by Joanne Dahme
Sir Andrew cleared his throat and took me by the arm. “Let us go through, Nell, though I dislike the quiet on the other side of this tower.”
I bit my lip and nodded as I pulled at my skirt. George was walking beside me now, staring up at the ceiling.
“Just looking at the murder holes. I don’t want some ill-tempered soldiers thinking they can just drop rocks or boiling liquids on our heads,” he explained. His remark caused our soldiers to raise their own sights.
Sir Andrew laughed nervously. “This is the king’s castle, boy. These soldiers are our soldiers,” he said kindly, almost as if he were reminding himself of his whereabouts.
“Sir Andrew,” I asked quietly, “Why does the castle appear so empty? There is no one in the courtyard save the gatekeeper.” I was glad that the princess was still on board our ship. We crossed the second drawbridge and I caught the scent of the moat. It smelled like sickness to me. Sir Andrew held his purse to his nose.
“I don’t know, Nell. I don’t like this stillness either,” he replied, squinting suspiciously around the courtyard. “The mayor of Bordeaux should be here to receive us, as he oversees the castle on the king’s behalf.” Sir Andrew patted my arm and continued. “Don’t you worry about anything but playing the princess.”
I nodded as the toothless gatekeeper approached us. He was dragging his right leg as if it were a body. I flinched when I noticed that a portion of his skull was flattened.
“Quite a daunting greeting,” Sir Andrew sniffed as the gatekeeper bowed. “Where is the remainder of your defense?”
The gatekeeper stole a look at George and at the young soldiers surrounding us. Our soldiers scowled fiercely as their hands gripped their sword hilts.
“A nervous lot, aren’t you? Not a comforting entourage for the princess,” the old man scolded.“We are not under siege. Our soldiers are walking the battlements.” He pointed a heavily knuckled finger at the wall walks.
We all turned in the direction he pointed. Indeed, we saw several armored soldiers standing or pacing along the walks between the castle’s many towers, but their feet seemed heavy and I saw no fight in their gait.
George was fingering the amulet beneath the cloth of his tunic as he squinted at the face of the gatekeeper.
“Was your head crushed in battle?” he asked. Sir Andrew frowned at George’s impulsiveness.
The old man laughed. “Indeed it was, my boy. Did you think my old mum dropped me on my head when I was a babe?” he asked, swiping at George’s head with his big pawed hand.
Sir Andrew’s frown lengthened. He pulled at his tunic impatiently. “Are you not going to lead the princess to her residence? It has been an exhausting journey and I am anxious to see her safe in her quarters.”
The gatekeeper straightened as if insulted.“Indeed I am. The mayor is waiting for you there.” Turning quickly on his one good leg, he called over his shoulder,“Come along.”
The back of my neck was tingling as we followed the old man to the keep, the largest tower of the castle that held the king’s residence and arsenal. He went through the doorway first, and we followed in single file. Sir Andrew and I were sandwiched between the soldiers as we climbed up the narrow stone stairway. I allowed my one hand to slide along the comforting coolness of the stone walls, while I used my other hand to ensure that George was behind me.
I knew we had reached the princess’s residence when I smelled the fire and saw the flickering torchlight casting shadows over the top of the stairs.
“Sir Andrew!” a voice called. Sir Andrew was suddenly embraced by a fit man in a gray tunic and red surcoat despite the warmth of August.The dark-haired man clung to Sir Andrew, as if filled with emotion or exhaustion. It was hard to tell which. When they parted, I observed the man’s deep-set brown eyes. The pleasure of this reunion was absent from them. His beard and temples were streaked with white. The lot of us were crowded on the floor now, staring at Sir Andrew and the gentleman.
“That fool of a gatekeeper was to summon me as soon as you arrived,” he coughed weakly and shook his head. “I cannot afford to be strict now, under the circumstances.”
Sir Andrew stepped back as the gentleman bowed at me.
“Forgive me, Princess Joan. Sir Andrew and I have fought together in numerous battles.” His darkened eyes suddenly looked bright.“He saved my life not that long ago.”
I nodded and smiled serenely, as the princess had shown me. She had thought it best that I never speak while playing her part.
“This is mayor Raymond de Bisquale, princess,” Sir Andrew interceded, looking warmly at his friend. George was staring at Sir Andrew with his mouth open. I knew he had never thought of the red-faced Sir Andrew in a heroic light.
The mayor reached out suddenly and grasped Sir Andrew’s hand. “We must talk, Andrew, but first we should allow the princess to rest.” He gestured for me to sit on a velvet-cushioned chair. A small fire smoldered in the middle of the room.The hanging tapestries, darkened with soot, had witnessed many such fires. “I will see that refreshments are brought up immediately,” he offered as he bowed again before heading to the stairs.
I walked over to the fire but remained standing. I watched as the mayor leaned into Sir Andrew’s shoulder and spoke close to his ear. Our soldiers were lined along the wall, shifting nervously beneath the weight of their armor. Henry stood closest to the two gentlemen. I could see by his eyes that he could hear what they were saying.
“Nell,” George whispered.“Why isn’t the mayor happy to see the princess? Isn’t her wedding supposed to be a happy occasion?”
Before I could reply, Henry approached as Sir Andrew seemed to decide to follow the mayor down the stairway.
“I can tell you why, boy,” he said, but he looked at me as he spoke. I glanced at the other soldiers to see if they were curious as to why Henry addressed me, but they were peering out the windows and loopholes of the room. They were far more curious about the lack of activity at the castle.
“Henry, you really must be careful,” I said. “You can never approach me when I am playing the princess.”
“I know that,” he replied impatiently. “But this is important. Do you want to know what the mayor whispered to Sir Andrew or not?”
My heart seemed to pause. “Of course,” I said. “What is wrong here?”
“It’s the pestilence,” he said, the irritation completely gone from his voice. “The king’s own plague has paid no regard to the ocean that separates England from Bordeaux.” George grabbed my skirt as he said it and I couldn’t help but let out a gasp. For the first time, I recognized the eyes of that long-ago gravedigger in Henry’s face.
The Black Prince would have none of it. Despite the appeals of Sir Robert, Sir Andrew, and the mayor, who walked as if he were carrying death on his back, escorting the princess back to our ship and home was out of the question.
I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but from our loft over the princess’s quarters, I could hear the prince berate the king’s advisors for suggesting that we flee to the safety of England.
“We are about to pledge the promise of a marriage that will ensure England’s reign as the most powerful empire in the world. Would you have me turn my back on such an opportunity for my king?” the Black Prince hissed.
“I just don’t believe your father would gamble the fate of such a deal against the pestilence.The marriage can be postponed some weeks.” Sir Robert sounded severe.
“Coward. I don’t know why my father surrounds himself with you timid dogs.” I could imagine the prince’s face pinched in contempt.
“My lord, if I can beg your understanding.” Sir Andrew’s voice choked with emotion. “Sir Robert fears for your life and that of the princess. He lost his entire family during the last pestilence.”
“The princess will be fine,” the Black Prince insisted. “I will watch over her.”
During those somber days in the castle, I tried to keep George from peering out the window of our lof
t to watch the black smoke rise from the burning houses in the town. Houses marked with the cross of this plague. Despite his age, I knew he remembered as clearly as I the choking fear that gripped us as we watched our parents slowly die.Their delirium was infectious, and I felt anew the horror of running through London alleyways as I begged for someone to save my parents.The people I found in the streets screamed at me and ran the other way, seeing only the pestilence on my clothes. On my person. I had returned home to find George with a stick in his hand, waving it at a black rat he had cornered. “He was bothering Mum,” he said, his eyes bright with the terror that was missing from his voice.
We trembled as we stood now on the wall walks, empty except for a soldier or two with the same fear of the pestilence in their eyes. Deserting the castle would mean death, as they would be traitors of the king. And only this new plague awaited them beyond the castle’s walls. They, too, saw the piles of clothes, food, and furniture that were burning on the beaches. I wondered if the remaining soldiers noticed the rats scampering from one smoldering pile to the next.
One night I was sure that I saw the prince on the beach. He was dressed in black, carrying a cloth sack thrown over his shoulder. In one hand, he held the horn of a unicorn, the horn he blew to summon his men to battle, but what battle was he preparing for on this beach? I stood on the wall walk, shivering in the light gown I used for sleeping. A haze surrounded the moon. A haze created by the burning of Bordeaux.
I had leaned over the wall, mesmerized by the long, frantic shadow cast by the prince as he lurked around the pyres.The beach was deserted due to the hour, allowing the prince to skulk around the fires unimpeded. What is he looking for? I wondered as I watched him drop to his knees to lunge at something unseen. He appeared to struggle with something before he shoved it into his bag. I thought of the squeals that George heard behind the prince’s closed door on the ship and a similar noise, multiplied many times, that I had heard coming from the keep’s dungeon. Surely he was not collecting those creatures.
I didn’t have much time to dwell on the prince’s strange activities. For within three weeks of our arrival at the castle, Sir Robert, Father Paul, and the princess were dead.
imposter
THE RED VELVET of the princess’s dress felt cool to the touch. How quickly it had lost her warmth, I thought, as I folded the dress to pack it neatly in one of the many bridal trunks brought along for the wedding. Sir Andrew had asked me to stay in the princess’s quarters to ensure that her possessions were in order before the trunks were returned to the ship. He said that the king was meticulous about such matters. Anything missing would have been defilement, for only the king could order the burning of the princess’s clothes. Did it matter, as the castle air was already tainted by the smoke from the smoldering possessions of the stricken villagers?
I took my time with each garment. I wanted to linger over every reminder of her—from the look on her face of delighted astonishment on the day of our introduction to our twilight whisperings about our twinned future as we kept company belowdecks on our journey to Bordeaux. The princess had become my life and my sister when we were away from the world’s eyes. What would the princess’s death mean for George and me? Would the king still want me in his service or would I appear to him like a ghost in his own castle? Just the sight of me might drive him mad with grief. My stomach felt knotted with fear.
George was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, fingering his amulet. His back was to the room’s entrance. His gaze roamed moodily from the princess’s bed to her dining table, to the unicorn tapestry that hung on the far wall, until it settled on me. He no longer tried to hide his amulet and instead wore it boldly over his tunic. Under normal circumstances, I would insist that he hide it. I didn’t like George bringing attention to us. I wasn’t sure that it mattered here, in this place of death. The amulet seemed to comfort him.
Despite the light tunic I was wearing, I was sweating from the September warmth. George squinted at me, inspecting my features for some sign of the pestilence.
“George, please stop staring at me. I don’t have a fever, it is only the heat,” I said peevishly as I closed the lid to the last trunk.Ten of them lined the various walls of the room.
“Did these all belong to the princess?” he asked, amazed. “You and I, Nell, can collect all of our things in a sack,” he added distractedly. “Why does a princess need so many clothes?”
I knew he didn’t mean to bother me, but I was all cried out and all that was left in me at the moment was a simmering anger.
“Because she is a princess!” I yelled. “She represents the king and her country. How could you ask such a stupid question?”
The shouting made me feel better, even though my knees were shaking and I had to place my hand on the rough lid of one of the trunks to keep steady. George had lost all color in his face.
“Are we going to die, Nell, like Mother and Father?” he asked, before he dropped his head to sob.
The sound pierced my heart. I ran to him.“No, no, dear George. Forgive me,” I cried as I squatted on the floor beside him and took his slight little body in my arms. “I don’t mean to be cross with you. I am just sorry for the princess,” I whispered into his hair. “We survived the king’s plague before, and we will beat it again, I’m sure.” I prayed my voice carried the confidence I lacked.
He wiped his eyes with a dirty hand, leaving a muddy streak.
“What is going to happen to us, Nell? I’m not sure that we can trust this amulet. It didn’t protect the princess.” He was peering at it closely, as if looking for any changes in its color or its image.The likeness of a rat was still all too clear.
I licked my thumb and wiped the smudge from his face. “Sir Andrew says that we are to go home.We need to tell the king what has happened to the princess.” I lowered my voice as I had difficulty speaking of her. “The king will take care of us.We are a part of his household.”
“Plans have changed, Nell,” a voice corrected me from the other side of the room. The Black Prince filled the entranceway.
“M-my lord,” I stammered as George and I scrambled to stand. I smoothed my hair and my dusty tunic with my hands. “I have finished preparing the princess’s things for our journey home.” I said this deliberately. Perhaps the prince was confused.
I kept my eyes on the pointy ends of his boots as he approached.They reminded me of tails.
Too soon, he stood directly in front of me. I could feel his hot breath on my face.
“Tell the brat to go,” he said. He looked at me over the sharp edge of his nose.
George’s head snapped up. “I need to stay with Nell to protect her.”
The prince’s smile twitched.“Protect her? From what? From me?” he asked. His voice was suddenly friendly.
“No, my lord.” George shook his head vehemently. “From the pestilence. She needs to be near my amulet.” He presented it to the prince. It filled the bowl of George’s hand.
The prince bent to stare at it. He released a tiny sound of surprise. “Well, George.Your Nell will be doubly protected as I have one of those, too.” Without hesitating, he pulled from his pocket an amulet and held it next to the one in George’s hand.They were identical.
“Oh, my,” George said. “Do you know John Moore, my blacksmith friend? Did he make this for you?”
“Indeed I do. It appears we both possess the power of the rat.” He closed George’s hand around the amulet.The prince’s fingernails were long and sharp. “Now that you know that your sister is protected, I need to speak with her alone.”
“Go ahead, George,” I urged against the pounding of my heart. “See if your friend the gatekeeper needs something to eat. It’s nearly midday and I don’t think he has had relief.” George had befriended the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper’s misshapen head fascinated him and his comfortable banter eased George’s heart.
George nodded. “I will be back soon, my lord, so that you are not inconvenienced in having
to protect Nell.” George did a quick bow and ran toward the stairway.
“What a remarkable boy,” said the prince. The smile on his face was absent of all kindness. He scurried along the row of trunks, stopping here and there to lift a lid and inspect a garment. He allowed the last lid to close with a bang.The sound was harsh against the castle’s stark walls.
“Sir Andrew will be along anytime now. He was eager to board the princess’s things,” I announced, anxious to interrupt the prince’s survey. Although my heart was thudding against my ribs, I was also aware of a traitorous malice I felt toward the prince. How dare he touch his sister’s possessions with such disregard? Surely he did not love her.
“Watch your pretty little face, Nell. My sister never looked at me like that.” He smiled as I blushed, hot from my shame. “I want you to take off that rag you are wearing and replace it with one of my sister’s dresses.” He was resting his weight against the trunk by the door. “You are the princess now,” he drawled.
I stood there numb, not comprehending what he was saying. He flicked his long black hair over his shoulder as he laughed.
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” I stammered.
“Surely you do,” he objected as he rose to approach me. I closed my eyes as I felt his warmth suddenly inches from my body. I tried not to cringe as he twirled a strand of my hair on his finger.
“You are just as beautiful as the princess. The poor Prince Pedro will not have a clue that he has been duped. You will save this marriage for my father—our king,” he hissed into my ear.
I stepped back and, without thinking, pushed his hand away. “It’s not right! I cannot pretend to be the princess,” I cried.The protest sounded feeble to my ears, yet I felt it with all my heart.
“Not right?” He laughed. His eyes seemed to shrink to mocking slits. “I tell you what is right and what is wrong.You dare to be so impudent in my presence?”
