by Patty Jansen
“I should have let him hurt himself?”
Nellie swallowed visibly. She was still staring at Roald as if he was something horrendously evil, like her brain was trying to process what Johanna already knew. “He isn’t . . . he wouldn’t . . .”
“I don’t know what he would or wouldn’t do. I don’t know anything about his . . . condition.”
Nellie backed further into the door. The words I don’t want to deal with an idiot on her face. “But you can’t . . .” Her chest moved in quick breaths. “He is . . .”
“All right, all right.” Johanna released him, since he appeared to have calmed down.
Roald sat up straight and stared at Nellie, or rather, at her dress. A button had come undone. She looked down, noticed it. “Oh.” She did it up, her cheeks going red, and then she curtsied. “Your Highness.” But her face showed her fear.
“You have big tits.”
“What?” Nellie’s voice rose into a squeak.
“Tits. Boobs. That’s what you call them, isn’t it?”
“Your Highness—I . . .” She gasped and clamped her hands over her chest. Her eyes were so wide that the whites showed on all sides. Poor Nellie, she looked like she was going to faint. Johanna put her hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the cabin into the cramped galley. Between the furnace and the wall there was barely room for both of them.
Johanna whispered, “Calm down, Nellie. He’s not aware of the effect of his words.” Or maybe he liked the effect of his words. Her voice sounded muffled in the constricted space.
“But he’s an . . .” She lowered her voice and whispered, “. . . idiot.”
“He’s the only member of the royal family left alive.”
Nellie gulped. “But did you hear what he said. It’s simply scandalous.”
“Do you want to know what he said to me while we were dancing?”
Nellie brought her hands to her mouth. “So that is why Celine became crown princess.”
Johanna nodded. “But he’s all we have now. Nellie, please listen. I don’t know what’s happened in Saardam, who is still alive and who isn’t, except I know the king and queen aren’t. I don’t know who the bandits are except that they came in revenge because the king did something. I think he hired a necromancer to bring back Celine.”
“He couldn’t have done that! That would be the worst of evil magic. He supports the Church.”
“Unfortunately, that’s what he did. The king gave his fortune to the Church because he believed that Celine would be resurrected, or that they would cure Roald. But the Shepherd couldn’t do that, of course. When he says during mass that the dead will live on, he means that their spirits live on in us. The king believed that Celine would come back to life.”
“Why didn’t he ask one of Roald’s cousins to step in as crown prince? I’m sure Prince Jona from Burovia would have been more than happy to come here.”
“Because all of that part of the royal family don’t agree with the Church and have disowned the king. I think it was the King’s plan to make the Reverend Romulus regent on behalf of Roald, but leave Roald on the throne. In any case, I don’t know what will happen, but chances are we three—four, with Loesie—will have to get along with each other. Let’s try to behave nicely.”
Nellie swallowed, opened her mouth and swallowed again. Her expression said, But she’s bewitched and He’s an idiot and He said a scandalous thing to me. But, small-minded as Nellie might be, she wasn’t stupid, so she said only, “Where can we go?”
“First, we need to find somewhere Roald can be safe. If you go down the ladder just outside the door, you’ll get into the hold. It’s big, but it’s dry and empty. You’ll find some blankets and oiled cloth down there. See if you can make a bed for us. I’ll tell Loesie to tie up at fisherman’s corner. Then we’ll see what we can do in the morning. The fires may have calmed down enough for us to go back.” She didn’t really think so, nor did she believe that the bandits would just walk away from their prize after conquering it, but she didn’t want to frighten Nellie more than necessary.
Nellie nodded, her face pale, and left.
Johanna went back into the cabin, where Roald lay on his back on the narrow bed. How had she not noticed the stench of male sweat before?
“Your Highness . . . You can get up.”
He pushed himself into a sitting position, his face sweat-slicked and haggard. He passed a hand through his rumpled hair. “I’m so tired.” And then a bit later, “Everyone always says bad things about me.”
“Who does?”
“That girl doesn’t like me.”
Like that was a surprise. Poor Nellie.
She sighed. She didn’t have the time or energy to argue or try to explain what he probably wouldn’t understand. For some reason, Queen Cygna’s words about her son came to her Roald is a good man. He doesn’t always understand, but he would never harm anyone.
That might be true, but he was completely obsessed with the other sex and the different parts of their anatomy.
“You can sleep here,” she told him. The captain’s bunk wasn’t much—very narrow—and the cabin was tiny and definitely not fit for a prince.
Johanna backed to the door. “Well, goodnight, Your Highness.”
“No!” His eyes were wide.
“What’s the matter? You can go to sleep. I have to help Loesie and Nellie. We have to get to a safe spot to tie up for the night.”
“No, don’t go. I need help.”
Oh, she wanted to get out, because there was no way she was going to help him take off his trousers.
She backed to the door, stepped out and shut it. The last she saw was Roald sitting on the bed in his wet trousers.
The night air was cool and fresh. Loesie stood at the stern with the reins. Scuffling noises in the hold suggested that Nellie had found something to make a bed. Johanna joined Loesie at the bow, but everything seemed under control here. The entire horizon behind the boat lit up with orange light.
She had best check on Nellie.
When Johanna walked past the cabin, she glanced inside.
Roald still sat on the bed, his hands jammed between his knees, staring at the door. The only things that moved were his blinking eyelids. His face was utterly blank. He had not started to remove his clothes. Maybe he was used to people doing this for him. Maybe, with his simple mind, he didn’t know how to do it.
A feeling of shame came over her.
Here was a young man confused and scared, who had lived hidden away from the world for most of his life. People might have told him that he was shameful and not worth anything. He’d lost his parents and was all alone, and this was how they treated him?
He frightened her, but that was not how she would want to be treated.
She braced herself and opened the door to the cabin.
“Your Highness, do you want me to help you?”
His expression remained blank.
A smile or some sort of reaction would have made her feel more comfortable, but she guessed the absence of a reaction was as good as an approval.
She knelt at his feet and undid shoelaces. They were wet, and she had to pull hard to get the knot out and even harder to get the shoes off his feet. His socks had lost shape with their soddenness. His feet were pale and slender, with long toes and clean nails, but the pads of his soles bore a few spots of callus. She wondered what he’d done to earn those.
Then she asked him to stand up, which he did without comment. Then she had to figure out how to undo his belt. The trousers were quite loose and fell down by themselves. Underneath he wore silken shorts with the Carmine Crest embroidered. Johanna had already decided enough was enough and there was no way she was going to bother with those. That would be asking for trouble. She never even saw Father in any state except fully clothed. Roald’s legs were as thin as the rest of him. The skin had little pimples and a coating of blond hair. He had a rash on his upper legs. Was she meant to do anything about it?
>
His skin puckered in goose bumps. He had a few sparse chest hairs, but nowhere near the carpet she’d seen on the men who unloaded the ships.
She draped the blanket over him. “Come, Your Highness, get in the bed. You’ll be warm.”
He climbed awkwardly onto the narrow bed. Johanna draped the blankets over him and retreated to the door. “Well, goodnight. Sleep well.”
He said, “I’m hungry. Can you get the cook to bring us some food?”
“We don’t have a cook.”
“What about the other girl? The one with dark hair and no tits.”
“That girl is Loesie and she’s steering the boat.” It was going to be a very long trip if he kept talking about women like that.
“I’m hungry.”
“We’ll eat tomorrow.” Once they got the furnace in the galley going and they were in a safe enough spot to stop.
“I want to go home.”
“Me, too, but we can’t.”
“I want to go home. Why don’t you take me home? That’s what servants are for. That’s what my father says: if you don’t know what to do, ask the servants. They will help you. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right, but I’m not a servant.”
“Aren’t you? But I thought . . .” He frowned at her, and then a spark of emotion lit his eyes. “I know. I remember you. You are going to be my wife.”
“Your Highness?” Last he’d said was that he didn’t want to marry her.
“I . . . I was only joking.”
“Joking, Your Highness?” Her heart was thudding in her throat.
“I said you were ugly, but you aren’t ugly. You’re much prettier than the other girls.”
“Um—thank you, Your Highness.”
“But that doesn’t matter now, does it? The other girls are dead. Everyone is dead.” He rubbed his hands into his face and started sobbing. She positioned herself so that she could grab him if he started banging his head into the wall again.
“They’re all dead. All dead!”
“Please, Your Highness . . .”
He didn’t react. Johanna stood motionless in the cabin. Had he been a normal person, she might have sat on the bed and tried to comfort him, but he wasn’t and he scared her.
“Come . . . Your Highness. Please go to sleep now.” She felt so incredibly awkward. Mortified. She didn’t want to touch him anymore. Not while he thought that she was going to marry him.
He looked up at the timber ceiling. There was a portrait of Mother in the cabin.
“This sloop is moving.” It wasn’t a question. He would know river travel from his trip to the sanatorium.
“It is.”
“Where . . . where are we going?”
“For now, to find a safe spot. Then, to get help. To save Saarland from the barbarians.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “That’s good.”
“Well then, I should check on the others.” She grabbed the door handle.
“No, don’t go.”
“Your Highness?” She stopped, wondering if she would ever be allowed to escape to freedom.
He patted the edge of the bed. “Sit here. My mother does that.”
How embarrassing. Queen Cygna sat with her son until he fell asleep?
“Tell me a story.”
“I . . . I don’t know any stories.”
“But I have to have a story. I can’t sleep without a story.”
Johanna forced herself to come up with some silly story about a cat which jumped aboard a ship in the orient and travelled the world. Letting her mind wonder through Father’s tales was strangely relaxing. She felt certain that he was alive, and that many other people were still alive, and that they’d rebuild the city from the ashes and that they’d drive out the bandits. After all, what nation that could send ships across the high seas would not be able to defend itself and rebuild?
While she spoke, he stared at the ceiling, and gradually, his eyelids fell shut and his breathing became heavy and regular.
When Johanna was certain that he was asleep, she rose and tiptoed to the door.
Outside, it was pitch dark, with the glow of the burning city reduced to a thin stripe on the horizon.
The cool fingers of the night reached through her clothes. The water rippled against the sides of the boat and occasionally there would be a snort or a splash from one of the cows.
Johanna could only just make out Nellie’s silhouette, holding onto the railing watching the fires. Loesie was a ghostly white spot at the bow.
“Did you find what you needed in the hold?” Johanna asked.
“I tried my best, but it’s very dusty down there, mistress. I found a straw sack and some blankets. We won’t get wet, and we may not get cold, but that’s all there is to be said.”
“Thank you, Nellie.”
Johanna joined her at the railing. Neither of them said anything for a while.
“Mistress Johanna?” Nellie’s voice sounded timid.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know the rumours were true.”
“What rumours?”
“That the prince . . . is a halfwit.” She let a silence lapse. “I know it’s a horrible word, but what else do I say?”
“I guess it’s true enough.”
“So that is why Celine was crown princess even though she was younger.”
“Highly likely.” It didn’t really matter anymore, since everyone was gone. Roald needed a wife. He needed children. Without the Carmine House, Saarland would be reabsorbed into Estland or annexed by Burovia, and that would not be good for anyone.
“Poor Queen Cygna.”
Johanna didn’t reply. A chill crept over her as she remembered the Queen’s open eyes.
“What are we going to do, Mistress Johanna? You know that friend of yours scares me.”
“I know, Nellie, but Loesie is a good person.”
“She’s touched by the Lord of Fire.”
“Magic, Nellie. Magic.”
“Oh, Mistress Johanna, don’t say that!” She made a unity with her hand and glanced skyward.
Johanna shrugged, but Nellie couldn’t see that in the dark. What would they do? Johanna and Nellie, a witch struck mute by magic and the only surviving member of the royal family, who, it occurred to her, would be the official king in exile.
“I think we need to get Roald to safety. We need to find advisors for him. We need to have an official ceremony to make him the king. Important people have to witness it.”
And then? With the demons in possession of Saardam, there would be war. If Roald was too simple to want to reclaim the city, someone else would. Surely someone was still alive in the city? Father? And what would they do?
And then a chill. What about the Church? Would everyone who supported the Church be killed by these bandits?
In the pale moonlight, the river showed up as a bright ribbon of silver. They were coming up to the loop called Fisherman’s Bend, where a couple of other sloops lay moored. Fortunately no one was on deck.
Johanna helped Loesie guide the cows to a free pylon. Lifting the heavy rope over the top of the pylon was hard, with her arms as cold and sore as they were, but Johanna and Loesie managed it without bumping into any of the other boats.
Loesie worked silently next to her, and Johanna almost forgot her friend’s condition.
“Let’s go to sleep,” she said, when the sloop was tied up, and the cows untangled from the harness and left to graze. Her arms ached, her eyes felt gritty with tiredness.
Nellie sat on the sloping cover to the hold. She eyed Loesie warily when they passed.
Loesie gave a sniff that made Nellie flinch. Irritated that she didn’t help, Johanna guessed.
“You can look after breakfast tomorrow,” Johanna said to Nellie.
She expected protests about not knowing how to light the fire and where things were, but Nellie said nothing.
Johanna was first to descend in the ink-black hold where the glow from the st
orm light barely made any impact. She found the bed that Nellie had improvised: a rough sack filled with straw that was normally spread in the bottom of the hold to absorb any cheese juices and was still relatively clean. Nellie had spread blankets over it.
No one undressed. Nellie was too scared of Loesie to want to sleep next to her, so Johanna went in the middle. She pulled the blankets and then the oiled cloth over her. Nellie took off her shoes and went on one side, Loesie on the other.
Getting to sleep, though, was another thing altogether.
The blanket was itchy and straw kept poking through the material of the sack. The Lady Sara, being empty, rode high in the water, and was tugged by the current of the river. The hull softly bumped against the pylons.
Several times, Johanna got up, climbed up the stairs to check if the sloop was still tied up, which it was, or if other people had come, which they hadn’t.
And she didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about it.
Chapter 15
* * *
JOHANNA AWOKE to a ray of light on her face, feeling cold and sore all over. She stared at the bottom of the doors of the empty hold, where normally grain was stored.
She sat up, pushing the oiled cloth aside, letting biting cold air touch her skin. A thin shard of light came into the hold from where the cover had been left ajar. There was no sound except the slapping of water.
Nellie was still asleep next to her, wearing her clothes and resting her head on a pile of empty grain sacks. Loesie was gone.
Johanna rose. Her clothes were damp from the cloying humidity. She draped the cloth—normally used to cover the cargo in the hold—back over Nellie, who stirred. Her face, pale and smudged, scrunched briefly, but relaxed again as she rolled onto her back.
Poor Nellie.
Johanna clambered up the rickety ladder to the deck. The countryside around the boat was delicate green under a thick layer of mist. The mooring ropes were tied to a couple of mooring posts that were normally used by barges to wait until they could come into harbour. Last night there had been two other boats, but they had gone.
There was a small beach and reeds to the sides. A couple of ducks paddled along the edge of the reed bed.
