The Marus Manuscripts (36 page)

Suddenly a group of soldiers who had been following the golden carriage with muskets slung over their shoulders spread out to the crowds, thrusting flags and banners into their hands. “Take these and follow us to the palace,” they commanded.

“Only after I’ve had my brain replaced with a beetroot,” the elderly man said defiantly.

A soldier hit him in the stomach with the butt of his musket. The man doubled over in pain. “You’ll follow no matter what kind of brain you have!” the soldier growled.

“Leave us alone!” a woman shouted. “Why don’t you go back to Palatia where you belong?”

“And deprive our king of his spoils?” another soldier called back. “That wouldn’t do.”

The man who’d been hit recovered his breath, grumbled something Maddy didn’t understand, then stepped out onto the avenue to follow the soldiers. Maddy was swept along with him and the rest of the crowd around her. Before she knew it, the man’s flag—a small, rectangular cloth of red with a single star in the middle—was in her hand. He smiled at her. “You’ll enjoy waving it more than I will,” he suggested with a pained expression on his face. Eventually, she lost him in the crowd.

Worried that she might get in trouble, Maddy held the flag up and swung it as she walked. It didn’t occur to her that she had no idea where she was or if she could find her way back to her porch. If this was a dream she was having or, better still, a magical place she’d found like Alice in Wonderland, she was curious to see what would happen next. “Dreamy Madina” was like that. But she wasn’t too pleased about the nasty soldiers or the unhappiness of the people.

Maddy followed the crowd up the avenue until it joined yet another broad street. They seemed to walk for miles. Because she was surrounded on all sides by the crowd, she couldn’t see much of the city. Only occasionally did a large building poke skyward beyond someone’s head or shoulder. She wished she could stop to look longer at the great pillars and round towers or to read the names on the statues of men in brave and noble postures. Otherwise, she caught only glimpses of shops and homes made of brick and stone.

Just as Maddy’s legs started to ache from the long walk, the crowd slowed to a halt. Then, after a moment, it slowly moved forward again, now through a large gate made of wrought iron and gold posts. She found herself in a parklike area with level grounds and manicured grass. A single driveway curved around in a half-moon shape and stopped at the double front doors of a palace. At least Maddy assumed it was a palace, for she’d never seen such a majestic building in her life.

The front door stood at the center of two wings, made of yellow stone, that spread out to the left and the right. There were three stories, each with rows of tall windows that reflected the day like jewels. Maddy’s eye was drawn to a gold rotunda over the center section, where the front doors were. On top of the rotunda was a statue of something that looked to her like an angel.

The crowd was instructed by the soldiers to sit down on the grass. The man in the golden carriage stood up to address the throng. His voice was deep and booming but still hard to hear since he was some distance away.

“I, King Willem, declare a national holiday for my subjects, the people of Marus,” he declared.

“We’re not your subjects!” a man shouted from somewhere deep in the crowd. Soldiers instantly moved in to find the culprit.

The king ignored him. “Let this be a time of celebration!” he continued. “A time of feasts and banquets unlike anything seen in your lifetime!”

“As if I ever expected to see a
Palatian
king on the throne in my lifetime,” an old man with a craggy face growled softly off to Maddy’s right.

“Let the musicians make music, let sweet drinks flow, and let the food fill our bellies!” the king called out. “From this day forward, Palatia
and
Marus are intertwined, united by fate and by victory.”

“It’s
our
fate thanks to
his
victory,” the same man muttered sarcastically.

The king continued, “And now I beseech every man, woman, and child to join me in celebrating my marriage to one of your own, the pure and gracious Annison!”

With this, a woman stepped out through one of the palace’s front doors. Maddy gasped. The woman had raven black hair and a
slender face, with a smile that seemed to light up everything around her. It was the most beautiful face Maddy had ever seen.

“It’s the princess from my dream,” she said out loud to a woman next to her.

The woman grunted and turned away.

Maddy craned her neck to see better. Annison wore a beautiful red-velvet dress that highlighted the redness of her lips and the blush of her cheeks. She looked shy and slightly embarrassed to be standing in front of so many people. Lifting her hand, she gave an awkward wave.

Though it was a slight gesture, the crowd came alive now, with all the people leaping to their feet to cheer her. They cheered in a way they hadn’t cheered for the king at any point in his procession—wildly and exuberantly. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He stretched out his hand to her, his face filled with pride.

“I can’t believe she’s marrying him.” A woman nearby sneered in the midst of the shouts and cheers. “She’s a Marutian. She should be ashamed.”

“She’s an orphan girl,” another woman said with a shrug. “Who knows what her lineage is? For all we know, she’s a Palatian herself.”

“She may be our only hope,” an old man observed thoughtfully. The two women looked at him uncomfortably and shut up.

Maddy didn’t understand what any of it meant. All she knew was that the princess of her dream was real in this strange world, and now she’d lost sight of her because of the crowd.

“You must come and help me,” the princess had said in the dream.

And Maddy had promised she would. With that thought in mind, she pressed herself forward through the crowd. She was determined to get to the front door of the palace—and Annison.

T
he king, who had resumed his speech while Maddy worked her way to the front of the audience, had just finished when she reached the edge of the lawn and the gravel driveway. The wheels of the golden carriage were within her reach. The king stepped down from the carriage, allowed Annison to put her arm through his, and walked with her into the palace. The large doors closed. Maddy was overcome with disappointment.

The soldiers began urging the crowd to disperse. Maddy stood alone where she was, her eyes fixed on the front doors, unsure of what to do next. She wanted—
needed
—to get to Annison. The feeling stabbed at her heart. She didn’t know why it was so important, yet the longing, the yearning, demanded that she make good on her promise to help Annison. But how could she get inside the palace?

The answer came from a stern-looking, matronly woman who suddenly appeared at her side. “You, child,” she said.

Maddy looked up. “Me?” she asked.

“Didn’t I see you with the choir?”

“Choir?”

“Stop answering my questions with questions. Are you with the choir or aren’t you? If you are, you should be inside with the rest.”

Maddy decided not to risk the wrath of this woman by asking what she was talking about. Besides, if joining the choir meant she might get to see Annison again, she was glad to join the choir. “How do I get in?” she inquired.

The woman grunted as if she had known all along that Maddy wasn’t where she was supposed to be. “That way,” she said and, taking Maddy’s arm, led her to the double front doors.

A servant opened one of the doors before they reached it. He lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

“She’s with the choir,” the matronly woman explained.

He nodded and took Maddy’s other arm, gently pulling her away from the matronly woman and into the front hall. It was an ornate foyer filled with paintings, statues, and a wide marble staircase. The walls were trimmed with gold-leaf borders. A set of chandeliers hung like large diamonds on each side. Up above, Maddy saw that the inside of the rotunda contained frescoes of angels all around.

“I do wish you children would stay together,” the servant said impatiently. He took Maddy down a grand hallway lined with more paintings and small alcoves with statues. Eventually they reached another double doorway. “They’re preparing to rehearse here in the Great Hall,” he said and nudged her inside.

Maddy’s jaw dropped at the sight of the room. It truly was a great hall, with high walls of carved wood, cornices, ornately framed portraits, and mirrors. The tall windows she’d seen outside were ablaze with the daylight, which flooded the room. Dozens and dozens of tables were set up and being laid by more servants than Maddy could count. At one end of the hall was a small stage where a group of girls and boys stood, dressed in smart gray outfits.

Maddy navigated her way past the tables and servants and approached the group cautiously. “Are you the choir?” she asked a girl with reddish hair who shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

“Yes,” she replied. “We’re going to sing for the king and his bride-to-be at the banquet tonight. My name is Sarah. Who are you?”

“My name is Maddy.”

“You’re not part of our choir,” Sarah observed, then looked her over. “You’re not in uniform.”

“I know that.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“A woman outside told me to come in.”

“To join us? Can you sing?”

“A little.”

“I can sing, too.” Sarah smiled. “I have a solo.”

Maddy looked around, hoping to catch sight of Annison again. “Do you know where the princess—I mean, Annison—is?”

“She’s probably in her chambers now,” Sarah replied. “I think she’s beautiful, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Maddy said dreamily, then asked, “Do you know who she is?”

“She’s Annison. You just said so.”

“But
who
is she?”

The girl didn’t seem to understand the question and shrugged.

Maddy decided to try a different approach. “I’m a stranger here—”

“Where are you from?”

“I come from the Midwest.”

“Is that in Marus or Palatia?”

“It’s in America.”

Sarah looked puzzled, then shook her head. “I don’t know where that is. But my father said that people were coming from all over the world for the wedding.”

Maddy pressed on. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m a stranger, and I don’t know anything about this place or your king or—”

“Oh.” Sarah lowered her head a little and said softly, “Well, for one thing, he’s not really our king.”

“He isn’t?”

“No. He’s not from Marus. He’s from Palatia.”

“So?”

Sarah looked at Maddy impatiently. “They beat us in a war and killed our old king—King Jarrod—and now Willem says
he’s
our king, even though a lot of people here don’t like him. My father says he’s trying to turn Marus into Palatia.”

“Then why don’t the people throw him out?”

“We’re not strong enough.”

Maddy understood now. It was a little like Russia, where one side beat the other and took over everything. Something still didn’t make sense, however. “But Annison is from Marus, isn’t she?” she asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Then why is she marrying the king?”

“Because he’s the king and he said she has to,” Sarah answered simply.

“Oh.” Maddy suddenly felt sad that Annison was being forced to marry the king. That kind of story never had a happy ending in the fairy tales she’d read.

Sarah seemed to sense that more needed to be said and explained, “You see, the king was looking for someone to be his wife, and he made a command that all the prettiest girls in Sarum had to come to a big party he had here at the palace. Annison came, and she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he asked her to marry him.”

“Like Cinderella,” Maddy said.

Sarah looked blankly at Maddy. “What?”

“Cinderella.” Maddy was so relieved that she didn’t notice Sarah’s confused expression. “If this is like Cinderella, it might turn out all right.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maddy was still lost in her thoughts about the fairy tale. She asked, “Is Annison the daughter of a man who marries a terrible woman and has wicked stepsisters who make her work hard but won’t let her come to the royal ball?”

Sarah pondered the question for a moment, her mind trying to sort out what Maddy had just asked. “Nobody really knows anything about Annison,” she finally said, hoping it fit in somehow. “I heard she was an orphan who was raised in secret here in Sarum. My mother says she’s probably the descendant of one of our ancient kings and would have been queen anyway even if King Willem hadn’t conquered us. The king says she must be of royal lineage or she wouldn’t be so beautiful. My father says it’s just a move by the king to make the people of Marus like him better.”

Maddy thought about it for a moment and concluded excitedly that maybe she was there to help Annison escape from the king, and then she could marry her true love, who was probably a handsome country lad who was really the son of a nobleman.

A thin, storklike woman walked in. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her dress hung on her skeletal frame like tissues wrapped around a coatrack. She clapped her hands. “Attention, children, attention!” she called.

All the children suddenly formed into two rows. Maddy tried to stay behind Sarah in the back.

“Is everyone here?” the woman asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Leichter,” the children said in unison.

At the far end of the hall, a tall man entered. Maddy immediately remembered him from the parade. He was the one with a pockmarked complexion who looked bored and miserable. He made his way toward them. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he eyed them with the look of a vulture considering its next meal.

“Quickly,” Mrs. Leichter said when she saw the man coming. “It’s the king’s personal assistant. Let’s impress him with our singing by doing ‘Fair Maiden.’”

The children stood up straight and waited for their cue to begin. Mrs. Leichter raised her arms and brought them down quickly. The children began to sing a lively tune about a fair maiden who was lost and lonely but met a handsome prince on a deserted road and won him over with her purity. Maddy stayed in the back, pretending to mouth the words. The tune was so catchy, though, that by the fifth verse she knew the words of the chorus and found herself singing along:

“Fair maiden, fair maiden,” the prince said so sure,

“In all of my life there is no one so pure.

I’ll take you as bride, I’ll make you my queen

And rule o’er the land, and rule o’er the sea.”

What Maddy didn’t realize was that after the fifth verse, only the first half of the chorus was sung, with the rest of it hummed in harmony. So when the other children began to hum, she continued to sing loudly.

She realized her error right away but kept singing in hopes that it might not sound like a mistake. The other children began to giggle, however, and soon the song was completely undone.

Mrs. Leichter turned to the pockmarked man. “I’m so sorry, Lord Hector,” she said in humiliation.

Hector grunted. “I hope it’ll be improved before your performance tonight.” He sneered and strode away.

Mrs. Leichter screwed up her eyes angrily and looked at Maddy. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my choir?” she demanded.

“I’m Maddy.”

“But you don’t belong in my choir.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then I must ask you to step aside.”

“But she can sing,” Sarah said in her defense.

“I just heard her singing abilities,” Mrs. Leichter said. “And while her voice is lovely, she obviously doesn’t know the songs we’re going to sing for the king and our future queen.”

Maddy looked away sheepishly.

Mrs. Leichter flicked her hand at Maddy as if she were shooing a fly away. “Go on, my dear. If you wish to join our choir, have your parents come to the Academy and fill out the appropriate forms.”

Maddy stepped away from the choir.

“Good-bye,” Sarah said sadly.

“Good-bye.” Maddy turned away, worried that Mrs. Leichter or one of the servants would now step forward and escort her from the palace. Any hope she had of meeting Annison seemed to vanish.

Mrs. Leichter turned her attention back to her choir and called out, “Attention, children. We will sing ‘Fair Maiden’ again, but correctly this time.” She began to wave her hands, and the children started to sing as Maddy made her way across the Great Hall to the doors.

As she entered the long hallway again, it occurred to her that she had no idea of where to go. Worse, she realized she was being reckless. Why was she so desperate to see Annison? Why did the desire burn in her heart as it did? She’d had a dream, that was all. She had no reason to be there, no sensible excuse for wanting to meet Annison. It was all nonsense, Dreamy Madina lost in a fairy tale once again. What if her parents were worried about her at that very moment? What if they had the neighbors looking for her? She should leave the palace right away and find her way back home.

She intended to go. She really did. But at the very moment when
she turned in the direction of the front doors, a man stepped into the hallway from a side room. He was short and had white hair, a full, friendly mouth, and deep laugh lines around his eyes. He wore a dark blue coat with gold buttons and epaulets on his shoulders. Maddy thought he looked like a merry policeman.

“Hello, young lady,” he greeted Maddy pleasantly. “Are you lost?”

“No, sir,” Maddy replied.

He came closer. “Where are you going?”

“I wanted to go to Annison’s chambers,” she said honestly, but before she could finish her statement, the man interrupted her.

“Our future queen’s chambers? You have business there?”

“I wanted to meet her,” Maddy said.

The man seemed distracted, as if he hadn’t heard her properly. After a moment he suggested, “If you’re going to her chambers, you might be of service to me.”

“Me?” she asked.

He scrutinized her briefly. “Only if I can trust you. Can I trust you?”

Maddy nodded vigorously.

He wiggled a finger at her. “Come with me,” he instructed.

Maddy followed the man down the main hallway, down a smaller hallway to a quick left turn, and then down one more hallway to a door. It led into a small room with a writing desk and long shelves with papers piled up from end to end. The man bent down behind the desk and arose with a large vase of flowers. Red and pink carnations, Maddy thought, and yet they were somehow different from carnations she’d seen at home. Again, the colors seemed brighter, more intense.

“I would be grateful if you’d take these to her chambers,” the man said with a gentle smile. “Deliver them to Annison personally.
There’s a card for her inside. But when you give them to her whisper—and I mean
whisper
—that these are from Simet. Do you understand?”

“I’ll give these flowers to her personally and then
whisper
that they’re from Simet,” Maddy repeated.

“Good girl,” the man said.