A Tale of Two Castles

“My friends . . .” He sounded husky. “My friends . . .”


I looked around the hall. Master Thiel and his brothers raised their knives and ate again. The brothers’ wives did the same. Goodwife Celeste turned the twine around her wrist and whispered into her goodman’s ear.

“Your Highness . . .” His Lordship paused, consulting the ceiling not far above him, as if words might be written there. He swayed, but steadied himself with his hands flat on the table. “Thank you. My friends . . .”

Princess Renn said, “Jonty Um, tell them not to worry.” She faced the guests below her. “He’ll be a good king. La! When he’s been king a week, you’ll forget he’s an ogre.”

His flushed face deepened to scarlet. People stopped chewing. Knives and spoons halted in the air.

Let them think about something besides the princess’s foolish words. I threw my wine bottle to the floor, hard, so it would certainly break. Purple sloshed on my kirtle.

The crash broke the spell. After a moment of surprise, conversation resumed. His Lordship sat without delivering a speech.

Cellarer Bwat rushed to me with a length of linen and began to mop up the wine and broken glass. I bent to help.

The king twisted in his golden chair. “Did the girl splash me?”

Cellarer Bwat examined King Grenville’s cloak hem, where I saw stains as big as my hand. “Not a drop, Your Highness.”

Greedy Grenny returned to his gluttony. “Of course I wouldn’t have minded being splashed. I never object to anything.”

Cellarer Bwat whispered, “Excellent, Elodie. Well done.”

I thought this was sarcasm until he patted my hand.

A servant carved the peacock while the second wave of courses issued from the kitchen. Soon I would be called upon to perform. The tale of Princess Rosette seemed too complicated now. But what to do instead? Possibilities ran through my mind, none of them right: too long, too sad, tedious.

As I poured water for the princess, Master Thiel’s brother Frair choked. His wife slapped him roundly on the back. He spit out a morsel of food.

And I knew what to mansion: a scene from Toads and Diamonds. The tale had no dogs or thieves and not much of a betrothal, so it was little like the present circumstance, but I knew it well enough to perform unrehearsed.

I was still frightened. How mad to debut before a king! And Master Sulow would probably be watching, too. My hands were so slick with sweat, I feared I would drop a pitcher or wine bottle. Yet my feet were numb with cold.

Two boys and a girl of my approximate age began to set up scenery against the wall beyond the end of the long table. They put out a tidy lady’s chair, an enormous chair, four pillows.

I deduced the three were Master Sulow’s new apprentices. They seemed unremarkable—no flourishes as they set the pillows on the chairs and brought in three large wooden pots planted with rosebushes. Not so much as a glance at the audience. If they were portraying Little Masters Humdrum and Little Mistress Humdrum, they could hardly have done better.

But maybe Master Sulow had instructed them to mansion these vacant characters. The true selves of the apprentices might be much different; they could be mansioning prodigies.

Perhaps they would gladly change places with me if they knew—charged with protecting an ogre, deducing and inducing for a dragon, soon to mansion for an entire court.

The roses they’d brought out could mean only Beauty and the Beast. The minstrel had sung about a giant; the mansioners were going to enact the story of a monstrous beast.

What would happen if Count Jonty Um’s forbearance snapped?

Nesspa lifted a paw onto his master’s knee. I knew what the gesture meant, and so did His Lordship, who stood. If he left, I would have to accompany him.

“Jonty Um, don’t go. Can’t you send someone? Ehlodie?” The princess turned my way. “You don’t mind?”

His Lordship looked at me uncertainly.

I couldn’t go. My masteress said I mustn’t let him out of my sight. Yet how could I refuse?

“La! I forgot! Ehlodie is going to entertain us, but you mustn’t leave either, Jonty Um. Your guests will be offended, and you want to see Ehlodie.”

Sir Misyur beckoned a manservant, who hurried to the dais. Thank you, Princess!

Count Jonty Um mussed the fur on Nesspa’s head and told the servant, “Don’t let his chain go.” He bent over and put his face close to Nesspa’s. “Come back to me.”

Tail wagging, Nesspa accompanied the servant out of the hall. Other servants took away empty dishes and platters.

Sir Misyur nodded to me.

I am a mansioner, I thought. Toads and Diamonds. Two sisters, one cruel and ugly, one kind and pretty. I am one. I am the other.

I left the dais and stood in front of Master Sulow’s scenery. Be with me, Albin, I prayed. Let His Lordship not regret his kindness.

On shaky legs I curtsied first to the king and then to everyone else. Forgetting to keep the count in sight, I turned my back. Ah. A rose would help me begin. I placed myself so everyone could see me snap one off and pop it in my mouth. Pui! It tasted bitter. I faced forward.

Princess Renn understood instantly and ruined the surprise for everyone else. “Look, Jonty Um! The flower will fall out when she speaks.”

But His Lordship’s eyes were on the door Nesspa had left by.

Portraying the kind, pretty sister, I fluttered my eyelashes. In a honeyed voice I said, “Dear . . .” I made an O with my mouth, revealing the rose on my tongue.

Light laughter rippled through the hall. I removed the rose, dug a shallow hole in the floor, and planted it, as if the flower, though lacking roots and most of its stem, might grow again.