though you are not a princess, you are still my daughter, and as such, the King and I have decided that you should have a pair of ladies-in-waiting of your own.” And I was about to protest that I didn’t need any ladies-in-waiting because what would they do all day except sit with Mama’s ladies and be redundant? But she went on before I could even open my mouth. “Lady Raquelle and Lady Susanna might as well take those positions. Lady Felicity and Lady Iris are both leaving me to return with their husbands to their family estates, I don’t intend to replace them, and I can reshuffle the others so Raquelle and Susanna can have that small bedchamber nearest yours.”

  “Oh, Mama!” I cried, beside myself with happiness because nothing could be more perfect. The two girls were each crowded into a bedchamber with their sisters in the chambers occupied by their parents. Actually, crowded into a bed. Anna shared one with her two younger sisters, and Elle with three other sisters. This was the norm for most of the younger members of the Court whether they were here or on their family estates. In fact, all of Mama’s unmarried ladies slept two to a bed, and more often than not, four to a room. Space in the palace was at a premium, and there were many people here at Court. My friends would be so happy to get some space of their own even if they had to share the room!

  “I’ll give the orders to their parents in the morning,” Mama said, because, of course, she was the Queen, and it really didn’t matter what their parents thought. Not that they were likely to object. This was a tremendous honor for both of my friends, not to mention taking one source of sisterly quarrels out of a crowded “suite” that probably consisted of only two or three bedrooms.

  “I won’t have you three staying up half the night gossiping, mind you,” Mama added, shaking an admonishing finger at me. “If that happens—”

  “It won’t!” I promised. It was a safe promise because chances were that we’d be yawning at the end of every day. The only reason I wasn’t now was because of all of the excitement… which was wearing off. And just as I thought that, I yawned.

  Mama laughed. “Do you still remember how to put yourself to bed?”

  “Yes, Majesty,” I replied, and dropped a saucy curtsy. “Oh… if I’m going to be eating with the squires—”

  “I already left orders for tunics and trews to be brought up in the morning,” Mama said, turning to leave.

  I got back to my room without stumbling—and without having yards of hair to deal with, I got ready for bed in a fraction of the time I usually did. I already knew Belinda’s act of intended punishment was one of the best things she had ever done for me.

  I heard from Papa over breakfast that since my female Companions had been elevated to ladies-in-waiting, he felt that it was time to do some rearranging of housing all around. So the boys would move from their parents’ suites—or in Giles’s case, the servants’ dormitory—into the Knights’ Tower.

  Obviously, I didn’t help in the Knights’ Tower when the boys moved into the empty squires’ room in Delacar’s suite, but I had quite enough entertainment with helping the girls.

  Elle and Anna giggled at my hair, giddy with their elevation in status and thrilled to bits with the prospect of no longer sharing a bed with anyone. Servants brought up their chests of clothing; two of the strongest chambermaids stayed to help shuffle the furnishings around. The girls were utterly delighted with having separate beds. Their beds weren’t the sort of immovable canopied monsters that had to be disassembled and reassembled in place. They were a couple of little box beds you could fit a wool mattress into, and they had separate canopies for the bed curtains that could be put up once they decided where to put the beds. “I’ve had quite enough of elbows in the eye and cold feet where no foot should be!” declared Elle.

  Anna nodded vigorously. “There,” she said, laying a sheepskin down between the two beds. “Now neither of us will step on cold stone in the morning. I think this is as much room as we’re going to be able to manage and still have two beds. We can put up the frames and canopies now.” The chambermaids nodded and
began assembling the frames.

  “Well, there was barely enough room to move around in my old chamber and no sheepskin on the floor, either. I’m happy!” Elle said, throwing herself backward onto her bed. Then she sat up abruptly. “Do you think Sir Delacar will want us to cut our hair?”

  “I think Sir Delacar won’t care,” I said. “I think he’ll even approve if you can figure out some way to use your hair as a weapon.”

  I meant that facetiously, but Elle took me seriously. “Hmm,” she mused, pulling her long braid over her shoulder and examining it. “Not long enough to use as a whip, but I bet I could strangle someone with it.”

  Anna stared at her. “And I’m sleeping in the same room with you?” she said in mock horror.

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe. As long as you don’t snore!” Elle uttered an evil laugh.

  And right about then, a maid delivered sets of the same kinds of tunics and trews the squires wore, and they were in approximately the appropriate sizes. I say “approximately” because the squires got their clothing out of a common pool so nothing was actually fitted. Still, that could be fixed as long as we didn’t actually cut any of the material. Since these tunics and trews would eventually have to be handed on to other squires, we had to return them in the same condition we got them except for normal wear and tear. Elle and Anna each seized a tunic and held it up to themselves, trying to gauge where alterations needed to be made. There weren’t any badges on them yet; the badges would have to be made before we could apply them to the tunics. Well, there it was, Belinda’s sewing lessons were going to come in handy after all.

  “Clothing later, lunch now,” I admonished. “Or we’ll be late for Brianna.”

  I didn’t need to remind them twice. Whether they fit or not, all three of us got into our tunics and trews and boots, and with me enjoying the freedom of movement and freedom from my hair, we competed to see who could get to the Great Hall the fastest without actually breaking into a run.