A Tale of Two Castles

“You are deducing.”


Deducing when IT called it so, speculating when IT called it so. How happy I was to be back in ITs company!

“Be wary of Thiel.”

I imagined him, not only his form but also his friendliness, his way of setting everyone at ease. “Is he the one you think the most likely?”

“There is an entire town and a castle to choose among.”

I couldn’t help yawning again.

“You would like to sleep?”

ITs voice had a lilt I hadn’t heard before. IT plodded to the new curtain and drew it back.

“Lambs and calves!” Three big pillows mounded under a linen sheet (no blanket needed in the lair). A small pillow lay at one end of the bed—a pillow for my head, such as rich folk had. I ran my palm across the linen, which was smooth as butter. The pillows were soft as white bread.

“I layered straw under the pillows.”

I sat. “I’ll float!” I had never slept in such a fine bed.

“The straw is fresh. The pillows are stuffed with down, and the linen is scrupulously clean, as are the pillow covers. Good night, Lodie.” IT pulled the curtain closed.

“Good night, Masteress Meenore.” I shed my kirtle and slid under the sheet in my chemise. My last memory before sleep is of pushing the little pillow aside.

I woke up remembering what I’d failed to report last night.

IT had cooked pottage for breakfast, and IT watched me closely as I put the first spoonful into my mouth. “Do you like it?”

I nodded and managed not to spit out the mouthful, but there were limits to my mansioning.

IT took my bowl away. “I will prepare skewers. What did I do wrong?”

“The beans have to be cooked first.”

“Ah. I enjoy them raw.”

Certainly, if you can cook them in your stomach.

“You may cube the cheese.”

I began to cut. “The princess is betrothed again.” I explained.

“Mmm.”

I hated Mmm! “What do you conclude, Masteress?”

ITs voice tightened, became mistressish, as Father would say. “It is not for an assistant to question her masteress.”

Mmm, I supposed, was sacred, so I asked something else. “Did you discover anything yesterday before I came?”

“I passed the morning,” IT said, not minding this question, “circling the castle, flying low, scanning for a fleeing mouse or any creature behaving in an untoward manner. But if His Lordship in any shape had been north of the castle while I was south or vice versa, I would have missed him. I cannot deduce that he was not there.”

“In the fields a hawk or an eagle might have caught him.”

“In the afternoon I visited Thiel’s brothers. After I threatened to boil away the water in their millstream, they were happy to answer my questions.” Enh enh enh.

I smiled. “What did they tell you?”

“That Thiel does not live with them, that they know not where he lives, that they saw no one signal the cats, and that they gave no signal themselves. They were abundantly supplied with nos, both of them. I peered in a window of the mill house. Every comfort in full measure. Whatever one thinks of Thiel, the old miller was unkind to him.”

“If his father had left him anything, he might not have become a thief.”

“He stole before his father died, Lodie.”

Oh.

The nine-o’clock bells rang.

“Then, in the square, I interrogated this one and that. The townsfolk expect a lion to run up and down the way, dining on people as he goes. They are worth nothing, the lot of them. If His Lordship becomes His Lordship again, he will not last long. He would do better to come back as a lion and really eat them.”





Chapter Twenty-Nine

When we had finished our breakfast, IT announced that we would visit Master Sulow and his troupe. “You say mansioners are observant. We shall find out.”

Master Sulow had seen my performance at the banquet. Had he liked it? Had he hated it?

As I walked to the mansions, missing ITs warmth, IT flew to and fro, ITs shadow scribbling across the landscape. Both of us looked for any animal not acting as it should. Most likely we were too late, but we looked.

Finally the meadow ended. I was close enough to see the cats lolling under the mansions.

My masteress landed and lumbered along at my side. “The villain, whoever he or she is, must object to my questions. You may be in danger. I am near invulnerable, but he or she may attack me through you.”

I shivered, then felt surprise. IT would be injured if I were hurt?

“My wing is an impervious shield. Seek its shelter if need be. Do not stray far from my side until the danger is over.”

I swallowed over a lump in my throat. IT wasn’t using common sense. No one would think of harming me to stop IT.

As before, we reached the mansions from the rear. I heard voices calling to one another, the beat of a hammer, the thud of a mallet. Someone laughed. Then came a cry like none I’d ever heard—a bleat, a bray, a deep wail—all three at once.

“That, no doubt, is Master Sulow, portraying himself as a donkey.” Enh enh enh.

We rounded the side of the purple wagon.

Master Sulow, wearing a bull’s mask, strode back and forth before the black mansion. He sounded like nothing human even as he began to blare words: “Whoever imprisons me will die. I am the whelp of a woman, son of a god.”

I had it. This was Theseus and the Minotaur. Just as at the count’s feast, the next entertainment would be about a beast, this time the bullheaded minotaur, portrayed by Master Sulow.

The front walls had been removed from three mansions. Within the green (for love), trees had been painted on the side walls, and cutouts of trees stood before the back curtain. In the purple (for pomp), a cutout of a castle blocked most of the curtain, and the stage was bare. In the black (for tragedy), the prow of a ship with a single black sail projected from the left-hand wall. Wooden ocean waves, painted blue-green, scalloped the floor.