by Justin Kauer
Chapter Four - Shattered Dreams
The queen sitting on the seat of the carriage that had been brought to the fire’s edge touched the hand of the old king, signaling that he let her take a turn, and she began to speak.
“I think that I should be a better candidate to tell the next part of this tale!” she began. “A woman’s touch is needed for this part.”
All around the fire snickered a bit and then settled back down for the tale.
Joan rode in an ornate carriage that was filled with gifts for her new king and husband. She had mixed feelings for her impending “happiness”. She had cried again the whole of the night before as she remembered the time and love spent with Alban. None of that mattered now; she had been betrothed by a loving father, and she would do his bidding. She knew that her heart was now fine with that, though it still carried the burden of not knowing if she could ever love another as she did Alban. Then again, months had passed, and she felt that she would do as Garrve had advised her do. She would plant flowers along the path.
As she rode, the scenery suddenly became more and more familiar. She began to remember the curves of the road, the river that flowed near a good stretch of the winding road, and the stunningly sweet smell of junesberry blooms in the air. The shape of the skyline had changed here and there, as some of the trees that were once small had grown quite tall and some of the great, tall trees had fallen in a recent storm. There were even some that were so large that, instead of chopping through them or dragging them out of the way of the road, a new pathway was cut around them and back to the original road. Soon she found herself approaching a castle that was called Badgerden’s Holde. She recognized it from her youth, though the embattlements had been improved greatly, and the guard had grown in great number, probably for the protection of the noble dignitaries that were to be at the ceremony.
They were admitted through the massive gate, and soon the carriage came to a stop. Knowing the anxiety of meeting her new king and husband, Joan wanted to open the door and spring out of the carriage and sprint away, but realized that such an act should look most undignified. She waited for the carriage door to be opened by a servant, though her patience was waning. Finally, the door was slowly unlatched and a hand was stretched forth to help her from her carriage. It was King Garrve’s hand!
She stood, took his hand, and began to ready herself for the climb down the stepladder that was fastened to the side of the carriage. Her jaw almost dragged along the golden carpet that had been rolled out for her reception.
“Lady Joan! I mean, Princess, you have decided to plant the flowers after all! I am glad to see it. You look absolutely ravishing! Perhaps that is due to the fact that you have rested from your torturous journey in the hot desert sun! Dear princess, welcome to Badgerden’s Holde here in Cavenland! I trust that you shall find everything to your liking. We have made great preparations for your arrival and hope to please you with all of the comforts that your own kingdom has afforded you, as of late.”
“Thank you, dear king! I must admit that this is a surprise. I had not thought to see you here.” returned Joan.
“Well, I am most sorry about that! As I have not been relieved from duty, and as we cannot find my predecessor, you will have to put up with me. May you find all to your liking, and if not, simply say the word, and I shall move Iffedale’s Rock to make you comfortable. Let me escort you to your room. I am sure that you must be tired after such a long journey, and should like to freshen up before your Wedding Eve’s Feast. Here, take my arm.” Garrve offered.
Joan took his arm and they began to walk through the nearly empty courtyard to the palace doors.
“These doors are different!” Joan stated.
“Oh, yes! They had to be replaced for the ceremony. Nothing is too good for the future queen of . . . What is it, my lady?” asked Garrve.
“What do you mean?”
“You seem . . . different.”
“Well, I have had a few good, long baths since I returned home.” she joked.
“No. It is something in your countenance. I just cannot place it. Is everything alright . . .”
“Sire, the kitchen is saying that they need a few more . . . Oh! I do apologize, Sire. I did not know that the princess had arrived. Please excuse my interruption, my lady.” said a servant that was very sharply dressed, especially for . . . well, for a servant.
“It is quite alright,” said Joan. “I know that you must be quite busy. Is there anything that I may do to help?”
“No! My lady, please do not be angry! It is a very small matter, nothing that should concern you, my lady. We will manage.” said the servant, whose face looked as if death had caught him by surprise.
“Please do not feel that you shall receive wrath from me on such a small matter. I know that the dignitaries that will be here at the feast tonight may expect flawless performance from the servants, but I know that servants are not perfect, and I especially know that servants that are as well-meaning as you should be prized as a great treasure and asset!”
At first, the servant thought that the princess was mocking him and that a good beating might be on the way for him. As he watched her eyes twinkle in the delight of being able to show mercy and kindness in compliment to a simple servant, his expression softened.
“My dearest, honorable Princess, please, ask what you will of us, and we shall be happy to comply. It is an honor to meet someone as doubly noble as you.” smiled the servant in relief. “King Garrve, would you allow me the honor of showing the young princess to her quarters?”
“Why, yes.” Garrve agreed. “I cannot finish all that needs to be done and make merry at the same time! I shall send Glauffia to help you get ready. She is a most excellent chambermaid that was trained in Darvania but has defected due to the fact that she does believe in God and could not abide the godlessness of the land. The Darvanians are known to be able to make an old hag to look quite presentable. I can only imagine what she will be able to do for you!”
“So, I am an old hag? Is that what you think of your future queen?”
“Ah! I had forgotten about the quick wit! So . . .” Garrve volleyed, looking like he had just won some sort of victory.
“Were you able to contact Alban? Is he here?” she let slip from her lips, due mostly to the fact that she had a triumphant kicking around in her stomach.
“Princess . . . I did indeed attempt to have him here. I seem to remember someone telling me that he had died.”
“Ah, yes! The misery’s sorrow has clouded your memory. How ironic that I had forgotten that!” she said, in an attempt to cheer herself; it did not work.
Garrve laughed, though, “That’s a good one, your highness!”
“You mean, ‘That is a good one!’” she corrected.
“Oh! Yes. The contractions, how could I forget?”
“You just got lazy. That is how we slip into most any mistake that we make, that and ignorance.”
“I really do not think that it is a capital offense to use contractions.”
“It was you who reminded me in the Verdis GranSecas that to use correct grammar is to be polite to others. Do you wish to be rude to your future queen?”
“I almost do, Princess. One other way to be lured into making a mistake is to let someone or something provoke one to anger. Then pride takes over, which is the root of all evils.” Garrve stated playfully. “But it is impossible for anyone to stay angry at you for longer than a split second!”
“Garrve! What is the king like? Is he handsome? Is he kind?”
“Dear lady, he is the most excellent man that I have ever met! You shall be most pleased and privileged to have him as your husb . . .”
“I have had dreams in which Alban came and saved me from this marriage that I did not choose!” Joan interrupted. “I was counting on you to have contacted him by now.”
“I am terribly sorry, Princess. I even asked King . . .
his brother for his help. He said that it was of no consequence now and that the wedding must go on as planned. I wish that I were able to help in some way, but it seems impossible to remedy at this point. Again, I apologize. I am sure that you will feel better in the morning when this is all over.”
“My lady,” the servant pleaded, “Let me take you to your room where you can rest from your journey and then freshen up a bit for the wedding feast. Toby! Please send Glauffia to help the princess. I believe that she is finishing up with the duchess in her quarters. If not, assign Suaffinia to her.”
“Glauffia . . . Suaffinia? Those are such old fashioned names!” said Joan.
“No. Around here they are new and exciting!” Garrve spun with intricate laughter. “My uncle once sold a carriage to a man that he had used for about three years. It was a nice one that he had designed and built and it was very light and fast. However, he had just finished a larger one that suited his current needs to hold much more cargo. My uncle made a suggestion to the man that, while it was not new, that it should still have years of wear left in her. He said to my uncle, ‘It’s new to me! I’ll take it!’ I guess that all depends on perspective, does it not? Besides, Joan is hardly the greatest novelty of a name; in fact, it is the name of an ancient martyr.”
“I suppose so.”
“At any rate, if they are the best servants that you have to offer, I thank you for sending them to attend to me.” came Joan’s answer to Garrve. Then she added to the servant, “Dear sir, I do not know your name.”
“Oh! It is Brantson, your highness.”
“That is fine. Brantson, please lead on.”
“Yes, indeed!” he said with a jolt as he extended his arm which Joan took.
“I shall see you tonight at the dinner, Joan.” Garrve glowed.
“Yes. Good day.” she returned.
“Good day, Princess.”
With that, they were off to her room where she eventually met both Glauffia and Suaffinia, as Glauffia had already finished with the duchess, and Suaffinia was curious to meet the new queen. They talked for what seemed to Joan as hours about the king and his qualities and shortcomings, likes and dislikes. There was even an argument as to which physical characteristic was the best. Glauffia believed it to be the king’s eyes that seemed to shine through the dark. Suaffinia did not live up to her name as she blurted out that his best feature was located far below his eyes. When pressed to explain, she had to admit that, to her, it was indeed his rear end. She blushed a red so bright that Joan thought it would stain her cheeks permanently. The maiden apologized profusely, begging Joan not to have her chastised.
“Do not worry. I do not know him. I have never even seen him, though I will caution you not to talk like that of him after we are wed. I have been known to do all sorts of things out of love. I even considered not going through with this marriage. In fact, all this talk of men reminds me of a slave that I met in the desert. He was the reason behind my prospective perfidy.”
“What made you change your mind?” Glauffia asked in anticipation of some juicy gossip.
“He loved me.” Joan moaned softly.
The two chambermaids looked at each other as if they had missed some obvious clue as to why that could ever be a reason to marry another man, rather than the reverse. Glauffia even scratched her head in confusion.
“He loved you . . . so you would not stay with him? I do not understand.” Suaffinia marveled.
“Oh . . . he told me that he would not have me to take pleasure from other’s pain, to make a long story short.”
“What a load of boar . . .” Suaffinia began in exclamation.
“Yes.” Glauffia covered? for her fellow servant. “Well, the king is a very practical man. He does not hold to fancy abstract ideals. He is a . . . good . . . king with a good . . . I am sure that you will grow to love his . . . Trust me.”
“Here I am (the princess, no less) and slaves and servants all give me advice on my future!”
“No, m . . . my lady, n . . . n . . . neither of us is a slave and we would never pretend to give you such advice.” Suaffinia stuttered.
“But you are both servants. The slave of whom I spoke also suggested that I should like the king very much. He said that I should be very happy with this man. He seemed to believe it so deeply that I, too, began to believe. Now I am so nervous that . . . I have a triumphant in my stomach!”
Both maidens looked at each other in curiosity. They had never heard that phrase before, but how could they have had the chance? They could not know of it. That saddened Joan to think that they did not know Alban. Oh, how she missed him!
“Leave me!” Joan insisted.
“But we have not finished, my lady.” Suaffinia put up as a rebuttal.
“Come back in an hour.” she reiterated.
“Yes, ma’am. Princess, please do try not to cry. Your eyes will puff up and you do not want your future king to see you like that.” Glauffia stated the blatantly obvious.
“Why not? It does not matter one bit. He is just as stuck with me as I with him.” she said with her voice tapering off into silence. Suddenly a look of mischief flashed across her face and she added, “Yes! That is true! He shall have to put up with me as well. Get back here at once, Suaffalgga! You, too . . . other servant! Tonight, I must be the most elegant princess ever to set foot in these halls! There is not a moment to waste. Send for a seamstress, I shall need a few adjustments made to my dress in time for this evening’s dinner. Other servant, you go and get two large embroidery hoops for my hair.”
“For your hair ma’am?”
“Yes! It is for my hair! Are you royalty? Do you command and all obey? Do you know of the fashions of my homeland? I think not! When I want your wretched advice on fashion or the like, I’ll have you tortured to find it out!”
With that, Suaffinia broke out bawling at the top of her lungs, “No! No! I do not think that I should like torture very much!”
It set Joan aback and stopped her ranting for the moment. She could not decide if she should address the fact that she had merely threatened the torture and had not yet given the order to anyone or if she should point out that torture is really a subjective experience. She decided that to say that it was a subjective experience could have marvelously vague meaning due to ambiguity, so, she would go with that one. She began to open her mouth to spill the somewhat dark humor out upon her subject when she was interrupted by a soft voice.
“My lady, we do wish to serve you to the best of our abilities. Please do not be angry with her. She has small brothers and sisters to support. I could not bear to see them starve. She is all that they have.” said Glauffia calmly.
“Then perhaps she should behave better before her future queen!” Joan roared in disbelief, appalled at her own actions.
“Dearest Princess, we have been trying to appease your temper, though such is not in our job description. We do wish to help, truly we do, but you are making it ever so difficult.” Glauffia submitted.
“Of all the insolence! I shall have you beaten to a bloody pulp!”
“No, Princess, you shall not.” Glauffia returned with calm, quiet strength. “You cannot do such a thing. I can see why you have assumed that I am a mere servant; I like to help others with their makeup and hair. You may be about to marry the prince, but that merely makes you my sister-in-law! You shall not be queen until such day that my father give up the ghost. Until then, I suggest that you mind your tongue, for it can go as badly for you as for me. I could easily invoke the Invictus Renato and have you exposed before you are even married.”
“Upon what grounds could you do that?”
“I shall find something. Do not worry about that. I have a gift for sensing the innermost secrets of most people. You have a type of venom in you as cruel as miserium!”
“How do you know about miserium? It is derived from a rare flower that grows in th
e great desert. Have you really been exposed to it so as to know its sting? I think not. You are a product of books and professorial conjectures, nothing more. The palace is your place purely to ponder real life.” Joan spat out.
“I have said nothing of having been exposed to it; I was speaking about you. You do seem to know a great deal about the toxin. That merely confirms that you perfectly understand my assertion of that which you carry in your soul.” Glauffia coolly specified as she left the room.
“Joan! I mean, Princess! I came to tell you that the dinner will be served on schedule. I cannot believe that I am seeing this! You, of all people, should and do know what it is like to be a lowly servant. Your experience in the desert obliges you to greater things than harassing the servant girls!” Garrve exclaimed as he entered the room. He continued, “What has gotten into you?”
“She does not wish to marry the prince because she is in love with . . .” began Suaffinia, again not living up to her name.
“Alban!” finished Garrve. Then, his voice calmed a bit out of respect for the situation as he continued, “Yes, I know. We talked about him at length as we traveled to . . . your homeland. I thought that he made it extremely clear as to his position on the matter . . . and you seemed . . . to have understood his reasoning behind it all. Why is it that now that you are faced with the fulfillment of your promise to him, that you will not accomplish your part of it now? Are you repentant of your repentance?”
Joan just sat there with a far off look on her face.
“Perhaps it may be that you merely lied to Alban back on the desert plain, or maybe you did not really love him. Maybe you just wanted to change things for your own convenience and now you are going along with things for the same reason. I must say that it surprises me to see someone to whom such kindness was shown now turn in great display of selfishness. I guess that I do not know what has changed your mind . . . rather, what has changed your heart so dramatically. You were once constant, selfless, and happy. Now . . .”
“Now I will have you leave me!” yelled Joan.
Garrve looked at her in amazement. A determined scowl came over his face.
“Look! I will not be ordered around in my own castle! Why would you start things out like this? Do you think to make your future king the laughing stock of all the lower lands? How do you plan to rule many if you cannot rule your own tongue? I am sorry for raising my voice to you, but you have to know that all that Alban said to you in the desert was true. Should you refuse to go through with the marriage, there will be blood spilt in both of our nations! Would you have that all on your own hands? How many more men must die, leaving children fatherless, wives husbandless, and parents without sons, all at the expense of your random whims?”
“I do not care,” Joan said sadly.
“That is the POINT! Suaffinia, whom you seem to detest for no reason at all, has served everyone with nothing but utter diligence. I have never heard a single thing in complaint against her. In fact, all that I have ever heard is praise. She serves others and never asks for anything but her fair wages according to the law. She works tirelessly from morning until night and then goes home to her siblings and cooks and cleans for them, gets a few hours of sleep, and then starts all over the next day!”
“I cannot help that her parents went and got themselves killed!” asserted Joan with great, violent volume.
Garrve’s head slunk down in grave disappointment. He sat down on a nearby sofa and thought about how he should choose his next words.
“Joan.”
“Who?” she asked, in manner of mockery.
“Her mother died giving birth to her baby sister. As a captain in the royal guard, her father was able to get her a position at the palace when she was fifteen. She has worked here since then, rising in rank and shedding sunlight wherever she goes. She . . .”
“Everyone loses their parents eventually. It is part of life.”
“True,” said Garrve, pained at Joan’s disregard for her fellow being. “But her father died in the war that raged on in your absence. In fact, it was the last day of battle. Had you returned when you were told — when you promised, he would be alive today. You know, Alban tried to do you a great service that day in the desert; you did not listen to him, even after you gave him your word. Now you will pay the price for the rest of your life.”
With that, Garrve left Joan to her realization and closed the door behind him. Joan threw herself on the bed and began to wail. She wondered how she was ever going to get out of this fate, which she felt was worse than death.
Sleep soon took her.
