Septimus Heap 3 - Physik (27 page)

In fact, he could even be ... dead. Jenna shook her head to try to get rid of such pointless thoughts. Alther had been quite clear about this—the Glass she had Gone Through was completed one hundred and sixty-nine days after the Glass that Septimus had Gone Through. One hundred and sixty-nine was an important Alchemical number, being thirteen times thirteen. Jenna was good at math and soon she had worked out that Septimus would already have been in this Time for about five and a half months—if Alther was right. But where was he?

She lay back on the bed and tried to figure out how to find Septimus while she watched a large spider rappel down one of the bedposts. Being the true Princess that she was, Jenna was quick to feel something sharp digging into her back, and she wondered how Princess Esmeralda had ever got any sleep at all in such a lumpy bed.

What could possibly be causing it? Exasperated, Jenna tipped the mattress up to see if she could find the problem.

Underneath the damp old feather mattress, which smelled strongly of chickens, there was a large leather-bound book with sharp metal corners. On the cover was written:

THE VERIE PRIVATE AND PERSONALLE DIARIE OF PRINCESS ESMERALDA. NOT TO BE OPENED OR READE BY ANY PERSON. ESPECIALLY MAMA.

Jenna picked up the diary and let the mattress go with a thud, sending up a cloud of dust and mold spores. “Atchoo!” she sneezed. “Atchoo, atchoo, atchoo! ” Eyes streaming, Jenna sat down on the now considerably less lumpy bed and, ignoring the instructions on the cover, began to read Princess Esmeralda's diary.

Princess Esmeralda's Diary

Princess Esmeralda's diary was written in the same flowing, old-fashioned script that adorned the cover.

The ink was black and clear—as was the awful story it had to tell.

MoonDay Today has been a most Foul and Fearful Day.

Upon the orders of Mama (who maketh me to toil in all the lowly places of Our Palace so that “You will knowe, Esmeralda, what it is to Work”), I didst go to the Meate Kitchens today. I was set to work to pull all manner of Innards and Gizzards for the Meate Cooke, who is a foul-mouthed Manne who doth sweat like an overripe Cheese. He hath a Face like unto a Cheese also, the kind that Mama doth eat: white and pitted with blue Veins upon his Nose. Methinks that if Mama didst eat the Meate Cooke's Nose she would not knowe the difference. And if she didst knowe it to be the Meate Cooke's Nose, methinks Mama wouldst still eat of it. But I must not write of Mama, for it is dangerous Business so to do.

When I didst return to my Chamber from the Meate Kitchens, and the Servant had given me a Bowle of sweete cleene Water to take the Blood and Gristle from under my Fingertips, then Mary didst come a'knocking at my Door as frantically as if the Wendron Witches of the Forest were hard upon her Heels. Mary, whom I love dearly, near as much as I do love my little baby Sisters, was in the most Distressed State.

I didst ask her, as I always do (for Mama does not allow me to see my dear Sisters near as oft as I wouldst like), how fared my littk Cherubbs this day. Whereupon Mary didst wail like the Pigs do wail when they see the Meate Cooke's Cleaver. I sat her down beside my small Fyre (for which my Servant doth steal me a few Coals upon frosty Nights) and I heated some Water over it, for poore Mary's Teeth were a-chattering like a loose Windowpane in the Winde.

I put my question about my little twinne Sisters once again with, I confess, some Feare in my Heart. “They are Gonne!” Mary didst cry with such heart-wrenching grief that deare Sir Hereward did come a-running (or a-floating, rather, I shouldst say) and didst aske of us “Wherefore the Teares?” For by the time the deare Ghoste was by our side I knew the true tale of my Sisters' Fate. They were Gonne.

Early this Morn, Mary didst take my baby Sisters to see our mama, for Mama had ordered that it be so. Mary was told by the Bumptiouse Barrelle of Larde to leave the Babies in the Throne Room to await Mama.

They didst run after her, crying, “Mary, Mary,” but the Bumptiouse Barrelle didst push her from the Chamber and barre the Door.

Now Mama and the Bumptiouse Barrelle do saye that Mary never brought the Babes to the Throne Room and that she hath loste them. Poore Mary's feet are like fat pigs' Bladders, swelled from a day walking the Palace to find them, and I believe she is losing her Mind. I fear 'twill fare ill for poore Mary. And how will it fare for my poore Sisters?

Tir'sDay A most Dismal Day. My Spirits are. low. There is no word on my little Sisters and of Mary there is no trace. I am alone in the Worlde.

Woden's Day I knoweth not myself today. My Mind is in Turmoil. I am returned to my Chamber from another foul day in the Meate Kitchens and something is wrong. I do not know what. I have a great Feeling of Dread.

Thor's Day At dawn Sir Hereward did go to fetch my deare Brother. All last night I didst heare a great lamenting and crying behind the Wainscoting at all hours. It was the Voices of my baby Sisters. I care not what my Brother or Sir Hereward may say, but I do know the Cries of my Sisters. I did beg my Brother to remove the Wainscoting and he, fearing for my Mind, did do so. There was nothing there, but even now I heare their little Voices crying for me to set them free.

Freya's Day My Brother came. 1 am to stay with him awhile. I am grateful, for I cannot bear to heare the Crying a moment longer. Mama would not allow it at first but he hath Gainsayed her. I learn this afternoon and I shall take my little Booke with me.

Loki's Day Today Mama didst call upon my deare Brother, for there is some Business between them. My Brother is uneasy on this count for he didst saye to me,

“I will not do this, Esmeralda. Although I do wish Mama well, as I must for I am her Sonne, I do not wish for her to live Forever.” Although I understood not what he meant—for how can any person live Forever?—I didst reply that most certainly I did not wish it either and we laughed. It is good to laugh with my Brother.

SunnDay Mama didst call again today. My Brother locked his Chamber and didst saye to me, “Begone, Esmeralda, for this is not Business upon which you should thinke.” But tho' I should have obeyed my deare Brother, I didst not. I didst listen at the Door, though I needed not to press my Eare so close, for Mama's voice did drille into my Eare through the great oake Door like a woodpecker's Beake. “I tell thee now, Marcellus, I shall not rest until I have it!” Mama didst scream. I heard not my Brother's reply for Mama didst not stop her Torrent of Words.

As she didst leave, her creature, which doth bite all who displeaseth her and cause them to Sicken and Die, didst bite my little cat. Tonight poore Puss doth aile and moan most piteously.

MoonDay My Brother's Chambers are most darke and gloomy for there is a great Storm howling through the Castle, but I care not, for it mirrors my Mind.

My poore little cat is no more.

Mama didst call yet again. When she had departed with her Retinue, which was the Bumptiouse Barrelle of Larde and Six Armed Guards, my deare Brother didst come to me and tell me all that has transpired. My Brother was forced to agree to provide Mama with a Potion for Eternal Youthe. She will Live Forever. I didst Remonstrate and ask, with what Dangers doth he sport? I DO NOT wish Mama to Live Forever, for I do wish to be Queen one Day and how shall I be Queen if Mama does not die, as all of us must do? And my deare Brother didst smile grimly and Saye that though there was a Potion, it was not for her, ha-ha! It was for him and he hath drunk of it many monthes past.

Tir's Day Why cannot I too have a Potion for Eternal Youthe? It is not fair. I am most poorly used.

Woden's Day My Brother has today a new Apprentice. Though he hath a pleasing countenance he is a most peculiar hoy. When he didst see me he laughed and shouted out some strange name that I knew not. I spoke to him most Pleasantly even though he is but a common Apprentice, yet when I didst speak, he ran away. My Brother is still much troubled. He doth say over and over, “I didst see myself in the future. I didst see my terrible fate. Oh, Esmeralda, I am a fool. I wouldst not wait. What have I done?” But I do not know what he hath done, for he will not saye.

Freya's Day A Day of Great Foreboding. Mama did come for me today. I am no more to stay with my deare Brother for she said, “He has important work to do, Esmeralda, and with your great moanings you do distract him from his task.” I begged to stay—and my Brother begged also, but to no avail. Now I sit in my Most Dismal Chamber. Mama is sending the Bumptiouse Barrelle of Larde for me at dawn tomorrow. I am greatly afraid.

And there the diary ended. Jenna slowly closed the book and sat on the edge of Esmeralda's bed, trying to take it all in. What had happened to Esmeralda? And what—now that everyone thought that she was Esmeralda—would happen to her?

Knights

Later that afternoon, Jenna sat wrapped in a damp bedspread on Princess Esmeralda's lumpy bed. Beside her were the remains of a large pie, crusty bread, cheese, apples, cake and milk that the Knight of the Day, true to his word, had the Cooke bring to her. She had lit the small candle beside the bed, and as she sat warming her hands over the feeble candle flame, she heard a faint knocking on the wooden paneling of the room. The sound came and went in bursts, sometimes frenzied, sometimes weary and despairing. The hairs on the back of Jenna's neck rose: It was the little Princesses and they were still alive.

Jenna knew she shouldn't, but somehow she could not help but put her ear to the panel where the knocking was coming from. To her dismay she was sure she could hear the faint snuffling, hiccupping sounds of exhausted sobbing— children's sobbing. It was too much. Jenna ran to the door and hammered loudly with her fists, calling out, “Sir Hereward, Sir Hereward! They're here. I can hear them—we've got to get them out! Oh, Sir Hereward, please, find someone to help!”

To Jenna's surprise, the ghost Passed Through the bedroom doors. Sir Hereward did not Pass Through doors for many people, but sometimes it had to be done. He stood next to Jenna, shaking his head to get rid of the unpleasant sensation of being full of wood.

“Princess,” said the knight, leaning on his sword and regarding Jenna with a puzzled air, “forgive my confusion but it seemeth to my poor brain that though thou art most assuredly a Royal Princess, thou art not the poor Princess Esmeralda, e'en though thou hast her looks to a strange degree.”

Jenna nodded. She knew she could trust Sir Hereward but she was not sure if he would understand what she was about to tell him. “I am Princess Jenna,” she said very quietly, just in case anyone was listening. “I have come from a Time in the future...” She trailed off, unsure if Sir Hereward would understand what she meant.

The old knight was quicker than Jenna expected. “Ah, so thy speech is that from times yet to come,” Sir Hereward mused. " 'Tis a strange sound to be sure, so quick and sharp to the eare, like the rattling of a bird's beake upon the bars of its cage.

What a cacophony must sound through your Palace, Princess Jenna."

Jenna was about to say that her Palace was quiet and empty compared with this one when the knocking inside the wall started up again. “Th-there it is,” she whispered.

“ 'Tis the poor baby Princesses, Princess Jenna.” Sir Hereward sighed mournfully.

“But we have to get them out before they suffocate,” said Jenna, frustrated by Sir Hereward's lack of action.

“They are already suffocated,” murmured Sir Hereward, staring at his rusty feet.

“But—”

“ 'Tis their UnQuiet Spirits that you do hear, Princess. As indeed didst poor Esmeralda. Perchance, if I had known the true nature of our Queen ... I might have saved the Babes.”

“But they were her daughters!” said Jenna. “How could she...”

“Methinks it was for the very reason that they were her daughters,” said Sir Hereward gravely. “I didst hear something most strange ... but I dare not believe it to be so.” The ghost shook his head as if to clear the thought away.

“What? What don't you believe?” asked Jenna. And then realizing that the way she spoke must sound almost rude to the knight, she added a little self-consciously,

“Pray, tell me, if you will, Sir Hereward, what it is thou darest not believe.”

Sir Hereward smiled. “Why,” he said, “now thou seemest e'en more like Princess Esmeralda.” Jenna was not sure if this was a particularly good—or safe—thing to seem like, but she took it as a compliment.

“It is said the Queen doth seek eternal life upon this Earth. That, indeed, she is close enough to it that she desireth no heirs, for she will hold the Queenship forever more.” Sir Hereward heaved a sigh. “So it seemeth that throughout eternity our Queen will ever be Queen Etheldredda.”

“No, she won't!” cried Jenna.

Sir Hereward looked at Jenna with a faint ray of hope in his eyes. “Will she not, fair Jenna? Methinks to make certain of such a thing, thou must escape thy many-times-great-grand-mama,” he said, “for thou art no safer here than the little Princesses and poore Esmeralda were. I am but a ghost but even a ghost may Cause a lock to open.” Sir Hereward placed his only hand with its battered and rusty gauntlet on the door. After some minutes, and a great deal of huffing and puffing from the old ghost, Jenna heard the lock click open.

“Thou art free, fair Jenna. Fare thee well. I trust we will meet again.”

“We will, Sir Hereward,” said Jenna.

Jenna was free, but she knew she would never truly be free until she found Septimus.

She decided to head for Wizard Way; there was a saying in the Castle that if you stood under the Great Arch long enough, all who lived in the Castle would pass by.

It was as good a place as any to start looking, and the sooner she got there the better.

With a wave to Sir Hereward—who raised his arm in a respectful salute—she set off.

The Palace corridors were bright and busy, much to Jenna's surprise. She was used to the night being dark. In her Palace the night was lit only by a few candles, for Sarah Heap found it hard to leave her frugal habits behind. The candles were placed at long enough intervals from one another to provide plenty of deep shadows in which a fugitive Princess could hide. But this Palace was a different matter; Bertie Smalls, the Royal CandleTrimmer saw to that. Bertie, a tall thin man, waxen pale with a mop of flame-red hair, patrolled the nighttime corridors with great dedication. It was a matter of honor for Bertie that not one candle ever went out under his guardianship.