by Tanya Bird
The guards were waiting by the cart. One of them took hold of her arm as she climbed in. She pulled free from his grip. The offer of a hand was good manners; anything else was farm-handling.
The cart differed from theirs. It was not stained green with manure or littered with barley. The wood did not hold small tufts of wool pulled from the backs of sheep. She made a seat from her bag and watched Loda shift sideways as Kadmus mounted her. The mare was rarely ridden by anyone other than her. They eyed one another through the bars of her small prison. Kadmus handled the mare without difficulty. He was a strong rider, a requirement of farm life, but also attributed to sibling competitiveness. They had spent their entire childhoods trying to prove they were faster and more skilled than the other. The challenges they set themselves had been met with disapproval from their mother and became a constant source of amusement for their father, who was often called upon to settle disputes between them.
One of the guards reached inside his tunic and pulled out a few pieces of gold, which he handed to Dahlia. Aldara had expected a pouch. A few pieces did not seem enough for handing over one of your children. But what did she know. Dahlia’s hand closed tightly around the gold as she thanked him. Aldara looked at the house where she spotted her father leaning against the outside stone wall. His head was slumped forward, and she could see his shoulders shaking. She moved onto her knees, holding the rails of the cart. She wanted to call out to him but was afraid of what she might say. His eyes went to her, but he did not move. The guards climbed onto the front of the cart, and it lurched forward, swaying above the uneven ground. Kadmus trotted silently alongside her, pretending not to see the breaking of hearts. Aldara watched the farmhouse, and her mother’s back, shrink behind a rising cloud of dust. Her father blended into the shadows. The cart seemed much smaller. For years she had watched lambs leave the farm the same way.
‘What was my worth in gold?’
The guards did not respond.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Kadmus said quietly. ‘What is the correct amount for such a thing?’ He kept his eyes ahead also.
Archdale was north of Roysten. A half-day’s ride with fit horses and no stops. A few hours into their journey Aldara glanced up at the sun and realised they were moving east. She asked the men why they were travelling east, and once again they did not respond. When she looked at Kadmus he shook his head and continued to follow without comment.
By mid-afternoon they arrived in Arelasa, a large village known for its food market and high theft rate. They came across a frail man walking in the middle of the road. When the guards stopped to ask for directions, a flea-infested dog with all of its ribs on display emitted a low growl of warning at them. The man pointed a deformed finger as he spoke, his breath so vile with infection that when the smell reached Aldara she had to resist the urge to cover her nose and mouth. He was still talking as the cart pulled away.
The guards, in search of the baker’s house, followed the partial directions until they were met by the smell of warm bread. The mouth-watering scent led them to a small wattle and daub house close to the road. It was bursting with half-dressed, barefoot children. They filled the small vegetable garden at the front of the house. ‘They’re here!’ one screamed before running inside.
A girl wrapped in a yellow dress, and the legs of a small girl, came outside to see. ‘Do not let mother catch you trampling her potatoes,’ she said, waving the children off the vegetables. She gently placed the clinging girl down and picked up a bag sitting in the doorway. It looked just like Aldara’s. The children gathered around her then, all speaking at once. Six girls, two boys. She bent down and hugged each of them before planting noisy kisses on their dirty faces. When she reached the smallest girl, she closed her eyes and buried her face in her hair as though inhaling her scent.
‘Will you come visit us when you are a princess?’ the girl asked.
Nobody said anything. More kisses. Her parents stood behind a border of children, barely composed. One of the guards coughed and gestured towards the cart. Gold was handed over. Gold in a pouch. Aldara felt like she was intruding, so she turned towards Kadmus. He was letting Loda drink from the trough while he stared at the road in front of him.
A few minutes later the arm-grabbing guard helped the curvy girl into the back of the cart. She placed herself opposite Aldara. ‘Good thinking,’ she said, sliding her bag beneath her as a seat. Fresh tears remained on her cheeks. She brushed them aside before smoothing down her stained dress as though creases were the issue with it. It was probably her best dress. It was probably her mother’s best dress before that, a familiar story of the poor. Aldara looked down at her own dress, which had been rehemmed more times than she could remember. It had once been her mother’s best dress. She remembered holding onto fistfuls of vibrant blue material as a child. She also remembered being regularly shooed from her mother’s skirts. The blue cotton had faded with the memory. And now it was covered in horse hair.
‘Don’t cry,’ the girl called to her mother as the cart pulled away. ‘You’ll start the children off again.’
The youngest was already wailing. The sound could still be heard as they turned the corner and headed out of the village.
‘I was selected by Prince Pandarus himself,’ the girl said as if answering a question.
Aldara felt herself jump. She looked at the girl and said nothing.
‘He bought bread from me at the market. My sister stood by, besotted, while he asked me about the bread’s quality and taste. I barely breathed through the entire transaction.’ She laughed at the memory of it. ‘A few minutes later he made a request to my father for me. The prince himself,’ she repeated. ‘My youngest sister thinks I am going to the castle to become a princess.’ Her face reddened and her eyes went to her lap.
‘And what are you going for?’
The guards exchanged a laugh between them. Kadmus was still staring at the road. The girl glanced at them before looking back at Aldara. ‘To be his Companion of course.’ She seemed confused by the question.
‘How do you know he did not buy you to serve?’
The girl laughed. ‘Maids are paid a wage and are free to leave.’
Aldara looked at Kadmus, who knew very well she was looking at him. ‘Prince Pandarus did not even notice me until mother used me as a road block. Why did he buy me?’
‘Your wit perhaps,’ he said.
No one said anything further.
When the sun was low in the sky and the road began to widen, Archdale rose like a mountain on the horizon. Kadmus moved Loda a few paces ahead of the cart to take in the sight of it. Isadore had promised to take Aldara when they were not so busy on the farm, but they were always busy. There were no leisure days for farmers. She still remembered the stories they told her when she was younger, of castle walls touching the sky. She could not comprehend such a thing when she had barely travelled outside of Roysten, and she struggled to fathom how men could build a curtain wall so high when each bluestone brick weighed more than her.
They came to a stop in front of the portcullis, sitting in a queue of riders and a cart loaded with pigs. Every person had to explain the purpose of their visit before they were permitted entry. The girls watched as the portcullis was raised and lowered ahead of them. When they finally reached the two guards, sweltering in direct sun, they were immediately waved through the gaping mouth of Archdale. As the cart rolled under the arch, Aldara felt a surge of panic. She turned around in search of Kadmus. When he went to ride through after her one of the guards blocked him.
‘That’s far enough for you,’ he warned, hand on his sword.
Loda raised her head, and her front legs came off the ground. She did not like people in her way.
Aldara turned to the guards driving the cart. ‘Stop. I need to speak with my brother.’
They ignored her, so she crawled to the back of the cart and unlatched the door just as the portcullis began to lower behind them. Kadmus watched her, unable to do
anything else. He stared through the gaps in the iron as she jumped from the back of the moving cart and stumbled towards him. But there was nowhere for her to go. One of the soldiers had her back in the cart before it had even stopped moving. She was on her hands and knees, panting, at the feet of the girl. Her head hung inches from the floor while tears landed by her hands. When she looked up, the girl was watching her with pity, the excitement in her eyes gone.
‘I did not get to say goodbye to my brother,’ Aldara said to the backs of the guards.
No response.
She sat up and pressed the back of her head against the wall of the cart. Only then did she feel the heat of tears on her face.
Chapter 3
Fedora stood in front of the two girls with the straightest back Aldara had ever seen. Her thick hair was pulled back, held together by a spray of pearls that contrasted her dark skin and fierce green eyes. Her silk dress exposed her shoulders and wrapped her throat. When she spoke, nothing moved above the mouth.
‘What is your age, Aldara?’ Fedora said.
She seemed to already disapprove of the answer. Aldara wondered if it was perhaps the smell of horse she disapproved of.
‘Sixteen, my lady.’
‘And what is your age, Hali?’ she said, turning to the other girl.
‘Nineteen, my lady.’ Hali replied with a nervous smile.
Fedora looked at her with suspicion. ‘Nineteen and not wed?’
‘No, my lady.’
‘Are you a virgin?’ There was a long silence before she spoke again. ‘There is no point in lying. You will both be examined by the physician.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ She was kneading the fabric of her dress between her fingers.
‘Let go of your dress, Hali. Your mind should not be available for all to see.’ Fedora waited for her to look up. ‘Follow me,’ she said, turning and walking from them. The tail of her silk dress slid along the polished floor, and her jewelled shoes made a delicate clicking noise against the marble. The filtered light from the corridor windows reflected off them, making light dance around her.
Aldara watched her own worn boots slap the ground. She glanced behind her to ensure she was not leaving a trail of dirt. When she looked forward again, she almost walked into Fedora, who had stopped walking and was watching her with unblinking eyes. They had arrived at a door.
‘I will organise some duties to see you through the next season. You will not be socialising until your age is less apparent.’
Aldara shook her head. ‘I am sixteen. Many women are wed at this age.’
‘You may well be. However, you appear younger than your sixteen years. While men are attracted to youthful women, it will be difficult for you to fulfil your role in its entirety if they view you as a child. There are things we can do to age you, but time is what you need right now.’ Her eyes flicked down to Aldara’s breasts.
Aldara took the opportunity to ask the one question no one seemed to want to answer. ‘Can I ask what role I am to fulfil when you feel I am ready?’
Fedora’s expression suggested she preferred to share information on her terms rather than be questioned. ‘You are a gift between brothers. This is not an appropriate discussion for a public space. In the future you are to keep your questions for the privacy of the Companions’ quarters.’
‘Which brother?’ she persisted.
Fedora looked both ways down the corridor, and when she was sure there was no one around, she spoke in a lowered voice. ‘Were you told nothing?’
Aldara shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘I am not sure why that would be, as it is not a secret. You were purchased by Prince Pandarus as a Companion for his brother, Prince Tyron. You will be working towards this role beginning today.’
Aldara shook her head again. ‘Purchased for him? I have never met him. Wouldn’t he want to choose a Companion for himself?’
Fedora crossed her bare arms elegantly in front of her. ‘It is not your place to question decisions made by the princes. Scrutiny is reserved for those with power—wealthy men. As you are neither wealthy nor a male, you can hold your questions. Am I understood?’
Aldara nodded.
‘Yes, my lady,’ Fedora said slowly.
‘Yes, my lady.’
Aldara knew little of Prince Tyron other than he was known as the Prince of Mercy. Kadmus had once told her the story of how the prince had pardoned a man who had been caught stealing grain from the royal supply. The hollow-faced wife of the thief had brought their children to the castle gate and requested an audience with whoever would see her. Prince Tyron had appeared, and after seeing the pinched faces and wasting limbs of her children, he had agreed to hear her out. She had fallen to her knees and begged for the life of her husband, their only provider, to be spared. The man was released that afternoon. Her favourite part of the story was he had also given the family a side of pig and two loaves of bread to take home with them.
Aldara knew little of the youngest prince, Stamitos, and even less of Princess Cora. She had heard only the gushing descriptions of her beauty from a clearly besotted Kadmus. ‘Have you ever heard of a princess that was not beautiful?’ she had asked him when he finally fell silent. ‘With enough food, gold and servants, anyone can be made beautiful.’ He had accused her of being jealous. She was jealous, but not of her beauty, rather the fact she could eat to bursting without worrying about where her next meal would come from.
Fedora gave a small clap of her hands and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘Can we proceed, or do you need a moment?’ Her tone was not friendly.
Aldara was finding it difficult to process everything at the speed required of her. ‘Sorry, my lady.’
Fedora led them through the arched doorway into a small room with an uneven stone floor and a lit fireplace. Fireplaces were becoming common in noble houses throughout Syrasan. The rest of the kingdom relied on warmth from the stoves that cooked their soups and baked their breads. In the warm season many cooked in open fires outdoors to keep indoor temperatures bearable. The heavy stone walls at Archdale seemed to repel the heat.
‘Ladies,’ Fedora said. ‘I want to introduce you to Violeta, Panthea, and Rhea. They are Companions to some of Archdale’s most important guests.’
Aldara looked at the three women seated in armchairs with books in their ironed laps. Blemish-free, expressionless faces, rehearsed in Fedora’s technique of not having your inner-thoughts on display.
‘This is Hali and Aldara,’ Fedora said, gesturing towards them.
The women’s eyes swept over them. They nodded and said something courteous that did not match their tones. Then they returned their disinterested faces to their books.
Fedora exited through a different door, signalling for the girls to follow her. They entered the sleeping quarters where there were two rows of beds dressed in white linen. Aldara thought of her bed at the farmhouse, which had been dressed in exactly two blankets, one which provided warmth, and the other so worn it was pointless. She did not know any farming family who could afford to use linen on their beds. When they could afford linen, it was used for undergarments and shirts. Dahlia used the scraps to make aprons and pillows.
Aldara thought back to the cold season Kadmus had lost one of his blankets to their plough horse. The horse became sick with heaves, and the thought of losing the horse had Dahlia in a silent panic. Kadmus was wished the horse a quick recovery, or death, whichever got the blanket back the quickest. The horse recovered, but inconvenienced him by taking weeks to do so. They had been fortunate enough to have mattresses stuffed with wool from their own sheep, which provided more warmth than the straw used by most people.
‘You will sleep here,’ Fedora said, pointing to the two closest beds.
Hali took a few steps forward and placed her bag next to one of the beds. She ran her hand across it, enjoying the luxurious feel of it beneath her hand. Aldara resisted the temptation to do the same.
‘Meals are served in the front
room where we entered,’ Fedora continued. ‘If your duties cause you to miss a meal, you can eat in the kitchen downstairs. The kitchen maids are very accommodating as they understand the unpredictable nature of your duties. You are not, however, permitted to eat in the hall, unless you are invited to do so by a member of the royal family or one of their guests. Usually, such an invitation will come through me. I suggest you limit your time outside of these quarters for now. Wandering about can be problematic for those who are still learning.’ She paused to make sure the girls understood. ‘Herbal tea will be provided with your meals. All Companions are required to drink it, regardless of their duties.’ Another, much longer pause. ‘There are robes at the end of your beds. Take them with you to the bathing room, which is through that door. When you are done, meet me in the dressing room. I will find something appropriate for you to wear for your chores.’
Hali looked up. ‘Chores, my lady?’
It was the first time Aldara had seen Fedora blink. It was done with perfect restraint.
‘Yes, Hali. Everyone contributes in their spare time, and you will have plenty.’
Hali could not hide her disappointment. ‘But we are Companions, not maids.’
Fedora’s eyes glowed a little brighter, but the rest of her remained perfectly still. ‘At the moment you are nothing. An uneducated commoner, unworthy of even serving food to guests. Do not confuse Archdale with the whorehouse in your village. You will have to work hard for the privilege of keeping company with Prince Pandarus. Only once you meet, or exceed, the high standards set by your fellow Companions will you have the opportunity to prove your worth. Until then, I suggest you get to work.’ Hali turned her burning face to the floor. Before she could respond, Fedora spoke again. ‘There is no shortage of prostitutes in the kingdom, and there are many women who would not charge for the opportunity.’
