Eighteen

 

Princesses who danced their shoes to pieces? And a king who was so insistent upon knowing why that he would hire a man just to solve the mystery of the worn shoes?

Even as Vasco trudged up the road to the palace, away from the comfort of Kun's cottage, he shook his head in disbelief. He had seen the town of shoemakers, so he knew there was some truth in these princesses who wore out shoes faster than a soldier wore out boots, but there had to be more to this mystery than first appeared.

Why else would Kun have given him so much advice? She'd told him to refuse any food or wine that the princesses themselves did not consume. If he wanted to know what the girls did at night, he must enter their bedchamber before the door was locked – as though he dared enter a princess's bedchamber! Yet she'd told him to hide there, and wear the new cloak she'd given him, as though the black wool would conceal him completely in what would surely be a well-lit chamber. And to top it all off, she'd said he only had three days in which to solve the mystery, so if he ran into difficulties, he was to approach Princess Bianca, the pale beauty he'd espied at Kun's cottage, and ask her for help. As if such a highborn princess would stoop to assist someone as worthless as him.

But Kun had insisted, and he had repeated all of her advice, until she was satisfied that he remembered it all. Still, he didn't trust what he'd heard, so instead of approaching the front entrance as Kun had told him to, Vasco skirted the building until he found the servants' entrance, and knocked there, instead.

The maid who answered the door wore a dress far finer than anything the women in Vasco's village had ever owned. For a moment, his voice died in his throat as he wondered if he'd somehow arrived at a private entrance to the princesses' quarters instead.

Vasco's hands tightened around the hat he held level with his belt. "I came seeking work, and an old woman down the road told me the master of this house might have need of a man."

The girl's eyes held sympathy as she shook her head. "There is no position here that I know of. We are but a small household. I don't know why Mistress Kun would send you here. She of all people knows..." She swallowed. "Unless she sent you here to solve the mystery?"

Vasco gave a nod. "She did mention a mystery."

"Are you sure?" the girl asked. "You will only have three days, and no one else has managed to solve it in that time. You aren't like the others..."

The others being princes and lords, noblemen who were accustomed to being in the presence of princesses, Vasco assumed. Not common soldiers like him. Yet Kun had been confident he could do this thing.

"I must try," he said finally. "I have nothing else. No home, no family, and nothing to occupy me once the army had finished with me. Unless you can point me to somewhere else where I might find work, this is the only employment for miles around."

Now she looked almost pitying. "I understand. What is your name, soldier?"

"Vasco," he answered.

"I'm Gerel," she said. "I will tell the Lord Steward you are here. If there is no other suitor, he will introduce you to the princesses and you will be in their company for three days until you solve the mystery or are banished from this place. But...if you wish for company, or more plain fare than is served in the dining hall, or if the Lord Steward will not see you, I pray you will come to the kitchen. There will be a place for you at our table, for anyone who can tell us about what goes on outside the estate is welcome. We are very isolated here."

As isolated as his own village before it was wiped out, Vasco thought, though he couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud. Not to this pretty maid who had probably never seen any sort of violence in her life, much like the princesses she served. Gerel deserved to marry one of the manservants of the house and live in the shelter of such a great house, birthing babies who would grow to replace her in service once they were old enough. A life, a home and a living, with parents who would live until old age with such security. What more could anyone ask for?

It was more than Vasco could ever expect now, he told himself. A quick glance told him Gerel was still waiting for an answer. "Tell the Lord Steward I seek work. If he turns me away, then I will gladly enjoy your hospitality for a night, and tell you all I know of battles in the borderlands." He would have to censor his tale, and make the men sound more heroic than they truly were, he knew, but it wouldn't be the first time. No one wanted to hear stories of blood and death and tragedy, tainted by the darkness in his own head. If it would fill his belly for a night and perhaps the next day, he would spin tales of heroes so that those who had died in blood and pain might be remembered as more than they were in life. Perhaps it would even ease the spirits of those he had fought with, only to lose them to a stray arrow or well-placed spear.

Gerel pushed the door open wider, and beckoned him in. "Come sit in the kitchen while you wait. Cirina, the cook, will make you some tea, and maybe spare you a cake before they are sent up to the dining hall for the princesses."

To his surprise, Cirina soon had him ensconced on a seat by the fire, tea in one hand and cake in the other. Vasco hoped that Gerel was wrong and there would be a place for him in this household. He hadn't seen a single guard yet, and he didn't understand it. Surely princesses needed protection.

"The Lord Steward will see you now," Gerel said.

Vasco hurried to swallow his mouthful of cake. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, her eyes on the flagstones at her feet, as she led him out of the kitchen and into the house proper.

Tapestries lined the passageways, the colours increasingly vibrant, until they reached a richly carved door. Gerel knocked, then pushed the door open. "The man you sent for, m'lord," she said, gesturing for Vasco to enter.

The moment Vasco's worn boots touched the carpet inside the room, Gerel closed the door quietly behind him.

The Lord Steward sat in a throne-like chair raised up on a dais facing the door. Almost like a king, though the man's bald head bore no crown. His clothes were a mix of scarlet, purple and yellow silk, an eye-watering combination in any light, let alone a chamber filled with lit torches.

"What makes you think you can solve the mystery not even the king can solve?" the man asked.

Vasco bowed low, racking his brain for an answer that would satisfy the man. Something in Gerel's words struck him. "I am different to the others," he said.

The Lord Steward snorted. "Very well. You have three days to bring me a solution, or you die. I will present you to the princesses and – "

"Three days or die?" Vasco blurted out. Kun had neglected to mention this part.

And yet...

Since the day his village burned, he had gambled his life in every battle. At the end of each fighting day, either he or his enemies would lie on the battlefield to be food for crows. As a guard, he would need to be willing to lay down his life to defend his master and the master's family. How was this any different?

The Lord Steward made an impatient noise in his throat. "If I do not believe you are doing your best to uncover the mystery, it could be less than three days. My primary care is for the princesses, and if I hear a whisper of any untoward behaviour, or that you are wasting my time, your time will be up." He rose to his feet, smirking as though he liked the way he towered over Vasco from his high platform. "So, are you wasting my time now, or do you wish to meet the princesses? At one word from me, I can have you executed before you can draw breath to protest."

Vasco had no choice. At least his body would not become food for crows, and his death would be quick. Small comfort if he failed, but he did not mean to. "I would be honoured if you would present me to the ladies of the house," he said.

The man clapped his hands. "Excellent. But first, you must dress properly. The princesses will not allow you anywhere near them looking like some peasant." When Gerel cracked open the door, the Lord Steward said, "Take him to the guest dressing room and see that he is dressed."

Hoping he wouldn't have to wear the same garish colours as the Lord Steward, Vasco followed Gerel out.