“Someone is in the donjon.”
“By thunder, who are you?”
“The new kitchen maid.” I repeated, “Someone is in the kitchen tower donjon. Or something. It’s big.”
His grip tightened. “How do you know?”
“I know.” What else could I say? “I saw.”
He half dragged, half lifted me out of the hall, making much more noise than I’d have dared. No one woke. In the kitchen he took a long knife from a chopping table. “This will do. By thunder, it will do for you if no one’s there.”
“Hurry!” I said, terrified of whatever was in the donjon and almost as terrified of this man.
But at the doorway he paused, yanked me up to his height, my feet dangling. “The steward hired you? By thunder, I’ll—”
“Not the steward.” My arm hurt! “The count said more help was needed for the feast. His Lordship brought me.”
He let me go. I staggered sideways as he flung the tower door open. I pointed down the grain aisle at the glimmering light. He tugged me along.
I saw the misshapen shadow again. He saw the person making the shadow.
“Your Highness.” He dropped to his knees. “Pardon us.”
I looked beyond the shadow and saw a tall woman with stiltlike limbs, thin shoulders wrapped in a blanket, thin hands holding the blankets, trailing sleeves, a head in a cap circled by a thin golden crown. I fell to my knees, too. The king’s daughter, Princess Renn.
Chapter Fifteen
Beg pardon.” I bowed my head.
“You have a knife? Against me?” Her voice rose in pitch until it cracked, then started lower and rose until it cracked again. “Enemies from Tair!”
The knife thudded to the floor. “Not from Tair, Your Highness. From right here. She”—he pulled my head up by my hair—“by thunder, she said there was an intruder in the donjon.”
I saw the princess more clearly. She had a heart-shaped face, cleft chin, small mouth, and a long, sloping nose. She might have been pretty if her blue eyes had been merely large, but they were enormously large with too much white. If she missed beauty, however, her mouth was sweet and her big eyes full of feeling, both fear and outrage.
“Who are you?”
He pulled back his shoulders. “Master Jak, His Lordship’s chief third assistant cook, Your Highness.”
Princess Renn’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile. She turned to me.
“I’m Ehh”—I extended the vowel even longer than a Two Castles person would—“lodie, the new kitchen maid.” If they were going to oust me or imprison me, they should know my proper name.
In the silence, I listened but heard no dog whimpers, no scrabbling paws, no panting.
“Ehlodie,” the princess said, “why did you come to the donjon?”
Feigning innocence, I said in a rush, “I’m the new kitchen maid and I woke and couldn’t fall back to sleep and I’ve never been in a castle before and thought I might look around and I’d heard that His Lordship lost his dog and if I could find it, it would be a fine thing and I came here and I didn’t see you, Your Highness, I saw your shadow.” I pointed.
The shadow still hulked. Princess Renn was thin, but the blanket expanded her. Her shadow suggested a bearlike creature with a tiny head.
She laughed and held out her arms, making the shadow even bigger. “La! Look at me!”
My shoulders relaxed in relief. Master Jak laughed, too, although his laughter sounded forced.
“I am afraid myself of myself! Jak, rise! Ehlodie, rise! Spread your arms.”
Papa and mama and daughter monster shadows filled the donjon. Master Jak’s laughter turned genuine.
When our laughter subsided, the princess said, “I commend you both on your courage. Ehlodie! To come back after you’d seen the monster! And Chief Third Assistant Cook Jak! To brave the monster with only a knife! Jak, you may return to your well-deserved rest.”
But I might not?
Master Jak picked up his knife. As he backed out of the donjon, his eyes were on me, and their expression was not friendly.
“Ehlodie, stay awhile. We are both sleepless, and my maid is snoring. I should like company.”
How would I be company for a princess, unless she wanted to hear about mansioners’ plays or the antics of Lahnt geese?
When the door closed behind Jak, Princess Renn held her candle up to my face. “La! You are a child!”
“Fourteen, Your Highness.”
“You are not a minute past twelve.” She frowned. “You don’t sleep in a cap?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“But during the day you wear one?”
“No, Your Highness. On Lahnt, where I come from, only married women and men wear caps, except in winter, when we all wear them.”
“But you live here now. Are you too poor to own a cap?” She put so much feeling into poor that I almost wept for myself.
I shifted from my left foot to my right. Probably everyone who’d seen me since I’d arrived thought of me as The Girl Too Poor to Own a Cap. “I will save to buy one.”
“You can have mine. I have others. Here.” She raised her hand to her head. I saw a gold ring on her middle finger. As her sleeve fell away, two gold bracelets gleamed in the candlelight. “Hold this.” She removed her crown and held it out to me.
I took it. How strange she was. Kind, very kind, but strange.
And the crown was strange in my hands, dreamlike, unexpectedly heavy for such a thin band, only an inch or two wide, without a single jewel. The metal had the sheen of moist skin, the upper rim unexpectedly sharp, the lower smooth. For a mad moment I imagined running off with it.
She donned her crown again and put the cap on me. “You have a small head.” The cap’s flaps nearly met under my chin. “But you’ll grow into it.” She inspected me, her face close to mine.
I smelled cardamom oil, the same perfume Mother wore.
Woe invaded her voice. “Oh! It’s too fine. They’ll think you stole it.” She walked in a circle in the small clear space among the barrels. “My maid has several caps, which would do, but I don’t want to waken her.” She put a hand on a barrel. “Might there be caps in a barrel?”
“They probably hold pickles or some such, Your Highness.” The stores were for a siege, and no one could eat caps. I took off the cap, but I wanted it. “I can turn it, Your Highness.”
“What?”
I spoke louder. “I can turn it.”
“La! I heard you. Turn it?”
A princess wouldn’t know what ordinary folk did. “Some people, when their caps are worn, turn them on the other side where the fabric is less used. No one will think me a thief in a turned cap.”
“Then I may give you the gift! Ehlodie, you are clever.” She kissed my forehead.
Lambs and calves!
I reversed the cap and tied it back on.
“Let me.” She tied the strings twice more. “There. This is how I tie my cap. Now you will not lose it. I believe in thoroughness. See?” To my astonishment she lifted the hem of her kirtle. “Two chemises underneath. Thoroughness. Now let us search for Nesspa together. For Jonty Um’s sake, we’ll put our sleeplessness to use. Where shall we look, Ehlodie?”
“The stables?” The count had probably searched there—
and here—but the dog might have been taken somewhere else first.
“Excellent. The grooms will be asleep. La! Hide an animal among animals, like hiding a ring in a mountain of rings.”
Nothing like hiding a ring among rings, but I didn’t say so.
She held out her hand. “We’ll go there now.”
How courteous she was, to clasp the hand of a kitchen maid.
We left the tower. The princess walked with a bounce as we crossed the inner ward and passed between two apple trees laden with fruit.
“He will be so happy if we find Nesspa.” She stopped, tugging me to a stop, too. “If we find Nesspa, I want to bring him to His Lordship. I want him to be grateful to
me alone.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” I could give no other answer, although I wanted Masteress Meenore to be known as the finder, through me. “Do you . . .” She seemed friendly enough to answer a question. “Do you hold His Lordship in high esteem, Your Highness?” I wanted to know if anyone did.
“Certainly I do. I esteem him very much!” We walked again. “He is taller than I, wealthy, with excellent table manners.”
So much for true esteem.
“The miller’s son, Thiel, is also taller than I and possesses fine table manners, but he isn’t wealthy.”
My Lahnt table manners might not be good enough for Master Thiel.
“Jonty Um is handsome for an ogre, don’t you think? Not so handsome as Thiel, I suppose. Do I esteem Jonty Um?” She raised her arms and twirled, kicking an apple across the courtyard. “Father has betrothed me to him, Ehlodie. A king always betroths a princess.”
My mouth fell open. Hastily, I closed it. News of the coming marriage had not reached Lahnt. I wondered if it was widely known here and if my masteress knew. Few in Two Castles could be pleased.
We started walking again.
“I shouldn’t have told you. It’s still a secret. Father wants wealth, a strong arm in battle, a lion if need be, and I like a strong arm, too.” She laughed. “And a gentle lion. La! He is lovely as a monkey. I do not fancy him as a bird.”
I didn’t know what to think. Would they be happy?
We reached a door and, to the side, a descending stairway. I stopped, not knowing which we wanted, door or stair.
“You are ignorant, Ehlodie.” Her voice was gay. “The stables are below.”
Twelve steps down took us to another wooden door. I eased open the bolt, hoping not to awaken any sleeping stable hands. As soon as the door cracked an inch, I smelled the familiar farm odors.
Oh. Hot bran. I whispered, “An animal is ill.” Hot bran and something else that smelled sharp and stung my nose.
“La! Very ill?”
How could I tell from the scent of a poultice? “I don’t know, Your Highness, but someone is likely to be tending the beast.”
I heard voices, one of them a lilting, “Honey, honey.” Master Dess!
“What should we do, Ehlodie?”
Leave? Sneak in?
Neither. She was a princess and could do what she liked. “Perhaps Your Highness might enter, announce your presence, say you were sleepless, wanted air, and heard voices.”
She nodded eagerly. “I can do that.”
“You might ask what’s amiss. I’ll wait a minute and come in after. If anyone notices me, I’ll say I lost my kitten and—”
“Jonty Um allows no cats.”
Of course not. “Er . . . my pet pig.”
“Do you have a pet pig?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“Aha! Subterfuge.” She flung the door open.
I jumped away from the doorway.
She strode inside.
I peeked in and saw her march through a wide aisle between animal stalls. “What’s amiss?” she cried. “I was sleepless, heard voices, and wanted air.”
Not quite right, but who would question her?
I slipped in, mansioning myself as a shadow. This end of the stable was in deep gloom, but I saw fireplace glow far to my left, and tallow lamps shed smoky light on a distant stall straight ahead, where two men stood.
“Your Highness?” The speaker wasn’t Dess, and his accent was neither Two Castle nor Lahnt. He pronounced his h as ch, chighness.
I peered over the gate into the first stall along the aisle, where a sow and her piglets slept, nestled together as neatly as a mended plate. No Nesspa.
Princess Renn cried, “Is one of the beasts ill? Desper-ately ill?”
Had we happened on another affront to His Lordship, someone injuring one of his animals? The sow grunted in her sleep.
The voice with the new accent said, “Your Highness, a stable is no place for a lady.”
“A princess is not a lady.” She sounded indignant. “They are entirely different. Who are you?”
“Gise. Head groom, Your Highness.”
I shrank into the shadow of the stall as Master Gise advanced toward her. If I moved, he would certainly see me.
“The matter is well in hand, Your Highness. Master Dess, the animal physician, is tending the beast.”
Master Dess, the animal physician?
Of course he would be. Perhaps he’d been on his way to a sick animal when I’d seen him outside the king’s castle.
“I should like to observe, now I’m here.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
They started off. I waited a minute or two before moving. Then I followed, peeking into horse stalls, cow stalls, and another pig stall as I went.
But if Nesspa were here, he would bark or whimper, unless he was asleep or unconscious. Or dead.
Princess Renn and Master Gise walked toward the lamplight, past a corner stall and the intersecting aisle.
“Sickness or injury?” the princess asked.
“Flying goat spiders, Your Highness,” Master Gise said.
“On a goat? I must see.”
I reached the corner stall. As I turned left toward the firelight, I knocked over a broom, which landed with a soft thud. I froze, my heart booming in my ears.
“What was that?” Master Gise said.
“La! I heard something fall over.”
Was she addlepated? Did she want me caught?
“I’ll go and see,” Master Gise said.
I eased open the next stall I came to. Crouching, I backed in with my eyes shut, as if I’d be unseen if I couldn’t see.
“It must have been only a mouse,” she said. “No need to go.”
“I’ll be just a minute.”
“Stay, Gise. I need you to hold her head. There, honey.”
Thank you, Master Dess.
“The bites are blue and green and puffed, like moldy bread.” Princess Renn’s voice quivered. “The pitiable, hapless goat.”
I opened my eyes and turned to see what animal I had joined. No beast, but a man sprawling on his side across the hay.
He lay with his back to me, his shoulder inches from my thigh. I had been lucky not to bump into him. He didn’t stir, quite a sleeper to slumber through the dropped broom, Master Dess’s visit, and the princess’s up-and-down voice. Could he be . . . ?
I knelt over him. His chest rose and fell. Drunk, perhaps.
As I rose, I saw him better: golden hair bronzed by the darkness, firm jaw, muscular arm. And on his finger, a ring of twine.
Master Thiel?
Chapter Sixteen
Yes! Master Thiel. How sweetly he slept, as deeply as a child.
Was he one of the count’s grooms, or did he have no other place to lay his head? My heart went out to him if he had no home.
My heart went out to him if he had a dozen homes. Quietly, I left the stall.
“Do you treat Jonty Um when he is ill?”
“Princess, His Lordship is not a beast.”
“He is tended by Sir Maydsin,” Master Gise said, “as you and your father are.”
“La!” I heard embarrassment in her voice. “I meant when he is a beast. Have you ever tended him when he was a monkey?”
“No, Your Highness. Hush, honey. I meant hush to the goat, Your Highness.”
Where might Nesspa be hidden? And if I found him, what would I do?
“What are you putting on her?”
“Bran, Your Highness.”
If it was just bran, what was that sharp smell?
I entered a large open area. Ahead, on the outer castle wall, firelight cast a red glow and provided faint illumination. My view of the fireplace itself was blocked by carts and trestles topped with harnesses and saddles. This would be the likely spot to hide anything.
The princess’s voice twanged. “Why is she rolling her neck so?”
“There are many bites, Princess.
She is very sick.”
A thorough search would take hours. I began by peering into the blackness under the nearest cart, but seven snoozing dogs could be there and I wouldn’t see them.
I tiptoed to the fireplace and saw the expected: three stable hands sleeping on their pallets. Mustn’t wake them. I picked my way silently between two of them and found the poker. But on my return, I accidentally tapped a slumberer’s shoulder with the toe of my shoe.
Luckily, he faced away from me. He rose groggily on one elbow. I stopped breathing.
For a full minute he didn’t move, but then he rolled onto his stomach, and I tiptoed away.
I used the poker to probe gently under a cart. No Nesspa, so I climbed into the cart itself, which turned out to be a bench wagon for bringing guests to the castle. I felt beneath the benches. My fingers encountered no animals, but they brushed against a morsel of fabric, which I picked up. By feel it was a pouch, holding nothing heavy, perhaps holding nothing. Still, its owner might want it. By feel again, I opened my purse and stuffed it in. In the morning I would try to find the owner.
As I climbed out of the cart, I heard a bleat and then a groan from deep in the stable.
“Alack! Is she dying?”
No one answered. Then, finally, Master Dess said, “The goat is dead.”
Poor creature.
“Dead? Deh-eh-eh-d!” Princess Renn wailed.
A horse neighed. I groped under another wagon, then climbed in and explored. The cart was empty but for a thin layer of straw.
“In the morning,” Master Gise said, “I will have the carcass removed and inform His Lordship.”
“Dead people are called remains,” the princess said. “Why should a beast be called a carcass?”
It did seem unfair. I hoped Nesspa wasn’t a carcass. I looked under an overturned wheelbarrow. Nothing.
“Princess,” Master Dess said, “in death the goat will be treated with respect. I swear to it.”
They were silent until Master Gise said, “You should return to your apartment, Your Highness.”
Her voice rose. “Should? I think I should stay with this goat and mourn her death. You both may go.”
Lambs and calves, she was good! Presence of mind, Father would have said. Master Gise and Master Dess would leave, and she and I could search together, but I’d have to warn her about waking Master Thiel and the stable hands.
A Tale of Two Castles Page 9
