The Dread Penny Society, page 27
While Reynard was trying, without success, to determine his next step, Queen Eleanor was pondering many things herself. Her form had changed to that of a woodland creature, but she was still herself, still had her own thoughts and feelings and memories. She still had her intelligence and determination to be the best queen she could be. But how could she possibly be any sort of queen at all if she remained a pine marten?
Whilst she was required to be absent during the arrival of the kingdom’s barons—a fortunate bit of timing, considering her current state—she was absolutely required to offer a welcoming speech the night of the Barons’ Feast. The Unification Ceremony would not occur for two more days, but failing to give the opening speech would put the feast in such jeopardy that the ceremony itself might as well be canceled.
Her father would have known what to do; she was utterly certain of it. But she hadn’t his wisdom to call upon. If not for Reynard, she would have been utterly alone, struggling to feel even a modicum of hope. Though they’d not interacted nearly as much in their grown-up years as they had while still children, she trusted him as much now as she ever had. He was a good man, kind and brave, with just enough of a rogue’s love for adventure to give her added confidence that he wouldn’t simply abandon her in order to fulfill his duty to stand where he was and ignore all else.
Eleanor could not recall ever having heard a pine marten make noise. They must have had the ability, but she could not predict what she would hear when testing her voice. Would the sound be quiet and weak? Would there be no sound at all? Truth be told, when she spoke as her human self, she often felt weak. She couldn’t deny other people thought the same.
But she needed Reynard’s help. She needed him to stay with her. And she wanted to help find a solution to her problem. Being able to speak to him would facilitate that.
She hesitantly attempted to speak. What emerged was a shrill, almost catlike sound. She tried again, concentrating. The sound changed ever so slightly, but it did change. With effort, she might find her voice. She might manage to talk or to at least communicate.
Reynard stepped close once more, speaking to her whilst still facing forward, looking, to anyone glancing in his direction, as if he were doing nothing but keeping watch.
“Two palace guards are coming toward us. They will be here either to take up their position on watch or to bring a message to the sentry on duty. They will spot you the moment they arrive.” He looked back at her without turning more than the smallest bit. “If you will go to the back of your garden where the weeping birch grows and hide yourself well, I will meet you there as soon as I am able.”
The pine marten queen nodded, grateful she could do so.
“I will not abandon you, Your Majesty,” Reynard promised.
She slipped from the sentry box and moved with the swift grace of the creature she had become, moving easily between the iron slats of the gate and into the garden, aiming for the tree Reynard had specified.
With Queen Eleanor safe from the notice of the approaching guards yet still in danger of being spotted by a gardener or gamekeeper, Reynard, feeling nervous but determined, watched his colleagues arrive.
“Her Majesty’s lady’s maid reports the queen has not yet returned from her walk in the garden. Have you seen the queen?”
Reynard nodded. “She did walk in the gardens earlier. The last I saw Her Majesty, she was walking in the direction of the back wall. It is likely she returned to the palace by way of the entrance there.”
“Was anything amiss?”
If only Reynard knew if these two would believe him were he to tell them the truth. All the kingdom knew of magic, and all the kingdom knew of Dezmerina’s violent and destructive use of it. But, somehow, their fear of her had translated into a certain stubborn refusal to believe that the harm she had caused had truly been caused by her.
The horrid sorceress had such full hold on the kingdom that she either forced cooperation or frightened into denial.
“Queen Eleanor appeared to be deep in thought,” Reynard said. “I very much had the impression she did not want to be interrupted.” Somehow he’d managed to offer an answer that wasn’t entirely false.
The taller of the two guards, Chester, motioned with his head toward the other. “George will stand sentry in your place. I am to search the garden. The Captain has asked that you make a search of the surrounding forest in case the queen decided to wander further afield.”
At last, a spot of luck.
The changing of guards was quickly accomplished. George stood at full attention. Chester slipped into the garden. And Reynard made his way as quickly as he could without drawing their notice into the adjoining forest, following the curve of the garden wall to the place where the weeping birch stood.
He spotted the pine marten queen quickly. She climbed agilely down from a high branch to one that grew out over the wall. From there, she leapt to him, and he caught her, wincing at the piercing of her claws on his arm.
Holding her protectively and watching for signs of other searchers, wanderers, or Dezmerina herself, he rushed further into the woods. It would be dark soon; they daren’t go far. But neither dare they remain within sight.
Reynard knew of a small cottage in the woods. It had belonged to his mother, and it was the place she had retreated to when Dezmerina had begun her efforts to gather or destroy those with magic. It was protected through charms and enchantments. They could be safe there. But what they would do after that, he did not know.
The sun was setting, the light disappearing quickly. The small animal in his arms grew heavier, more awkward to hold. He stopped his forward rush and set her down. As he did, the last rays of light disappeared.
And, in a twist and swirl of impossible movement, the pine marten transformed once more into Queen Eleanor.
Installment III
in which Clues are discerned and Hope is not lost entirely!
For a moment, neither Reynard nor Eleanor could speak a word nor take another step. What had undone the spell? What had caused the queen to resume her true form? Was it a trick? A trap?
Both must have had the same thought in the same moment as they both said in near perfect unison that they would do best to seek a place of hiding whilst they sorted what had occurred.
This was, of course, the very reason Reynard had suggested they flee into the forest. “There is a cottage,” he told her, “not far distant from here that had once belonged to my mother. I believe we will be safe there.”
“Will not Dezmerina find me there?” Eleanor did not seem afraid, simply cautious.
“It is protected,” he said. “In fact, it is protected specifically against Dezmerina and her aims.”
Eleanor was no stranger to the history of her kingdom, allowing her to understand instantly what Reynard was saying. “The one who lives there has magic.”
“Had magic. She is no longer among us. I am thankful, though, that she was not, in the end, destroyed by the evil sorceress. Avoiding that fate is the very reason she enchanted this cottage.”
Wishing not to remain in the open much longer, they rushed in the direction of the protected cottage. They quickly lit candles, illuminating the interior and its dust-covered furnishings and supplies. A trunk of blankets allowed them to guard against the cold without needing to light a fire that might draw undue attention. The cottage protected them from Dezmerina but it would not, necessarily, prevent the palace guard or any of the barons from discovering them there.
“I cannot imagine Dezmerina’s curse would be so quickly and easily dispersed,” Eleanor said. “Yet, I am in my own form now. What could possibly account for it? And how long will it last?”
“I wish I knew those answers.” Reynard was, indeed, frustrated not to know.
“I am meant to address the barons at the opening feast tonight.” Eleanor’s brow pulled in thought. “That will occur an hour after dark, which is not long from now. If I could be certain I would remain myself for any length of time, I would rush back to the palace. This week is vital to the continued peace in the kingdom. I dare not risk destroying what generations have worked to achieve.”
“The wording of the curse is crucial,” Reynard said. “It cannot behave in ways that are contrary to what was spoken. The difficulty comes in interpreting what is actually said as the wording is always, by design, confusing.”
“You seem to know a great deal about such things.” Eleanor did not sound horrified at his knowledge of magic.
“Like many in Amesby, there are some in my family who have magic—who had magic. I was taught that curses follow a pattern,” Reynard said. “The first line indicates the circumstances under which the curse manifests, the second is how. The third line predicts the impact of the curse, while the fourth lays out the requirements for ending it.”
Eleanor’s mind returned to the curse once more, thinking through the wording, through the details.
Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies,
Her queen will see through pine marten’s eyes.
While battles rage and chaos reigns,
Her life will ebb whilst mine remains.
“The second line is why I transformed into a pine marten,” Eleanor said, thinking aloud. “And the situation has already led to chaos. The guards and household are searching for me. I can only imagine the panic is growing as the time for the welcome speech approaches.” She felt more than a small amount of that panic herself. Her first significant duty as the new monarch, and she would fail at it. “The how and the impact have, thus far, proven quite accurate.”
“The first line contains the rules of the curse.” Reynard thought on it as well. “‘Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies.’ The sun is not lighting the sky just now. I had thought it simply meant so long as there existed a sun, which would mean forever, but that might not be the case at all.”
“I am only to take the form of a pine marten during the daylight,” Eleanor sorted out loud. “And it is currently not daylight.”
Reynard met her eye. “And will not be again until morning.”
Eleanor pulled the wool blanket more closely around her. “I could return to the palace and make the welcome speech. I’m not meant to remain at the feast, so no one will remark upon my departure. And tomorrow is the Baron’s Consultation Day, when the monarch is not to be present. So long as I escape the palace before dawn, my transformation will not be seen by anyone. There would not be panic created by my current circumstances, but neither would I neglect any crucial parts of this excruciatingly crucial week.”
“I can help you return to the palace,” Reynard said. “And I can help you escape in the morning.”
“Will not your absence be noted by the Captain of the Guard?” She knew the guardsmen were held to strict schedules, and desertion was not tolerated.
“Once we have discovered how to lift this curse, my absence will be easy to explain. Until then, the future of the kingdom depends upon our successful navigation of the difficult road Dezmerina has laid before you. The barons must be appeased. The kingdom must retain confidence in you as monarch. And the transformations the sorceress has subjected you to must be stopped.”
His firmness of purpose and unwavering dedication helped to bolster Eleanor’s. She was not a person of weak principles, neither was she in any sense a coward. The enormity of all that had happened was, however, a weighty and difficult burden.
“Let us return to the palace forthwith,” Eleanor said, sounding more like a queen than she had in some time. “I will deliver my welcome speech, then retire to my chamber, insisting I wish to give the barons full opportunity to enjoy their feast and prepare for their work on the morrow.”
“Do you wish to escape the palace tonight or shortly before sunrise tomorrow?” Reynard could not assist in her escape if he did not know when she would be undertaking it.
“Tonight, I believe. If I wait overly long, I might find myself mistaking the time of sunrise, and my maids will find a pine marten in my chambers. Heaven only knows what they would instruct the gamekeeper to do with me.”
While all the kingdom knew of Dezmerina’s power and nefariousness, few would believe the wild creature found in the queen’s bedchamber was the queen herself. And were they faced with proof, far too many people, especially amongst the kingdom’s barons, would either panic at such a fate befalling their monarch or seize upon the sudden vulnerability of the kingdom to claim power of their own.
Their only hope was to keep Eleanor’s current state a secret until the means of ending the curse was discovered. A problem with a known solution, however difficult, was less terrifying than one which could not be made right.
Reynard pulled a small leather box from a high shelf. He removed from its interior a carved stone hanging from a length of leather. “This amulet will offer some protection as we journey back to the palace. Its magic is not impenetrable, and we will not be as safe as we are within these walls, but it will offer us some defense.”
They each took hold of one end of the leather strap, the arrangement offering them both claim on the amulet’s powers.
“Where shall I meet you after you complete your speech?” Reynard asked.
“There is a small sitting room adjacent to my bedchamber. Inside is but one chair. It faces a window with a heavy curtain, the hem of which pools on the floor. Tuck yourself behind that curtain where it sits against the wall so you will neither be seen inside the room or through the glass of the window. I will meet you there.”
Reynard nodded, committing her instructions to memory.
They rushed through the forest, both holding fast to the amulet, both grateful for the other’s bravery and cleverness, both unsure of how they might thwart Dezmerina.
Once inside the castle, having entered through a door well-hidden but known to Eleanor, they were greeted with a dilemma. Eleanor needed to make her way to the great hall to deliver her address, while Reynard needed to hide himself in the small sitting room to wait for her. They could not both hold the amulet if they did not remain together.
“I will be surrounded by the barons and the household,” Eleanor said. “Dezmerina’s efforts are dependent, in part, on the power of uncertainty. I do not believe she will harm me whilst I am among a crowd. You, however, do not have that protection.”
“Your life is more essential,” he said.
She shook her head. “I feel firmly in my heart that we are both necessary to undo what the sorceress has done. I will have the protection of witnesses. You must have the protection of the amulet.”
Before he could offer another objection, they both heard the approach of footsteps.
“Go,” she said. “Down this passage to the winding stone steps at the end. Three revolutions, through the door, down that corridor. The third door is the one you want. Go. Quickly.”
And on that declaration, Eleanor let go of the amulet and hurried in the opposite direction. How she hoped in her heart he reached his destination without incident, without harm! She had harbored such worry over her duties this week, over the speech she was about to make, yet it now seemed so insignificant compared to the obstacles in front of her.
She reached the exterior doors of the great hall just as the Master of the Royal Wardrobe arrived, flanked by dressers and servants who all looked remarkably nervous. That their concern visibly ebbed when they saw her gave Eleanor a surge of both relief and pride. She knew, logically, that their relief likely came from having feared she would not fulfill this duty rather than simple pleasure at seeing their queen, but she embraced the feeling just the same.
Gold-threaded gloves were placed on her hands. Her shoes, stained by grass and mud, were replaced with ones of silk and ribbon. A mantle of deep purple velvet and lined with ermine was fastened around her, draping at her sides and covering all but the front hem of her dress.
The royal coiffeuse quickly brushed and pinned her hair, undoing the damage of so difficult a day in an instant. The lighter of the queen’s crowns was placed on her head, the one she wore when seeing to official duties while not seated upon the throne.
Queen Eleanor turned to face the doors through which she was to enter the great hall. She took a calming breath, then nodded to indicate her readiness.
Two footmen opened the large, heavy oaken doors. The din of voices inside dropped immediately to a curious hush. Chair legs scraped the ground, and the rustle of fabric indicated the barons had risen, which was required of them when their monarch entered a room.
In her brief time as queen, Eleanor had practiced this moment as well as the others she would undertake that week. She knew where to stand and what to say. She’d feared she would quake her way through the ceremonies, but to her great surprise and relief, when she stepped into the hall, she felt her legs firm beneath her, felt her pulse maintain its quiet rhythm.
She climbed atop the dais and faced the gathering.
“Barons all, you are welcomed most warmly to the royal palace to begin our week of unification.” The speech was the same every time it was given, and Eleanor had long ago memorized it. “The Kingdom of Amesby is proud and dignified. There is abundance in the land and goodness in her people. You, dignified barons, are come to make ironclad once more the peace that has for generations seen us prosper and progress. In the spirit of that unity, I offer you this feast.”
At that final declaration, known to all who heard it, the rearward doors flew open and servants carrying salvers of food and ale stepped inside the hall to deliver the monarch’s offering to the newly arrived nobility.
