The Tale of Mally Biddle (18 page)

Sir Anon seemed pleased with that. He stepped closer to her and raised the candle higher so that her face was in clear view.

“I hope your mother and father don’t miss you too much?”

“I’m an orphan,” Mally said quickly.

Why was he looking at her like that? It was as if his eyes were trying to memorize every detail of her face. They were barely inches apart. Mally longed to step backward, but knew it would be impolite.

“I suggest you return to your quarters, Miss Biddle,” said Sir Anon abruptly. “And in the future, may I recommend a cup of deep sleep tea? I believe Rosa McGriff has a large supply.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Mally, gratefully stepping away from him and curtsying. “I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She turned and hurried down the corridor. Before she made to pull the tapestry from the wall, she glanced down the corridor where she’d left Sir Anon, but he was gone—or perhaps the candle had simply been extinguished.

***

“Your shoulder is completely healed and the bruising to your side is much improved,” Gladys proclaimed.

Mally rolled down her sleeve and stood.

“So you don’t need to see me anymore?”

“No, but of course I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to drop by.”

Mally smiled. Gladys had been asking Mally every day to sit for a tarot reading. (“I’m not very good, mind, but it’s fun.”)

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Mally, grinning as she left the sickroom.

Sir Anon stood a few feet from the sickroom door, gazing out of one of the tall windows.

“Sir Anon,” Mally greeted him with a curtsy.

Sir Anon nodded.

“Miss Biddle.”

Mally walked past him, glad that he didn’t want to talk. It had been three days since her late night excursion and at first she had been terrified that he had told someone, but Molick had not sent for her again.

In the following weeks, life continued normally. Mally could hardly believe she had been in the castle for a month. Archie had finally calmed down over Mally’s personal guard, she hadn’t bumped into Bayard, and she hadn’t heard anything from Galen and Ivan. Lita’s annoyance or anger seemed to have burnt out, but she still hadn’t told Mally what had caused it, and Mally didn’t care to ask for fear that it would bring back her mood. A happy, cheerful, talkative Lita was much more pleasant to be around. Du
ring her errands into the city, Mally kept her eyes open for the watching knight and on the last Thursday, she hadn’t seen him once. She hadn’t noticed any knight watching her in the castle, either.

But then, maybe he didn’t like following her on mushroom hunts.

Mally had heard all about Archibald Diggleby her first week as a servant. From the stories, he seemed picky, stubborn, recl
usive, and brilliant. Mally had heard quite a few well-chosen curses thrown about with Archie’s name attached, but she’d never heard anyone wishing him gone. His talent for food and drink made up, it seemed, for his difficult manner.

Mally thought it strange and out of character that a person who greatly disliked people in his kitchen was perfectly happy if she were present. She was often being tracked down at his request. Lita found all this wonderful.

“He’ll give you anything!” she said ecstatically, after Betty had told Mally Archie wanted to see her. “Do you know what’s in that cellar?”

“He’s shown me around,” said Mally evasively. She hadn’t told Lita about her late night excursion through the cellar trap door.

“Gooseberry wine, blackberry mead, five-year-old cheddars the size of wagon wheels!” Lita rolled off excitedly. “Cases of stouts, bitters … the Christmas wheat!”

“Christmas wheat, what’s that?”

“Just the best beer ever!” she cried jubilantly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We don’t usually get to drink a lot of it. Archie makes it for the knights and the king, but he’ll sometimes give us a little sampling. Say, do you think Archie would let me tag along when you go mushroom hunting? It sounds fascinating. I’d love to learn.”

“I don’t know. He’s awfully protective about that.”

“You don’t have to say that twice,” said Lita dryly as they made their way down the kitchen corridor. “But he loves you. He’d give you anything.”

Mally scrunched up her nose at Lita as they headed toward the kitchen.

Archie called on her whenever he wanted mushrooms. She had already been sent to fetch large basketfuls of black bonnets, angel wings, shaggy ink caps, and slippery jacks—all of which had taken hours. This visit was no different.

“I need flat-footed ogres,” yelled Archie the moment she and Lita had entered the kitchen.  “Five basketfuls. And I need them no later than two hours before dinner.”

“That doesn’t give me much time,” said Mally, slightly annoyed.

“There was a slight change of plans,” Rosa gasped over her shoulder as she kneaded a huge mass of dough.

“Hey, hey, Archie?”

Archie’s sweaty face swung around.

“You wouldn’t mind if I went with Mally, would you?” asked Lita, smiling broadly. “She could teach me how to pick mushrooms. Two hunters are better than one.”

Archie was starting to look frazzled. The kitchen was a wreck of chopped vegetables, half-beaten eggs, and marinating meat. A dribble of dough dangled from his mustache. 

“Fine!” he snapped, his mustache bristling. “I don’t care. Just get me those ogres!”

Two minutes later, baskets in hand, Lita and Mally headed to the forest that lined the southern side of the castle.

“So, where are we to find flat-footed ogres?” asked Lita happily. Mally was sure that she was thrilled to be outside instead of shining suits of armor.

“The forest,” said Mally. “They like it cool and shady.”

“What do they look like?” Then Lita chuckled. “Like an ogre’s foot?”

“Well, you just wait and see.”

They entered the forest and searched the thick, leafy floor. Lita didn’t see a thing, but after a few minutes of slow inspection, Mally found one.

“
This
is a flat-footed ogre,” said Mally, picking it and holding it out to Lita.

“Ugh!”

Mally felt that
ugh
did it justice. A brown, dusty mushroom, flat-footed ogres were around the size of a fist. Small round protrusions adorned one side. They disturbingly resembled toes. 
“I don’t much like how they look either,” Mally admitted as she placed it in a basket. “But they taste good.”

It took a while, but Lita got over her squeamish attitude and had great fun scurrying from tree to tree, yelling for Mally to make sure she had f
ound the right ones.

“The good thing about ogres is that they’re so distinctive,” said Mally. “Unlike fairy caps and amanitas.”

“Aren’t those identical?” asked Lita as she searched the ground with great intensity.

“Almost. The differences are very subtle.”

“So I doubt Archie will let me handle fairy caps in the near future?” asked Lita grinning.

“No, I don’t think so,” Mally agreed laughing.

Once their baskets were full of the ugly mushrooms, Mally and Lita returned to the castle where they dropped off their load to an even more frantic Archie.

“What’s going on?” Lita muttered to Mally. Stunned, they watched him and Rosa running back and forth—spoons swinging through the air like swords, knives chopping and slicing with vi
gor.

“Rosa, what’s the matter?” asked Mally as Rosa dashed to the herb cupboard.

“Didn’t you hear?” Rosa gasped. “Molick’s returning today.”

“Returning?”

Mally and Lita looked at each other blankly.

“I didn’t know he had gone,” said Lita.

“I don’t think he was gone very long.” Rosa was now frantically digging through brown bags, pulling out dried herbs. “We were just told this morning. The entire dinner had to be changed. King Salir told us to cook his favorite as a welcome home.”

“Rosa! Stop talking and get over here!” Archie yelled from the stove. Rosa jumped, clasped her herbs to her chest and rushed to him.

“Welcome home?” Lita snorted. “I’d like to see anyone who’s glad he’s back.”

19
Fallen King

“Where d’you think he went?” asked Mally as she and Lita mopped the great hall. After they had delivered Archie his mus
hrooms, Meriyal had pressed mops and buckets into their hands.

“I don’t know,” Lita replied, sloshing her mop about carelessly. “He doesn’t exactly share his plans with us over tea.”

“But I had no idea he had gone,” Mally continued. “If the king leaves, wouldn’t everyone be notified?”

Lita chuckled.

“Everyone? Don’t you mean the
court
? We lowly servants are just expected to keep everything clean and warm. Meriyal probably knew. Shame she didn’t think about sharing the good news with us.”

“I wonder when he’s going to arrive.” Mally glanced at the huge wooden doors, expecting them to burst open any second. Molick scared her. She felt more at ease now that she was no lon
ger being watched, but Molick had put her on edge.

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

Mally and Lita spun around.  Lita’s mop knocked into the bucket of soapy water sending bubbles and suds flying. They stared, open mouthed as Gerda tumbled down the giant staircase. Mally and Lita rushed up it and reached her just as she managed to stop herself. Books, parchment, and ink were scattered all over the stairs.

“Are you all right?” asked Mally, bending down to help Gerda up.

“I-I think so—oh!” Gerda tried to stand fully before grasping the banister. “My ankle. I don’t think I can stand on it!”

“What’s going on?”

Mally looked up and saw Christopher descending the stairs at a run.

“Gerda fell.”

“
Look at this mess!”

All four of them turned and saw Meriyal standing aghast at the bottom of the stairs, the hem of her dress wet from the large pools of spilt water. She caught sight of the littered staircase, ink slowly dripping over the edge of one stair, and her glare deepened.

“Gerda fell, Meriyal,” said Mally quickly, sensing an impending explosion.

“
Fell?
”

Lita took a step back to bring Gerda into Meriyal’s view.

“I was carrying too much,” Gerda cried angrily as Meriyal climbed the stairs to them. “I couldn’t see—I must have missed a step.”

“Her ankle’s hurt,” said Lita.

Meriyal’s piercing gaze swept over Gerda before she ordered, “Christopher, Mally, take her up to Gladys. Lita, help me clean this mess.”

Mally and Christopher supported Gerda between them, and they slowly climbed the stairs and helped her hobble to the fifth floor.

“Stupid.
Stupid
mistake,” Gerda kept repeating vehemently under her breath.

“Almost there, Gerda,” said Christopher as they rounded a co
rner and made their way down the corridor with high arching windows.

“Gladys!” Mally yelled as they entered the sickroom. “GLADYS!”

There was a clatter and Gladys emerged from a room in the far back.

“What is it?” she asked, rushing to them as Mally and Christ
opher lowered Gerda onto a bed. After they had explained what had happened, Gladys closely inspected Gerda’s ankle before saying, “Twisted. You’re staying with me for a while, dear.”

“Twisted?!” Gerda exclaimed. “But I have to serve tonight!”

“Betty can serve,” said Christopher firmly.

Gerda moaned in a mixture of frustration and pain. 

***

The next morning, Mally and Lita went to the sickroom to check on Gerda. But upon arrival, they found Gerda already su
rrounded by Nathan, Joan, and Betty. Mally and Lita took seats on Gerda’s bed.

“Are you in much pain?” asked Mally in concern, for Gerda was frowning unpleasantly.

“Not terribly now, no,” said Gerda. Then she stared down at the porridge in her hands and her mouth twisted.

“You need to eat it,” said Nathan.

“But I hate porridge.”

Nathan smiled like he was sharing a silent joke with Gerda. She returned the smile slowly. Lita coughed loudly.

A faint blush rose in Gerda’s cheeks and she quickly turned to Betty.

“I hope serving those louts wasn’t too bad.”

“Not any worse than I would have expected,” said Betty. “Molick spent the whole time babbling about the weather in Halspeare.”

“Halspeare?” Mally exclaimed.

Betty, Nathan, and Gerda looked at her in surprise.

“Yes, that’s where he’s been,” said Betty.

Shortly after, they left Gerda to begin their duties, but Mally could barely concentrate. There couldn’t be any other reason for him to go to Halspeare so soon after questioning her. But why hadn’t she been roused from her bed upon his arrival? Why wasn’t she being dragged to the dungeons for lying to the court?

She was a nervous knot as she and Lita set about polishing statues on the floor of the Great Hall. Lita hadn’t said a word to her since they had left the sickroom. Perhaps she sensed the wave upon wave of tension radiating off Mally and didn’t want to get too close for fear of catching whatever was plaguing her.

Mally lowered her rag and stared at the statue of King Julian. Up above her ran the second floor where more busts sat on more stands, their stone eyes staring blankly over the banister into the great hall below.

Mally’s shoulders tensed suddenly as she heard a pair of boots walking up behind her. Was it Molick? Was it a knight? She couldn’t bring herself to look.

“MALLY! WATCH OUT!”

Mally looked up just as she was yanked away. There was an earsplitting
crash,
panicked yells, and booming orders for silence. Mally blinked her eyes and looked up at the person holding her tightly—her stomach dropped.

“Are you all right?” asked King Salir.

For a moment, Mally merely stared and his grip on her arms tightened painfully.

“Are you—”

“Yes,” Mally gasped breathlessly. “Yes, Your Highness. I-I think I am.”

He released his hold and took a step around her. She turned to see what he was looking at and felt the floor under her tilt. Where she had been standing seconds before were the ruined remains of a statue.

“Are you all right?”

This time it was Lita gripping her elbow. With difficulty, Mally dragged her eyes away from the wreckage and stared into Lita’s wide, frightened ones instead.

“The bust of King Lumpkin,” said King Salir quietly, but everyone in the great hall heard him clearly. Everyone watched him as he picked up what appeared to be a stone nose. He looked up to where the bust had fallen. The banister on the second floor ran some twenty feet overhead and leaning over it were Christopher, Nanette and Sir Anon.

“It must have fallen off its stand, Your Majesty,” Nanette yelled down, looking just as white as the stone’s remains.

“Mally, are you okay?” called Christopher.

“Yes,” she replied shakily.

“This stand, sir,” came Sir Anon’s voice, slightly muffled as he was inspecting its legs, “the legs are off balance. Very wobbly.” He straightened. “It looks to me like it was only a matter of time before the bust fell.”

“Thank you, Sir Anon,” King Salir replied. “If someone could clean this, and then I would appreciate it if all stands holding sta
tues were inspected”—his eyes shot to Mally—“I don’t want this to happen again.”

There was a great murmuring of agreement and a frantic scu
rrying to clean the mess. King Salir walked up to Mally.

“That must have been a shock,” he said. “You’re new here, are you not?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Forgive me. I’ve been a terrible employer.” He gave a slight bow. “Come.”

Mally stared stupidly. Lita pushed her slightly and Mally, her feet tripping over themselves, followed King Salir out of the great hall.

She didn’t know what to do, what to say. Thanks for saving my life? Because if he hadn’t pulled her out of the way—if she had been hit—

She couldn’t think about it. Her stomach turned queasily at the mental images. It was much, much better
not
to think about it.

The king didn’t say anything as they walked through the castle. He didn’t even look at her. She had no idea where he was taking her or
why
. Then, on the fifth floor he stopped before a large lavishly engraved door. Mally’s heartbeat quickened.

“I believe a drink would do you good,” King Salir said, ope
ning the door to his chamber for her. “You are much too pale.”

Mally couldn’t imagine refusing, so she entered. The first thing that caught her eye was two large portraits. She knew who they must be even though she had never seen them before: King Seba
stian and Queen Amara.

“Do you like them?” asked King Salir, following the direction of her gaze. “They were painted by a very acclaimed artist.”

“Yes, very much, Your Majesty.”

Mally took a step toward them. King Sebastian had a pr
onounced face with a short beard. His light brown hair hung in curls about his kind yet stern face. Queen Amara, on the other hand, was pale and delicate, her face a pleasing oval. Her pink lips formed a small smile that made her look like she knew a joke or secret. There was a tinkling of glass and Mally turned to see King Salir pouring wine into two glittering goblets.

King Salir smiled.

“Your wine” he said, passing it to her.

The presence of the two portraits had triggered a question in Mally’s mind, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to ask it. King Salir seemed to notice the indecision upon her face and asked, “Yes?”

“I was wondering why there are no other portraits of the late king and queen in the castle, Your Highness,” said Mally.

“There were others, but after the deaths I felt it would be easier for the people to move on without their presence. These are the only two still displayed. Why don’t you sit?” King Salir himself took a seat.

Mally sat in the chair opposite him, her eyes roaming the giant chamber. The room was huge. A chandelier hung in the center of an intricately painted ceiling. The suite seemed to include a number of other rooms. Mally and His Majesty were in a sitting area, and Mally could see other doors to other chambers. 

She took a sip of her wine simply to occupy herself. A large tapestry of a king and queen, sitting on their thrones before their kneeling subjects hung behind King Salir. He was watching her. The room suddenly felt hotter and Mally shifted in her chair u
ncomfortably.

“Miss…?”

“Biddle,” Mally supplied quickly, “Mally Biddle.”

“Biddle. Ah, yes, I remember Meriyal mentioning you to me.” He took a sip of wine. “I do apologize for not welcoming you sooner—I am rather busy.”

“There is no apology necessary, Your Highness,” said Mally, happy that the conversation had started.

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously.

“Mally—what is it short for?”

“Mallory.”

“Ah,” he nodded, twirling his glass. The deep ruby red sparkled like liquid diamonds through the glass goblet. “So, Miss Biddle, did you enjoy meeting our Captain of the Knights?”

Mally choked on her wine.

King Salir smiled.

“Sir Illius has a talent for blocking the windpipe, doesn’t he? He was not pleased to be left so long in the dark about your pre
sence. I am assuming he made the customary threats?”

The king’s expression was so humorous that Mally was having a difficult time remembering whom she was talking with. Would she get in trouble if she answered truthfully?

“Sir Illius asked his questions, Sire,” Mally finally said before taking a hasty sip.

“I hope you are finding your lodgings comfortable?” King Salir inquired.

Mally thought of the tight, cramped space that she, Lita, and Gerda shared. How tiny their fireplace was. How thin her mattress and sheets.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

King Salir nodded, pleased.

“You have recovered from your fright?”

“Yes, Sire, thank you.”

“Then I will allow you to return to your work.”

Mally placed the glass of wine that she had barely sampled on the table between them and left. She couldn’t keep her legs from shaking.

***

“How’s the ankle?”

“Terrible.” Gerda was still laying on one of the sickbeds, ga
zing up at Mally and Lita moodily. “Been throbbing all day.”

“But Gladys says you’ll be back next week,” said Lita happily. “So enjoy the relaxation!”

Gerda snorted.

“You mean boredom. But from what I’ve heard,” said Gerda, looking at Mally sideways, “I could have had you for company.”

“Maybe not,” Mally replied darkly. “If that bust had hit me, I’d be dead.”

“It was horrible, Gerda,” said Lita with a shiver.