Born to Rule (4 page)

“Princess Kristen,” the duchess said, “you are from the Realm of Rolm, are you not?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Princess Kristen said demurely, and lowered her eyes.

“Would you like to share with us some of your interests from that sea-bound realm? What kind of activities do you enjoy?”

“You mean sports?” Kristen asked.

“If you must. I was thinking more along the lines of art, but yes, sports. What do you like?”

Kristen once more cast her eyes down primly. But Alicia and Gundersnap, who sat on either side of her, could see a sly smile steal across her face.

“I’ll tell you what I like. I like a well-rigged sailboat in a thumping gale. I like going fast as a scalded cat down the Channel of Salt Tears, then rounding the mark before my brother, and yelling as I pass him by, ‘Suck wind, sucker!’”

The Duchess of Bagglesnort drew out her fan and started to fan herself rapidly. “Smelling salts! Smelling salts!” she cried. A maid ran up with a jeweled vial, uncorked it, and began waving it under the duchess’s nose. Meanwhile, the other princesses at the table kept their eyes riveted on Kristen.

“‘Suck wind, sucker’? You said that to your brother, a prince?” asked an astonished princess.

“You bet your diamond-splattered bodice!” Kristen shot back with a broad grin.

“Princesses, Princesses!” gasped the Duchess of Bagglesnort. “This conversation is not sparkling.”

But it is, thought Alicia as they began to eat. Although she would never use such language herself, she was secretly thrilled by her new friend’s boldness. How glad she was that Kristen was her turretmate!

After dinner a trumpet blew a fanfare. The Queen Mum stood up from her throne at the far end of the longest banquet table, where the third-year princesses sat. The Camp Mistress was even taller than Alicia remembered. A large powdered wig with puffs of hair piled up on her head like towering clouds added to her height. “Welcome, Princesses, to our first official banquet of the camp season. You know your teams for the Color Wars. There shall be exciting contests and competitions throughout our first two-week session and in each of the sessions thereafter. The winning team shall be celebrated in song and dance and even embroidery. Your accomplishments and triumphs shall be stitched into the camp tapestry. You, campers, shall stitch one panel during needlepoint for each session under the superb guidance of our needlepoint counselor, Lady Merry von Schleppenspiel.”

“Needlepoint?” whispered Kristen to Gundersnap. “Why not a nice big trophy for the winner?”

“Yes, a trophy, much more practical, I think,” Gundersnap added.

“If the weather cooperates,” the Camp Mistress continued, “one of our biggest activities for this session shall be songbird catching in the Forest of Chimes. Autumn is the best time to catch these lovely creatures. So as soon as the first leaf turns, all new princesses will dash out to find a bird. And when you catch one, you shall begin training it. Remember, the songbird contest is the most important event of the first session’s Color Wars. It is our belief here at Camp Princess that if one can teach a songbird to sing beautifully, one can lead a nation. Remember, Princesses, you were born to rule!”

Gundersnap whispered, “‘Born to rule.’ I like that!”

The tiny Princess Myrella leaned forward. “My cousin from the Kingdom of Blitzen was camp champion in the songbird contest for three years running,” she said.

“Is she here this year?” Kristen asked.

“Oh, no. She’s preparing for her wedding. She is to marry the King of Glenbyrren.”

Gundersnap whispered in Alicia’s ear, “A puppet king. My mother invaded that country two years ago. She really runs the place.”

“Oh!” Alicia said quietly. She was not sure if she would really like Gundersnap’s mother, Maria Theresa, Empress of All the Slobodks.

The Queen Mum was saying, “Tonight after dinner the Third Years shall give a concert for us in the Hall of Music with their birds—birds they found in their first year. You shall be amazed how well the Third Years have taught their birds to sing. And soon you too shall be as skillful in teaching your songbirds.

“But now for dessert.” The Queen Mum raised a long white hand in the air and snapped her fingers. Attendants extinguished the largest candles. A long “aaah” and gasps of amazement followed as two lines of footmen entered. Each one held an elaborate fantasy of spun-sugar cakes and molded ice creams. Set atop these delectable structures were sparkler wands fizzing with light.

“It’s the
Great Ship Maude!
How totally ice!” exclaimed Kristen as a dessert was set before her. This was apparently a Sea of Salt Tears expression.

“It’s Heart’s Purr,” said Myrella as another footman gave her a spun-sugar castle. The castle appeared to float on a pond with water lilies made of frosting.

“The Belgravian Gardens,” Alicia said as a wave of homesickness overcame her. “The swans are so lovely.”

“And the fourteenth regiment of the Grand Grenadiers. Oh, look, even little cannons! It’s the battle of Pliny Field. Very important.” Gundersnap bent forward to examine her dessert. “Ooh, the cavalry looks yummy!”

“Who wants a sail? I think they’re made of marzipan,” Kristen said as she dismantled the
Great Ship Maude
by pulling out its chocolate mast.

“Why was that particular battle so important, Princess Gundersnap?” Alicia asked.

“A very savage king was defeated. He enslaved all the people. Even children were forced to work for notting, and the whipping boy’s family received no pay.”

“Whipping boy!” Kristen almost shrieked. “Hello! That went out a couple of centuries ago.”

Alicia turned to Gundersnap. “Do any royal households still employ whipping boys? It’s so…so…so Dark Ages.”

But Gundersnap had turned quite red. “Well, I think it has, for the most part.”

Alicia had the most dreadful feeling that perhaps the Empress of All the Slobodks still employed a whipping boy to receive the beatings for the small crimes and mistakes of any royal child. She knew that Gundersnap had fifteen brothers and sisters, so they probably had to have at least two or three whipping boys. The more Alicia heard about the Empress Maria Theresa, the less she liked about her.

After dessert the princesses followed the Queen Mum to the Hall of Music. The third-year princesses sat on a stage, each with a caged bird on her lap. The first to perform was Princess Kinna from the Queendom of Mattunga, a beautiful princess with skin the color of dark cinnamon. She wore her hair in a cascade of hundreds of braids.

“How many braids do you think she’s wearing?” Kristen whispered.

“One hundred forty-eight,” Princess Rosamunde answered. “It’s the fashion in the Queendom of Mattunga.”

“Queendom?” Alicia asked.

“Yes, only women are allowed to rule.”

Princess Kinna took her bird from its cage. She gave the bird a small signal and it opened its beak. A long stream of notes poured forth. At certain points Princess Kinna joined the bird in song.

It was a stunning performance. Alicia gasped as the music ended. Yes, indeed, if one could lead a songbird to sing so beautifully, one could lead a nation to greatness, Alicia thought proudly. There was loud applause.

“Inspiring!” the Queen Mum exclaimed. Onstage she congratulated Princess Kinna. Then she turned to the audience. “It can be done, miladies. It can be done!”

But Alicia was worried. She was good at a lot of things, and she was musical, but could she do this? The idea of the contest being so important made her nervous. Very nervous.

That evening Alicia felt a chill in her room that added to her unease. She lit her special reading candle. It had a small hood so no one could see the light from under her door.

She snuggled beneath her velvet blankets and ran her hand lightly over her book’s tattered cover, embossed with gold scrolling that had long ago lost its gleam. She opened the book, read a few lines, and sighed with utter delight. Yet she was still mystified. Why had these two lovers been separated?

Their love was so deep it was almost painful. The Forgotten Princess enchanted Alicia, and she read a few more lines before her eyes began to close. Suddenly worn out by all of the evening’s excitement, she tucked the book under her pillows and fell deeply asleep.

From the window, a sliver of moonlight stole across her face as the clock began to chime midnight, and something cold brushed against her cheek. Someone seemed to whisper into her dreams, “There is more to my story. You must help….”

By morning she had forgotten the words, forgotten even her dreams. But still she had awakened with the odd feeling that there had been a presence, or perhaps a visitation, as she slept.

Chapter 5

A MYSTERY IN STITCHES

Princesses always had breakfast in bed. It was a custom in most kingdoms to avoid “the morning’s royal crankies.” But the crankies returned in full force when Kristen and Gundersnap were informed by Gilly that their first activity would be needlepoint.

“Borrrrring!” said Princess Kristen.

“Vee haven’t von anyting yet!” said Princess Gundersnap. “Vot is there to stitch about?”

Alicia simply yawned. It was still winter, and she was feeling lazy. As much as she loved to embroider, she would much rather curl up with her book and sip hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream by a cozy fire.

But off to needlepoint they went.

“Gently, gently, Princess Kristen. You’re not on a hunt heaving a spear into a wild boar. This is needlework.” There were muffled giggles from all of the princesses who sat at the large embroidery frame as they began to stitch the background for the camp tapestry.

The needlepoint counselor, Lady Merry von Schleppenspiel, was an enormous lady. She did not simply have double chins, but quadruple, quintuple, octogubble chins.

Alicia silently counted them as she stole glances from the portion of the panel she had been assigned to work on. There were indeed eight chins. The woman was of enormous girth, and the seams of her sea-blue silk dress appeared ready to split. Her fingers looked like sausages. Her feet poked out under the ruffled hem of her dress. They were tiny but oozed out over the edges of her shoes.

Alicia frowned at her work. She was proud that Lady von Schleppenspiel thought she was ready for the complicated split stitch, which was usually left for the third-year princesses. But it was very difficult. She had had to pick out the threads from the feather of a bird in the Forest of Chimes three times now.

“Princess Kristen, I gave you the snow daisies. Those are easy. It’s a straight simple stitch,” Lady von Schleppenspiel said gently.

“Maybe for you, Lady von Schleppenspiel. But my hands are accustomed to holding an oar or a jousting lance,” Kristen replied. Then under her breath she added, “This sucks!”

There was a wave of tittering from the other princesses. “Yes,” Kristen continued. “In the Realm of Rolm, girls
can
joust. They
can
also sail boats and ride on boar hunts if they are so inclined. And I am. I don’t give a pinch for the needle arts and all that. Give me a lance, a spear, or a sword. Those are my needles!”

“Well, my dear.” Lady von Schleppenspiel cocked her head so that several of her chins seemed to slide off to one side. “If you don’t finish the tapestry, it shall never be displayed, and since I am the needlepoint counselor, it is my job to see that it is completed. Just look around you when you walk through the castle and you will see our camp history. All the tapestries for all the hundreds of years of Camp Princess have been finished.” Lady von Schleppenspiel paused for effect. “All except one, that is.”

“Why wasn’t it finished?” asked Alicia, suddenly interested.

“Oh, if it’s true, it’s rather a sad story.”

“Do tell us, please!” Princess Gundersnap asked in a pleading voice.

“Yes, do!” said Princess Kinna.

“Princess Kinna of the Queendom of Mattunga, you as a Third Year have heard this story many times, I would imagine.”

“Yes, but it is a lovely story, Lady von Schleppenspiel.”

“It is a story as unfinished as the tapestry,” replied Lady Merry.

“Go on!” the other princesses urged.

“Well…” Lady von Schleppenspiel sighed. “It was said that more than a century ago, a princess with a broken heart took refuge here. No one knows why her heart was broken or why she came to Camp Princess. Some say that she had been a camper here in her youth. In any case, when she returned she became the needlepoint counselor. Her stitches were supposedly magnificent—tiny, tight, and they gleamed. But she never laughed or smiled, and she hardly ever ate. She wasted away until finally she died of a broken heart.”

A hush fell over the room. Needles stopped moving, and sighs could be heard coming from more than a few princesses.

Lady von Schleppenspiel broke the silence.

“The oddest part,” she continued, “is that year’s tapestry vanished. It simply disappeared within an hour of the princess’s death.”

“Was it stolen?” Princess Gundersnap asked.