A Princess of Sorts

by Wilma van Wyngaarden

  “Does the castle truly need a turret, Princess?” asked Mako. “It will take more time and cost more in wages, at a time when we need to concentrate on our defenses.”

  Scylla raised her arm and pointed her finger at the damaged corner. “It will be a memorial to my father. I want his name engraved into a stone at the top... you may call it Tobin’s Tower. May it remind all of us that even a good heart and happy soul must not neglect the watch for danger!” Or waste too much of one’s life in carousing and foolhardiness, she thought.

  Mako acquiesced. “There, gentlemen, you have heard the queen’s command,” he said to the stonemasons. “Tobin’s Tower. With interior stairs leading to the lookout?” He looked at Scylla, eyebrows raised.

  She nodded.

  “With interior stairs. Work it out and bring me drawings,” he told the men, who appeared startled but interested. They nodded in turn, gave Scylla a deeper bow than before and returned to the worksite at the castle wall.

  “Well, that will be a little more costly, Princess,” Mako said. “Not that our treasury is bare – it is, in fact, well stocked. But we have no way to measure what is waiting around the corner, or what may be required of our Council.”

  “Coltic is selling the king’s wines. That can pay for the turret. Also, the queen’s jewelry can be sold – there are numerous pieces. Minda is looking into that.”

  “Is she?” asked Orwen with interest. “In that case, I may take some with me to sell in Gryor. I will see her before I leave this morning. I like Tobin’s Tower, Princess!”

  “Excellent,” Scylla said again. She gave a nod to Mako. He signed to the soldiers to pick up her chair litter and head back to the castle.

  Suddenly there were some sharp voices and the soldiers closed in around her as a group, the horses picking up on the alarm.

  “What is going on?” Scylla asked, as calmly as she could with the stamping hooves and big bodies pressing rather too close to her litter. She could see nothing past the soldiers and horses. Her fingers closed tightly on the handle of the swordstick leaning against her knee.

  “Some men are approaching,” said one of the soldiers, his voice tense. They had stopped moving and the chair lurched.

  Voices shouted commands.

  “The men are surrounded by the soldiers. They have cast down their weapons, your majesty,” said the soldier to Scylla.

  “Put the chair down,” said Mako’s voice after a few moments. He came into Scylla’s sight, looking grim.

  The soldiers lowered the litter to the ground.

  “Queen Scylla, these men are asking to talk to you.”

  “Oh? Who are they?” Scylla asked. The soldiers took a step back. She was relieved to have the horses withdraw a few feet away.

  “Queen Scylla.” A group of five men stood a short distance away, with soldiers on horseback half surrounding them with swords in hand. Several knives and a staff or two lay on the ground in front of them.

  She gave them a nod. They were small in stature and dressed in rough cloaks and stained leather leggings.

  “Greetings... We have been told you have a trellet in the castle.”

  “Eeeee!” came a small shriek from somewhere underneath her chair.

  Scylla raised her eyebrows in polite query, remembering the revulsion of the first healer, and the eagerness of the second. “Keet,” she said without moving her mouth, and as quietly as possible. “Are you here?” There was a tiny squeak in answer. Scylla sighed and fingered the swordstick. She doubted she would have to use it, but who knew?

  “We wish to warn you, Queen Scylla, that you should not keep a trellet,” said one of the men intensely. The others were nodding and muttering in agreement. “They can not live away from the forest.” She met his eyes across the distance between them. His gaze was piercing.

  “The trellet is injured,” Scylla said. “He will return to the forest when he wishes to go.”

  There was no relaxation of tension.

  “Who are you?” asked Scylla.

  They looked quickly at each other in an exchange of guarded glances. “We are travelers... we prefer not to live in fixed dwellings. We will transport the trellet back to the forest from where he came.”

  Orwen suddenly spoke up. “I know these people... I believe some cousins of yours live and work on my farms,” he addressed the small group, whose attention transferred to him.

  “Orwen Miller,” said the spokesman, after a moment. “Greetings. We heard Queen Scylla has a trellet, but trellets cannot survive away from the forest.”

  “This trellet saved the queen’s life, I understand,” said Orwen. “More than once, he says.”

  The men’s interest sharpened. “Saved her life? Is that so?”

  There was a sudden flurry of tiny movement and Keet danced out from under the chair litter onto the grass. From there he leaped to Scylla’s knee.

  “Eeee! Eeee! Who are you to ask for a trellet?” he shrieked in full earsplitting cry at the group of travelers.

  They stared at him. Interestingly, Scylla thought, they did not look shocked. Instead, if anything, they turned a fond gaze upon the trellet, much as Axit had.

  The soldiers, however, froze in surprise and recoiled from the small, agitated creature.

  Mako turned a pained stare first on the trellet, and then on Scylla.

  “Princess, you should not have brought him out here,” he said quietly. “The fewer people knowing about him the better.”

  “Would I bring him out? I did not! He was hiding under the chair again.”

  Keet was chattering away in his own language. Oddly enough, one of the travelers returned a few words that sounded to Scylla like the same gibberish.

  “We are willing to take him back to the forest,” said the spokesman, addressing Orwen.

  “Noooo! Noooo!” shrieked Keet.

  “He does not appear to want to go,” said Scylla. The trellet, who weighed almost nothing, clutched at her skirts with his sharp little feet.

  “I don’t trust them! I don’t trust them!”

  “Do they speak your language, Keet?” asked Scylla with interest.

  “Eeee! They are forest folk, but I don’t trust them. Take me back!”

  “Into the castle?”

  “Eeee! Eeee!” Keet scrambled back under the chair. The soldiers who had carried the chair litter out were now staring at it with blank faces.

  “Good Goddess.” Mako sounded disgusted. “Well, travelers... as you can see, this trellet has a mind of his own. I would have been happy to see him on his way back to the forest, but...”

  The travelers were nodding, but reluctantly. “They are a strange folk, best left in the forest, Queen Scylla. He looks a little different from the trellets we have seen. And he has lost a forearm, we see.”

  Scylla nodded. They bowed their goodbyes and pulled back a few steps. Their gaze did not leave the chair – their eyes looked hungry, avid. But there was a sort of acceptance too.

  “If the trellet wants to return to the forest, Queen Scylla,” the spokesman called out to her, “... send us a message!” They bowed again, deeply, as if they respected her more now that they had seen the trellet.

  Mako said to the soldiers, “Take the queen back inside.” There was a hesitation all around. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to pick up the chair either. However, you can probably just ignore the creature.... Do not bite the soldiers, trellet!”

  “Eeee,” came a small answering voice from under the chair.

  “I think that means he won’t,” Scylla interpreted.

  The soldiers picked up the chair litter gingerly and transported Queen Scylla back to the castle. Scylla noted that they moved much more quickly back to the castle than they had when they left it. Once the litter was set down in the queen’s quarters, Keet scampered out from underneath and skittered behind the alcove curtain. Scylla stepped out of the ornate carrier and settled herself with a sigh in her own chair.

  Mako, who had accompani
ed the queen along with Orwen, was shaking his head as the soldiers picked up the now empty litter and went out the door, muttering among themselves. “Too many people have now seen this odd creature. It would have been much better kept out of view.”

  “Why?” asked Orwen. “I believe it adds to Queen Scylla’s legend! Can you think of any other regent in recent times that carried a trellet in their train?”

  Mako looked unconvinced. “I cannot say I had heard of a trellet at all before this one!”

  Minda said, “We have had a visitor while you were outside. The healer returned, bringing herbs for Sorrell.”

  “Did she not already have the herbs?” asked Scylla.

  “Was it the zealot?” asked Mako. “I saw her standing aside as we went out through the gate.”

  Minda nodded. “The healer, Corobit. I do not know what she hoped for in coming here. She reiterated that the priests were new followers of ancient magic and on a quest for power. Some evil form of power, that is! She left the herbs, and she also asked about the trellet. I gave her no information, but after she left he was not in his basket. I am glad to see he is back. She was very insistent, even as I dismissed her!”

  “So were the travelers,” said Orwen. “I wonder why they wanted to take him back to the forest.” He told Minda about the group of men, who he had recognized as relatives of some of his farmhands.

  “I believe they would be related to Axit too, then. I wonder if she...?”

  “Where is Axit?” asked Scylla. “And Prince Leon?”

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “She has taken him to the king’s quarters,” said Sorrell, who was standing by the window, looking out on the roof garden. “That is, your quarters, Chancellor. He wanted to see Captain Coltic and the soldiers and would not stop asking.”

  “I will check on them,” said Mako and went quickly out the door.

  “Hmmm,” said Orwen. “I feel Axit is trustworthy, but... perhaps I will go and check as well.”

  Scylla and Minda traded guarded glances.

  “I am sure they will find them,” said Scylla. “I do wonder what to do about the trellet. Those men were very eager to take him, but he said he didn’t trust them. He said they were forest folk.”

  “Rellant has a number of travelers,” said Minda. “It’s hard to know how many. They prefer not to live in villages but roam the forests and foothills. They might well be very impressed by a queen who has a trellet, especially if the trellet has chosen her.”

  “Both healers were impressed in their own way, but I would not trust the zealot nor even the older one, Caryn, no matter how pleasant she was.”

  A sound from the alcove indicated the trellet was listening. “Eeee! They would give their eyeballs to lay their hands on a trellet, Queen Scylla! Those forest folk! They keep us in cages and chains ...” His voice dwindled away.

  “Surely not!” said Scylla, appalled.

  “I do not lie,” he shrieked in rage. “You must take me back to the forest where you found me!”

  “Of course,” she said soothingly.

  “You promised! You promised!” he wailed from the alcove.

  “How can we do this, Minda?” Scylla said quietly.

  “I believe you are right not to hand him over to the forest folk or the healers,” Minda returned, in a similar undertone. “Why they would want him, I cannot imagine. But they are far too eager for my liking.”

  Sorrell limped across the floor to join them. “How can he be taken back? You cannot go, Princess – nor can I.”

  “Perhaps Coltic or a reliable soldier would take him back to the forest near the smithy. Not the chancellor, though – Keet makes him nervous.”

  “We can ask Coltic. They are all busy with their spies and war plans, though,” said Minda doubtfully. “I wonder if Keet would agree.”

  Keet continued wailing in the other room, “Take me back! Take me back!”

  Minda went to the curtain. “Keet! We are making a plan – as few as possible should know about it, so please stop screaming.”

  Keet’s screeching faded to a much quieter mumble. But the incessant chittering continued. Scylla calmed her irritation – at least he was awake and more active.

  Orwen returned. “There is no need to worry, Princess – Axit is with the twig over in the soldiers’ quarters. The off-duty boys are entertaining him with their practice of hand-to-hand combat. Meanwhile, Minda, my lady... Queen Scylla tells me that there are fripperies from the late queen that can be sold... are there any you would like me to take to Gryor? I am sure I can find buyers. She wants to build a costly little turret!”

  Minda and Sorrell looked questioningly at Scylla.

  “At the damaged corner, like the folly that my father had built at the hunting lodge.”

  “Tobin’s Tower! This time, however, a real look-out tower,” said Orwen. “A reminder that even a well-loved king should have kept better watch than he did. I admire the plan!”

  Minda turned her attention to the question of Maris’ jewelry. “Hmmm... I believe some of the pieces could bring a good price in Gryor. Others, of course, are very valuable and rare, and I am not quite sure yet what should be done with them. Let me see...” She crossed the room to open one of the trunks. Sorrell and Orwen followed her and soon the three were consulting over a selection of the late queen’s glittering treasures.

  Scylla sat in her chair and wondered how best to return Keet to the forest. How ironic that the queen of the realm could be so confined and powerless... she felt so inept. She could order a tower to be built, and yet be unable to leave the castle without a bevy of guards. She had had more freedom when the king and queen had been alive... why had she not taken more advantage of it then, when no one worried what happened to her? Why had she not learned to ride the white pony when Mako had been assigned to give her lessons, all those years ago? Was it possible that someone – perhaps not Mako – could give her riding lessons now?

  “Well, Queen, I am leaving!” said Orwen, full of good cheer – not surprisingly, Scylla thought, as he was lucky enough to embark on yet another adventure.

  “I wish you a good trip and a safe return,” Scylla said, trying to work up some enthusiasm.

  “I thank you!” He held up a package wrapped in thin lambskin, evidently some of the jewelry. “I shall do my best to get a good price for this sampling of the late queen’s trinkets.”

  Scylla nodded. “Excellent.”

  “Oh... and I have been considering the trellet...” Orwen hesitated a moment. “I have several wool wagons returning to my farm shortly. They are at the docks even now. Perhaps the trellet can catch a ride. It will take him miles closer to the forest where you found him.”

  “Hmmm,” said Minda. “He did find his way to the castle, did he not? Can he find his way back once he is halfway there?”

  “Nooo! Noooo!” came the shriek from the alcove. “I cannot travel through the countryside with only one arm – I will die! The forest folk will catch me!”

  “All right, trellet!” Orwen’s eyes were twinkling at Scylla. “Another idea has come to me. I will send Jay and the pony out to Bart Smith’s shop. The pony needs the exercise – the fall fair is coming up and he is entered in the races... Trellet, you latch on the way you do. Jay need never know you are there. Surely you can find your way after that?”

  “Well, I might, I might...” wailed the trellet.

  “Here is your opportunity... catch a ride on the wool wagons. I will send orders with the drivers to send Jay and the pony out to Bart’s smithy after that. They can convey something in appreciation of his assistance to the queen – some bottles of good ale, I suppose, and maybe a block of cheese and some sausage from our cellars. Can you hop on board without being seen?”

  “Of course I can! But will I? Will I?”

  “It’s up to you, trellet! Queen... ladies... I am off! I’ll see you when I return. Not much more than a week, I promise!” He gave Minda a kiss, Queen Scylla a bow, and
Sorrell a cheerful nod.

  “Eeee!” shrieked the trellet in agitation.

  Minda rolled her eyes. “Keet! Be quiet! Orwen, can you take him to the wagons in his basket?”

  “Only if you cover him up. No one should see him go. Can you be silent, trellet?”

  There was a chittering grumble. Minda went to the alcove and came back with the basket. A cloth was now draped across it.

  “All right then,” said Orwen, taking the handle of the basket gingerly. “I will transport you to the wagons, trellet. The rest is up to you. Be silent!”

  “Goodbye, Keet!” said Scylla. “Thank you for saving me!”

  There was no answer. Orwen gave them a look of mock terror and carried the basket out. The door closed behind him.

  | Chapter 16 |

  “Oh dear, I hope Keet will go back to the forest safely,” said Scylla.

  “Well, this way no one will know he has gone, nor how.” Minda heaved a sigh. “I will look forward to my husband’s safe return. One never really knows what he will do next!”

  Sorrell lay down on her bed. “This is all so exhausting! I need to rest.”

  Minda closed and locked the trunk that contained the late queen’s treasures. “I must go down to the kitchen. Are you tired after your visit outside, Princess? I can help you to your bed if you wish.”

  Scylla shook her head. “I am fine here. I expect the kitchen will be sending up our midday feast soon!”

  “I am sure they will,” Minda sighed again. “I am attempting to rein them in on the volume of food they send up, for midday at least if not for dinner. I wonder how on earth Queen Maris and her ladies ate such a burdensome amount!” She crossed to the door and went out.

  “Eeee... ” came a sad small voice from under Scylla’s chair.

  “Curses! Is that you, Keet?” Scylla exclaimed.

  There was a chuckle from Sorrell’s bed. “The trellet escaped from the basket... he did not go!”