"I must," he said, swinging her out of the saddle and onto the ground. "I will return when the battle is won, or the port is lost." He addressed Hakon. "Take her to the queen. Tell the queen to take care of her until my return." Reidar wheeled his horse around, ready to ride out of the gate.
Rudolf blocked his path. "You can't afford to lose the port," he said bluntly.
"I know that. I'm not a fool," Reidar snapped.
"The people of the Southern Isles have been defending against sea raids for centuries, sometimes successfully. They have an idea they came up with after watching some of our funerals," Rudolf said. He grinned. "Fire arrows. They set fire to the boats before the men can come ashore. Sometimes even ambush them where they know the boats will sink and the raiders will drown. You need fire arrows, and a narrow place they will be forced to sail through where they will be in range of our archers. How many archers can we have there in time?"
Hope blossomed in Reidar's breast. "More than we need. Every man and boy between here and the port can shoot a bow, because the lake is full of geese in the summertime, and any man who can shoot a bird may take it home for his table. Maybe we can save the port after all!"
He and Rudolf rode out, discussing likely ambush sites as they went.
THIRTY-SIX
Everything was wonderful...and then it wasn't, as Reidar dropped her on the ground like a sack of apples and rode off with his cousin to war, without even saying farewell. Not that she would have heard it if he had, for there was another word that burned in her brain with a ferocity she wasn't sure how to tame: queen.
As in: "Take her to the queen."
Wasn't she supposed to be his queen? His betrothed, his bride, the woman he would marry?
But if he already had a queen...it would explain why he hadn't even suggested sharing her bed. Why he hadn't mentioned marriage or their betrothal in the forest.
And why someone had seen the ships from the top of the tower – someone else already lived there.
Reidar's servant bade her to follow him and she did, but she paid little attention to her surroundings. For the first time, she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake in coming here. If she wasn't wanted...
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the king said I must bring this girl to you." The look he shot Sativa was nothing short of a sneer.
Perhaps she deserved it – for how many girls would be as stupid as she had, to run away from her father's house across the sea to a man who no longer wanted her?
"What for?" a woman – presumably the queen – asked in annoyance
"I am not certain, Your Majesty, but he said something about wanting her here when he returned. Perhaps he wants you to find her a place to stay."
"Find her a room befitting her station, then," said the queen, dismissing him.
The man waited until the door was closed before he swore and turned to Sativa. "Follow me, you," he said curtly, setting off at a fast clip.
Sativa itched for a glimpse of the queen, the woman with the commanding voice that Reidar preferred over her, but she would probably see the woman at dinner. More important that she find her room first.
The man led her down several passageways, the aroma of cooking increasing in strength the further they went. Rooms above the kitchen would not be so bad, Sativa decided. She'd never miss a meal, for she'd smell it cooking.
The man stopped, then pointed through a doorway that had no door. "You'll sleep in there."
Curiously, Sativa stepped inside. At first, the dimly lit room looked like another passageway, until her eyes adjusted and she saw that it was wider than that. Rows of straw pallets lined each side of the room, some with blankets or sacking coverlets, and others without. Pegs on the walls held an assortment of dresses and caps all made in a similar theme: practicality. If it weren't for the dresses, she'd have thought it a barracks hall, but the clothing marked it for what it was. The servants' quarters, where the castle maids slept.
On – Sativa sneezed – thrice-damned straw, the bane of her existence.
Sativa sneezed twice more before she turned on her heel and marched back the way she'd come. The man who'd guided her had disappeared, but no matter. Sativa would find her own way back to the queen's chamber, and confront the woman herself. She might be a queen, but Sativa was a princess, born with royal blood, and she would not endure such an insult.
After one wrong turning, she managed to return to the queen's chamber, and Sativa did not bother to knock. Instead, she burst into the room.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sativa demanded in the tone she knew carried to the farthest reaches of her father's court.
"Who in heaven's name are you?" the queen countered.
For the first time, Sativa saw her, and was startled to see she recognised the woman. Oh, she was older, certainly, her fair hair almost completely white, but Regina's haughty expression had not changed a bit. This was the queen? Not Reidar's wife, but his mother?
Relief flooded through her, giving her all the authority she needed to snap, "I am Princess Sativa, daughter of King Boreslas in Kasmirus, betrothed to King Reidar of Viken, and when he returns, I will be the queen of this place. What do you think Reidar will say when he discovers you sent me to sleep with the servants?"
Regina's eyebrows rose so high, they vanished into her hair. "Sativa? The dragon's prize girl? Impossible. She disappeared from her father's court months ago. The girl is dead."
"I am not a prize, and I am not dead," Sativa hissed through gritted teeth. "I will marry your son, and I demand the hospitality that was promised. With a bed befitting my station."
Regina managed to arrange her icy expression into a smile that held no warmth at all. "Very well, Princess. You may join me for dinner, by which time your bed will be prepared."
Sativa could afford to be gracious. "Thank you. I shall need some suitable clothing, too."
Regina eyed her tunic with the same distaste Sativa had once held for Melitta's clothing, once upon a time. "Yes, you will. My ladies will dress you."
Sativa was soon bundled into Regina's dressing room, a narrow chamber full of chests containing clothes from at least three generations of women, judging by the strange styles the ladies pulled out in their search for something suitable.
"This," one said, holding up a gown that glittered even in the dim light in the dressing room.
The gown was made of gold silk, and so richly embroidered it could probably stand up by itself. If that wasn't enough, someone had sewed dozens of jewels to it so that whoever wore it couldn't help but catch the light. It was a wedding dress, or one to be worn at a coronation. Not something for an ordinary dinner.
"It is too fine," Sativa said.
The second girl shook her head. "The queen said you must have the best. This is the richest gown in the wardrobe. If you don't wear it, the queen will punish us."
Visions of punishment aboard the Barbe flashed through Sativa's mind. Would Regina be so cruel as to have her ladies-in-waiting whipped? Sativa didn't want to find out.
She reached out to touch the silk. It had been so long since she'd worn anything half as pretty as this. She'd outshine everyone in the castle. Including Regina.
"Very well," Sativa said, and allowed the women to dress her.
When they were done, they guided her to the great hall, and left her with only Regina for company. Luckily, they were both at opposite ends of the great table, so she was spared the challenge of making conversation with a woman whose dislike could be felt from the other side of the room.
Sativa ate her fill of everything. It would take some time to replace the weight she'd lost aboard the Barbe, and she doubted Reidar wanted to introduce his people to a half-starved bride. She was a princess from a prosperous kingdom – she should look the part.
All too soon, she grew tired, and found she struggled to keep her eyes open. As Sativa tried to smother yet another yawn, Regina rose to her feet.
"My servants tell me your room is ready," Regi
na said. "Let me show you to your bed."
Sativa owned that it was a good idea, and followed the woman readily.
This time, the chamber wasn't far from the queen's own. A servant threw the door open and Regina peered inside. Her face lit with a genuine smile.
"Behold, Princess, a bed befitting your high station," Regina said, dropping a curtsey.
Finally. Sativa stepped into the room, expecting either another straw pallet or the sort of fine feather bed she had at home. Neither would have surprised her. What she did see made her jaw drop. It wasn't one fine feather bed, but at least a dozen, the mattresses stacked so high they nearly reached the ceiling. Sativa stopped to count them all. No, not a dozen. Twenty of the things, with a ladder beside them to help her climb to the top.
A calculated insult, or an over-the-top honour. Sativa was certain it was meant as the former, but she smiled sweetly as though it were the latter. "Why, thank you," she simpered. "Just like the one I had at home."
Regina's composure failed, and her true hatred shone through. "Liar," she spat. "You are no more a princess than the maids in the kitchen. No one sleeps in a bed like that. You will never marry my son, for he's too good for the likes of you." She slammed the door shut and Sativa heard the key turn in the lock.
Sativa was tempted to shout something after the woman, but someone had to show their better breeding, and it had best be her.
Besides, climbing a ladder into a bed that looked softer than a cloud seemed like luxury after climbing the mast every day and sleeping in a hammock on the Barbe.
Sativa scaled the ladder and climbed carefully onto the stacked mattresses. She sank so deep she suspected getting out might prove a challenge, but one she would tackle after a good night's sleep on what had to be the softest bed she'd ever encountered. Silently, she thanked Reidar and his mother, for this felt like pure bliss. Yes, she would show Regina, and marry Reidar just like she'd promised. And maybe, just maybe, she'd ask him for a slightly less decadent version of this bed. One that didn't require a ladder. Because she could definitely get used to comfort like this.
Until a growing tickle in her nose could not be ignored, and she sneezed. Not once, but six times in succession. And then again.
There was straw in this room. In the mattresses, she suspected, though she had no way to tell.
"Damn you, bitch," Sativa said softly, as her eyes teared up from the straw dust in the air. That was what caused it, not emotion or self-pity or any such thing.
She only had to endure it until Reidar returned, and then everything would be rosy.
Sativa sneezed. And swore. And sneezed again.
Damned rose fever.
She hoped he came home soon.
THIRTY-SEVEN
"What are you still doing here?"
Rudolf's words jarred Reidar out of what had been a deep sleep. In a stable, judging by the smell.
"Because I distinctly recall telling you last night that we'd take care of the damage those two boats wrought when they made it through our hail of arrows. And we did, thank you. We only lost the roof of one house to fire." Rudolf glared at Reidar. "Why aren't you home with your bride, getting ready for your wedding, like you said you would?"
Reidar's mind started to work. Now he remembered coming into the stable, calling for a groom to saddle his horse, but all the men were off defending the town, so he'd had to do the job himself. And then he'd closed his eyes for just a moment...
...and woken up here, in daylight. Reidar cursed.
"I fell asleep," he admitted.
Rudolf snorted. "I can see that. You're lucky no one's come in yet. I'm not sure what the townsfolk would do if they found a snoring king in their stable."
"I do not snore," Reidar grumbled.
"One day, I will ask your lovely wife to tell me the truth. Now, get you gone and marry the girl before someone else beats you to it!" Rudolf said.
"No one commands the king," Reidar muttered as he reached for his horse's bridle.
"As the king's cousin and heir, I think I have the right to make strong suggestions that I think the king should follow, if he's not to turn into a complete fool," Rudolf replied. "Who else will, if I do not?"
Reidar had to admit the man was right. But he didn't have to admit it aloud, though. "Mind your manners, or I will not invite you to the wedding feast," he said as he climbed atop his horse. He set off before Rudolf could reply.
"You'll have to ask the girl to marry you first!" Rudolf shouted after him.
Curse the man, but he was right.
Sativa was in his thoughts for most of the ride home. He'd have to tread carefully, for she'd evidently endured some terrible trials between her father's castle and his. A wedding would have to wait until she was willing to let him touch her without pulling out a knife to defend herself.
He'd like to find whoever had frightened her and force them to endure whatever they'd put her through. That was a cheering thought. Perhaps he'd offer to let Sativa help, or at least observe. She would want to ensure justice was served.
But that would have to wait, too. First, he wanted to see her, to ask her what had happened, and whether she was still willing to marry him. At least he knew she was safe under his roof.
He handed the reins to a groom and vaulted off his horse in the bailey, wanting nothing more than to see Sativa again when he arrived home.
"Where is the girl I brought here yesterday?" he asked a passing serving girl, but she did not know. Nor did anyone else he asked, it seemed.
How dare they mislay their future queen?
Incensed, Reidar headed for his mother's chambers. She would know where to find Sativa. Perhaps she could also explain why the girl was being kept a secret from his own servants. They would be her servants soon enough.
"Where is she?" he demanded as he strode into her apartment.
Regina set down her embroidery. "Where is who?"
"Princess Sativa." She would not hide her identity, he was certain of it. Not here.
Regina wet her lips. "You mean the girl pretending to be the dead princess."
Reidar fought to keep his temper. "No, I mean the very real, live princess I left in your care yesterday. The one who will soon be my wife." He prayed that this last part was true.
"You're a fool, my son, but most men are. Fooled by a pretty face and a tale of distress. That girl is no more highborn than any other maid in the castle. First, she had the gall to demand to wear the most valuable gown in the castle to dinner. Then she had the effrontery to demand the most outlandish bed, which she imagined was what a princess slept upon. I'll show you, if you like. Then you'll see she is playing you for a fool." Regina rose and swept out of the room.
No. His mother was wrong. Whatever she thought, he knew he'd brought the real Sativa here yesterday. No one else could know what she did.
Regina stopped outside one of the guest apartments and turned the key in the lock.
"You locked her in, like a prisoner?" Reidar demanded. He didn't want to lose his temper, but his mother was pushing him much too far.
"I could not have her wandering around the castle. Who knows what she might steal?" Regina said, then threw open the door with a flourish.
Sativa stood on the threshold, her red eyes and nose streaming. "If this is the hospitality you show to guests, I hope the devil shows you better in hell," she said. "I scarcely slept in that travesty of a bed. It was impossible, with that bloody...that bloody...pea – aachoo!" She sneezed twice more, then glared at Regina.
"But that's not possible," Regina spluttered. "No one's so refined, so sensitive, she could sense something like that through so many mattresses. Not even royalty. How could she detect such a thing through twenty mattresses?"
Pea straw, the stuff that made her sneeze, Sativa had meant to say, Reidar was certain. He peered into the room behind her and saw a strange sight. A stack of mattresses, including the straw one his father had slept on every day of his life, insisting it was far better
than feathers. The old pallet had burst under the weight of the ones above, strewing straw all over the floor. It had been better for his father, perhaps. But not for Sativa.
Who had suffered even more, and it was his fault.
Reidar fell to his knees. "Forgive me, Princess. I promised to protect you, and I failed. I'd planned to ask you to marry me, and name the day of our wedding, but I find I must beg your forgiveness first, and pay a heavy penance, before I'd dare ask anything of you."
Sativa stared down at him. Once again, sizing up his soul. Reidar prayed he would not be found wanting. "A handkerchief," she said.
He felt through his pockets, and produced one. "I'm sorry for the soot. We set fire to half a dozen ships last night."
"Thank you," she said, inclining her head. She wiped her eyes, then delicately blew her nose. "There. You asked for...things."
She swayed on her feet and Reidar caught her, rising to his feet when he realised she needed his support. She truly hadn't slept, and she was still weak from her ordeal.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Give me a bed without straw and a hot bath, and you shall have everything you ask for tomorrow."
Reidar didn't believe his ears. "What will I have tomorrow?"
Sativa slumped against him. Exhausted, poor girl. "Wedding. Forgiveness. Whatever. But I never want to see her again." She stabbed a finger at Regina.
"I will not stay here while she's polluting the place," Regina said hotly. "I shall go to live with one of your sisters until you come to your senses." She stormed off.
Reidar didn't intend to come to his senses any time soon. Sativa drove him wild, and he had to admit he rather liked it. Reidar lifted Sativa in his arms. "Whatever you wish, my queen," he said softly.
She smiled. "A bed," she said before her eyes closed. "And don't go away this time."
He carried her limp form up to the tower room she should have been shown last night, and set her in the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over her, not sure what else to do.
All he could do was wait and watch over her until she woke.
Appease Page 9
