by Finley Aaron
Still, every day he kept them was another day away from the trade route, which meant he was essentially losing money the longer he was tied down by them.
While they argued, I fluttered near Nora’s ear, trying in vain to inform her of the obvious solution, which she remained oblivious to.
Robert had hoped to sell the horses for profit, and this idea stuck in his head, so he plowed forward in that direction. “You appreciate the fine Arabian bloodlines of these animals, which are nearly impossible to find in this part of Europe.”
“I do, of course.”
“These are animals fit for a king.”
“If a king appreciated equestrian bloodlines, I suppose,” Nora said, frowning, for though she knew little of kings, she could not imagine that someone who spent so much time on a throne could understand horses nearly as well as she, who spent most of her time in the saddle. “Take them on to Charmont, then, and see how much the king will give you for them.”
Robert could see her opinion in the set of her mouth, and hoped to get on her good side after all. “Would you have me sell these horses to a king, who could afford them but never appreciate them?”
For the first time, Nora was not quick to respond. She’d felt, from the very moment she saw the horses, that they needed care—more than that, she felt she needed to care for them. “A king could afford proper care, I suppose,” she admitted softly.
“You appreciate these horses, don’t you?” Robert asked.
“Yes,” Nora answered hesitantly. She suspected Robert was deliberately leading her to his chosen conclusion, and since at that moment she was unable to predict what that conclusion might be, she felt quite wary.
“You think they should receive proper care, and you don’t want them to have to travel any farther. It wouldn’t be good for them, would it?”
“No, it would not,” she admitted, still trying to think where Robert was headed with his argument.
“They should stay here.”
“That’s what I said some time ago!” Nora was growing frustrated again, and feared the man might try to sell the horses to her. Much as she’d have loved to own them, she had no way of buying them. The estate—the land itself, and the buildings on it—were her only assets of value, and she couldn’t have parted with any of them even if she’d had legal ownership of them (which, being an unmarried woman, she did not). The land itself produced very little income, being mostly woods and pasture, with only one small stream. She and her parents couldn’t afford servants to work the land for them, even if it had been fertile enough to support such a large household.
Now, Robert was no dummy. He didn’t know Nora, of course, but he’d noticed she hadn’t offered to buy the horses, and he suspected there must be a reason for that. The Caprese estate was as tidy and fine as that of many a wealthier landowner, though Robert couldn’t have known yet its condition was only due to the hard work of Nora and her parents. Since Robert didn’t understand her reasons for not offering to buy the horses, and since he didn’t want her to become more upset, he made up his mind to avoid mentioning their purchase.
Instead, he smiled graciously. “Since my horses are in need of pasture and training, and since you appreciate their fine bloodlines, and are obviously a skilled horsewoman in your own right …” he pointed to Nora’s mount, which she had ridden so expertly in her leap over the wall. “Perhaps we could work out an agreement.”
“An agreement?”
“Could you pasture the horses in exchange for a foal by them?”
Nora’s eyes twinkled with hope for the very first time. A foal, especially one out of fine Arabian stock, was worth far more than a year’s pasture rent for a mere six horses. “You are a businessman,” she concluded aloud.
“And you’re a savvy horsewoman, aren’t you?” Robert knew he’d found a solution. More than that, he went weak in his knees at the sight of her smile, and felt a surprisingly strong surge of hope in his heart.
Nora smiled. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“I would.”
*
I could go on about Nora and Robert and their romance, I suppose, but I mean to tell Cinderella’s story, and if I get caught up telling you about Robert and Nora, it will be ages before I ever get around to correcting all the misunderstandings about Cinderella’s story. Suffice it to say, the two of them worked out a deal with the horses, and when Robert returned from his next trade journey with silks fit for a queen, he suggested Nora might want some for a bridal gown.
When he returned from his next journey after that one, they were married.
By that time the Arabians had given them several foals. Since the Caprese estate legally fell to Robert’s name upon his marriage to Nora, he made a gift to his bride of all the horses.
About a year after that, in the spring, they had a daughter who, according to custom, was named Eleanor, after her mother. She went by Ella, and I became her fairy godmother, too.
The next year they had a son, who they named Robert, after his father, though they called him Bertie.
Ella and Bertie were inseparable friends and equally inseparable enemies. When they weren’t fighting together they were playing, and they often played at fighting, so that by the time Ella was four and Robert three, they were surprisingly adept at both wrestling and swords.
When Nora saw that her children insisted on striking at one another with sharp sticks, she made both siblings padded swords of wood, covered over with quilting, which they jabbed at each other in the manner they’d seen at the tournaments their father loved to take them to watch in town.
The tournaments were not their only entertainment. Having grown up alongside some of the finest horses in all of Europe (for by that time, their herd of Arabians had grown large), both Ella and Bertie were accomplished riders. They often staged their own contests of riding skill—racing, leaping, and battling with swords on horseback, as they had watched knights do. Being precocious in their equestrian skills, and having witnessed trick riding at a circus or two, over the next several years they taught themselves to ride standing, to switch mounts at high speed, to hoist themselves from standing into the saddles of running horses, and to drop into the saddle from tree branches above (though their mother put an end to this last one once she discovered it, for fear they’d break their necks).
Besides being close companions to one another, the two children were their father’s shadows whenever he was home from his travels, and he missed them terribly whenever he was away. By the time Ella was eight, her parents discussed the possibility that the children might accompany him on his next journey.
Their biggest concern was whether the children would be safe. Travel in those times was uncertain at best, and often precarious. Bandits and highway robbers were known to lie in wait along lonely stretches of road, and pirates plagued the waterways, targeting especially merchants who might be transporting valuables.
But, as Robert correctly pointed out to his concerned wife, though bandits loved to steal and threaten, they very rarely ever killed anyone. “We’re their source of income,” he reminded Nora. “If they kill us, they cannot rob us on our next journey. No, they only ever take everything they can find, and turn the people loose. Sometimes they’ll even leave a man his horses.”
“How very comforting,” Nora responded sarcastically.
Robert assured his wife, “I’ve been robbed on three different occasions, and never once was I even injured. And they never took more than half my inventory, mostly because they couldn’t carry it all. I’ve always disguised my most valuable possessions, so they passed those over, too.”
“Disguised your most valuable possessions,” Nora repeated in a thoughtful tone, her eyes bright.
Robert knew the look, and he realized what his wife must be thinking. “You’re worried mostly about Ella, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“She’s a strong girl, able with the sword, as skilled on horseback as any grown man.�
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“Yes, but she’s also a girl, and a lovely one at that. For some bandits, she would be a greater prize than gold.”
“But if we disguised her as a boy,” Robert mused. “She and Bertie could easily pass as brothers. No one would question her.”
“She’d love it,” Nora predicted with a laugh. “She’d think it the most delightful game, to fool everyone.”
Robert smiled, not just at the sound of his wife’s laughter, which had always cheered him, but because he could see a way it might be possible for his children to accompany him on his journeys. It would mean he could be with them instead of being absent from them for the long months it took him to travel from their home, to India, and back again. More than that, it would give the children an opportunity to see the wonders of the world, to taste the flavors of different cultures, and to meet people who lived lives far different from their own.
When Nora and Robert explained the idea to their children, Ella and Bertie were elated. Their father had long regaled them with tales of his adventures, and they’d always thrilled over the trade goods he brought from afar, so the thought of going on such a journey, of seeing things they’d only ever been told about before, gave them such a sense of giddy anticipation, they were beside themselves with happiness.
I, however, was (quite understandably), beside myself with concern.
Windowsills and whippoorwills, what do you expect? As a fairy godmother, my primary duty—my whole reason for being, really—is to look after my godchild. Now Ella was going to be exposed to all manner of dangers the likes of which I’d rarely encountered before—dangers I would not be able to anticipate, and would unlikely be prepared to protect her from.
Needless to say, I was concerned about the whole plan, and would have gladly taken any excuse to keep the children home, save for one thing.
Ella was so excited to go.
If you’d seen the eagerness on her face, the glow of anticipation in her eyes…if you’d known the longing with which she’d watched for her father’s return every time his journeys away kept him a single day longer than expected…well, you’d know I couldn’t ask her to stay.
Magical creature that I am, I do have a weakness. My weakness is making my godchild happy. And I knew nothing would make her happier than traveling with her father and brother, so I didn’t try to keep her home.
That left only one outlet for all my nervous worry, which was to do everything in my power to keep Ella as safe as she could possibly be. If I wasn’t prepared to protect Ella, she’d have to be prepared to protect herself.
I raised the subject with Nora, and she spoke to Robert about it. They both agreed the children should understudy with a skilled swordsman. Robert himself was adept with a blade, and had taught them many things, but he was a merchant, not a soldier, and there was much about fighting he did not know.
What he did know, however, was the name of a man who’d tutored some of the finest swordsmen in Europe. Gustav Adessi was getting on in years, and had actually determined twice before that he’d like to retire. But the spirit of adventure had never left him, and though he’d always longed to travel, his previous employers had always kept him tied to their estates, so when offered his full expenses paid on exotic journeys to the far east in exchange for swordsmanship lessons, he was happy to join the party.
Gustav was a slender whip of a fellow. Even at his advanced age, he was as quick as the swords he wielded, with a long beak of a nose, and small, deep-set eyes which darted as swiftly as the tip of his blade, missing little. His vision at distance was as sharp as that of any youngster, and he carried a monocle tucked into his shirt pocket for those times when he needed to see details up close.
Though a master swordsman, Gustav was accomplished in all the popular arms of the day—pole staffs, bludgeons, axes, maces, mauls, lances, hammers, longbows, crossbows, slings and daggers. There were more than that, I’m sure of it. Tickle-brained talismans, I’ve probably forgotten half of them! Gustav would chide me for forgetting, but by now he’s long dead of old age, and I’m still here, so my version of the tale will have to do.
The point of it is, Gustav taught the children more than just sword work. They learned to defend themselves—with their feet and fists, if necessary. And in the course of their travels, as Gustav learned of the oriental fighting weapons and techniques, he passed these also along to his charges.
But oh, bombastic bobolink, I’m getting ahead of myself! All of this is to say, Gustav agreed to travel with Robert and his crew.
Thus it was that, at the tender age of nine, Ella put her hair up in a flat knot hidden under a cap, donned trousers, strapped on a child’s short sword, and set off with her father’s merchant party to see the world.
Chapter Three
During their traveling years, Ella and Bertie had such grand adventures, I could fill a whole book with the stories. Of the times they got lost, and found their way back to their father again. Of the time Bertie traded a horse for an elephant, and then Robert had to find a way to make the trade back again (and Bertie so loved that elephant, if it hadn’t been that the traded horse was one of Nora’s favorites and Robert knew he had to get it back, Cinderella’s carriage to the ball might have one day been pulled by a very different animal).
Both children learned about the various cultures spanning Europe and Persia and India, and even into the Orient. They tasted foreign cuisines, and at times recommended their father import a certain spice, even if it was unfamiliar to the merchants back home, simply because they liked the taste of it. In this way, they brought new flavors to their homeland.
With Gustav, they practiced fighting nearly every day, oftentimes for long hours as they walked along the road, fighting as they walked, or sometimes, standing to fight, running ahead, and pausing to fight again.
But more than the regular practice of fighting, they learned the sword techniques of the places they visited. Gustav was especially keen on discovering new tricks to add to his repertoire. They added entire weeks to their trips to the Orient so that Gustav could study the weapons and martial arts of those cultures, which he then taught Ella and Bertie to use along with traditional fighting methods. It was not uncommon to see them strike with their swords, then kick with their feet, dodge a blow by tumbling into a roll, and block an incoming strike by spinning around backwards to meet their opponent’s blade.
The children became so skilled in martial arts, they could fight even without their swords—without any weapon at all, if they had to.
More than one season, their path overlapped with that of a traveling circus, and Ella and Bertie marveled at the acrobatic feats of their tumbling crew. When camped alongside the circus party, the siblings tried to imitate the somersaults and handsprings, and the tumblers took pity on them, and taught them several different moves. Though they never became as skilled as the circus performers, the siblings learned a variety of flips and vaulting maneuvers, which they added to their fighting repertoire.
In addition to her fascination with acrobatics and fighting, Ella was particularly fond of maps, and sought out cartographer’s shops in the cities they visited. To her father’s amusement, she amassed a collection of local maps of the cities and regions through which they traveled.
Robert’s amusement turned to gratitude when Ella was able to use her maps to help them find their way around flooded roads, washed out bridges, or routes which were reported to have been plagued by bandits. So her interests became a skill, and Robert came into the habit of consulting her whenever he planned their travel routes.
Over the course of her traveling years, Ella learned many languages. Not fluently, of course, but enough to get herself in and out of mischief in every land they visited. She made many friends, though few of them ever learned who she really was.
Gustav was the only man who ever questioned her claim to be a boy. The people most likely to realize the truth were women—mostly those who tended the bathhouses Ella visited in the cities they t
raveled through. But by and large, nearly every person she encountered never thought to question her claim to be a boy named Allard.
It took Gustav a year to even suspect anything, and he might never have found out the real truth, even then, if I hadn’t lost my temper.
As I’ve mentioned, I try never to let anyone see me, save those under my care. Of course, Robert knows of me because I grew to full size after Ella was born, when I gave her the gift I give all my godchildren: the gift of three wishes, to be used whenever she chose (but three only for her whole life—even fairy power has its limits).
And Bertie had spotted me when he was quite young. Small children have always been better at seeing fairies than grownups are. Perhaps it is because the very young are still open to wonder, or that their eyes have not become too clouded by life experience. Sadly, grownups often miss the reality of what’s right in front of them.
Which is precisely why I felt sure I would be safe around Gustav. But I’d forgotten the corollary of the sight of the very young: as they age into their waning years, some humans become open to magic again. They stop taking for granted that they know everything, and begin to open their eyes to see what is truly there.
Such was the case with Gustav. I don’t know when he first spotted me, but there were times when I’d catch him blinking in my direction, squinting and craning his head forward, even, as though he’d noticed that one dust mote liked to dance always close to Allard’s head.
Then, one day, Ella and her brother were sparring with swords in a clearing in the woods, and I was sitting atop Ella’s cap, like a tiny lit spark, hardly more than a glint of sunlight. They’d been sparring for some time, and Ella, as sometimes happened toward the end of a long bout, was growing tired. Specifically, her arms and shoulders were tired of holding her sword high, and so she let it sag a bit, giving her brother openings, which he was bright enough to take advantage of.
