Gossip

by Cay Templeton

“I want you to… dance with me,” he smiled.

  Without any kind of response, Victor stood up and held his hand out to her. She stared at it for a long moment, and then finally took it.

  Victor lead the two to the dance floor, held up his hand and they slowly slid into the dance.

  “No luck with the interviews?” he asked.

  “Sadly, no. No one seems to know my mother or they will not say.”

  Victor remained silent while Claire could feel the frustration boil within her body.

  “How could someone just stop existing?” she spat.

  “Listen, people are protecting themselves and probably her and you,” Victor suggested. “Even if they knew your mother, they cannot say a word or they might have to face the crown.”

  Claire scoffed, even though she knew Victor was right. She didn’t wish to talk anymore on the matter. She had just spent that last hour or so asking people if they knew anything about her mother and where she might have come from.

  On one or two faces, Claire swore she saw hints of recognition but no would admit to even knowing who her mother was.

  Claire tilted her head and looked up at Victor.

  “You know, you are a pretty all right dancer,” she said.

  “Why thank you, Madame,” he replied.

  They both giggle for a moment until their eyes locked and softened.

  Claire tried to force a smile through the longing that was tense between the two.

  “Claire, I…”

  “I know,” replied Claire and leaned forward to kiss him. But before their lips could connect, eight of the Royal guard busted into the tavern, forcing everyone to scatter. Victor tucked Claire behind him as all the guards moved towards them.

  “The Queen demands to know what you are doing here!”

  Clearing his throat, and in the worst French accent Claire had ever heard, Victor said, “I am dancing. I would say that is not a crime but you have not met my dance partner yet. It was pretty bad, I must admit.”

  Claire elbowed Victor in the side for the rude remark.

  “Is this your dance partner?” the guard repeated.

  “Oui, Monsieur,” Victor said, and then pulled Claire close to himself. “My dance partner.”

  Victor gave a low grisly laugh that provoked all the guards to laugh at his true meaning.

  Claire, too, chortled nervously.

  “She seems in good spirits. Perhaps your lady friend would care to entertain us,” stated the guard, and looked at his fellow guards behind him with a smirk. They all started laughing again. The guard leaned forward to Claire. “What do you say? Do you care to join us?”

  “Please, you take all my night’s fun away,” Victor said, a little defensively.

  Victor tucked Claire behind him again, and said, “Besides, why would she want to accompany a horse’s ass, Monsieur?”

  Claire pulled on his arm, disapproving of the jabbing comment.

  The guard stopped laughing and looked at him, insulted. Claire pulled on his arm, disapproving of the jabbing comment.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered to Victor. “You are going to get us arrested.”

  “What did you say?” growled the guard.

  Victor pulled his arm away from Claire and walked closer to the guard.

  “I can already tell from your poor accent that you are either uneducated or foreign,” started the guard. “or maybe both.”

  Victor’s head bobbed up and down as he nodded with his lips slightly skewed. Claire knew this look. Trouble was coming.

  “At least I have enough intelligence to know when I am talking to the village idiot,” Victor said in his native tongue.

  The guard grabbed Victor and punched him right in the face.

  “Victor!” Claire squealed.

  Victor threw his first blow back, hitting the guard hard in the stomach. The guard collapsed to the ground trying to catch his breath while other guards quickly took hold of Victor’s arms. They pinned him to the wall.

  The head guard rose from the ground and punched Victor right in the stomach. Victor doubled over, gasping for air. The head guard grabbed Victor by the hair and yanked his head backwards.

  “I remember you. You never learn, do you? Perhaps I should give you a better lesson this time.”

  “Is that right?” Victor laughed. “You know, before, I was just mocking, but you really are the village idiot.”

  The head guard punched Victor in the face not once but a couple times. When he reached back to punch him one more time, a rope wrapped around the head guard’s wrist and yanked him backwards.

  All the guards turned to see a Captain, still on his horse, trot through the front door.

  “This is no way to treat guests of her Majesty, now is it?” said the man somewhat sternly.

  Just then, he kicked his horse’s sides and took off back outside, dragging the head guard behind him.

  The two guards holding onto Victor promptly let him go.

  “That is what I thought,” spat Victor through his blood-covered lips, and straightened his shirt. Claire ran to his side.

  “Last night I was so worried about you and now...”

  Victor looked at her with a half-smile.

  “You are such a fool!”

  When Claire looked out the front door of the tavern, though it was dark, she could still see the Captain’s horse riding back towards them.

  Claire and Victor quickly made their way out to the street.

  The Captain brought his horse to a halt next to the rest of the guards, who had now climbed back on their horses.

  “Pick him up on your way back,” he barked, giving them all a stern look over, and gestured with his head for the group to go, in which they quickly complied.

  The man dismounted his horse and turned his attention to Claire and Victor before he spoke. He looked at Claire with wonder as if in a trance.

  “I understand now,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to catch it. He broke from the trance and extended his hand. “Guten Abend, Fräulein Du Bois.”

  “Good evening, indeed,’ Claire responded in her native tongue, impressed. ‘You speak German?”

  The man nodded. “But it is probably safer if we do not.”

  “Oui,” Claire agreed.

  He removed his hat and swooped into a bow. “I am the Captain of the royal guard.”

  Claire curtsied. “And you know my name?”

  “Oui, Madame. I believe everyone in town knows your name. You and Monsieur Krouse are quite famous already. I must admit,” he continued. “You are far prettier than the rumors had suggested. Perhaps no one has gotten a good look at you,” he smiled.

  The Captain took Claire’s hand into his and kissed it. Claire blushed at his words. Victor cleared his throat loudly while breaking between them.

  “Ah, yes. Monsieur Krouse,” the Captain spoke. ‘This is- what? The second time I have saved you, if memory serves me correctly?”

  Victor took Claire by the arm as if claiming her as his own.

  “Ah,” the Captain hummed. “I am sorry, I did not know you were together.”

  “We are not together,” Claire argued. But when she tried to yank her arm free from Victor, she felt his tight grip holding her close.

  Victor’s cool eyes darted over to Claire. The Captain looked back and forth between them.

  “Either way, I am afraid I must escort you both to the castle now. The Queen is most eager to meet you.”

  Claire could feel her heart race again but she wasn’t sure if it was with worry or excitement of meeting the odd girl that had been the center of almost every conversation.

  The Captain grabbed the reins of the head guard’s horse. “Here; I am sure Monsieur Monte would be more than honored for you to ride his horse.”

  “I have it from here,” Victor said to the Captain and then held his hand out to Claire.

  “Men,” she breathed.

  After Claire had mounted the horse, Victor climbed
on behind her and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

  “I hope you are ready for this,” he whispered in her ear and pulled her closer to him. “You are about to get everything you hoped for from this excursion.”

  With a smack of the reins, the three trotted towards the castle.

  Chapter 15

  “Clean Hands”

  As the small group approached the entrance gate to the castle, two guards stood to either side of the gate, barely flinching. Claire caught their glares as she rode past them.

  “Hmmm, word does travel fast,” she whispered over her shoulder to Victor.

  The group came to a full stop in front of the grand staircase leading to the front entrance. The ten royal guards that they encountered earlier were standing at attention in two rows off to the side.

  “Here we are,” said the Captain, as he dismounted.

  Victor jumped off his horse as well, and helped Claire get down. As they walked past the royal guards, Claire noticed, standing at the end was the head guard. Fresh bruises were still forming on his face and scrapes could be seen on his face. She wasn’t sure if Victor got a clean hit on him or if it was from the Captain dragging him off.

  “Mademoiselle Du Bois, Monsieur Krouse, this is one of my finest swordsmen, Francis Monte,” said the Captain, gesturing to the beaten-up guard.

  The man did not flinch. The Captain patted the guard on the shoulder and looked back at Claire.

  “He is a good man, though still a little ill-tempered at times,” the Captain said with a smile. “Shall we?”

  The Captain led the way up the stairs and into the entrance hall of the castle. More royal guards met the group, two of whom seized Victor by the arms.

  “No!” Claire screamed and pathetically attempted to pull a rather large guard off of Victor. “What are you doing?”

  The Captain took Claire by the hand and pulled her away. “Mademoiselle, it is you the Queen wished to meet. Not Monsieur Krouse.”

  “Where will he be taken?” Claire asked with concern.

  “Somewhere safe. I promise.”

  The Captain nodded his head and the guards started to escort Victor down the hall.

  “Victor!” Claire screamed after him.

  Victor looked over his shoulder and winked at her, then faced forward again. “Stop worrying, Claire. I have it under control.”

  “Of course you do,” she said to herself.

  Claire looked back at the Captain and said more firmly, “Of course he does.”

  The Captain held out his arm to her. With great apprehension, Claire took it.

  The two entered into the throne room. Looking around, no more than a handful of servants tending to cleaning and polishing the statues were present. At the far end was a tiny figure of a woman, sitting perfectly on her throne.

  The Captain led Claire across the length of the room. Her eyes surveyed the magnificence of the hall. Large tapestries with the King’s many accomplishments hung from every wall, and on the floor was an intricately-designed Persian rug. Gold-plated torches adorned every column next to the statues, and a few guards were stationed throughout the room.

  As they walked, she couldn’t help but notice that all the servants stopped and whispered to each other. Some even pointed at her.

  “Leave us!” the Queen ordered. The servants’ eyes dropped to the floor and they resigned themselves from the room.

  Finally, the Captain and Claire reached the bottom of the small set of stairs that led to the elegantly-decorated thrones. Claire caught the pumpkin etched in the back of the King’s empty chair. Then her eyes flitted over to Queen Isabella. Getting a closer look, Claire observed the beautiful young woman’s long, blond hair with a diamond-studded crown resting comfortably on top. Her face appeared to be soft and gentle but her eyes were tormented and dangerous.

  Claire bowed her head as the Captain released her arm and stepped off to the side.

  “How do you find yourself this evening, Mademoiselle Du Bois?” asked the Queen.

  “I am quite well, thank you. And you, Your Majesty?”

  The Queen shifted slightly in her seat looking down at her clasped hands in her lap.

  “I wish I could say I was well, but there is something gnawing at me this evening.”

  The Queen rose, and moved delicately but deliberately towards Claire as she spoke.

  “It seems that my stepmother has been conspiring against me again. I thought she had stopped that horrible habit years ago, but here you are.”

  “I do not understand,” Claire said simply, keeping a watchful eye on her.

  The Queen stepped right next to her. Looking out at the room that lay beyond, she whispered into Claire’s ear, “We both know why you are here. Even if you do not admit it to me, I am sure your friend will.”

  Claire turned and looked at the malice in the Queen’s eyes.

  “I came to find out the truth,” said Claire.

  “Yes, well, the truth is in the eye of the beholder, is it not?”

  Claire stood strong. “If you can recall, Your Majesty, I was not raised in this land. I do not care for French folklore or fairy tales.”

  “Everyone likes a good fairy tale,” the Queen said snidely.

  “If I am not mistaken, I believe that you like a good fairy tale.”

  “Watch yourself, Mademoiselle Du Bois.”

  The Queen, for the first time since she entered the room, looked Claire in the eyes. “I am capable of many things.”

  “I have no doubt of your power, Your Majesty. Please know that I am here to get facts; not stories. If there is something you wish to tell me, by all means, I am listening.”

  The Queen raised her fingers to her lips, a little taken aback.

  “Really?” she murmured.

  “Really.”

  The Queen gestured with her hand to a squire who stood against a column to her right. He quickly grabbed a golden bowl off of a flame that held piping hot water. He also brought a bar of soap and a towel, which he draped over his arm.

  Without dropping a single bit of water, he brought it over.

  The Queen carefully placed her hands in it, took the bar of soap, and scrubbed them clean. It took several minutes for her to wash every individual finger and then she wiped them dry. After she had completed this ceremonious task, she turned her focus back to Claire, who stood directly in front of her.

  “I have no doubt that you know the tale that followed shortly after I was made Queen.”

  “Of course.”

  “I will admit that it was an enchanting fairy tale indeed, but, like so many tales, a lot of details were left out.”

  “What kinds of details?” Claire asked, genuinely interested.

  “She hit me.”

  “Excuse me?” Claire said in disbelief.

  “She hit me!” the Queen said loud enough that it echoed through the room.

  Not convinced and unaware, Claire’s brow rose as she studied the Queen. She seemed to think this was the truth by her serious expression and the tone in her voice.

  “You do not believe me?”

  “Everyone has a tale to tell,” Claire pointed out.

  Then, reaching in her satchel, she dug around for some parchment. When she finally pulled some out, the emerald ring Josephine gave her fell out too.

  The Queen knelt down and snatched it into her hand. All of a sudden her mouth fell agape and her face contorted with anger. “How did you get this?”

  Lost for a good explanation, Claire said the first thing that came to mind. “The Countess gave it to me as a gift.”

  “Liar!” the Queen growled. Her eyes burrowed deep into Claire’s and her head tilted in such a way that she looked like she was going to attack her.

  Claire tried not to falter. “She did. However, if it has some significance to you, please take it.”

  The Queen threw the ring back at Claire and luckily, she caught it. Quickly, she shoved it back in her bag.

  “Keep
that piece of filth out of my sight,” the Queen said snidely. “And I do not wish to talk to someone who has been seduced by that evil witch.”

  “You wanted me here, Your Majesty, or you would not have tormented my friend nor had your guard come looking for me. The Countess, despite her flaws—”

  “The Countess means nothing to me! Captain, take Mademoiselle Du Bois to her room!”

  “What?” Claire exclaimed, confused.

  “I need time to think before I speak further with you.”

  “You must be joking,” Claire said, half sarcastic, half honest.

  The Queen’s whole body became rigid and her upper lip curled back into a sneer.

  “Maybe tomorrow I will be in a better mood to ‘tell you my tale.’ Captain!”

  Without any hesitation, the Captain immediately moved to Claire’s side.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “Take Mademoiselle Du Bois to her room and make sure she stays there until morning.”

  He bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The Captain held out his hand and gestured for Claire to move towards the door. As they walked, Claire could hear the Queen talking to herself.

  “Who was that, my dear?” came a low male voice.

  When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw a young man who was a little older than the Queen step out from a side door. When her eyes first fell upon the King, her stomach bottomed out and she thought she was going to be sick. The striking resemblance between the King and herself was unmistakable.

  Dizziness consumed her and her thoughts became unfocused. “It cannot be,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” the Captain asked. But there was no response.

  When he turned to her, Claire was ghost white and her steps were unsteady.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  Claire didn’t even look at him, caught in a trance. “The Countess knew all along . . . my father was the king.”

  The last thing she felt was her legs giving way underneath her.

  Chapter 16

  “The King's Mistress”

  The Captain opened double doors and led Claire out onto the terrace.

  “I think some fresh air will do you good,” the Captain said to her.

  She slowly breathed in the cool night air, bringing some calm back to her nerves.