A Tale of Two Castles(37)

To let her know I hadn’t tried to outdo her, I said, “I wasn’t searching. I was on the wall walk, practicing for the entertainment. He was tied there.”

She didn’t appear angry. “You are lucky. Jonty Um, isn’t she lucky?”

“I’m lucky.” He frowned, while continuing to pat Nesspa. “We searched the wall walk.”

I wondered if he himself had searched or his servants had. I looked away from the reunion. My masteress would want me to see everything. Behind the princess, a woman hovered, a woman in middle age, tall but not so tall as Her Highness, the woman’s cloak simple but falling in the loose folds of fine wool. The princess’s maid, I decided.

A princess’s maid could go unchallenged wherever she liked. She might have stolen Nesspa.

Count Jonty Um stood. “Misyur . . .” He beamed down at the man holding Sheeyen. “He’s unhurt.”

“I’m glad, Your Lordship.”

Was this a friend of the count’s? I scrutinized the gentleman: wide forehead, uplifted eyebrows, soft chin, swarthy skin. Warm smile, but that might mean nothing. Prosperous in a blue silk cap.

“Sir Misyur,” Princess Renn said, “might we add something to the feast to celebrate?”

Ah. Sir. This was His Lordship’s steward. A count’s steward would be noble, a knight or better.

His friendly smile widened. “What do you think, Your Highness?”

“A frumenty with flerr sauce. Jonty Um and I love it so. My father as well.”

A frumenty was an ordinary custard, but flerr berries grew only on high mountain bushes that rarely flowered. Their taste was said to be sweeter than honey, more mellow than hazelnut, and more perfumed than muskmelon.

Sir Misyur’s smile faltered. “The kitchen will do its best.” He led Sheeyen across the inner ward in the direction of the stable.

I heard hoofbeats from the outer ward.

“La! Jonty Um, your guests have arrived.”

“Nesspa, come.”

I followed His Lordship and the princess through the passage. We broke back into sunlight as the first wagon driver reined in his horses. Grooms took the bridles, and servants helped the guests step down.

A few people held squirming cats. I counted ten guests and three cats. I observed His Lordship for a frown at the cats, but his face had lapsed into blankness.

A second cart drew in. First to jump down was Goodwife Celeste’s husband, Goodman Twah. With his assistance, she descended.

I positioned myself behind a groom. I’d thought them too poor and not distinguished enough to be invited, but if they were indeed poor, today their cloaks were not—marten fur fringing the collars of both, and Goodwife Celeste’s was embroidered with green thread in a pattern of leaping cats. What did she mean by wearing a cat design?

She raised an arm to adjust her cap. Her fashionably long kirtle sleeve fell away, revealing a silver armband, and with it, her bracelet of twine.

A third cart rumbled across the drawbridge.

“La! Here’s Thiel!” The princess left Count Jonty Um’s side.

How could he be arriving, when he’d spent the night here? And how could he be a guest? Yet there he was, holding his cat Pardine as one might cradle a baby. The cat was decked out in a twine collar.

As usual, I blushed at the sight of him.

Gallantly, he let everyone descend ahead of him, seven men and women, three young children, and four cats. Two of the men stood as tall as he. Both were fleshier and older, but their eyes were gray, too, and their jaws strong despite plump jowls. Cousins? Brothers? Neither appeared wealthy, but their cloaks were respectable. By contrast, Master Thiel wore his usual threadbare tunic and no cloak. When he jumped from the cart, I saw he wore shoes today, poverty shoes, with a drawstring at the top, like mine.

Blushing, too, Princess Renn pranced to him. “Thiel! Such news we have! Jonty Um’s dog has been found. Joy!”

“Great tidings indeed,” he said, smiling and moving Pardine to his shoulder.

“Come! You must congratulate him. He will want to hear from you.” She took the sleeve of his tunic and, like an excited child, tugged him toward His Lordship.

Why would a count care what a miller’s son, a mere cat teacher, said? Why had Master Thiel been invited to the feast? Because of his noble blood?

Why had any particular one of them been invited? Had Count Jonty Um invited many more, and these were the only people who had accepted? Had they come as a confederacy against him?

“Your Lordship, I hope your companion has been restored to you in good health.”

“Welcome, Master Thiel. Yes, in good health.”

“Now Jonty Um is happy,” Princess Renn said, “and we all can be happy, too.”

Happy, I thought, except for the poaching, the thievery, and the hatred of the people of Two Castles. Happy, except for every cat wanting him to turn into a mouse. Strange happiness.





Chapter Twenty-One

I hovered on the fringe of the crowd as five more carts arrived, each one met by the count with a single nod and a stiff smile. He would never win them over with those. The monkey would have done better.

The mansioners rolled in after the last load of guests descended. His Lordship didn’t remain to greet Master Sulow, so I couldn’t see what interested me most, the mansioners and the lucky apprentices.