Journey's Middle

by B. K. Parent

  “I am afraid you will be very hungry, if you have to eat my cooking, for I would probably burn water,” Princess Esmeralda stated ruefully. “As for camping, well, I have been to the royal hunting lodge, but I hardly think that counts.”

  “And then, there is the minor matter of having a skill that might be useful to a young husband, such as tailoring, or blacksmithing, or being very good at an instrument. What can you do?” I asked, hoping she had some special talent, since cooking and camping were going to be a challenge.

  “Well, I do not suppose learning how to be diplomatic or how to greet foreign heads of state will prove much use in this case,” Princess Esmeralda replied, once again surprising us with a rather dry wit.

  “No,” I said. “Do you throw pots?”

  “Only once, and that was when I was really angry.”

  “Paint?”

  “Not that anyone would want to hang in their home.”

  “Drawing?”

  “No.”

  “Work in wood?” I asked hopefully.

  “No.”

  “Work with precious metals or gems?” Torger asked.

  “Only if it involves the royal jewels.”

  “Needlepoint?”

  “I am afraid that my governess gave up on my ability to stitch anything after a few months, and after pulling quite a bit of her hair out. Poor dear soul now has to wear wigs.”

  “Don’t suppose Shueller gave you a quick course in leatherwork when you were riding in his homewagon?” Beezle asked, and I was not sure if he were serious or not.

  “Alas, no.”

  “How about a musical instrument?” Master Clarisse asked, joining in for the first time.

  “I am very good at the harp, and several types of flutes . . .”

  “That could work,” Beezle stated.

  “. . . but the harp I played would not be practical for the road, for it was very large, and I only know very formal music, which I think would be very unusual for a rover to know. Same goes for the flute music. I know chamber music, but not the music that abounds in the countryside. I have heard it, but never learned to play any, so I think traveling as a rover troubadour is out. Before you ask if I sing, the answer is yes, but again, I am not acquainted with the music enjoyed outside of stuffy recitals in the capitol, and trust me, you do not want me singing those tunes.”

  “So, if we could hide you for the next few weeks someplace where you could meet dignitaries or be diplomatic, or someplace where you could perform on a large harp or sing songs that are popular in the capitol but not necessarily here in the out country, that would work?” I stated with some sarcasm. Then I realized I had been addressing the royal heir as if she were Beezle or Master Clarisse. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness.”

  “No offense taken,” Princess Esmeralda said, and then let out a loud sigh. “It would seem that my skills are not very practical, and I must admit, rather specific to the capitol and palace. I am beginning to understand why my mother traveled out of the capitol. This discussion has shown I would be hard pressed to make a living in my own land were I not destined to rule. It also points out that I am really out of touch with the folk of Sommerhjem.”

  “Now don’t give up yet,” said Yola in a calm voice. “Perhaps you are skilled in herb lore?”

  “No, afraid not.”

  “Sewing?”

  “Anything I sewed would fall apart at first wearing.”

  “Ah, can you scribe with fancy lettering and flourishes?” Torger inquired.

  “My tutors have despaired over my handwriting. One had the gall to call it less easy to read than chicken scratching.”

  “Teller of tales?” Beezle suggested.

  “Well some, but I do not think I could make a living at it.”

  “Weaving?” I asked.

  “No, . . . but I can knit.”

  “Knit,” we all exclaimed in unison.

  “Yes.”

  “Well?” Yola asked.

  “Very well, and quite fast. I also can knit complicated patterns with either cables or designs. I had a nanny who taught me to keep me occupied, for I had long stretches where I had very few duties or demands on my time, and as you have heard, I was not good at many things. My nanny was from the far southern mountains and taught me how to knit sweaters, mittens, and hats that folk from her area wore. Would that be of any use?”

  “Do you know how to card the wool, spin the yarn, and dye the wool?” I asked.

  “Alas, no. My nanny always supplied the yarn.”

  “That really may not be an insurmountable problem,” Yola stated. “After all, you just passed through a valley that is the grazing land for sheep. We have plenty of wool here, for the caves are cold and warm sweaters are a must for the miners. We can supply you with all that you need to start with, and I am sure more can be purchased at the fairs. This might work.”

  I still had great doubts. We could change the Princess’ appearance, make her look older, give out a believable story as to why she might not know a lot of the rover customs, and she would have a visible skill, but so very much could go wrong. Going on to Springwell-over-Hill with this young woman with the soft hands, and so little in the way of practical knowledge, was just plain crazy, especially since we knew that there were patrols out looking for her.

  “There is also the matter of how she ended up with me,” I stated. “Perhaps we could say that she and her husband were going to get a homewagon of their own at the end of the summer, but he died in an accident before that could happen. His family’s homewagon was already overburdened, so when I heard from someone at the fair that she was nearby, I went to get her. If we decide that this plan is not totally out of the question, I would need some time to acquaint her with the routines of traveling in a homewagon, before we get to a fair. I think if we went to the Springwell-over-Hill fair, we might as well forget all the subterfuge and just turn her over to the nearest patrol.”

  “If we decide on this plan, we will travel with you,” commented Master Clarisse.

  “No,” I said emphatically.

  “What do you mean, no?” questioned Beezle.

  “You, Beezle, are expected in Springwell-over-Hill to run the family cheese booth, and you, Master Clarisse, also have a booth to run and need to reconnect with Evan. Remember Evan? Besides, we will draw less attention if we are just one homewagon doing the smaller markets and towns over the next week while heading to the Lambkin fair,” I stated, sounding for all the world like I was going to follow this insane plan that Shueller had proposed. “In addition, Master Clarisse, you will need to let Oscar, Bertram, the Jalcones, and especially Shyla, for she will be expecting me, know why I am not at the Springwell-over-Hill fair.”

  Master Clarisse looked at the Princess and said, “Any plan to move you from here to the capitol is going to be risky. Staying here is also taking a great chance not only with your life but that of Torger and his folk.” Addressing the rest of us, she asked whether we had any other ideas. Everyone was silent. Master Clarisse then turned to me. “You really have been volunteered for this task, and no one, not one of us, has asked you if you want to do it.”

  It had not occurred to me that I could say no. Everything had moved so quickly since we had left Snoddleton that I really had not had time to think about just backing away from this whole situation. What was to prevent me from saying, thanks, but no thanks, I would really rather move on without the Princess and not put my life at risk. I think I will just turn my homewagon north and go home. As I was thinking that, the ring on my finger seemed to warm, and I thought I heard someone whisper, “You are not a coward,” but it must have been my imagination. Whisperer or no whisperer, I knew what my answer would be.

  “I’ll take the Princess with me,” I said, with what I hoped was conviction in my voice.
“We will leave in the morning, if that’s agreeable, Your Highness.”

  “It is agreeable to me, but we had better think of something else to call me unless the rovers have suddenly developed royalty within their clans.”

  “How about Kiaya? It is a name common in the far south,” Master Clarisse suggested.

  I looked at her, wondering how it was that she knew about the far south. I realized that for all the time I had been traveling with her, I really knew very little about her. Was that from my lack of interest or her lack of sharing? But then I had not shared very much about myself, for I did not want to give anything away that would give anyone an idea that I was someone other than Nissa the rover.

  “Kiaya would be fine.”

  “While you all try to get some rest, Yola and I will gather items we think you might need or could use. Kiaya, would you accompany me, for we need to fit you with a ring,” Torger said.

  “A ring?” the Princess answered back.

  “It would not do for a young widow to have taken off her marriage ring so soon after her husband’s death.”

  I had not thought of that, so I was glad Torger had. Yola motioned that we should follow her to sleeping chambers where we would find our clothes freshly cleaned and a bed for the night. After dropping Master Clarisse and Beezle off at their respective chambers, I walked after Yola, expecting to enter the next opening, when she said, “Would you do me the honor of talking with me for a moment? I will not keep you long.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  It had been hard to leave the relative safety of the Günnary’s valley and head out, but it had been harder to part ways with Master Clarisse and Beezle. I did not tell them where I was headed, but a plan had begun to form in my mind, once I had agreed to take the Princess with me. I knew I had to stop thinking of her as the Princess, for treating her as a royal rather than a rover would expose us faster than anything else. I was, I had to chuckle, the head rover of our little homewagon and thus in charge. This ought to be interesting, was my thought squeezed in between feelings of sheer terror.

  We had loaded up the wagons with supplies and the Princess. No, I had to think of her as Kiaya. At any rate, we loaded up her meager belongings, plus the knitting supplies, early in the morning. I rearranged the cart, putting Nana’s medicines and herbs to the very back, for when we got to the Lambkin fair I hoped we would have some finished knitted products to sell, which would occupy the space that Nana’s goods had. We stored Kiaya’s yarn and other supplies in several of the small cedar chests I had built to sell. Now they would have to serve for her materials. I had decided I would move my clothes and bedding to Da’s bed and give Kiaya mine, for as head of the homewagon that was fitting. It was hard to do, for I could no longer hold on to the hope that Da and I would be returning home to our cottage by the Rumblesea any time soon. I was glad no one had been in the homewagon with me this morning, for I had not wanted to have to explain the unexpected tears that came as I rearranged the homewagon to accommodate someone other than Da.

  Master Clarisse and Beezle left first, traveling out of the valley the way we had come in and taking the road south that Shueller had. They would reach Springwell-over-Hill later this day and arrive at the fair as expected. Kiaya and I were going to continue south on the narrow lane that had originally brought us to the standing stones. First thing this morning, Torger had talked to me about alternate routes to Lambkin, and I had gotten out the map that Shueller had marked on. Torger added more lines and comments, giving me a number of alternative routes. He said some of his folk would be with me until I left their territory, but I would not see them. He suggested that the Princess remain in the homewagon when we were traveling, for after we left the Günnary territory, there would be no telling who might be watching.

  So now we were on the road, Kiaya in the homewagon and Carz and I on the driver’s seat. I had told no one where we were heading, not even Beezle or Master Clarisse, only that we would meet up with them at the Lambkin fair and to hold a spot for us. Secrets are safer the fewer folk there are who know them. By the looks of the map, we were about a day out from Bransbury, where Farmer Josh’s friend Farmer Ned Fairwalker had his farm. It would not be uncommon for a rover family to take a week off from the fair route for any number of reasons. They might go to smaller markets where they always went at a particular time of year. They might have a particular job or request that would provide better barter or coin than they could make at a fair, or the one I was going to use, running low on wares to sell and needing uninterrupted time to make more. There was some truth in this, and more than that, it would give me time to try to teach the royal heir, who had grown up in a palace with servants and privilege, how to live and act like a rover.

  I was not extremely worried about reaching Bransbury and Farmer Ned Fairwalker’s farm, and I hoped Farmer Josh’s friend was as content to sit on his porch and trade tales as Farmer Josh had been. If we could find a campsite on his land, but not in his direct view, if he were not the curious sort, if, if, if . . . Mine was not a great plan, but it was the best I had been able to come up with. My biggest concern was the last leg of the journey from Farmer Ned Fairwalker’s farm to Lambkin, where we would once again have to take more traveled lanes and go through a long patch of woods that normally I would have avoided. I had noticed on Da’s map, and in his notes, that there was some concern about the safety of that route. Of course the map was several years old, so who knew what the woods held this day. Perhaps nothing. Hopefully whatever had been the problem was now gone. One could wish.

  We reached Bransbury by early evening, and the day had been uneventful. We saw very few folk on the road and no patrols or other obvious searchers for the Princess. We had stopped briefly for lunch, which was eaten cold in the homewagon. I felt bad for the Princess being cooped up in the homewagon on such a fair summer day, but she did not complain. She had already produced several hats and had the front and back of a sweater finished. Said she had actually enjoyed the time alone without interruption or duties, and once she had gotten used to the slight sway of the homewagon, had lost herself in the rhythm of her knitting.

  Farmer Josh had drawn me a crude map of how to find Farmer Ned Fairwalker’s farm when he had suggested I stop there. After driving through Bransbury, I took the second lane to the left and then a right at the bottom of a small hill, which would lead me up to Farmer Ned Fairwalker’s farmhouse, I hoped. As I pulled the horses to a stop, three dogs came running out from behind the house barking and tumbling over each other in their rush to check us out. On closer inspection, it appeared they were puppies rather than small dogs. Following behind them, at a much slower pace, was a sprightly old man who was wiping his hands on an old cloth, calling to the pups with little effect.

  “Come on now you three, come back here before those horses step on you.”

  At that moment Carz leapt down from the homewagon and sounded a very soft growl. The pups stopped in their tracks, yelped, and raced to stand behind the man.

  “Well, I’ll be. I guess I might have to get me one of those hunting cats just to keep these three rascals in line,” he said, with a definite twinkle in his eyes. “What can I do for you, young rover?”

  “Are you Farmer Ned Fairwalker?”

  “That I am.”

  “Farmer Josh over by Treebles told me that if I were ever near Bransbury, I should look you up. Said you might be willing to let us camp on your farm.”

  “Ol’ Farmer Josh, that old rascal. He still alive then?”

  “Alive and well and with a sweet tooth for berry tarts that just won’t quit,” I responded.

  “That would be ol’ Farmer Josh alright. You’d be welcome to camp here, but how come you aren’t at the Springwell-over-Hill fair? Most everyone from around here is going sometime this week.”

  “Two reasons really. I’ve done well this summer, so well in fact that I’m running o
ut of items to sell. That’s the good reason. The sad reason is my traveling companion is a very recent widow, and I just picked her up from her husband’s family. She needs some quiet time to settle in with me.”

  “Fair enough. You’re welcome here. See that yonder glen just beyond the pasture land?” he asked, and I nodded. “There’s a good clear stream running there and plenty of downed wood for cook fires. Nice windbreak too, should it storm.”

  “Sounds like that should suit. What do you need help with here?”

  “Now don’t you worry about that this day. You go get yourselves settled in and set up and then check in with me early tomorrow morning. Need some help moving the piglets from their old pen to their new one and some are bound to escape. How are you at herding?”

  “We’ll find out in the morning, now won’t we? I thank you for letting us stay here. We noticed a few patrols out. Seemed unusual. Any come your way?” I asked, thinking that while we had not seen any so far this day, I was really not lying to this man, just bending the truth a bit.

  “Four of them stopped by here yesterday and asked if I’d seen any strangers. I hadn’t, so I told them no. Why don’t you introduce yourselves, so if they come tomorrow and ask if I’ve seen any strangers, I can tell them no again, since once introduced you won’t be strangers any longer, and I won’t have to lie to them.”

  I did as he had requested, asking Kiaya to poke her head out of the homewagon and introduce herself, and I introduced Carz. Before we left, I asked if Carz could hunt his land for small game and did he have any trouble with large vermin. The small game was for our stew pot, the vermin were not. When I assured him that Carz would not hunt his farm animals, he gave permission, and so I turned the homewagon around and headed to the grove of trees he had pointed out. Farmer Ned Fairwalker was right about it being a nice campsite. When I pulled the homewagon to a stop in a nice sheltered area, I jumped down and let down the backstairs. I started unhitching the horses and realized that the Princess had not come out of the homewagon, so I went back to the back door, opened it, and called to her.