Once Upon a Marigold (11 page)

"What?" She leaned forward to listen.

"Rewards for good deeds as well as punishments for bad ones. Nobody ever gets enough appreciation when they're behaving themselves, but there's no end to hearing about it when they're not." He wasn't sure how he knew this, since it wasn't something Ed had ever done, but he was sure it was true.

"Absolutely right," she said, nodding. "Oh, figuring out the rewards would be the fun part. There could be chocolate sculptures or golden trophies or talking birds or ... I'm sorry," she said suddenly, her smile fading. "I shouldn't be going on like this. But somehow I feel like I've known you for a long time. Aside from my dogs, you're the best listener I've ever known. You ask wonderful questions and really pay attention to the answers, and you don't interrupt, and you think about what I'm saying, and you have good ideas. But I've talked too much and kept you from your work, and I apologize."

Christian stood up, in wonder that a real princess was so unused to being listened to, she would apologize to a house servant when he did. He wanted to touch her, to hold her hand, to give her one of those daily lifesaving hugs he knew she needed. But, of course, he couldn't. Such a thing would probably get him beheaded by sunset.

He did it anyway. He pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her and drew her close to him and just held her, his chin on the top of her head. She smelled wonderful—something floral and spicy at the same time—probably one of her own marvelous concoctions. And she was so soft.

Christian's heartbeat stuttered, and he could imagine a tiny tear appearing in a corner of his heart—a tear that would never heal as long as she was so unhappy and so gallant. And so forbidden to him.

At first she was stiff and shocked. Then she drew a shuddering breath, almost a sob, and relaxed against him. Her hands came up around his back. Neither of them said a word, and neither of them moved.

E
D THOUGHT
he was going to drop straight down over the waterfall when he looked through the telescope and saw Christian and Princess Marigold embracing. In public, for pete's sake. He didn't even want to
think
about what would happen to a servant who touched a princess like that. How fast would they catch him and put him in the thumbscrews? Or would they just run him through with a sword, on the spot?

Ed's eyes brimmed over. When they'd said good-bye yesterday—only yesterday!—he'd never dreamed it was good-bye forever. He thought of all the things he could have told Christian—
should
have told him—that would have prevented this awful situation. But it was too late now to lock the barn door after the wolf in sheep's clothing was stolen. All he could do was try to figure out some way to help.

He turned to run back to the cave. He needed Walter and Carrie.

Marigold was the one who finally broke the embrace. Christian made no attempt to stop her. He had meant only to comfort her, and when it had turned—for him, at least—into something deeper and more complex, he decided that all he could do was enjoy it for as long as it lasted. Because if ever there was a doomed dream, this was it.

"I know what you're thinking, and I wish you were a prince, too," she whispered in a quavery voice, and ran from him, through the archway and down the stairs. Flopsy, Mopsy, and Topsy followed, yapping happily. As wonderful as dogs can be, they are famous for missing the point.

Christian sank back onto his knees and took up his tools again, but he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing with them. His head was full of the feel of her, her scent, her voice. He hadn't even worried about her being able to read his thoughts. How could it harm her to know that he thought she was wonderful? It could harm
him
, of course, if she told anyone. But somehow he knew she wouldn't.

He sat idle for a long time before his jumbled thoughts were interrupted by the flutter of wings. He looked up, and there on the wall above him were two pigeons.

"Walter?" he said, surprised. "Carrie?" How did Ed know that p-mail from him was exactly what Chris needed at that moment?

He saw that the message cylinders on all four of their legs were full. Quickly he detached them and unrolled the little pieces of paper. He spread them out on the flagstones and rearranged them until they made sense.

Dear Christian, Are you insane? I saw you
hugging the princess and I wonder if you
have a death wish. You can get beheaded

***

for that, you know. I forbid you from
touching her again. It is suicide. You need
to leave the castle immediately, before you

get caught. I was wrong to send you out
into
the world. You're not ready. This is a
fine kettle of birds of a feather you've

gotten yourself into. Come home right

now. Yours, Edric

He almost laughed. He could tell from the handwriting that Ed had been hopping up and down as he wrote. It gave him a queer feeling to know that Ed had been watching him through the telescope the same way he himself had watched Princess Marigold.

The birds wouldn't leave until they had an answer to Ed's message, and besides, he needed to tell Ed what was going on here, and to get some advice. The story was so complicated it would take several trips back and forth across the river to get it all told.

Now, where was he going to find writing materials when so few servants knew how to read and write? He'd have to filch some, that's all. But first he'd have to find where to filch them from.

"You stay here," he said to the pigeons. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He ran down the steps into the castle without any idea of where he was going. He headed down the first hallway he came to, gingerly opening doors and peeking inside. This seemed to be a floor of bedrooms, mostly unoccupied, though he did come upon several people napping, and one tableau of a young man kneeling at a young woman's feet. They both were weeping, and turned wet, startled faces to him as he hastily backed away saying, "Pardon. Pardon. Wrong room."

At the end of the hall was a large room with books enclosed behind glass doors on all four walls. A writing table with ornately carved legs stood in the center of the room, well-stocked with pens, ink, and writing paper. Christian knew he couldn't stand there writing for as long as his tale would take to explain, so he stuffed paper and writing implements into the pockets of his apron. Walking quickly but carefully, so as not to spill the ink, he made it back to the terrace.

He constructed a little barricade of chairs where he was supposed to be working and settled down to scratch out the story for Ed. The pigeons cooed impatiently as they paced along the wall. They'd gotten
used to the grain Marigold gave them when they came calling at the castle before, and were quite put out to see that Christian wasn't providing the same treat.

Finally he squeezed what he'd written so far into their message cylinders and sent them back across the river while he continued telling all that he knew about the castle intrigues, three lines at a time.

And every time Walter and Carrie flew across the river, Rollo, watching from up in the barbican, kept track.

T
HAT EVENING
Christian was again in charge of the wine at dinner. Prince Cyprian's retinue made the most of their final banquet, swilling and chomping as if it would be their last meal on earth. Prince Cyprian was having such a grand old time, singing and pinching the serving wenches, that anyone who was paying attention—and Marigold was—could see that he had no regrets.

Swithbert bumbled along having his usual good time, though Christian now knew that the gleam in his eyes came not entirely from the rheuminess of age. The gleam came also from the intelligence and lucidity of a king who might be old and infirm but had lost none of his faculties.

As for Sir Magnus, he was enjoying his peacock
pie and suet pudding with marmalade as if he were already the royal consort.

In the middle of dinner, Queen Olympia stood and banged on her glass with her spoon. In the general din of the extravaganza of eating, the diners didn't even hear her. She tried a few more times without success and then motioned one of the fanfare trumpeters over. A moment later a blast from his instrument stopped everyone, midslurp, midcrunch, or midword.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Olympia said, "and the rest of you, too." She waved her hands to indicate most of the guests. "My husband has an announcement to make." She nodded in King Swithbert's direction.

The king stood, looked around in a bemused manner, and then nodded back in her direction. "You go ahead, my dear," he said, and sat down.

"Very well," she said, adjusting the heavy gold jewelry around her neck. "It gives us great pleasure tonight to announce the engagement of our daughter, Princess Marigold Felicity January Pearl, to Sir Magnus Tobias Hunter. The wedding invitations have gone out to neighboring kingdoms by swift horses, and those of you who are already here are invited to stay. The ceremony will be in three days' time."

The old bat wasn't wasting any time, Christian thought, scrutinizing Marigold for her reaction.

She had turned, aghast, to gape at her mother, and Christian understood that while she had doubtless known she no longer had a choice of suitors, she had known nothing of these hasty wedding plans until that very moment.

The diners burst into applause—no doubt at the prospect of at least three more days of freeloading—and a number of them rushed to congratulate Magnus and Marigold. It did not escape Christian that never once did Magnus look in Marigold's direction, nor she in his. Queen Olympia hadn't been kidding when she said royal marriages weren't based on love.

The tear in the corner of Christian's heart deepened a little.

The evening was excruciatingly long. With more to celebrate, the guests partied harder than ever, dancing on the tabletops and tossing their empty glasses into the huge fireplace. Every broken glass and kicked-over pitcher of wine added to the time the servants would be cleaning up after them.

Christian wondered if he'd be sleeping at all that night. And not just because he'd be so busy with the cleanup.

As it turned out, Christian never even got
near
his bed of straw. By the time he had finished sweeping up the shards of glass and the spilled food that littered the Great Hall, the first rays of morning sunlight were coming down through the tall, leaded-glass windows.

He dumped the piles of debris in the dustbin and went to wash his hands before getting back to work. Might as well finish the terrace wall. Might as well throw himself
over
the wall, actually. That, at least, would cure the whopping headache he'd had ever since Queen Olympia had announced Marigold's engagement—a headache made even worse when King Swithbert said how happy he was that Marigold and
Magnus would continue to live in the castle. From the look on the queen's face when he'd said that, Christian could imagine she was thinking about the kinds of accidents that could happen to both Marigold and the king.

He dragged his tool basket up the stairs and went out onto the terrace into the early light. Across the river the spray from the waterfall threw rainbows out over the water, and the dewdrops on the flowers in the terrace pots glittered like diamonds. It was disgustingly glorious.

He dropped his basket of tools and leaned his elbows on the wall, hoping to see Ed looking at him through the telescope, or Walter and Carrie on their way to him with the answer to his prayers. But none of them was anywhere in sight.

Turning his head, he saw Marigold leaning on the wall, way down at the other end of the terrace, still in that awful, overwrought gown. She, apparently, hadn't slept, either. When she turned and saw him, their eyes held for a long, expressive moment. She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. He lifted his hand, too, and then knew what he had to do.

Christian ran the length of the terrace and pulled her into his arms. "You can't marry Magnus," he exclaimed, throwing restraint to the winds. "You can't. It will kill you."

She laid her head against his chest and hugged him back. "I know," she said. "But what else can I do?"

"You can run away with me." He almost looked over his shoulder to see who had spoken those words, they came so unexpectedly out of his mouth. Oh well. Might as well be a goat as a cow. Or whatever. "You can bring the dogs. My dogs would love that. You'd never have to wear one of these"—he swatted at the floppy bow on the gown's shoulder—"again."

He felt her smile against his chest. "That is the nicest offer anyone has ever made to me," she said. "But it's impossible. It would break Papa's heart. And it would guarantee my mother would be the ruler of the kingdom."

"She's going to be ruler anyway," Christian said. Maybe he'd have been more circumspect if he wasn't light-headed from fear and lack of sleep, but he wasn't sure. "I wasn't kidding when I said marrying Magnus would kill you. I overheard your mother talking to that ferret of hers, and she wants you out of her way—and your father, too. As in
fatal accident.
Then she's going to pack Magnus off to his own manor, and she gets to be sole ruler."

He held his breath, waiting for her to call for some soldiers to take him away for committing treason.

Marigold looked up at him, astonished. "My own mother is thinking this? Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," he said, not loosening his hold on her. It was too late to back up now. "Sure enough to make me think it would be a good idea for you to get out of here until she can be stopped."

"Well, my goodness," Marigold said. "I wish I could say I don't believe you." Resting her head against his heart, she sighed deeply. Then, after a moment, she raised her head, looked into his eyes, and smiled a perfectly dazzling smile. "I should have known it was you. When I first touched you, I could tell you were thinking ... well ... warm thoughts about me. But I didn't realize it was really
you.
Somehow I never thought we'd actually meet. I thought we'd still be p-mailing even when I was an old lady, married off in some distant kingdom. Imagine me finding you right now when I need you the most. Can't you tell me your real name now?"