A Midsummer's Saga Pt. 06

When she finally came he didn't even had the strength to hide his joy; he jumped up to the window and took his tried position from yesterday. His enthusiastic grin completely defeated her: eyebrows raised in disarray, eyes lighting up, dimples in the corners of his mouth, mouth opened wide with its large teeth dominating his whole face. That mouth was just made for her to kiss. And if she tried, with him unchained, would he kiss her back? Or would he seize her and bite through her throat?

These thoughts still lingered, still a part of her believed them, even as she looked at his open face. He seemed nice. Well, Alex had seemed nice too, and look how that turned out. But Aerin surely wouldn't harm her as long as she was his only way out of Behem. Surely? This boy had risked his life for glory before. What was going on in his mind, really? What did he really think of her, as he looked up at her from his pit? Her, a princess of the country that invaded his home?

He definitely had good reasons to act nice to her, should he secretly detest her. But if he was faking liking her, he was faking it really well. Although the apprehension was always there, the greater part of her mind was warming up to him more and more. Near him, all the day's insufferability gradually lifted off her, and she got chatty; and the topic she turned to was Paula. Aerin was eager to learn of the castle's dreaded lady, his ultimate dungeon master. Gabrielle unleashed on him all her baggage of observations and stories which she had been accumulating, aided with acting out the lady's shrill voice and body language.

"...and then she accused the magistrate of trying on purpose to demoralize the people and kicked him out! You get it? Just because he proposed that maybe the punishment for selling silphium should be reduced from flogging and a high fine to just a high fine!"

"Man, I knew that Harmen was a crazy place, but not this crazy. No offence."

"Yeah. Now she's investigating him and everything, she's convinced he's a foreign agent conspiring to weaken the moral fibre of the common folk. And the guy just knows how things are and wants to make the lives of some people less ridiculous! Gods. No wonder her husband died so young."

"She never had any children?"

"Nah. When she finally croaks, Behem will revert to the King. Then he'll grant it to someone. Probably someone better, because it could hardly be worse."

"But she can't be that bad to you, can she? You're a princess and all."

"No kidding, she does treat me like an actual prisoner! The day I arrived, she took away all my things that I had with me!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She took away my clothes, because I was only to wear this white bullshit while here. All my personal stuff, too. And, shit, wait till you hear about my horse. See, I rode in on my favourite colt, from my father's stables, one I had ever since it was a tiny little foal. So a few days after I've arrived things are looking pretty grim and I walk over to the stable to at least groom it - it's pretty clear at that point she wouldn't be letting me out for rides. And I find it gone! That asshole sold it to a local merchant at half price. And here's the best part, she didn't warn me, she didn't inform me, she just waited for me to be down, to walk to that stable for some cheering up, and then, then to discover it, to have to ask the smug fucking stable guy what happened, to run back to her and scream at her just so she can listen to it with bliss on her pig fucking face!"

She kicked at the wall of the niche with the sole of her shoe, then reflected and glanced to the garden. All their conversations were spoken barely louder than a whisper, and she almost raised her voice there.

"Alright. Rough. Do your parents know?"

"Oh, they know and they approve. Look, they're good politicians. They want me to be respectable and marry up, they don't give a shit if I'm happy. You know, I said it wrong, she didn't take away all of my personal stuff. She left me with a bunch of old family jewellery, that necklace with the royal eagle and stuff like that. As if that, my identity as a part of the family, was the only thing she didn't mean to destroy in me."

"You really don't think anyone in your family cares about you? How does that even work, as a family?"

Between her fingers, she was absent-mindedly grinding blades of grass to a fine paste. "You haven't seen many noble families, have you? They are more of tactical units, tools for making alliances. I have two younger sisters that I barely even know. We've been sent out to different houses to be fostered. I was the oldest, so I got to live in the capital. I've seen the older one for like three days earlier this year. She's fourteen now. Just this complete stranger that sort of looks like me. We've talked about new developments in planning palace parks and about the genealogy of the royal house of Redona. It was very nice and formal, and the lady that accompanied us said it brought tears to her eyes to see such authentic sisterly devotion. Ugh!"

"Rougher still." There was a silence. "What happened to the guy they caught you with? Locked away somewhere too?"

"Ha. His name was Alex. Alex, son of Cyril, Count of Crows... that's how they call them. See, family crest is a bunch of crows on azure background..." She zoned out for a moment. "No, the little bitch told them that it was I that talked him into it all and he didn't know how to refuse. As far as I can tell, he got patted on the back and, although nobody commended him, there were just shrugs and talk of how boys will be boys." She shook her head. "Which was a perfectly okay reaction, and I just don't understand why I couldn't have gotten the same. Shit, can we stop talking about me?"

So Aerin told her of his home village, how he helped out in the fields when he was younger, and now with the horses; and of the people there, his lost friends and family. She stayed for hours, pretending to read her book, imagining Kontaria, until the sky began to darken.

"It sounds like a great place," she said when he fell silent for a while.

"It is a great place. You should have been born there, you'd fit right in."

"Nah, you should have been born as a lordling in Harmen. We'd have so much fun together in the capital. Oh, wait. Oh shit." She hid her face in her palms and laughed noiselessly. "I'm imagining you in courtly clothes right now. This is hysterical."

"Oh? I don't see why!"

She was shaking. "You'd wear those striped satin breeches... haaa... oh gods and a puffy hat with a feather! Oh fuck, I'm fucking dying!"

Aerin dropped to the floor and crossed his arms. "I'd pull off that look if I wanted to!" She really struggled to keep quiet at that. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure I'd be a right ponce if I was born in the land of ponces. Thinking about religion and invasions all day long. And maybe parks."

"Nah, you'd be one of the fun ones." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You'd course the capital impressing the ladies with your horsemanship and you'd be a proper dirty little slut."

He beamed at her. "Like you?"

She fought down her laughter and looked at him sternly. "Now, let's observe the rules. You don't have any royal blood. You get to be called a dirty little slut. I'm a princess. I get to be called a sophisticated libertine. You will now apologize for your insolence."

He returned to the window. "Okay, I'm sorry. You're not little."

She giggled and shook her head. Aerin had one thing in common with Paula -- they were both completely unintimidated by her pedigree. This was actually one of the things which made him so interesting. But this was also one more reason to be careful around him, the watchful part of her urged.

"Okay, I'm leaving you then," she said, getting up. It was suppertime. "Same time tomorrow."

"Yeah. Fuck, waiting here for you kills me."

"It does look pretty boring down there." She pondered this for a second. "I can leave you my book to read. You can read, right?"

"Oh, wow. Now I'm offended."

She smiled brightly. "Oh, excuse me, Professor Horse Boy. Here," she said, tossing him the small cloth-bound tome. "See you tomorrow."

He caught it and slunk back down to the floor. He stretched. His feet were really aching after hours on tip-toes, but what can you do.

He leafed through the book. The cheek of that girl, thinking him some moron that cannot read! Of course he could read.

It's just he could read runes, not letters. Kontaria and Harmen might have shared a language, but their approach to writing it down was wildly different. That, however, was a detail he didn't feel like sharing with her royal majesty.

He squinted at the symbols. Many of them were similar to the runes, actually. With a bit of thinking, he could even make out some words. Ah, that's good. Breaking this code would keep him well occupied the next day.

*

Gabrielle was in a great mood that evening. Finally venting about Paula and Alex took a load off her mind. She even was less mad about her lost colt now.

Besides, she was really fond of that new colt that she found in the dungeon. He could do really fun tricks.

She was upbeat at supper, even though she had to listen to Paula rant, and more than once caught Clement's glimmering eyes curiously lingering on her. After the meal she sneaked out to the outer courtyard. Behind the larder there was a sort of an open storage area, where some currently unused empty barrels and crates stood. She quietly fished around until she found what she'd been looking for -- a large jute sack. She held it out in her outstretched arms. It was definitely large enough for her to fit inside. It would also do for Aerin, even correcting for the fact that he was pretty tall. Tall, lean, and with wonderful bright eyes. Damnit, will you shut up for a second. Stupid-ass thirsty brain.

She walked back to the inner courtyard with the sack bundled under her arm, nodding to the guards confidently enough that they didn't register this as in any way strange. Carefully avoiding any servants in the hallways, she made it to her chamber, and hid the sack under her bed.

Well, this went smoothly enough. Now just to think of a way to get Aerin past Dodo.

She now had several hours to think. She lit a candle and sat at her table. Alright, brain, now show off your creativity.

Um.

That's the thing about coming up with stuff. You imagine that there are plenty of solutions to your problems, and if you could just find a few undisturbed hours to sit down and think about them really hard, you'd certainly find them out. But "thinking hard" isn't really much of a thing when you have no foothold, is it. You end up sitting in one place, absolutely none the wiser than you were during your busy day, trying to conjure an idea out of thin air like a fraudulent magician.

Okay, what options did she have? She couldn't try to order Dodo around again -- she was not sure he'd listen and, besides, it would obviously implicate her in the escape. She could give Aerin some tool to pick or crack open his cell lock, but there was still no way out of the dungeon other than Dodo's door. And there was definitely no way Aerin could overpower, knock out, or even slow down Dodo. The guard was six foot eight and weighed a fucking ton. He'd kick him apart!

Was there any way to surprise hit him in the head really hard? Okay, but people don't actually get knocked out cold from getting hit in the head, unless maybe if you get really incredibly lucky. Way more likely they either get a headache or they die.

No, Dodo would have to be drawn out with some sort of a diversion. But Clement ordered him to never leave the dungeon tower, and Dodo was extremely literal -- he would stay there, even if there was a fire. What if she somehow lured him into some other cell and locked him in there -- but again, she can't get implicated in this. Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

She stayed up until the morning light and then went to bed with no good ideas. She only hoped that finding ways which do not work counted as progress.

*

She had hoped that she'd be mostly left alone the next day, but over breakfast Pelagius, helping himself with a second serving of cold meats with red currant sauce, dispelled these hopes.

"Our wounded are getting better, my lady. The boys will have time to educate you today. Also, we thought that you might help a bit in the infirmary yourself. It would surely raise the soldiers' morale, someone of royal blood coming to tend to them."

"That is a great idea, Father," screeched Paula. "Let the girl do something useful once in a while."

Lady Paula was in a sour mood that morning. News came from Redona -- not terrible, but not particularly good either. Another battle was inconclusive, and the war was looking to settle in a precarious standstill. For someone like Paula, deriving her sense of self-worth from the majesty and the might of the realm, this was an unacceptable situation.

The wounded were laid out on simple beds arranged in rows in the chapel's nave, the stone gods overlooking them. Some of the more badly wounded were lying on their backs, wrapped in bandages; most of them were sitting up, talking, evidently stronger already. These bowed their heads when they saw the princess enter after Pelagius.

The reverend father announced that the princess will assist the monks in tending to the wounded, and noted how that confirms the unity of the crown and the army and also some other weapon-grade bullshit she wasn't prepared to pay attention to. He then handed her over to Adhemar, who happened to be the nearest, and wandered off somewhere. Adhemar pointed to her a small cauldron hanging over a hearth that normally harboured the sacrificial flame.

"Boil three parts water, one part honey in there. Add three handfuls of dried yarrow. Then bring me a bowl full of the stuff."

She made the fire and added the already prepared ingredients as directed. The soldiers peeked at her with curiosity. There were some surprised murmurs.

When at last she got the mixture to boil and draw the herbs a bit, she poured some of it out with a ladle and returned to Adhemar. He was sitting by one of the more seriously wounded soldiers, whose abdomen was all wrapped in bandages.

"Okay," the monk said, "pull up." The soldiers propped himself up on his elbows with a groan, and Adhemar began unwrapping him.

The outer layers were clean, but the deeper ones were crusted with dry blood, the stains getting larger with every pass. Eventually Adhemar made it to the one that was laid directly on the skin, and it was stiff, rusty and stuck to the soldier's body; the man hissed and winced as Adhemar peeled it off, parting it from the skin with his fingers, and revealing a huge black gash underneath, running horizontally through his entire stomach.

"It's a good thing you got so fat, Metrannus" said a young bald soldier from the next bunk over. "Without that lard to protect you they'd have gutted you like a fish."

"Oh do shut up," gasped Metrannus, rubbing his sweating forehead. Adhemar took a clean cloth, soaked it in Gabrielle's bowl, and began washing the old blood away.

"What happened to you?" asked Gabrielle.

Metrannus looked at her. "Well, my lady, I chased after the Kontarians after they retreated before Titulus. Shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have done that, none of us. I'm just running through the trees after my mate Maurentius, when all of sudden one of those bastards jumps out and spears him, right through the neck! I barely even knew what happened, when there's another one, with a dagger, right next to me, and slash!" He indicated his stomach. "If my other mates weren't right behind me to chase them off and carry me away, I'd be a goner for sure."

"They're savages, but they're smart savages," said an older, bearded soldier from across the room. "They know exactly when and how to get you."

"They're cowards, that's what they are," replied the bald one. He couldn't be much older than Gabrielle. "Won't fight in the open like men, just this constant hiding and harassing. They get into your head, mate. You're afraid to take a leak under a tree because there might be somebody up on it with a spear." He grabbed his own, short spear that he kept by his bedside for no discernible reason and started fidgeting with it nervously.

"Those forests are alive and against us, I swear. All this time and we haven't even found any of their villages! The trails just circle around, and I was starting to believe that they shift while you aren't looking! It's like those people are ghosts, maybe they don't have villages at all. That whole place is crazy."

Adhemar now wiped his cloth directly over Metrannus's wound.

"Aaah, sssshhhiiiit. Yeah, it's all this uncertainty that's the worst. Wish I could lay my hands on one of them in broad daylight, we'd see what's what."

The bald soldier stopped playing with his spear and smiled. "Hey, you know what? There is a Kontarian scout in the dungeon right here."

"Oh word?"

"Yeah. Jovin told me yesterday. How about, when we get a little better, we sneak there? You'll hold him, and I," he thrust the spear up, "shove this up his ass and see where it stops. We'll see how tough they are then."

"And then Titulus will smash in your dumbass skulls for fucking with his prisoner, won't he?"

A profound silence fell over the room, followed by a general clearing of throats and sideways glances. This was not exactly the kind of a turn of phrase that everyone expected to hear from a princess.

"Child, but do mind your language!" Pelagius had apparently returned to the nave unnoticed sometime in the past few minutes to witness the scene. Gabrielle stood up, feeling veins pulse in her forehead. Damnit, calm yourself. Calm yourself and cover this up.

"I'm sorry, father. But General Titulus had sent this valuable prisoner here for our safekeeping, and if these men think they can lay their hands on him..."

"I was just kidding," the bald soldier said meekly, laying his spear down. "A bit of soldierly humour, my lady." The others nodded and assented with awkward tones. Pelagius smiled.

"Well, this was maybe a little crude for such courtly company. But I'm sure nobody meant any harm. Gabrielle, maybe take the soiled bandages and wash them clean in the lavatorium? When you're done you'll have your discussion session."

She adjusted the collar around her neck and gathered up the bandages. As she was leaving the room, she was pretty sure she heard snickers start behind her. She wondered how hard would it be smuggle in some hot pepper and blend it unnoticed with the yarrow.

*

She was still simmering when she joined the three monks at their usual table. They weren't exactly cheerful either. Attending to the soldiers, together with the news from Redona, prompted them to skip right to discussing the wars, without even pretending that the discussion was for Gabrielle's education.

"They're scared! They're plain scared!" said Vulmar, tapping his fist on the table top. Adhemar launched a tirade on the inadequate preparations, probably caused by traitors and saboteurs who ought to be caught and executed. Valdemar pulled his hood up and just glared at some point far off in space.

Adhemar seemed relieved with his torrent of accusations. "Still, Titulus is a great general, and his men are good. I still hope that the gods will send him victory."

Vulmar leaned back and looked to the ceiling. "The great teacher, Tobias Aquafresca, whose breath was like a rejuvenating cool breeze to our faith, wrote in his Differentia that the gods, when they wish to punish us, will send us punishments matching our sins -- say, the lazy will be struck with maladies which contain them in their beds and make them unable to move, things like that. Maybe the gods want to send us such strange message by plaguing us with these defeats? Maybe this is a punishment for our ineffectual moral stance, our persistent failings as a society..."