A Tale of Two Castles(38)

In the great hall, King Grenville sat again at the dais. I knew he had left and returned, because his tunic was now blue. From here I couldn’t see if this tunic was also soiled.

Once inside, we all bowed or curtsied.

“Rise. Rise. No need for ceremony with me.”

I rose and looked around. White linen tablecloths, candelabra on every table, each candle already lit—during daylight! Oil lamps glowed along the walls and marched atop a line of stanchions between the serving tables and the long guest table. Roaring fires blazed in all three fireplaces. Only the sun itself could have cast more light.

A dog and a guard were stationed at each fireplace. The guests spread out, forming loose groups in the open area between the end of the long table and the door. I stood alone, wishing I could eavesdrop, but people were speaking too softly.

Nesspa barked as loud as a box of breaking pottery.

Master Thiel shouted, “Pardine!”

The cat dashed my way, then swerved to avoid me, but I grabbed him by the nape of his neck, and he hung from my hand, peaceable as a fur sack—peaceable, but with a leather purse in his mouth.

King Grenville cried, “What’s afoot?”

Princess Renn answered, “Just a cat, Father.”

I pried the purse from his teeth. Had Master Thiel taught him this trick? Was Pardine the only cat that knew it? Did Master Thiel indeed have my copper?

A red-faced Master Thiel hurried to me. He took Pardine, whispered in the cat’s ear, and set him down. The cat walked away from us in a snaking line across the hall. Master Thiel stayed at my side.

“That’s mine.” A man stood over me and held out his hand.

I gave him the purse.

The man was one of the two who resembled Master Thiel. He held the purse in a tight fist, and his voice was tight, too. “Father knew what he was about, Thiel.”

“Our honored father had the right to judge me, Frair, but . . .”

So this truly was one of Master Thiel’s brothers who’d inherited the mill and the mule.

“. . . Pardine is just a cat and—”

“Your cat.” Master Frair’s voice was harsh, a judge pronouncing judgment.

“My cat.” Master Thiel’s voice was velvet over a knife.

I felt afraid until Master Frair strode off to his goodwife.

And Master Thiel smiled down at me.

I smiled down at my shoes.

“Thank you for the rescue. Pardine has been carrying off this and that from my brothers since he was a kitten.”

From his brothers and no one else?

“Why, you’re the girl at Sulow’s mansion, the girl who portrayed Thisbe. Have you found a situation here?”

I nodded, a half-truth. “My name is Elodie,” I said, since he seemed to have forgotten.

“Too bad, Mistress Elodie. You should be a mansioner. Sulow never has anyone good in the child roles.”

Lambs and calves! If only I were five years older. “Did Master Sulow decide to take you and Pardine?”

“He refused, and so I have no master.”

“Thiel!” Princess Renn cried. “Come see the monkey on the wall. It is Jonty Um as a monkey. What a pretty monkey he makes.”

I had forgotten to keep my eyes on His Lordship! The count stood safely with Princess Renn, Sir Misyur, and Nesspa, who’d curled up at his master’s feet.

“Pardon me, Mistress Elodie,” Master Thiel said, bowing and leaving me.

When would he and I ever again converse?

As I watched the count and his companions, the princess ran her hand around the outline of the monkey and chattered and gestured energetically. Sir Misyur nodded along with her words. His Lordship stood erect, treelike, his expression unreadable. If he loved Princess Renn, I couldn’t tell.

If he was enjoying having visitors, I couldn’t tell that, either.

Master Thiel rocked back on his heels, hands behind his back, speaking, admiring the monkey, I supposed. Pardine padded to him and rubbed against his leg. He picked the cat up. Pardine and the ogre seemed not to notice each other, but Nesspa stood and shook himself.

I looked around at the other guests. What were the telltale signs of a poacher, a dog thief, a thief of castle sundries? I couldn’t guess.

Serving maids entered with trays of tiny meat turnovers. I wondered if I should begin my cupbearing, but no one told me to, so I remained where I thought I should be, closer to His Lordship than to my post on the dais.

Goodman Twah and Goodwife Celeste moved between me and His Lordship. I went to her side. Why? Because I liked her, because I felt safe in her presence, because I could see the count from here, because I distrusted her. I distrusted them all, but she was the only one I could approach.

She must have sensed me, for she put her arm around my shoulder without looking down. Her hand tapped out a light rhythm. Mother used to mark nursery rhymes for me just this way, with a soft hand on my head or my belly.

Sir Misyur spoke into His Lordship’s ear.

“Thank you all for coming,” Count Jonty Um boomed. He made an awkward try at a joke. “I cannot gather myself, so there could have been no gathering without you.”

“La! You are witty.”

A few people laughed politely.

“Where is the humor?” King Grenville said from the dais. “Renn and I were already here. He could have gathered us.”