by Finley Aaron
“Rusty,” she announced, running her fingers over the blade made lumpy by moisture and oxidation. “Don’t they even know to oil their tools? I understand her husband’s been sick for some time, but this wouldn’t have rusted if it had been properly cared for. I can’t cut straw with this. Do you suppose there’s a grinding stone?”
It took some looking, but I spotted a grinding stone under, of all things, a saddle.
“I don’t have time to do it properly. The sun will go down on me, and Madame will throw a fit. She’s already taken all my fine clothes. Who knows what she’ll do if she becomes upset?” Ella tackled the project with effort and got the worst of the rust scraped free, so the blade had enough sharpness to cut, though it wasn’t pretty.
She tossed the scythe in the cart, hauled it outside to a field, and swung the scythe with great speed to cut just enough straw to make decent beds for the horses (which was more than what they’d had previously). She made up their stalls before scraping the algae from the trough and filling it with fresh water from the garden cistern.
She’d only gotten it halfway filled when Helene appeared in the doorway, leading the horses back to the barn. “Madame is angry with you.”
“Because I’m taking too long?” Ella guessed.
“Because you let the animals into the garden, and for hiding out. She has jobs for you inside.”
Ella could have protested and pointed out that the pasture was over-grazed already, and the garden so overgrown, the animals could only have helped it. But she didn’t argue, only ran back to the house, where she found Cecile in the kitchen, and her visiting dress gone from the chair.
Cecile nearly screamed at the sight of her. “Don’t go any further until you’ve washed—not unless you want a beating.”
So Ella washed as best she could, but it wasn’t enough to assuage Madame’s anger. As she tried to slip into the front room to gather her things in hopes of taking them up to the attic, Madame cornered her, raging about the garden, accusing Ella of being purposefully destructive and lazy.
Ella could see there was no sense speaking to the woman, and tried to duck past her.
When Madame had slapped her earlier that day, Ella had not seen the blow coming. No one had ever slapped her before. But this time, when Augusta extended her hand, Ella lifted her arm, blocking the blow with her forearm.
“Insolent Beast!” Madame Augusta screamed, but did not come after her.
Ella escaped to the stairs. Helene met her in the second floor corridor and led her to the attic.
Over the coming weeks, Helene and Cecile helped Ella, and Ella protected them as well as she could, not just from Madame Augusta’s anger, but particularly from her physical violence. In this way, her tournament background was advantageous.
But Madame De Bouchard did not follow the same kind of rules as tournament fighters. There were no judges, nor any gonging bell to signal the end of the round. Ella knew the woman was always there, watching, sometimes waiting for her around a dark corridor, simmering in angry resentment.
I learned to play watchman for Ella, flying always ahead of her, out of sight, darting back time and again to warn her when Madame or one of her daughters lurked ahead. Still, I did not dare let myself be seen for fear the cantankerous cadaver would catch me in a brass lamp and keep me as a genie (I don’t know for certain that’s how it works, but I would take no chances where the jackanapes jennet was concerned).
Ella did her best never to hurt anyone, not even Madame, though she did give the woman quite a bruise once as she used her elbow to prevent Augusta from clubbing Cecile with a shoe horn.
In spite of Ella’s best efforts to protect them, Helene and Cecile didn’t stay long. None of the handmaids ever lasted more than a few months, except Ella. Even then, she wanted to leave, but she knew the animals would only be neglected again if she wasn’t there to take care of them. Under her care, the horses had filled out, the chickens had grown healthy, and even the dog stopped growling whenever Ella walked by (he still growled at Madame and her daughters, but they rarely went anywhere near him).
Ella was, essentially, a servant—and not a very well-treated one.
I suppose I could tell you everything that went on during Ella’s time at Madame De Bouchard’s, but most of it was awful and I prefer not to think about it, nor is it particularly entertaining, so I’ll simply fill you in on the most important things that happened.
After her first couple of nights in the leaky attic, Ella realized she’d have to fix the roof or resign herself to living in mold, which she was not willing to do. So she undertook every step of the dangerous project.
She had to cut the thatch herself and install it on the slippery roof without falling through any of the weak spots. She’d helped her father with the job at their house before, so she knew how to do it properly so it would last and not leak.
Her work seemed to almost please Madame De Bouchard, and best of all, it gave Ella an excuse to stay out of the house.
No amount of mud, muck, or moldy straw could be as awful as spending time in the presence of Madame De Bouchard and her two spoiled daughters. Ella took over care of the animals, the buildings, and the gardens. She even filled in the potholes on the long driveway, though it was heavy work, and she had to haul gravel and rock from the creek bed half a mile away.
The one good thing to come of this was that Ella grew strong, even stronger than she had been before. Swinging a scythe wasn’t quite the same as practicing the sword, but it worked the same muscles and improved her endurance. And shoveling rock was little like competing in a melee, but it built up the callouses on her hands, and taught her to work through her exhaustion, which would soon prove to be a very useful thing for her to know how to do.
Though her every waking hour was filled with work, Ella found a few minutes for herself between tasks. Sometimes, when she had the horses in the field, she’d practice the riding tricks she and her brother had mastered as children, and throw in some of the tumbling techniques she’d learned from the acrobats on her eastern travels. When no one was looking, she’d somersault from one horse to another, or dismount from a horse with a back handspring, just to keep herself sane.
But she only did those things when she was sure no one was looking (I served as lookout, of course). Besides those stolen moments, Ella’s only other freedom was in choosing her own projects—if Madame Augusta told her to do sewing, and Ella suggested (with the utmost of politeness) that she’d been planning to tuck point the chimney or mend the shutters, Madame would send her outside to do those tasks. After all, Madame could much more easily find another handmaid to do the sewing—or, if it came to it, Madame could do the sewing herself, but she’d never be caught dead patching the roof or hauling rocks.
And since her husband was too ill to do those chores himself, Ella’s willingness saved them the expense of hiring a man.
Thus, there were very few tasks Madame De Bouchard required her to do inside the house, but she always insisted Ella participate in language and dance lessons.
The language lessons, as you might guess, had nothing to do with any concern Madame Augusta might have felt toward the improvement of Ella’s linguistic skills. Rather, Madame had quickly ascertained that Ella was an accomplished linguist, and she insisted Ella act as tutor to her daughters.
Likewise, Augusta wanted Ella to help her daughters learn to dance.
Ella didn’t consider herself to be an accomplished dancer. However, in the years when she had traveled with her father and brother, especially on evenings when they’d camped among other travelers, it sometimes happened that, after everyone had eaten, if there were few stories to tell or little news to share, someone might take out an instrument and start playing.
When there was music, there was often dancing, and Ella had learned the dances of many cultures besides her own.
Because of that, she was better than Agatha and Bertha, who refused to listen to criticism, and always insisted they knew
everything already, even when it was perfectly obvious to everyone else that they did not.
Occasionally one or more of the handmaids would be a decent dancer. But most often, they were no better than Agatha and Bertha, which was why Madame insisted Ella dance.
Ella almost enjoyed it. If it hadn’t been for the constant bickering between Madame and her daughters, or Madame’s temper, which struck in harsh words, slaps, and the occasional thrown object, Ella would have found the lessons enjoyable. Dancing wasn’t that much different from sword-fighting. It involved rhythm and poise, and staying alert.
If nothing else, the dancing lessons helped to make Ella a better swordsman, as well.
After she’d been at the De Bouchard estate for a little over a year, and had fixed the road and the roof, and replaced the chimney stones, patched the mortar, fixed the shutters, and undertaken several other projects to improve the estate, Madame’s husband passed away. This led to a season of many formal visits, which Ella was able to mostly avoid by working outside. No one ever came to see her, anyway.
Which was why she was so surprised one day when one of the new handmaids came to find her in the garden, and announced that she had a visitor.
She raced to the house to see who this visitor could possibly be.
It was her mother.
Ella had not seen her mother since the day her parents had dropped her off. She’d written letters, of course, but since these were always read by Madame Augusta before they were delivered, Ella didn’t dare tell her mother anything of the poor treatment she received. And Madame had strictly insisted that Ella would not be allowed to receive visitors, not even her own parents, as this was distracting to her work, and above her position as handmaid.
Madame De Bouchard did not look happy about Nora’s visit, and hovered in the room even after Ella arrived.
Being familiar with Madame’s ways, Ella realized quickly the mistress of the estate had no intention of leaving the room.
“Why don’t we step outside, Mother?” Ella suggested. This seemed like her safest option, since the De Bouchards never went outside unless they were traveling somewhere.
As she’d hoped, Madame stayed in the house while Ella and her mother stepped out, finding a shady spot just up the lane where they could talk with no fear of being overheard, and where Ella could embrace her mother without Madame scowling down at her.
“What brings you here, Mother? Good news, I hope?” Ella stepped back from the embrace.
Nora’s hands shook as she produced a piece of parchment from her bag. The wax seal was broken.
“This came by messenger this morning. I don’t know what to do.”
Since her mother’s emotion threatened to overwhelm her ability to speak, Ella took the letter which her mother held out to her, and read it silently.
Allard of Caprese,
I hope this note finds you well and in good health. I write to ask you to reconsider your decision not to fight with me at tournament. Much has happened since I last saw you. Most importantly, Raedwald of Nordheim, being banned for two months from our circuit, competed instead in the eastern circuit, staying on there several months more, and enjoying great success. He returned two weeks ago, and neither his skills nor his ire toward me have been in any way diminished. I have tried to avoid him, but since I do not wish to withdraw from my events and look like a coward, I don’t know what to do. The other men who fight with me are all either easily beaten, and therefore of little help, or they have allegiances to Raedwald and his father, and therefore cannot be trusted.
I am scheduled to fight at the spring tournament this coming Friday and Saturday, the 26th and 27th, at Charmont. If you could meet me there and fight by my side, I would see to it you were compensated handsomely. I regret that at our last visit, we did not have opportunity to discuss your reasons for turning down my offer, but whatever those reasons may be, I assure you, I will do everything in my power to see to it that they do not hinder you from participating. My life, and the future of the crown, may well depend on your willingness to fight alongside me.
I am still in your debt,
Hugo
Ella’s hands trembled as she stared at the note, especially the last couple of sentences. She looked up at her mother with tears in her eyes. “What do you think?”
“I came immediately,” her mother said, as though that answered the question.
“Do you think I should go?”
Nora shook her head no, but said, “What choice do we have? I can’t send your brother in your place, because he and your father have been gone on a trade journey, and are already late in returning. Who knows when they’ll be back? They’ve had increased trouble from bandits of late, and have had to go out of their way. It may be weeks more before he returns, and even then, I doubt Bertie could fight in your place. Hugo met him, too, and will know you’re not the same person. Besides which, Bertie’s never been as good with the sword as you are, and I don’t want him in the melee with grown men.”
“So I should go?” Ella asked, hardly daring to hope her mother might agree to it.
“Henry’s father has been a good king. His brother Richard is a scoundrel, and your father blames Richard for much of the unrest in the kingdoms along the trade routes. He stirs up trouble. We can’t let him kill Henry and take the crown.”
“So, I should go?” Ella asked again.
“I don’t see how my daughter is supposed to protect a prince, especially in the heat of battle against full grown men. But you’ve done it before, and he thinks you can do it again. But Ella.” Nora grasped her daughter by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “I also don’t see how you can go. I can’t go with you, not for long, because I dare not leave Caprese vacant, and the prince is sure to ask you to stay on to continue the circuit. But you can’t stay there alone, without anyone.”
Tired of being ignored, at this point, I swelled up large enough for the two of them to see me, and rattled a sparkling light display, shaking my fists at them to remind them I would be traveling with Ella.
“Without any full-size human,” Nora corrected.
I shook a few more twinkles at her to let her know I appreciated being remembered, and ought not be forgotten again.
“I want to go, Mother. I don’t care if I’m all alone.”
Nora sighed. “Did you read what he said, about your reasons for turning down his offer? He said, whatever those reasons are, I will do everything in my power to see they do not hinder you.”
“Yes, I read it. What are you suggesting? Do you think—”
“I think he needs to know.”
“To know what?”
“That you’re a girl.”
“I can’t tell him that!”
“You can’t hide it from him forever, not traveling with him. You need someone on your side who knows your secret and will help you keep it. He already said many of the others who travel with him cannot be trusted. Of everyone, he’s got the most reason to keep your secret. See?”
“Mother, do you hear what you’re saying? You’re telling me to do something that’s probably illegal, and to let the man who’s second in line to the throne in on the secret.”
Nora smiled. It was the kind of smile that said she’d thought of that, and knew exactly what she was saying.
Ella stared at her, bewildered.
“If anyone’s going to know, it would be best to have that person be above the law,” Nora explained. “Look, I’m not in favor of you going, but he sounds like he sincerely needs your help, so I suppose you should go. And if you expect to last, I think you should admit to him who you are.”
Ella could not fathom how she could possibly make that confession to Hugo. Even if she got up the courage and found a private moment to tell him without anyone else hearing, he’d send her away immediately. He might even hate her for lying about who she truly was, and take out great vengeance.
And if it was true, that the crime of a woman pretending to be a man, was i
ndeed punishable by death, Hugo’s retribution would surely be swift.
No, Ella couldn’t stand the thought of upsetting him. It would feel too much like a betrayal. He was depending on her to keep him safe.
To be strong.
To be a man.
There was no way she could let him find out who she truly was.
She didn’t mention that part to her mother, though. All she said was, “If I’m going to get packed and travel to Charmont by the twenty-sixth, I’ll have to leave now.”
Chapter Ten
Madame De Bouchard was furious when Ella announced she was leaving—which surprised Ella. The woman never did anything but criticize her and her work.
Ella felt tremendous relief putting the De Bouchard estate behind her.
When she arrived home and began assembling everything she needed to pack, Ella tried on her body armor and discovered, to her dismay, that it no longer fit properly.
“You’ve grown,” Nora said with a mixture of pride and disappointment.
Ella stared back at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror. There was a gap at her waist where the bottom of her tunic didn’t quite meet the top of her hose. This was due, not so much to the fact that she’d grown taller (she’d more or less finished growing in that direction) but to the increase in the size of her chest, which now stretched the garment sideways, even as the leather squeezed her tight.
Her hips, too, threatened to escape the leather pants, and her ankles showed for several inches below the lower cuffs.
Nora sighed so heavily, it sounded more like a groan.
“What am I going to do?” Ella asked. “There’s not time to commission a new suit of armor, or even procure the leather to sew one.”
“Today is Wednesday. You don’t need to get to Charmont until Friday morning. That gives us the rest of today, and all of tomorrow.” Nora said as she opened a large trunk in the corner of the room and began riffling through the contents. “I’m not as worried about getting it done as I am about getting it done right. It has to be strong enough to protect you, to hold up to repeated use. Most importantly, it has to make you look like a man.”
