The Castle Corona Page 10

  “Ah,” Giovanna said. “Let me tell you about the King’s hermit and the Queen’s hermit….”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Peasant Ignorance

  Castle children—those born to the cooks and groomsmen and ministers and any of the hundreds of other castle staff—were taught, from the time they could talk and walk, the appropriate ways to behave in the presence of the royal family. They knew their bows and curtsies; they knew to remain silent, to cast their eyes down; and they knew, especially, never to touch a royal personage. Only the Ladies-and Men-in-Waiting and the doctor and midwife, and a few of the stable boys who had to assist the royals in mounting their horses, ever touched the royals.

  Pia and Enzio, naturally, had never been taught these things. They knew only of cautions regarding the King’s Men, who, from time to time, were seen in the village. Pia and Enzio knew to be careful around them, and that girls should never speak with the King’s Men unless directly questioned by one.

  The first time Pia had seen Princess Fabrizia was when the Princess entered the dining hall and halted abruptly in front of Pia, regarding her with ill-disguised disgust. Pia was so stunned by the Princess’s extravagant gown that she reached out to touch it.

  The Princess recoiled. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  Pia reached out again to touch the dress. “I was only—”

  “Stop! Do not touch me!” The Princess stomped her foot for emphasis.

  “But I was only—what is that—what’s it made of?”

  The Princess opened her mouth wide, astonished at the effrontery of this peasant. “You are not supposed to speak to me, unless I ask you to.” The Princess pursed her lips as if she’d been sucking on a lemon.

  “Why not?”

  The Princess stomped her foot again. “Stop that. Stop talking!”

  Prince Gianni, heir to the throne, entered the room. “What is it?” he asked his sister.

  “Her, that—that—peasant person. She’s talking to me!”

  Prince Gianni, who was more than familiar with the Princess’s frequent tantrums over trivial matters, turned to Pia. Something about her struck him. He was rarely in the presence of peasants, rarely in the presence of the castle staff except for those who attended to him. Perhaps it was the strangeness of her looks, rather wild and unkempt. There was something in her eyes, dark pools which beckoned him. There was something in her stance, tall and confident, almost jaunty. She was not at all intimidated by the Prince, did not even seem to know that he was the heir to the throne.

  “You spoke to the Princess?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Again she reached out to touch the Princess’s gown. “I wanted to know what this is—it’s so—so—”

  The Princess could not back away fast enough, pulling her gown from Pia’s grasp. “See? See?” she said to her brother. “See how she does?”

  Prince Gianni took his sister’s arm gently. “The peasant is admiring your gown, and merely wants to know the name of the fabric. Perhaps she has not seen such a beautiful gown on such a beautiful princess before.”

  “But who is she and why is she here?”

  “I am Pia, and that boy standing over there is Enzio, my brother.”

  “And why are you here?” asked the Prince.

  “We are the tasters.”

  The Prince and Princess looked baffled.

  Pia, thinking they had not heard her, said, loudly, “The tasters!”

  “Oh,” the Prince said, “I can’t recall—”

  He was interrupted by Prince Vito, who charged into the room, took one look at Pia and Enzio and said, “Don’t talk to them. They’re the tasters.”

  During Enzio’s and Pia’s first official tasting in the dining hall, the royal children stared at them. They had never before seen village peasants up so close, in their own castle.

  Princess Fabrizia’s nose wrinkled. The girl did not seem to mind that her hair was a riotous, untamed mass of curls. It made the Princess slightly ill to look at her. And the boy! She was deeply gratified that her brothers did not look like that. She admired the richly embroidered tunics of fine cloth that her brothers wore. She admired their clean, white hands. The Princess hoped that these taster peasants would soon be out of her sight.

  Prince Vito squirmed in his seat. He wanted to dash upstairs, grab his sword, and challenge that boy Enzio to a duel. He would show that boy what a prince could do with a sword! He hardly noticed the girl, so intent was he on imagining Enzio cowering beneath his foot, a sword at his neck.

  In contrast, Prince Vito’s elder brother, Prince Gianni, barely noticed Enzio. Prince Gianni was too intrigued by Pia. He felt odd, as if a spell had been cast over him, rendering him mute. He watched the way she chewed a piece of melon, wiping her hands upon her smock. He liked the way her hair, so thick and curly and jet-black, looked like skeins of soft yarn. He loved the way she smiled at her brother when she tasted the sweet cake. The Prince wished the smile were aimed at him.

  After they finished their tasting and were dismissed from the dining hall, Pia and Enzio slipped back to their quarters, retrieved the sack and pouch which they had hidden there, and found their way outside the castle gates, roaming the exterior gardens, looking for a spot in which to hide the pouch. They wound through the gardens, too open and accessible for a hiding place, and followed a path that led to an unexpected tunnel of trees, which they entered.

  “What do you suppose this is?” Pia said.

  “A tunnel.”

  “I know, but what’s it for?”

  Enzio ran his hand along the tree trunks and gaped at the densely interlocked branches overhead. “What’s any of this for—what’s the castle for and the gardens and—and—all of it?”

  Midway down the tunnel, they stopped. “You thinking what I am thinking?” Pia asked, looking at the branches overhead.

  “Most probably.”

  “Here then,” Pia said, handing him the sack. “Up you go.”

  Enzio scrambled up a tree trunk and easily secreted the pouch amid the branches and leaves. Using a stone from the edge of the path, Pia carved a small squiggly mark on the tree’s trunk, to mark the spot.

  “Ho!” said Enzio. “You’ve drawn a corno!”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  New Inventories

  The Ministers of Inventory stood before the King, each of them grasping a rolled piece of parchment on which was recorded his or her latest inventory.

  “Come, come,” grumbled the King. “What is it now?”

  As before, the ministers looked anxiously from one to another, hoping someone else would speak.

  “Who is in charge here?” the King demanded. “Is there no Minister of Ministers of Inventory?”

  The ministers looked blank.

  Exasperated, the King bellowed, “You, there.” He pointed to a sturdy, pink-faced man in the center of the line. “You are the Minister of Ministers of Inventory. I hereby appoint you. Now, speak!”

  The man’s pink cheeks deepened in color. He was flattered by the sudden elevation of his stature, but he was also flustered. “Sire, I thank you for the honor.” He bowed and, in doing so, dropped his parchment. “Ahem. Ahem. Sire, we come to you with new findings.”

  “Which are—?”

  “Ahem. I will begin, and, ahem, as before, we shall each report—”

  The King did not think he could bear it. “On with it!” “Ahem. Sire, I am the Minister of Inventory of Oats, and I report one extra sack.”

  The King wrinkled his brow. “What’s that? An extra sack stolen?”

  “No, sire, an extra sack in the inventory. One more than should be there.”

  “One more? And how might that be?”

  “Sire, I cannot explain.”

  The King glared at the next minister. “You, then—and the rest of you—come on, then. Let’s have it!”

  A second minister reported that he detected two additional bolts of silk.

  “What?” said the King
. “Not two stolen ones? Two extra ones?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “And I,” continued the next minister, “am the Minister of Inventory of Vegetables and I record four additional carrots, eight more radishes, and six extra potatoes.”

  “And I, sire, record a creamer lid, the very lid that had gone missing.”

  “And I, sire, detected six additional rabbits.”

  On they went, each having discovered surplus items: one rake, eight nails, seven knives, one pair of stockings, three chamber pots, and one cow.

  “An extra cow?” blurted the King. “How can there be an extra cow? Where is all this coming from?”

  In unison, the ministers shrugged, puzzled by the new findings, but also delighted with their discoveries. Surely the King would be happy?

  The King, however, was dismayed. “Are you suggesting that the thief—or thieves—is returning things?”

  Several of the ministers scratched their chins. The new Minister of Ministers of Inventory found his hands suddenly trembling. Was he supposed to have an answer? “Ahem. Sire, this is an important question. It is one we have not yet considered—”

  The King slapped his hand against his knee. “Well, consider it!” he ordered. “Consider it!” He waved them away. “Off with you, off with you!”

  When the ministers had departed, the King fled up the back staircase, down the hall, and into his bedchamber. He tossed his crown and cape on a chair and fell heavily upon the bed. I will think about this later.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  A Duel

  Prince Vito roamed the castle in search of the taster boy, whom he found outside the kitchen quarters. Enzio was licking chocolate from his fingers.

  “You, taster boy!”

  “What?”

  “Bow!” ordered the Prince. “And do not speak until I ask you to.”

  Enzio thought this was a foolish game, but he didn’t mind playing it. He bowed low, licked the chocolate from his lips and waited.

  “Do you fence?” inquired the Prince.

  “Fence?”

  “Swords, fencing, like this—” Prince Vito drew his sword and slashed at the air.

  “What a fine sword.” Enzio reached for it, barely touching the hilt before the Prince withdrew it.

  “Don’t touch! This is my sword, the sword of Prince Vito. You think you can handle one of these?”

  “Couldn’t be too hard,” Enzio said. He had never held a real sword, but he had fashioned replicas from branches and had often dueled with Pia in the woods with their homemade weapons.

  “Ha! I have trained for years. Did you hear me? Years!”

  “And what did you learn?”

  “Don’t ask me questions. It’s not permitted. Follow me.”

  In the dirt-floored Chamber of Swords, Prince Vito selected a weapon for Enzio. It was a simple and plain sword with no carving on it.

  “Let’s see what you can do with this,” the Prince said.

  The sword was heavier than the branch swords Enzio had held. He moved it through the air, assessing it. Prince Vito retrieved two chest guards and face masks from the wall and handed one of each to Enzio.

  “What are these for?”

  “No questions! You put them on, like this. Watch. For protection.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “No questions! You shall see.” The Prince stepped back and adopted a peculiar stance which made Enzio laugh. “What is so entertaining, peasant boy?”

  “Name is Enzio. You look funny.”

  The Prince slashed the air with his sword. “Funny? You think I look funny? We’ll see how funny you think I look when we’re finished. En garde!”

  “Eh? What?” Enzio watched the Prince step forward and back, left and right, a little dance. He mimicked the Prince.

  Prince Vito smirked. “Clumsy!” he said, and with that, he thrust his sword at Enzio.

  “Ho!” Enzio exclaimed, taking up the challenge. “Ho!” He parried the blow, ducked and slashed back, the metal of their swords clanging sharply in the air.

  Prince Vito quickened his steps, slicing at Enzio’s sword, but Enzio leaped to the side. Around the room they went, engaged in their duel, from one wall to the other, leaping over trunks, sliding in the dirt, whirling and stabbing, clanging swords, evading and parrying.

  “Take that!”

  “And that!”

  “You’re done for!”

  “Not yet!”

  They had worked up a sweat when they were interrupted by Giovanna.

  “Enzio, the King wants his tasters!”

  Reluctantly, Enzio laid down his sword. “Want to do that again?”

  The Prince did not notice that Enzio had asked him a question. “Tomorrow! We duel again!”

  After Enzio left, Prince Vito continued around the room, slashing at an invisible opponent. He had been astonished by Enzio’s prowess. The peasant was not elegant in his technique, but he was agile and daring, and far more skilled than the Prince had expected.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  The Heir and a Hair

  Prince Gianni stood on a balcony gazing down at the courtyard, where servants wandered to and fro. A small gray-and-yellow bird flew lazy circles in the air, amid the perfume of lavender and hyacinth. The Prince had been standing there for some time, not sure why, until he spotted Pia crossing the courtyard. He realized then that he had been waiting for her. A Prince does not wait for anyone or anything.

  He watched as Pia climbed a low stone wall and walked its length. Was she singing? She sat on the wall and held out her hand. The bird circled her and landed on her palm, pecking at it gently. The Prince had never seen such a thing before, a bird landing on someone’s hand.

  Pia looked up, scanning the castle walls, and when she spotted Prince Gianni, she called out. “Hey! Prince!”

  Servants stopped to stare at her, shocked at her boldness. They followed her gaze upward to Prince Gianni, who was so stunned at this effrontery that he froze, mouth agape.

  “Prince!” Pia called again. “Hello!”

  Prince Gianni, aware of the stares of the servants, awkwardly raised his hand briefly in acknowledgment and then stepped back into the shadows. He should have been insulted by the girl’s impropriety, but instead he was captivated and slightly dizzy.

  He started down the steps, reconsidered, climbed them again, and paced the hall. Once again he descended the steps and, adopting a casual but princely stance, he entered the courtyard, striding purposefully toward the stables. He was disappointed that Pia had vanished. As the Prince continued across the courtyard, servants bowed. He did not speak to them; it was not expected that he should. He entered the darkened stables, unable at first to see, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior. He had no immediate interest in the stables; it had been simply a reason to cross the courtyard in hopes of seeing Pia.

  “Hey! Prince!”

  She stood midway down the corridor, in front of the stall which held his horse. The Prince thought he should correct her, instruct her to curtsy and to address him in the proper fashion, but something prevented him from doing so.

  “That’s my horse,” he said.

  “He’s a beauty,” Pia said. “Look at how white he is and how shiny his coat, and look at these eyes. I could fall into them.”

  The Prince studied his horse, seeing him in a new light. He was handsome, it was true.

  “What’s his name?” Pia asked.

  “Zelo.”

  “Zelo. Hello, Zelo.” She stroked Zelo’s forehead and leaned her head against the horse’s neck.

  No one was supposed to touch the Prince’s horse except Zelo’s groomsman or the Prince, but the Prince remained silent, watching Pia, moved by her open affection for the animal.

  “You’re fortunate,” Pia said. “You can do whatever you like.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You have this beautiful horse, and you can ride Zelo whenever you want.”

  “But I have
duties, obligations—”

  “Oh, puh.”

  “‘Puh?’” he echoed.

  “You could ride right now, if you wanted to.”

  “But you,” said the Prince, “you are the one who can do what you want and say what you want.”

  A servant called from the stable entry. “Taster! The King wants his tasters!”

  To the Prince, Pia said, “It seems I have an obligation right now,” and off she went, dashing across the courtyard.

  The Prince stroked Zelo’s forehead as Pia had done. On Zelo’s neck was a long, dark, curly hair. The Prince removed it, examining it. Pia’s hair. As he curled it around his finger, Zelo’s nose nudged his hand, as if he, too, wanted the single hair of Pia.

  Chapter Forty

  The Queen and a Bean

  Outside her hermit’s door, the Queen paused to gather her thoughts. She had lain awake much of the previous night trying to imagine what she might say on this first meeting. There was so much to express, and yet she could not divulge it all at once, could she? Perhaps she should not say anything. Perhaps she should merely listen and absorb the wisdom of the hermit. She wished she knew how the King handled his hermit. She wanted to ask him, but he might scoff at her weakness. He might say, “You are the Queen. You handle your hermit however you like.”

  Now, outside the hermit’s dwelling, the Queen wondered if she should knock at the door, or if she should, as Queen, boldly enter. Normally, someone opened doors for her. While she was contemplating this, the door opened. The Queen stepped inside. The calico cat came directly to her, nuzzling the hem of her gown. Across the room stood the black cat, watchful. The door closed behind her, revealing the slim, bent figure of her hermit.

  “Hermit! I am here.” The Queen was bewildered by her own awkwardness. Her eyes surveyed the room, settling on the single chair. She sat, arranged her gown, and looked up at the hermit, only then realizing that there was only one chair in the room. Where would the hermit sit? “I see we need another chair. I will request one.”