I’d been at the castle for two weeks now, and had settled in to a sort of routine. Every morning we spent time in the queen’s room, doing various quiet activities “becoming of a Lady,” whatever that meant. I pretended to write home, but what I mostly did was make lists. First of all, I had to figure out how to write with a feather. Not so easy as it sounds. It makes a mess, if you want to know. I had ink all over the place the first time I tried. Fleur took pity on me and showed me how to trim the tip of the feather and dip it in the ink, leaning it just so on the page so that it would make letters and not big splotches of ink. I could only get a word or two out before I had to dip it in the ink again. Man I missed pens! What I wouldn’t give for a gel pen right now. With glitter. Sigh! Which is how my list making started. What other things did I miss from the 21st century? Believe me, it’s a long list. I started writing in English, but then I thought there were some at court who did know English. So I thought of the notes Anne and I would pass to each other in class back in middle school when we’d learned what Pig Latin was. My dad had told me a story about how a young Thomas Jefferson used to write letters to a friend in the made up language. I mean hey, if it’s good enough for Thomas Jefferson. Right? The first part of my list was predictable. Oh how I missed my parents and friends. And yeah, running water and flushing toilets? The things we take for granted! I wondered if anyone would understand these words even in their normal English. I’m sure they sound like nonsense anyway. Like these:
Arbucksstay
ooglegay
iphoneway/irisay
adioray
outubeyay
arcay
oothpastetay/oothbrushtay
Starbucks? The radio? My car! Ahhhh. Google? Need I say more. How many times in the past two weeks had I automatically reached for my phone to ask Siri a question? Or just to see what time it was? The first thing I wanted to ask Siri was how people in the 16th century brushed their teeth. After day two of just rubbing my fingers over my teeth, I was dying. Imagine, coming from a place where white-strips and little throwaway toothbrushes are the norm, then landing in a place where dental hygiene is nonexistent and most people have rotting teeth, or gaps where teeth have been pulled. You sure change your perspective about daily flossing. I had asked Nicole what she does to clean her teeth and she gave me a little-corked bottle of liquid.
“Just swish this every few days!” she instructed. But when I opened the bottle, my eyes teared up from the smell of it.
“What is this?” I asked, incredulously.
“Why, it’s red wine vinegar and leaves of mint. What a funny question. Do you use something different?” she had asked in return.
“Oh, something much different,” I told her. Guess this was their version of Listerine. But after one swish I could see why people preferred letting their teeth rot. Blech.
I tried to see da Vinci as much as I could, though it was difficult to always see him in private. I asked him if he would be able to somehow make me a toothbrush, and drew a picture for him so he could see what one was and explained how it was used. I figured it should be easy enough to get baking soda from the kitchens. It would be nasty, I knew, but hopefully more effective than vinegar..
I had been staring out of the window, remembering da Vinci presenting me with a “brush” he’d make out of wood and soft bristles. I was so thrilled! Best present ever. I continued my list.
electricityway
ocolatechay
eansjay
irtstshay
oviesmay
ozenfray ogurtyay
apchatsnay
Sighhhhh, how I missed lights. And Wi-Fi. And seriously, chocolate? Yeah, didn’t exist yet. Can you imagine? A world without chocolate? While I’m at it, what I wouldn’t give to be wearing my fave comfy jeans and T-shirts too. Or go to the movies and out for frozen yogurt? Last but not least, Snapchat. As many times as I’d reached for my phone for Siri, I’d reached it to take a goofy selfie to send to Anne or Zeke. Crap. I could feel the sigh coming on again. Zeke. What was I going to do about Zeke? Would I ever see him again? I tried to steer myself away from asking such questions. But when it came to Zeke, it was hard not to wonder, especially as I was becoming increasingly more attracted to the prince. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew! But tell that to my heart, would you? I’d tried. It wasn’t listening to me. The heart, I’d noticed, didn’t care much for reason either. Instead, the head tried to pull crazy stunts like justifying my attraction to Prince Charles by pointing things out like, well, it’d been almost a year since I last saw Zeke in person. And we had, in fact, broken up before he left for college as I wanted him to have a full college experience and not feel guilty about leaving a girl back home. Didn’t mean I didn’t still love Zeke. We still chatted daily, and planned on being back together when we went on tour together. He never told me about girls he met in college, and I never asked. Sigh...
Prince Charles had been gone for the past few days on business for the king. So I’d had a chance to examine just what I was feeling for him. And of course, I constantly compared it to what I had with Zeke. After all, it’s all I had to go on. Zeke was my first and only boyfriend. And he’d been my major crush before then. The prince? Well I didn’t know him that well, did I? He’d been infuriating when I first met him, and even somewhat mean with his distrust. But he was also surprisingly fun when he let his guard down. All in all, I’ll admit, every time I heard footsteps in the hall outside the queen’s room, my heart leaped and I hoped it would be his face that we would see. Now I was being as pathetic as Genevieve! So lost in my thoughts was I at this point, I didn’t hear the voice at my elbow trying to get my attention. She coughed and said my name again, until I finally turned and saw Fleur standing there.
“Hi Fleur! Can I help you with something?” I asked her. She was so shy, she didn’t like to ask anyone for anything. She was the one who was best at smoothing ruffled feathers, and making sure the ladies didn’t rip each other apart, as girls are apt to do after spending a lot of time together. Geez, girls can be so mean.
“Actually,” she hesitated,“ I was wondering…,” she paused again and took a deep breath. Whatever it was she wanted, I could tell she was having a difficult time getting it out. All of sudden it came out fast and in one breath as she exhaled.
“Do you think you could teach me to sing?” Wow! I didn’t see that coming at all. Fleur? Wanted to learn to sing?
“I would love to learn myself,” said Nicole brightly upon hearing Fleur’s request. Suddenly, all eyes were on me.
“Of course, I can teach you. That is, if the queen does not object?” I knew by now that the queen had to give permission for the ladies to do pretty much anything. She looked at us all from her seat in the room, then nodded her assent.
“I think it is a fine idea,” she said, giving her stamp of approval. “M’moiselle Isabelle, would you have time for the ladies right after the Midday meal”
“It would be my pleasure, your Majesty.” Normally, after lunch I would go off on my own to the music room and have the rest of the day to rehearse for the next performance. I wasn’t required to entertain every night, though, which was a huge relief. I was afraid I’d run out of repertoire before da Vinci figured out how to get me home. I actually loved this time by myself. As an only child you get used to being on your own and since I’d been in the castle, I’d been surrounded by people constantly. But it might be kind of fun to teach my new friends how to sing too, so why not?
I left lunch early, grabbed an apple, and slid it into my pocket for later. I wanted to make sure the music room was set up for my new students. Once it was settled that the ladies would all come to learn music after lunch, I had swiftly folded the list I’d begun that morning, and jotted down ideas about what to teach and how to teach it. After all, I’d never really had a lesson myself, and I’d never thought about teaching another person how to sing. Well that is to say, I had tried teaching Anne, with the thought of having someone to harmonize with, but soon realized
she was virtually tone deaf. Oh, she thought she was hitting the notes alright. I had to school my face into a smile of encouragement instead horror. Of course, then we laughed over it, and she promised to keep her singing out loud limited to the shower. Sigh. A shower. Had I put that on my list this morning? Mentally I added, owershay, just in case. I shook my head so as not to dwell on the thought of standing under a shower of hot running water. Coming out of my reverie of 21st century longing, I entered the music room, and began arranging chairs in a circle near the harpsichord. I had just finished when Fleur and Nicole came bursting in.
“This is so exciting!” Nicole exclaimed. I certainly hoped so. I mean, what if one of them sounded like Anne? Suggest they take up Gregorian chants with the Monks at a nearby monastery? Not sure that would go over too well.
“Come in, come in,” I gestured toward the seats. “Everyone have a seat in the circle.” Chantal and Louise followed closely and each chose a seat. I sat down at the harpsichord to begin, when last but not least, Genevieve sauntered in looking like she wanted to be anywhere but here. I actually hadn’t counted on her coming, so I hurriedly pulled up another chair. She sat down with a big dramatic sigh.
“Genevieve, welcome. I didn’t know you wanted to join in,” I said, scooting back to the harpsichord bench.
“I didn’t,” she stated with as much disdain as possible. “Her Majesty is requiring it of me.” Great, I thought. Now she’s my problem. I’d been steering clear of her as much as possible the past two weeks. It was bound to catch up with me I suppose. The other girls I got along with just fine, and was always relaxed in their presence. With Genevieve, I felt as if I had to be on my guard.
OK, here goes nothing I told myself. I took a deep breath and began our first lessons.
“To begin, this is a scale…”
I taught them what a scale was, and began by warming up their voices. I was happy to discover they could each carry a tune. Thank goodness no one seemed tone deaf! I found that their voices very much matched their personalities. Fleur quite possibly had the best voice, but was so timid you could barely hear her. We’d have to work on that. Nicole overcompensated and sang too loud. Chantal and Louise, I could tell, each had a good ear and could match tones, which would come in handy. And Genevieve. Well, for the most part she acted bored and uninterested, singing monotone as much as possible. But I could tell that she actually had a strong alto voice. I hated to admit it, but she’d be great at harmonizing, if I could get her interested. But did I want her interested? I wasn’t sure yet. So I kept all my judgments to myself, noting them for later reference.
After spending a good hour singing scales, arpeggios, and matching pitches, Nicole seemed a bit annoyed.
“Yes, but...this isn’t really singing, is it? When do we get to learn a real song?” she asked. I told them to all stand and take a break, stretch, and get a drink of water from the pitcher a maid had left for us.
“I know this part seems boring,” I began to answer Nicole, “but it is necessary for a number of reasons.” I held out my fingers to demonstrate my point, putting one into the air. “One,” I continued, “I needed to know if in fact you all could sing. Believe it or not, not everyone can! And two,” I held up another finger, “before singing, one must always warm up their vocal chords.” I placed my other hand on my neck, where my vocal chords were. “Just like any instrument, this too, needs to be treated as if it were a precious instrument. Lastly,” I held up my third finger, “scales are music. You need to know them in order to understand where music comes from.” At least, I thought that was true. Having been self-taught, I learned the hard way, but had to understand scales and key signatures in order to write my own music.
Next I picked up the larger lute, sat down, and began to strum it. They all sat around me and I had an insane urge to start singing “Do-Re-Mi” from the Sound of Music a la Julie Andrews. Actually, hmmm, that’s not a bad idea. What could it hurt? With a smile and trying hard not to laugh and imagine them wearing dresses made out of curtains, I began–where else?–at the beginning. With a little help from Rodgers and Hammerstein and channeling my inner “Maria,” I was able to teach them solfège and how to mix up the notes to make a song. I had them grab a random book from one of the bookshelves and sing the words to a mixed up tune. Before long, we were singing and laughing uncontrollably over the craziness of some of our songs. I even caught Genevieve cracking a smile. Sad words I put in a minor key, and happier words, I changed back to major key so they could see the difference. By the time the maid came in with a tray and announced, “Tea,” Louise and Chantal immediately answered singing, “a drink with jam and bread!” Which nearly reduced us all to giddy tears.
Genevieve stood abruptly as the maid set down the tray. “I must go,” she said, turning to leave with no further comment. I raised an eyebrow at Nicole, wondering what that was all about, when Genevieve stopped at the door and turned back briefly. “Thank you, M’moiselle Blanchet.” She bowed and curtsied my direction, then turned and left the room before I could form the words, “You’re welcome,” so shocked was I at the seeming sincerity of her gratitude.
“Well, that is a first,” said Nicole.
“Nicole, come now, she really is nice if you get to know her.” That was sweet Fleur, always willing to give everyone a chance.
“If she will let you get to know her,” added Chantal.
“It is true,” Louise jumped in. “She doesn’t let many people close to her. Personally, I think she is lonely.”
“Hmmm. Well, I’m just glad she didn’t ruin our afternoon of music. Thanks for suggesting it Fleur. This was a lot of fun. I shall make a list of real songs to start teaching you starting tomorrow.” They all exclaimed with excitement and we chatted happily while taking our refreshments. One by one, they all left, needing to attend to personal matters before having to change for supper. Nicole was the last one to get up to go.
“Are you coming along now?” she asked.
“No, I’ll straighten up in here first. You go on ahead. I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”
“This really was a lark, you know. You saved me from an afternoon of boredom. I am so glad you have come.” She gave me a big hug, a peck on the cheek, and then bounded out the door with a wave.
I sat down and sighed with great relief. That went a lot better than I had anticipated. I realized my head was aching from the strain of the afternoon. I took a linen cloth from the tea tray, poured some cool water on it from the pitcher, lay back down on the couch, and put the dampened cloth on my forehead to ease a bit of the tension. What I wouldn’t give for a couple of Advil, I thought as I closed my eyes.
“Dvilastay,” I murmured out loud and fell promptly to sleep, completely unaware of the eyes that watched from the doorway.
Chapter 12
Slowly, I filled my lungs with fresh air as I took a turn around the gardens, needing to be outside the confines of the castle. I needed to think. And being outside with a blue sky and flowering bushes did a lot to help. It was a rare moment that I could find time to take a stroll in the beautiful gardens. I was trying to soak up as much fresh air as possible. You wouldn’t believe how musty, damp, and well, sometimes downright smelly a castle could be. Not to mention the people who resided within one. I pulled out the little packet of torn bits of parchment I’d been gathering, trying to figure out what to do with them. Clearly, they were messages directed at me, but I didn’t know why, or who had left them. They were scrawled in some kind of brownish ink, which I honestly suspected was actually dried blood. Considering they were left with small dead animals, it wasn’t a leap to imagine blood. Even after I’d switched bed chambers, I’d started to find these little gifts–nicely hidden so only I would see them. A dead bird in the harpsichord, the note wrapped around its neck. A dead mouse in my empty bedpan. A rabbit under my rug. The list went on, along with the notes I held in my hands, which I looked at once more.
Go from whence you came.
You are not wanted here.
Stay and meet a fate worse than this.
Go before it is too late.
Why are you still here.
Go back now.
You. Will. Die.
I could not imagine who would want me dead. I didn’t think I had made any enemies. Aside from Genevieve, maybe, but even she seemed to be less and less hostile every day. The last two notes scared me the most. Go back? Did someone know I’d come from the future? I tried to think whether anyone had overheard me talking to da Vinci. But I knew no one had. We only spoke of the future in his home, never at the castle. And then the last one, you will die? Um, OK. Now I was getting concerned. Suddenly these messages had gone from scare tactic to full-on threat. I rolled the notes back up to put back in my pocket, wondering if I should confide in someone. So far, I had told no one as I didn’t want to involve anyone else, but now it seemed as if telling someone might be a good idea. But who? Who could I trust?
“Will I be next, do you suppose?” came a voice from right behind me making me nearly jump out of my skin. I turned and tried to calm my beating heart, which was obviously from adrenaline and thoughts of my imminent death, not from being in close proximity to the long absent prince. Of course not.
“Your Highness!” I exclaimed, with a hand pressed against that traitorous heart of mine to keep it from jumping out of my chest. “I had not heard you approach. You have returned. I’m sorry, what did you say?” I couldn’t help but smile at him. He looked soooo good. Oh this wasn’t helping my heart at all. I had to take a step back; we were standing too close. I was sure he could hear my heart pound. Again, from the adrenaline of being frightened, right? Yep, that’s what I was going with. It was not the chiseled jaw with its dusting of facial hair. Nor was it the blue eyes looking at me with amusement. Oh no, not the blush...I could feel my cheeks heating up. Why? Oops, what was he saying? He stepped forward, following my retreat and grabbed my hand bending over it to place a kiss on top. I so wished I wasn’t wearing any gloves.
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