The Tale of Mally Biddle (19 page)

“How did it happen?” Gerda asked, sitting up a little straighter. “The stand was wobbly?”

Mally nodded.

“If you put your hand on it, it jerked and twitched all over the place,” said Lita. “Mally and I checked it when she came back from His Majesty’s chamber. I’m surprised nobody had noticed it before.”

“Which bust was it?” asked Gerda, frowning slightly.

“King Lumpkin,” Mally answered.

Unable to help herself, Lita moaned in false despair, “May Lumpy rest in peace!”

Mally rolled her eyes. Then she noticed Gerda’s frown.

“Why do you ask?”

Gerda glanced down the long room, making sure they were alone before saying in an undertone, “Because the day I fell, I put that pile of books and parchment on it to retie my hair. The stand didn’t twitch, Mally.”

“Are you sure it was King Lumpy’s?” asked Lita dubiously.

“Am I likely to forget his ridiculous wig?” Gerda asked. “I remember rolling my eyes at it when I picked all the books back up.”

“So if the stand was sturdy, how did the legs suddenly get u
nbalanced two days later?” wondered Mally.

Gerda and Lita glanced at each other, looking just as puzzled as Mally.

20
Gladys's Secret

Mally and Lita suspected that Gerda was really enjoying her time off from servant duties. She had many guests, bringing with them treats from Archie’s kitchen and the Sticky Finger Bakery.

“But you know what’s best?” Gerda told them one afternoon gleefully. “I don’t have to refill Bayard’s mug at dinner!”

Suddenly, a loud sneeze came from behind them. Standing in the doorway, rubbing his nose, was Nathan.

“Nathan, are you sick?” asked Lita.

“It’s probably nothing,” said Nathan thickly, stepping farther into the room.

“Let’s hope so, but you’re not leaving until Gladys has looked you over,” said Gerda in a suddenly demanding tone. “GLADYS!”

Mally and Lita stayed to watched Nathan get ‘looked over.’

“Cold,” said Gladys simply.

“Are you sure it’s just a cold?” Gerda pressed and Lita sni
ggered. “You can laugh,” said Gerda, rounding on Lita, “but a fever killed Princess Avona!”

“I’ll be fine, Gerda,” said Nathan, smiling as he pocketed a small bottle of tonic.

For some reason, Gladys suddenly looked disgruntled and flushed. After a short goodbye to them, she strode the length of the long room to her chamber and shut the door with a
snap.

Mally thought that she was probably barking up the wrong tree, but Gladys’s strange behavior had sparked her curiosity. Mally could have kicked herself for not considering Gladys as someone to question about the princess earlier. If anybody knew anything about the death of the princess it would be her. So she entered the sickroom an hour before dinner the day after Gerda returned to work.

Night had fallen and the sickroom was lit by candlelight. It was slightly spooky, walking down the long, deserted room, the ca
ndle’s light flickering about her. All the beds were empty and Mally was glad to have the chance to question Gladys alone.

“Gladys?” Mally called as she neared Gladys’s chamber at the very end of the sickroom. She knocked on the door. “Gladys? Are you in there?”

There was a slight scuffling and the door opened.

“Mally,” said Gladys, her eyes widening in surprise. She pulled her shawl more tightly about her shoulders. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Mally said, “I just had nothing to do and thought I’d take you up on that tarot reading. If this is a bad time …”

“It’s a perfect time!” Gladys cried happily. “Come in! Come in!”

She stepped aside and Mally walked into a small room that was divided into a sleeping and sitting area.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” exclaimed Gladys as she pulled a large stack of cards out from a drawer. “Is this your first reading?”

“Yes, it is.”

They sat at a small round table and Gladys pulled some candles closer.

“Now, do you have a question in mind?” Gladys asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Mally thought for a moment and nodded.

“Then take the cards, close your eyes and say it aloud,” Gladys whispered, positively quivering with excitement.

Mally took the cards in her hands and closed her eyes. She sat momentarily in silence and then a
sked very clearly, “Did Princess Avona die of a fever?”

“What kind of a question is that?” asked Gladys sitting up straight.

Mally opened her eyes and stared at Gladys across the table.

“One that I thought you might be able to answer.”
Gladys star
ted to wring her hands, her eyes darting about the room.

“Don’t know why I can—goodness, I’ve never—”

Mally leaned forward over the table and said quietly, “I’m the only one here, Gladys.

There was something you wanted to say about the princess d
ying of a fever yesterday. Tell me.”

Gladys looked terrified.

“I can’t!” she gasped.

“Why?” asked Mally.

Gladys mouthed silently, her eyes jerking from Mally to the closed door.

“Who are you afraid of?” Mally pressed.

Gladys jumped up as if she had been burned.

“Please leave!”

“No, Gladys!” Mally refused forcefully. “Did she die of—”

“SHHHHHH!”

Gladys rushed to the door, cracked it open and peered through it.

“
Are you trying to get us killed?
” she hissed, shutting the door.

“So she didn’t die of a fever,” said Mally.

“I never said that!” Gladys exclaimed.

“Then what’s the problem?” asked Mally irritably, losing her patience. “If she died of a fever then just say she died of a fever!”

Gladys stared at Mally opened-mouthed, her eyes wide and fearful. Then, as if steeling herself for an expected blow, she closed her mouth and swallowed.

“I never saw the baby,” she whispered.

Mally’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never saw her! I was never sent for!” Gladys wrung her hands violently, once again looking around the room as if e
xpecting to see someone leap at her.

Mally frowned and said slowly, “So if she were seriously ill …”

“Why was I never called for?” Gladys finished, her voice hushed in fear.

Mally looked around the dimly lit room, her brain working f
uriously. Gladys hadn’t been called to see to the ill princess? Had somebody
not
wanted her treated? Or had she been sick at all?

“Was she sick?” Mally asked Gladys quietly.

The ends of Gladys’s lacy shawl were caught between her fidgeting hands as she knotted and twisted them together.

“I don’t know,” she admitted finally, still speaking in barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Did someone threaten you to keep you quiet?”

At this Gladys looked like she might faint.

“Out! Out!” And with surprising strength, Gladys yanked Mally up and pushed her out the door.

***

Mally could hardly contain her excitement. After spending a month in the castle she’d found a clue. Her first clue! She couldn’t wait for Ivan to call a meeting. She had to find him. Now. But how was she going to enter the city? Thursday had already passed and she wasn’t interested in another night visit.

Luckily, that morning turned out to be strangely perfect for Mally.

A large windstorm had whistled through Bosc violently the night before and three giant oaks had been knocked over from the blast. Knowing that you can never have enough firewood, Meriyal ordered for the oaks to be cut up.

Trying to keep her face free of the glee she was feeling, Mally rushed over to Meriyal after she had given them the news over breakfast.

“Meriyal?”

“Walk with me,” Meriyal said abruptly. She left the Servants’ Chamber at a brisk stride and was soon standing on the front steps, watching the stable hands harness horses to wagons.

“I think you’re going to need another wagon,” Mally observed.

“Yes,” Meriyal nodded, “I think so too.”

“You know,” said Mally quickly, “this will probably go faster if they take my horse.”

Meriyal looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“And why is that?” she asked.

“He’s strong,” Mally answered simply. “He’d pull twice the amount as any of those horses. The work will be done in half the time. And I know Bob Kettle has more wagons. He’s the owner of Clip-Clop Stables—”

“I know who he is, thank you,” said Meriyal abruptly.

“Then you know he has more wagons that we could use,” Ma
lly pressed. “Really, the work will be done in half the time.”

Mally knew from the moment Meriyal began to twist her mouth that she had her. Meriyal could not resist efficiency.

“Go get your horse, then,” Meriyal ordered briskly. “And an extra wagon from Bob if he’s willing.”

Ten minutes later Mally had explained to Bob Kettle what she wanted to do and had enlisted his help. Instead of Mally going back to the castle, Bob would, giving Mally time to run to the Lone Candle. Mally suspected that Bob thought she had a thing for G
alen, for he had winked and said, “He’s a nice lad.” Blushing furiously and mumbling her thanks, she dashed down the road, heading for the Lone Candle.

A few late morning customers still lingered over half-empty tea cups and bacon rinds when she arrived at the inn. But one quick glance around the room told Mally that neither Galen nor Ivan were here. Instead, a boy around fourteen stood behind the bar—Edwin, Galen’s little brother. She had never actually spoken to Edwin and she watched his eyes widen at the sight of her.

She strode up to the bar and Edwin tensed.

“Hello,” said Mally cheerfully.

“Hi.” It sounded more like a hiccup.

Mally smiled slightly, thrown off by his strange behavior.

“Is Galen in?”

“He’s in the back,” Edwin answered jerkily. His eyes jumped about the room, looking highly nervous. “Do you want me to get him?” 

“Yes, please.”

With a few more pointed stares at the customers, Edwin disa
ppeared through the door behind the bar. Mally drummed her fingers on the bar nonchalantly and noticed uncomfortably that a woman and two men were watching her intensely. Then the door opened again and Edwin emerged with Galen.

“Mally, I thought you’d be back,” said Galen loudly, striding around the bar to her. “Archie certainly has a sweet tooth.”

And completely baffled, Mally was quickly led through the door behind the bar. Edwin followed them and shut it behind them. Mally stood once more in the kitchen and noticed that Galen had been washing again. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows.

“You should go back to the bar, Edwin,” said Galen.

Edwin looked scandalized.

“Are you kidding? You’re about to talk about rebel stuff!”

“I’ll tell you everything later,” Galen promised. “We can’t risk Mom coming in here,” he added pointedly.

Edwin seemed to find Galen’s reasoning acceptable and said enthusiastically, “I’ll keep watch!”

In a flash, he had wrenched the door back open and disappeared.

“He’s fun,” said Mally.

“Yes, he is.” Galen turned from her and put a skillet in the soapy washtub. “My mother doesn’t know I’m in the group, but Edwin found out the day I got back from my first meeting.” Galen grinned. “Kept me up all night before I finally told him. His suspicions are usually right on target.”

“He doesn’t look much like you,” Mally mused, cocking her head slightly and staring at Galen.

“He takes after my dad.”

“I haven’t met your father,” said Mally, slightly amazed that she had just now realized this.

“No, and you won’t,” replied Galen, scrubbing the skillet with added force. “He died two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mally said quietly. “My father’s dead too.”

Galen shot her a glance, his eyes both uneasy and soft. Mally thought he looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but he returned his focus to the skillet.

“Why haven’t you told her you’re in the group?” asked Mally, wanting to get away from the unpleasant subject of deceased pa
rents.

“She wouldn’t allow it,” Galen replied simply.

Mally could tell that this path wasn’t any better than the one they had just left and quickly asked with a raised eyebrow, “Archie likes sweets?”

At that Galen laughed and Mally grinned.

“Sorry about that, but some people tend to listen too much to other people’s conversations. And as a matter-of-fact, Archie often orders crates of our almond toffee. Everybody knows that.”

“Almond toffee, is that a candy?” Mally asked curiously.

“No, it’s a hot drink. You should have one some day,” said Galen, drying his hands on a dishcloth. “So, what brings you?”

Mally clasped her hands together excitedly and told him about the information she had pried from Gladys.

***

Sam was the prize of the morning. The stable hands that had been roped into cutting firewood found his impressive bulk, gli
stening coat, and calm temperament magnificent. By the time that Mally reached them, Bob Kettle was strutting about like the newly appointed King of Lenzar, knobby knees and all. 

“Fine Sam has shown them all,” Bob told Mally proudly. “He’s taken
three
loads to the castle already!”

“I feel bad leaving him in the meadow,” said Mally as Sam’s wagon was filled with split wood. “I’m glad he’s finally getting to do some work.”

Sam swung his head up and down, pawing the ground happily.

Mally stayed with Sam and helped split wood—she’d had a lifetime of experience back home and she was spurred on by all the glowing comments from Alfred Cass, the head stable hand, and the rest about Sam. By the time Sam had been returned to Bob’s stable and the last piece of wood had been stacked, the sun was steadily sinking into the horizon, bathing the sky in waves of crimson.