Casimir's Journey

by Lisa Manifold

  “’Day,” said the man. He was not unfriendly, but reserved.

  “I am Yates. I have taken on a commission for a lady near the border, and I am to visit a woman named Melasine to pick up some items for the lady. I’m told Melasine lives in this area. Can you point me to her home?”

  The man’s eyes widened momentarily before settling back into his usual, blank expression. “She is that way,” he said, pointing out the door and away from the village. “She’s not the friendliest person.”

  “Given the lady I am commissioned to assist, I am not surprised,” Casimir said with a twist of the mouth. The tavern keeper snorted a little, but kept from smiling. “I thank you, sir. Perhaps I shall stop in after I am finished.”

  “Luck to you,” said the man. Casimir waved a hand as he walked back out the door. The direction that the keeper had indicated lead down a side road leading from the village proper. He was glad that the tavern owner didn’t appear shocked that he would visit this Melasine. He was impatient to get this done and get home.

  He set Toly onto the small track, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

  Suddenly, a hut rose in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere, so well did it blend into the plants. The track led down to a marsh by the plants and reeds that surrounded the hut.

  He swung a leg over Toly and hopped off. “Well, here I go again,” he said to the horse, patting his neck. “Stay here. Please. I might need to leave quickly.” He inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and went to the door.

  After knocking, he stood back to see who would come out. He was surprised when the door opened, and a tiny little woman stared up at him.

  “What do you want?” She asked. The tavern keeper was right. She was not friendly.

  “I come from Catrin. She asks most kindly that you release her cup and platter to me.” He bowed, hoping fine manners would smooth things over.

  It didn’t work. “Don’t care. If she wants it so badly, she can come herself.” The woman stepped back and made to shut the door. Casimir stuck his foot in just in time to have her slam the door on it.

  “Madam, I greatly desire that you should work with her. I can see,” he said, leaning in as she attempted to shut the door in spite of his foot, “That you are disinclined to be obliging. Perhaps you would take pity on me, the messenger. Perhaps,” he leaned harder into the door, forcing her to open it and to stop crushing his foot, “You and I might come to an agreement, without regard to who sent me.”

  She let go of the door, and he fell into the hut landing hard on his knees. “Well, you’re sweet with your words.” She walked away from the door, and he took that as a sign he could follow. He scrambled to his feet and hurried to catch up to her. She led him to the back of the hut where a fire blazed merrily in a small hearth. A brief glance around showed the owner to have a disposition towards death, as every corner was filled with some sort of creature—stuffed birds flying from strings dangling from the ceiling, insects encased in glass, fish stuffed and mounted to the walls, and snakes forever poised to strike. It was a veritable dead menagerie.

  “Sit.” She gestured to a stool as she sat on another. “What has Catrin told you?”

  “That you have a cup and a platter, and she would like them back. She respectfully requests that you surrender them to me so that I might bring them to her.” He had considered on the way here how to address Melasine. In spite of Catrin’s warning, he decided to be honest. He didn’t get the impression that they were friends. Regardless, he felt that honesty would work best for him. Although, if she were as twisted as Catrin, he was offering himself to her on a platter, but that could not be helped.

  “I do have them.” This confirmed that she was Melasine, at least. “I will give them to you, young princeling.” At her words, he started. “Oh, I know Catrin, and what she is about. No worry for you. I will speak of it to no one. Who would I tell?” She gestured around the hut with a smile. “No one here will speak of it either.” She chuckled at her own wit. Judging by the decor, Casimir felt certain he was dealing with someone with a similar outlook as Catrin. He probably should be concerned.

  “Then I will take them, and thank you.” He inclined his head.

  “Not so fast, Princeling. I will give them to you after you pay the price. Nothing is free. You should know that.”

  “What do you mean, pay the price?”

  She laughed again, and this time it brought back the chill. “Poor, poor boy. You’re used to a different sort of life, aren’t you? Where all you need to do is beckon and whatever you want is provided. That is not how it works outside the palace walls. Have you not learned that yet?”

  She laughed harder at the look on his face. He was well aware that his learning curve regarding life outside the palace was steep. “What do you have to offer?”

  “Not much. I can offer you service.”

  She shook her head. “No, I have what I need. What I want is something more…personal. How about,” she leaned back, tapping her chin. “Your best memory?”

  “What?”

  “Think about the best thing you can remember. Take a moment,” she held up a hand to stay anything he might say. “Think about it. In all your life, what is your best memory? What makes you the happiest, most complete to think about?”

  His mouth fell open. “You want the best thing I can remember? The thing that makes me happiest to see in my mind’s eye?”

  She nodded, a smug smile on her lips. He resisted the urge to slap her. “Why do you feel you have a right to it?”

  “You have something I will enjoy, I have something you need. It’s merely a matter of trade, nothing more, but I will only trade for something I actually want.” She shrugged. “Take a moment and think on it, but don’t try to trick me. I will know if you are not true in your thoughts.”

  “What if I do not agree?”

  “Then our business is done.” The shrug again.

  Casimir felt deflated. The best thing he could remember? The awful piece of this was that the best thing came to mind immediately.

  He and Thea were walking in the woods behind the castle. They had just been allowed to spend time together without a chaperone immediately nearby. He took her hand, and she let him. He squeezed their palms together with excitement at being this close to her and able to touch her. He had been struggling with wanting to touch her for weeks now, to the point that it interrupted his sleep and invaded his dreams.

  He held her hand up to his face and inhaled. Her lilac scent was like a spring day. He caught her eye, and she looked down, actually blushing. The demure cast of her eyes, in a face normally bold and open, inflamed him, making his very blood feel hot.

  “I love you, Thea.” She looked upward at him again. He leaned into her, dropping her hand so that his could cup her face. Gently placing his lips on hers, he lingered for a moment, reveling in the passion and emotion she stirred in him. He pulled back, unsure of his control if he continued the kiss. When he looked into her dark, shining eyes, to see if she felt the same, if she felt it too and was holding back as he was, he was lost. There was no other woman for him ever. “I love you, Casimir.”

  He—he sat back, and stared at Melasine. “What were we speaking of?”

  “Of me giving you the cup and platter you’ve come all this way for, young man.” She heaved herself to her feet and shuffled back to the side of the hearth. He could hear her clanking various objects. His head felt as though he had a cold, stuffy and unclear, as though he walked through mist. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

  “Here you are. Take them to Catrin, and with my compliments.” She smiled, and he could not help but recoil at her smile.

  “Is that it? Catrin said—”

  “What did she say?” The grin widened.

  “That I would need to negotiate with you.”

  “You have and well. We both have what we want.”

  “But I gave you nothing.” Why could he not think clearly?

 
; “You gave me what I consider a fair trade,” she said firmly. “Now you must go. I am sure Catrin is waiting.”

  Still feeling bemused, he allowed her to push him towards the door. Out in the sunshine the air felt cleaner, crisp. The foggy feeling dissipated.

  He turned to her. “We are fairly met?”

  “In sooth, we are. I would not lie to you, Princeling. Be on your way. If you ride through, you will make Catrin’s by late evening.”

  He tucked the cup and platter, which did not look at all remarkable, into his saddlebag. He mounted Toly, who was oddly restless, and said, “I thank you, madam.”

  Melasine hugged herself. “No, Princeling, I thank you. You are a fair trader.”

  He turned without speaking. He was missing something, but he could not tell what it was. Something had occurred, and he had no inkling of what it might be.

  As he made his way back through Turistin, the tavern keeper was sweeping out front. He looked up as Casimir rode by, and lifted a hand in greeting. Casimir returned the wave, but did not stop. He was anxious to return to Catrin and be done. Being around magic and the dealings of sorceresses, for Melasine was a witch if ever he saw one, made him nervous. He didn’t like it. He continuously felt that he was being given the bad end of a bargain, but he couldn’t manage to discover how. He knew it, but had no evidence, no hard proof. That made the feeling of unease worse.

  He pushed on and found that Melasine was right. He was able to get back to Catrin’s home by late evening. He jumped down from Toly and took the saddlebag off. Striding to the door, he knocked and, as before, Catrin answered.

  “So quickly? You must have been successful. Come in,” she said, opening the door and standing to the side. He walked into the kitchen and dumped the saddlebag onto the table.

  “I have brought the cup and platter.” He opened up the one side, and pulled them out, offering them to her.

  She took them with a smile. “You have done well, Casimir. These are exactly what I needed. What did you give her for them?”

  “I? I gave her nothing. We were discussing a barter, and then she changed her mind and gave them to me.” He shrugged. He looked at her. “So my bargaining skills, or lack thereof, made no difference.”

  Her smile broadened. “Perhaps you are right, Casimir. I can admit when I might be wrong.”

  “Are we finished? I wish to be on my way.”

  “You have fulfilled what I asked. You may stay here tonight, take your ease, and in the morning I will agree that your obligation to me is repaid.”

  “I have your word that I may stay here this evening with no tricks, no mischief from you?” Dealing with her made him question everything.

  “You have my word. You will sleep untroubled, and I will outfit you for your journey back to your life and ensure that your wounds have sufficiently healed. I’ll even have a bath drawn so my servants can help you scrub the dye off and trim your hair so you look less like a vagabond.”

  He nodded. “Then we are done. I’d like to have the bath before I retire, if you please.”

  “How easily you return,” she remarked. “It will be done. You know where your room is. Please be comfortable until Ingrith can make your bath ready.”

  He picked up the saddlebag and went back to the chamber where this had all begun. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it. He felt he’d escaped, although he wasn’t sure from what. All he needed to do was to clean himself up, and he would never look back on this. Ever.

  He sat on the bed, his mind curiously blank. He tried to think about returning to his life as a prince and to his betrothed, but he felt very underwhelmed and couldn’t understand why. He’d been so keen to get back to everything—but what was he getting back to? His thoughts were interrupted by the man from the stables muscling a bathing tub into the room for him.

  Right behind him was Ingrith, lugging in a large pot of hot water. “Got more of these on the hearths in the yard, sir,” she puffed. The man walked out with her, and then within moments, they were both back in carrying pots. One more trip each, and the tub was full. Ingrith came back bringing the cleaning items he would need.

  “Call out if you need assistance, sir. I’ll come in to trim up your hair once you’ve finished.”

  “You cut hair too? Catrin is lucky to have you in her service,” he said. The look of outright fear on her face stopped anything else he was going to say. She bobbed and practically ran from the room.

  He stripped off his clothing, and stepped into the tub. He scrubbed himself vigorously, to the point his skin felt raw. Then he sat in the water until it began to get cold.

  A knock at the door caused him to sink a little lower. “Yes?”

  “I have fresh garments for you, sir,” said Ingrith.

  “Come in, and leave them, if you please,” he replied. She darted in and placed a pile of clothing on the chest. “I shall be ready for you to administer to my hair shortly,” he said, smiling at her, hoping to let her know she didn’t have to scurry so.

  She didn’t reply, just bobbed as she flew out the door, shutting it behind her.

  He wanted to do something to help her. She was obviously not happy here and lived in fear of something. Catrin, probably. But she didn’t stay around long enough for him to get anything out of her.

  He stood and dried himself off, taking his time getting into the clothing she’d left. It was more befitting him, although not entirely up to his standards. A knock at the door brought in Ingrith again, and she carried shears and a glass.

  In spite of his efforts, he got no information out of her as she trimmed his shaggy hair. If anything, his questions made her more nervous. He gave up. He could not help someone who would not give him anything to help with.

  Once she’d finished with his hair, she brought him a late supper, telling him to leave the tray outside the door when he was done. He ate sitting on his bed, satisfied that this awful part of his life was about to end. He hoped to never consider it again once away from here.

  And with those happy thoughts, he went to bed. For the first time since this began, he fell asleep untroubled.

  He woke the same way. Additionally, he had a wonderful feeling of anticipation. He jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed. He packed up his saddlebag. He hoped Catrin would allow him to purchase Toly. He didn’t want to walk back to his castle, any castle, and he felt very attached to Toly.

  Striding into the kitchen, he found Catrin, Ingrith, and the man from the stables all very busy. There was an air of anxiety in the room.

  “Casimir! I’m glad you’re still here,” said Catrin.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “We are done. I thought you might have decided to leave.”

  “That makes no sense. I take my leave honorably,” he said.

  “Well, I am glad of it. Have some breakfast, and then I must ask you for a favor.”

  He sat at the table. “You ask me for a favor? Really? Is this another quest? If so, I remind you are we are done, Catrin, according to you, last evening, in this room.”

  She flapped a hand at him. “We are done. I just need you to gather some oranges for me. We’re all busy here, and I have need of three oranges from my grove. None of us have the time to run and get them. If you would go after you eat, it would save Ingrith from having to try to fit the time in.”

  Her sideways look didn’t fool him. He could tell she knew he felt sorry for Ingrith. Was there nothing and nobody this woman would not use to get what it was she wanted? Even for something as simple as running a servant’s errand. He could see why Ingrith looked frightened, why the man from the stables had said what he did. She was evil, this woman. Evil. She used everything about a person to her own ends, regardless of what happened to the person being used.

  “If you feed me first, I shall be happy to gather your oranges,” he said with a sigh.

  “Wonderful! Ingrith!” She gestured with her head to Casimir, and the little maid hurried to dish up a bowl of porr
idge, setting it in front of Casimir. He thanked her, seeing a single tear slide down her cheek. She turned quickly, but he’d seen it.

  “Are you well?” He asked quietly, stopping her from fleeing with a hand on her arm. She glanced up at him, shocked and afraid, and gave a jerky nod as she whirled away from him.

  What was that about? He could not fathom. He bent to his porridge, finding that food on the edge of freedom tasted better somehow. Once he was done, he stood and handed the bowl to Ingrith.

  “Catrin! Where is your orchard? Let me do this and be on my way!”

  She bustled back into the kitchen at his bellow. “No need to shout down the house, Princeling. The orchard,” she said, taking him by the shoulder and steering him to the open kitchen door, “is beyond the stables. There are mostly apple and pear trees. I have two lemon trees and one orange tree. The oranges are beyond compare. It is why I trust you to gather them. I know you will care for them.”

  “How many do you need?”

  “Just three. The recipe I am using calls for two, and I want one for myself. There is one thing, Casimir.”

  “What?” He said absently, gauging how long it would take to get to the grove of trees.

  “You must not break the skin in any way. The oranges are particularly appealing, and you will be struck, I assure you, by their aroma. Pick only three, for I ration them. Do not eat any, nor attempt to sneak one for yourself. I will know. Now go, if you please. I need them.” She shoved him towards the door.

  “May I take Toly?”

  “No need. The orchard is an easy walk. Just head back beyond the stable.” She was already heading down the hallway as she spoke over her shoulder.

  He walked briskly to the stables and then behind them. He could see the fruit trees. Catrin had told the truth. It was an easy walk.

  As he made his way into the orchard, he could see most were indeed apple and pear. Finally, he came upon the lemon trees, and just to the side of them was the orange tree.

  Never had he seen such fruit. Each orange looked like a sunburst, so bright an orange was it. The fruit itself was fat and luscious looking. He stepped closer, and then the smell hit his nose.