AS PEONY DID HER BEST to soothe Lionel Longbeard, Horrington Wells raised an eyebrow. “Do I understand that you’re one of the princesses, child?”
“I’m the youngest,” Peony told him. “Well – baby Vicenzo’s the youngest now, of course.”
“A boy?” Horrington was surprised.
“He’s the sweetest baby!” Peony’s face lit up. “I just wish I could play with him—”
She was interrupted by the sound of clanking and rattling, and a moment later the dungeon door swung open and the prime minister edged inside. He looked round nervously, and cleared his throat.
“Princess Peony,” he began, but got no further. Peony had jumped to her feet when she heard the door being unlocked, and now she ran to him and clutched at his arm.
“Skeldith! Dear Mr Skeldith! Have you come to let Mr Longbeard out?”
Skeldith cleared his throat a second time. He was of the decided opinion that visiting a dungeon was not something a man in his position should be asked to do. The king, however, had been insistent.
“I regret to say, Princess, that is not the message His Majesty wished me to convey. His Majesty wished me to ask if you were sorry for your – ahem! – behaviour. If that is the case you may return to the palace. Ahem. And His Majesty would, I was instructed to say, expect a personal apology in the morning.”
“An apology?” Peony stared at him. “Whatever for? All I did was ask him to set Mr Longbeard free!”
Skeldith coughed. “Ahem. I can only repeat His Majesty’s message, Princess.”
Peony took a deep breath, marched to an empty bed and sat down. “Tell my father I’m staying here. I’m not leaving until Mr Longbeard leaves with me.” And she folded her arms.
The prime minister was horrified. “But Princess—” he began.
“No.” Peony shook her head. “I’ve made up my mind.” Seeing Skeldith’s expression, she fished in her pockets for a pencil. “I’ll write a message, and then you won’t have to tell Father yourself. Has anyone got a piece of paper?”
Horrington produced an old envelope from the depths of his battered tunic. “Here, child.”
“Thank you.” Peony took the envelope and began to write while Skeldith stood waiting, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
Lionel Longbeard pushed aside the blankets, looking anxious. “Princess! There’s no need for you to stay here—”
“There is,” Peony said. “I’ve got to make Father listen.” She finished her last sentence with a decisive full stop and held the envelope out to Skeldith. “Tell him this is from me.” She gave the prime minister a doubtful look. “You will give it to him, won’t you?”
Skeldith took the envelope with relief. With luck he could hand it to the king then remove himself with sufficient speed to avoid the inevitable explosion. “Of course, Princess.” He turned and scurried out.
Peony shook her head sadly. “Poor Skeldith. He’s scared of Father.” She sighed. “It’s because Father gets into such terrible rages … and when he’s in a rage he threatens all kinds of things. He doesn’t really mean them, though.” She saw Lionel Longbeard’s face and paused. “But he does, doesn’t he? Oh dear.” She turned to Horrington. “Tell me truthfully – do you think my father’s a tyrant? I’m beginning to have a horrible feeling that he might be.”
Horrington took his time considering his answer. “Most kings like to have their own way, child.”
Peony was very still.
“I see,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Yes. I see. I expect you thought it would be rude to say yes … but I understand.”
Horrington looked at Peony with concern. “Princess, are you all right?”
“Yes…” Peony sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Yes,” she said more firmly. “And I did say I wanted to widen my mind.” She sniffed again. “The lady in the library told me how books can do that, Mr Longbeard.”
“Miss Denzil?” The librarian brightened. “Have you seen her? Is she well?”
Peony managed a watery smile. “Yes … I saw her this afternoon! That’s why I’m here. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I ran to tell Father—”
“And he didn’t listen,” Lionel said, and the light in his eyes died. “I’m afraid you’re wasting your time, Princess.”
Peony stood up straight. “I’m not. And I’m not scared of Father. I won’t leave until he sets us all free.” She glanced at Horrington. “I’m sorry, I never asked you why you’re here. Have you been here long?”
Horrington gave a wry smile. “Long enough. I foolishly believed that your father might wish to employ a jester.”
“A jester?” Peony shook her head. “Oh dear. Father hates jokes.”
“So I discovered. He said he would only give me the position of court jester if I could make him laugh, and I failed. Dismally. My last joke offended him so much he sent me here.”
Peony looked at him with interest. “What was the joke?”
“Why is a king like a child at school?”
“Ummm…” Peony thought of Miss Beef and her endless list of dos and don’ts. “Because … because… I can’t guess. Something to do with being a good ruler?”
Horrington chuckled. “That would have been a better answer, perhaps. No, I told him that a king and a child at school both need to study their subjects well if they wish to grow old and wise.”
Peony blinked. “Ah… No. He wouldn’t care for that at all. What was it you said – that kings like to have their own way? Father thinks he’s always right.” She stared into the flickering flames of the fire. “It would do Father good to be a little wiser, wouldn’t it?”
“We could all do with being a little wiser,” the jester said, and Lionel Longbeard snorted.
“Some more than others,” he said sourly.
