One Good Knight (5 page)

“Good morrow, Princess!” A brand-new maid dressed in a gown of green and silver swept into the room carrying a tray, which she set down on Andie's bed. Then she handed Andie the oculars from the bedside table, something the other maids had never done. Andie put them on and watched her, a bit taken aback while the maid went around the room, flinging back the draperies from the windows. The tray held herb tea, buttered bread, fruit and sheep's-milk yogurt mixed with honey, something Andie particularly liked first thing in the morning. It was, in fact, breakfast in bed. In her entire life, Andie had never had the treat of breakfast in bed…for that matter, in her entire life, Andie had never had exactly the breakfast she liked best without having to ask for it, and even then, more times than not, she hadn't gotten it.

“I am your new handmaiden, and my name is Iris,” the girl announced, returning to the bedside.
She was, truth to tell, a rather plain, freckle-faced girl, big-boned and looking more like a shepherdess than a maid. But she had an infectious smile, and when she added, “Merrha's my auntie, I've been working in the Palace where Lady Thalia's been the Steward. Auntie told me a long time ago that if Lady Thalia was ever sent for, I was to put myself forward to come along with her, especially if there was a vacancy in your household. Thalia's a good mistress, and when I did ask if I might be considered, she said she thought we'd suit, you and I.”

Since the maid that had served Andie yesterday had been disinclined to do anything without being ordered, and was impersonal, cold, and as opaque as a stone wall, Iris was a definite improvement. Add to that, she was Merrha's niece—well, suddenly Andie didn't feel quite so alone.

“I can do hair in the Gordian Knot, the Kalliope Knot, the Centaur Tail, the Twisted Knot and Twisted Tail with sidelocks, but I can't do curls,” Iris continued, putting the tray on Andie's lap, shaking out a napkin and laying it across the front of Andie's nightdress. “I can do makeup, but someone will have to show me what I'm to put where. I'm good with wardrobe, I mend, and I can make creams and lotions and apply them, and massage. I can't read, but I can tell stories, and I can play a shepherd's flute.”

Andie blinked as Iris stepped back. “You already sound much more talented than my previous maid, Iris,” she said, finally.

“Good. Then that's sorted,” Iris said with immense satisfaction, giving another broad smile. “You suit me, and I suit you. Lady Charis is waiting with a seamstress and fabric as soon as you're done eating, Lady Thalia wants you to look over more servants while you're being fitted, and that's all there is for now. Would you like me to select a gown for the day, or would you prefer to?”

“Oh, pick anything,” Andie said vaguely, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Fittings already? And servant interviews? What next?

She ate quickly, drizzling the yogurt liberally over her sliced fruit, and feeling very much as if she was going to need the extra energy. After rejecting several selections in the wardrobe, Iris brought out a plain ankle-length gown, in a blue that looked faded but actually wasn't, and an embroidered belt that laced up the front that matched. As soon as Andie was finished with her breakfast, Iris whisked the tray away, and briskly got her into her gown, then sat her down at the little stool in front of the dressing table. With fingers that were surprisingly deft and gentle, she brushed out and put up Andie's hair—not in a knot, but in some kind of tail on the top of her head, with a strand wrapped around the base of it. “Centaur Tail,” said Iris in satisfaction, turning Andie to face the mirror. “Suits you.”

It certainly did suit her. It got her hair away from her face and under control, but it was softer than the severe knot she usually wore. She looked at herself
and smiled a little. This…was a surprise, as pleasant a surprise as the breakfast had been.

“Lady Charis is waiting, and Lady Thalia,” Iris reminded her, and with a guilty start, the maid jumped to her feet.

“No slippers,” Iris said, as Andie looked about for her favorite old sandals. “They're measuring your feet, too. Matching shoes to matching gowns.
And
new under-things, petticoats, under-gowns, stockings, underwear and all. Lady Thalia says yours are a disgrace.”

“I suppose they are. I never think about them,” Andie admitted guiltily.

“Your maid should have,” Iris replied tartly. “
You
aren't supposed to have to. I'll salvage what I can in here—you go, Princess!”

Andie nodded and got up. Iris ran to the door to hold it open for her with a wink, and closed it behind her. Andie stopped dead, staring around her in shock.

Only three pieces of furniture were left in what had once been crammed full of old, outgrown, nursery furnishings: One low stool, one small table and a chair. The table and chair were already occupied by Lady Thalia; beside the stool were Lady Charis and another woman.

“Come stand on the stool, Princess, so we can measure you,” said Lady Charis, when she didn't move. “That is a very good hairstyle for you. I believe that your new maid is a great improvement.”

“I thought she would be,” Lady Thalia observed with satisfaction.

“Where did all the furniture go?” Andie asked, feeling as if she had stepped into someone else's rooms.

“We've had that wreckage taken away,” said Lady Thalia. “You're to have your wing properly refurnished. You aren't a child anymore, after all. You don't need nursery furniture.”

“No,” she said, feeling dazed. “Of course not…”

Obediently, she stepped up onto the stool, where the second woman, probably a seamstress, measured every possible part of her that could be measured, drew outlines of her feet, then made a rather good sketch of her face and took measurements of
that,
noting the measurements. Meanwhile Lady Charis held samples of fabric up to her face, making humming noises to herself, handing some to the seamstress, tossing most into a basket.

And while all of this was going on, a parade of servants came into the room to be interviewed by Lady Thalia. Some, she had seen about the Palace, others were total strangers. As each interview was concluded, Lady Thalia looked at her with a most penetrating gaze; after the first one, Andie realized that she was supposed to show approval or disapproval, and the realization made her feel dizzy. She had never been allowed to pick
any
servant before, much less all of them!

A very few candidates she liked immediately. Some she disliked even before they opened their mouths.
Some seemed utterly unsuited to the positions they were applying for. On the rest—“I haven't the experience to judge,” she said, deferring to Lady Thalia.

She was afraid that this would lose her the Lady's respect, but on the contrary, her new household Steward seemed to approve guardedly. It was altogether astonishing how many new servants it seemed she would need. She was going to have her
own
cooks and all of their helpers, her
own
housekeeping staff, her
own
gardener and his helpers, as well as maids and pages, footmen and Guards. Only with the Guards did she feel on firm footing; most of them she knew at least on sight, and several she'd known almost as long as she had known her faithful Six. She was supposed to choose a total of eighteen; she had no difficulty doing so. All presenting themselves were young, and she thought it was going to be rather strange to see no gray hairs among them. She chose two-thirds male, one-third female, a ratio of which Lady Thalia also approved.

“The men will stand guard at the door to your wing, and in the garden,” Lady Thalia announced. “The women will serve here within your rooms.”

About the time that Lady Charis and the seamstress left and the interviews concluded, the new furniture began to arrive.

“Leave my bed!” Andie cried in alarm, when she saw serving-men heading into her bedroom with empty hands and a purposeful look in their eyes.

They stopped in their tracks.

Lady Thalia took a quick look in through the door. “The bed is the only piece of furniture in this wing fit to be used,” she pronounced. “Take down the bed curtains, though, they're a disgrace.
And
the window curtains. Bring new, in the Princess's colors.”

And in marched the servants; shortly thereafter, out they came, with every piece of furniture except her bed.

“Have you any particular desires as to how you want things arranged, Princess?” Lady Thalia asked.

Andie stood there uncertainly, then shook her head.

“In that case, I will have them follow my diagram and you and I can retreat from this madhouse to your new study.”

My new study?
she thought, dumbstruck. She followed Lady Thalia into what had been the nursery playroom and last night had still been stuffed full of worn and broken toys, child-size furniture, picture books and the like. Now—

Now the warm and sunny room was a study. A real study, like her mother's. The low bookcases, battered and tilting, had been taken out. In their place stood floor-to-ceiling bookcases, made for adult books and ornaments, and arranged on the bookcases were the books that had once been arranged in piles on the floor in what she had designated as her “reading room.” There was a backless couch, with one high arm to recline against. There was a real desk, a proper-size one, already set up to take the best advantage of the light, with cub
byholes stocked with various sizes of paper, enough pens to have denuded a flock of geese, and three fat-bottomed, heavy inkwells, the kind you couldn't tip over if you tried, holding red, black and sepia ink. And sealing wax. She went over to it, feeling as if she
must
be in a dream, to see that there were even two kinds of seals, the kind for wax and the kind for ink. She picked one up. It was the escutcheon of the Royal House of Acadia, inside a lozenge to show it was a Child of the House rather than the King or Queen.

Her own seal. The seal of her House. It was real. It was all real—

She turned, still holding the seal in her hand, to survey the rest of the room. Beside the desk was a comfortable chair, not the backless stool she had been using. There were two other chairs beside the one at the desk, and a table with four more chairs around it, all at the farther end, near the fireplace. All of the furniture was made of bleached and waxed lime-wood, which dated back to her grandfather's day, but which she secretly preferred to the dark, fumed oak of her mother's wing. There were no carpets, either, but she was so used to that, she didn't think she minded.

“I will be giving you the household report here every morning,” said Lady Thalia, “and asking if you approve of the menus for the day, as well as any expenditures from the household budget that I anticipate. I have looked over the budget allotted to
us, and I foresee no difficulties. I take it that you prefer simple meals?”

She licked lips gone dry. “Oh, yes. Please. I used to eat whatever my servants ate—”

Lady Thalia chuckled. “There is no reason why that practice cannot continue, since the cook I have selected is both skilled and careful. It is not wise to be overindulgent in one's food at any age, but at yours, particularly, you should continue to eat simply. And a good cook can turn the simplest ingredients into a fine meal, while a bad one can utterly ruin the most expensive and exotic.”

Andie nodded anxiously. “What do I need to know about my—my household right this moment?”

“I hope you approve of my choice for maidservant?” Lady Thalia asked, and nodded with satisfaction when Andie replied that she did. “Good. Iris is not the equal of even the handmaiden of one of your mother's ladies—”

“Yes, but I don't want to wear gowns like theirs, or have my hair curled and pinned up and tortured, or—”

Lady Thalia held up her hand. “Which is precisely why I chose Iris when she presented herself. I was told by those I trust of your taste. I believe you value someone competent, trustworthy and certain in what she
can
do, and are not troubled if she is a bit rough-hewn.”

“I like her,” Andie said without thinking, then immediately wondered if that was the wrong thing to
say. Were you not supposed to like a servant? But someone like Iris, who would be with you at the most intimate of moments, someone who would be the person to care for you if you were ill—

“Good. It doesn't do to make friends of any servant
except
one's handmaiden, and then only if one knows the girl is steady, has integrity and knows her place,” said Lady Thalia firmly. “But if that is the case, as it is with Iris, then you will find having a friend in your handmaiden makes your path much smoother. She can and will tell you servants' gossip, and that is an invaluable source of information, and you can trust that she either will not gossip about you, or that she will tell nothing that is not commonplace knowledge. You can trust her with any delicate matter. You can trust that she will not spy on you. All these things are valuable beyond price to anyone in your position.”

“I—I can see that,” Andie replied, once again feeling overwhelmed. This was all so new—and the implications of what Lady Thalia was saying made her realize that perhaps it was a good thing that she had been a lonely child. Loneliness was going to be something that came with her new position, so it was just as well that she was used to it.

Not that she would have chosen differently. She felt that being lonely, or in any case
alone,
was not all that bad—at least now, she would have some useful work to do, and maybe a little respect.

“Let's take a walk around your wing, and you can
decide if you want anything changed,” Lady Thalia said, watching her expression keenly. “By then, I expect, Lady Charis will have a suitable gown for you so you can take your place at the Queen's morning audience.”