I wonder what she would have done if a clock fairy and a putative angel had sunk some burning seed beneath her breast? Repudiated it, no doubt.
Oh, sometimes I wish I could.
LATER
About midmorning today we saw smoke rising over a ridge to our right. “Marvella,” said Eskavaria, pointing.
“Do you speak their language?” I asked him, suddenly aware that we might not be able to communicate. Though that was a silly thought. I had communicated well enough with them when they were in England.
Eskavaria confirmed this. “They speak French,” he said. “Or Spanish. Or English. They’re not my people.”
He left us at the ridge. Or rather, he stayed while we came on. He told us he would watch for us there, to guide us back. One day. Five. Ten. Whatever it took.
Giles thought it was strange he would not come with us.
As we started down into the valley, I smelled magic, and knew why it was Eskavaria hadn’t come. He might not know what it was, but he sensed the presence of it. This had a hot, wet smell, like metal doused in the forge. This was not merely magic, but something worse than that.
25
As we rode down into the valley, people looked up at us curiously from the fields. Some came to the road and wandered along beside us, feeling of our shoes, staring at the cat. We told the people we were travelers, going over the mountains to Spain. They spoke a kind of French-Spanish-English mix, which Giles and I could halfway comprehend, though evidently we did not speak it well enough to be clearly understood. Some of our followers ran on to tell others, and soon we had a crowd of them at our heels. Peasant people, ordinary people. Several quite good looking men. No women more than ordinary in appearance. A boy herding geese. A girl with a piglet in her arms. Men who had been cutting hay.
We asked if there were somewhere we could stay for the night. They pointed. We looked up to see the castle perched above us, on a crag. Oh no, we said, we’re just ordinary travelers. And they smiled and pointed, pushing us, leading us, dragging the ponies along. Evidently we were to go there, like it or not. I looked at Giles, seeing nothing in his face but pleasant expectation. There was sweat along my forehead, next to my hair, but I kept smiling. Looking back the way we had come, I realized we could have seen the castle all along. If we had been looking for it.
I leaned over and whispered to Giles. “When we are asked for our names, old friend, do not be surprised at what I say.”
He gave me a curious look, but nodded. I had originally planned to introduce myself as Lady Catherine of Monfort, the name I had used when negotiating Elly’s marriage. Now, something told me it would be better not to claim any former acquaintance with the prince or his daughter. Not until I knew how things stood.
The climb was a hard one. The ponies were sweating heavily when we arrived. Someone rang a bell at the high wooden gates. Someone kissed my hand and gave me a flower. Then they were gone, off down the hillside, chattering with one another, pleased at having delivered us. The gate opened and we were welcomed within. A chamberlain saw to us. He and a couple of serving men. He spoke French, and so did we. He asked if the cat could be taken to the stable, and I said no, it would stay with me. He asked if we were man and wife, and when I said not, he sniffed and escorted us to separate rooms. He told us the servants would bring bathwater. He said the Princess would welcome us at supper.
I laid my hand on his arm as he was ready to depart and said, “A moment. Long ago, I believe I met the ruling family of your realm.” It seemed a neutral word, realm, since I did not know what kind of place it was. “The prince had just come of age. It was in England.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
“Is that family still here?”
“Prince Charme?” he asked.
I smiled.
“And his consort,” the chamberlain said. “Princess Ilene.” He said it Ee-lay-nay.
“His daughter?” I asked.
“He has no daughter,” the man said.
“Never? Never had a daughter?”
“No children. Not in twenty years,” he said. “I have been here that long.”
“I am mistaken then,” I smiled, trying not to weep. “It was another family.” How many Prince Charmings could there be? More than one, obviously.
The chamberlain was as good as his word about the bathwater, and I soaked in the heat of it, letting it take away some of the soreness of the long ride. He sent a maid to see to our clothes. I had already hidden my cloak and boots away, under the bed. I wanted no foreign maidservants playing about with those. When time came for the meal, he sent a footman to escort us down the stairs and into the hall of the castle. Not the great hall, which we passed through on the way, but a smaller one, paneled in dark wood, with numerous candles, a fire blazing, and many trophies of
