Goose Chase (13 page)

"Well? Your name?" the Baroness inquired of me.

"Alexandria Aurora Fortunato, madam," I said, and curtsied.

The crooked smile that the Baroness had worn slipped and faded. The muscles of her face went slack. She half rose from her chair, her hands gripped into fists on the table.

"What!"

Much amazed, I repeated, 'Alexandria Aurora Fortunato, Your Ladyship."

"No!" she murmured to herself, sinking back into her seat. "It cannot be. They were all killed.
All
of them."

She stared at me intensely, her eyes expressionless black pools. At length she ordered, "Look over there!" and pointed at the wall to my left.

Startled, I looked, but there was naught to see. 'Twas but a blank stone wall. I returned my gaze to hers.

"Mayhap. It might be so," she muttered. "There is a resemblance. And that crown. I have seen that before as well." Then, abruptly, "Does
he
know?"

"Your Ladyship?" I inquired, all at sea.

"
Does he know?
" she roared.

"He whom?" I asked desperately.

"The King of Gilboa, thou gongoozling grinagog! Who didst thou think I meant?"

And—and what does Your Honor wish to know if he knows?" I said, fearing to provoke her to a fit of greater violence.

"Thy name, thou golden-haired ninny! Thy name!"

"Why, no. I don't suppose he did. He certainly never called me by it, or inquired it of me. Did he know my name, do you think, sire?" I asked the Prince.

The Prince looked as much befogged as I. "Nay, I do not know, Goose Girl—that is, Mistress Alexandria, if so I may call you. And on this topic, I must tender you my very abject apologies. You see, given the fact that our stations in life are so different—"

"Never mind that," the Baroness snarled. "Did you ever hear him speak her name?"

"Nay, I did not."

The Baroness fell silent. Then slowly, she smiled. Her smile was not for us, but entirely in response to her own thoughts. I felt a chill wash through my whole body though I did not know why.

She stood up and walked to the door.

"You there," she called to the soldiers. "Get in here."

They came, looking to the Major for guidance.

"Perform whatsoever this lady commands," he instructed them. The Major appeared to be unsettled by the Baroness's manner and unwilling to cross her.

She pointed at the Prince and me.

"Seize them and bind them," she said. "Throw them into the dungeons." Out of the room she stalked, her whole person taut with determination.

N
OTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE
TO A WILLING HEART.

—J
OHN
H
EYWOOD,
P
ROVERBS

At once, an argument broke out among the soldiers about how best to do the lady's bidding. The Major had departed in pursuit of the Baroness, probably hoping to receive some refreshment and thanks for his part in our capture, so that we were alone with the soliders.

"Bind 'em, she sez," said one soldier gloomily. "But they be already bound." He gestured toward our bound wrists.

"Tie their ankles, too," suggested another soldier.

"But then we'd have to carry 'em, and we don't even know where these precious dungeons is."

"Untie us," I proposed, "and then
retie
us."

"O, no, y'don't, lady," said the first soldier. "We don't be so stupid as we look, not by an ell, we don't."

Privately reserving my opinion on this, I held my tongue.

"The long and the short of it," he went on, "is that we don't got anything to bind 'em
with.
And Smeatt here, he be the one that bound 'em, so you could say we already done that, couldn't you?"

The other soldiers nodded solemnly. Smeatt made a complicated face at me which apparently was intended to convey apology.

"Well, now. Then the next thing to do is to figure out where these dungeons be an' toss 'em down 'em. You there, Smeatt, didn't you used to be in this here Baroness's service?"

More apologetic wrigglings and grimaces from Smeatt.

"Now then, y'little scobberlotcher," said the soldier, grasping Smeatt by the nape of his neck and shaking him violently, "stop all that squirmin' an' speak up. D'you know where they be?"

"I—er, I do, mates. Beg pardon, miss," he said, grinning nervously at me.

"That's right," said the first soldier, "you just show us."

I had hoped that the Prince and I might be flung into the same dungeon, but alas! we were separated. Considering that this was the castle of a mere Barony, I thought it rather ostentatious to possess more than one dungeon, but presumably the Barons of Breakabeen were a quarrelsome breed who thought themselves ill-equipped without half a score of these gloomy apartments.

"Here be one, fer the lady," said Smeatt, when we had traveled down to the ground floor of the castle. He lifted a trapdoor in the floor which emptied into a chamber carved
out of the great rock on which the castle was built. "It be the State Dungeon, like, fer Very Important Prisoners. Tis the best there is on offer, lady," he said apologetically. "The others all be full to the brim with bats and suchlike vermin. You wouldn't like them."

"That's enough o' that," said the first soldier. "Now you just pick 'er up and toss 'er down."

I flinched, for the stone floor was twenty feet below.

"I'll not trouble you," I said. I set my feet on the top rungs of the rope ladder and began climbing down.

"Aye, what do be the matter of ye, Baldroon?" demanded Smeatt of his colleague. "That's a lady, that is, if she don't be somethin' higher an' greater. Y'can see it writ all over 'er lovely face an' form."

"Tisn't my duty to inspect a prisoner's face an' form for possible signs of nobility
or
divinity. My duty is to do as I'm told. And you ought to had thrown her down, like the Baroness said. Iffen she be an angel, she can fly, can't she?"

As they argued, I climbed down and soon the question was no longer worthy of dispute, as I had reached bottom. I trembled, however, for the Prince's fate.

When once I had stepped off the ladder, 'twas straightaway hauled up again and the trapdoor lowered.

I looked about me.

O! Several times during the course of this narrative you have seen me in great distress of mind and bewailing my fate, but never, I think, has my soul been so sunk in despond as at that moment of examining my accommodations in the State Dungeon of Breakabeen Castle.

If this was the detention cell for Very Important Prisoners, why then what could the cell for Prisoners of No Importance Whatsoever be like? 'Twas naught but a black hole in the ground. The walls were entirely sheer and impossible to scale; 'twould have been like trying to climb out of the bottom of a bottle.

There was no furniture: not a chair, not an old trunk, not even a projecting rock to sit upon. The only light came from a thin, thin slit cut through twelve feet of rock. Not the smallest bird, not even a butterfly, could have escaped through that slit. The air, as one might have expected, was stale. It smelled of mold and damp stones.

I wondered, did the Baroness mean to keep us alive for some purpose, or could her plans be achieved only by our deaths? 'Twould be easy enough to be rid of us by the simple expedient of withholding food and water. I preferred to read into the Baroness's behavior a desire to use our live persons in some ploy, presumably connected with her beloved, the King of Gilboa. In that event, 1 hoped that food and water would be shortly forthcoming, for I was beginning to feel a trifle faint.

In either case, there was naught to do but sit down patiently and begin picking with my teeth at the twine that bound my wrists together.

As I did so, my mind ranging over the many events of
the past few days, my heart was suddenly speared by the memory of my dearest Little Echo. Did you think I had forgot my injured Goose? In truth, I had for a time, in the swirl and march of events. But now I had all the leisure in the world to consider her danger.

When last I had examined her, she had seemed to be resting comfortably. I could only hope that our enforced stay here at the Castle of Breakabeen would do her good. She would have sufficient food for several days, for the bed she rested upon inside the Prince's saddlebags was made up of fresh green grass and herbs, just the sort of thing she liked to nibble upon. If the Prince were given water, I had no hesitation in believing that he would gladly give her all that she required.

I reflected that the Prince was a good sort of man, for all he was sometimes so silly.

'Twas many and many an hour before aught happened in that dark, silent place. But yet at length the trapdoor over my head opened and something was lowered to me on the end of a long cord. 'Twas a great fair loaf of bread, with a large hunk of cheese besides.

"Untie it," came the command from above.

I shielded my eyes to try to make out who addressed me, but 'twas of no avail. His head was against what to me appeared a very bright light and I could make out no details.

My hands now being free, I untied the bundle as instructed and the cord rose in the air and disappeared. After an interval a pitcher appeared in the opening and was lowered by the cord. On command, I untied the pitcher and once again the cord vanished.

Before the trapdoor could come crashing down, I spoke.

"I thank you for the food and drink," I said as my mother had taught me, and curtsied. There was little point in antagonizing whoever it was who brought me the means of survival.

The trapdoor hesitated in its arc and then dropped without another word spoken. Ah well. I was certain that they had heard me.

Most thankfully I made my meal. In my great hunger I ate nearly three-quarters of the bread and cheese, but the rest I retained for the morning after I had slept.

After a time the dim gray light in my prison chamber dimmed still more and turned to darkest black. I laid my head down on my sewing bag and composed myself for sleep.

How long I slept I cannot say, but the cell was once again filled with a thin gray light which gave no hint of the time of day. After eating, I looked about me for something with which to occupy myself.

I upended my sewing kit and examined the contents. Might I perhaps be able to fashion some sort of rope from my wedding gown? But then, even supposing I was able to tear the tough material (remember, I had no scissors anymore), what good would a rope do me? There was no way to attach it to the ceiling.

In the end, I tore out all the old sloppy seams and began to resew them with the finest, tiniest stitches I could manage in the low light, severing the thread with my teeth as required. 'Twas better to do aught than naught.

Five days went by. Or so I believe. I lost track somewhere after the third day, and could never after be certain which day I was on. My gown approached completion; indeed, to prolong the task, I added a good deal of embroidery around the neckline. Since it was executed in gold thread on a gold background, it did not show up to great advantage, but the task kept my mind from being wholly overthrown by the combination of boredom and terror which oppressed me.

A superstitious dread prevented me from finishing the dress. I feared that the moment I took the final stitch, the King of Gilboa and several prominent members of the clergy would instantaneously descend through the trapdoor to perform our wedding ceremony. I had, after all, given my word to marry when once the gown was done.

At last I put it aside and sought other occupation. 'Twas then that I remembered my talented, tricksy hair and resolved to put it to use.

Firstly I praised it and petted it and composed endless lines to its beauty, and then begged it to climb the wall and hitch itself to the rope ladder, a length of which remained inside the dungeon, while the greater part of it was drawn up through the trapdoor.

To give credit where credit is due, I must admit that the
hair tried. Nay, I cannot fault it on that account. But like many conceited creatures, it was not half so clever as it thought itself to be. In addition, I suppose it is true that the stuff had no organ of sight and had simply to feel its way about.

At first, I was quite pleased. It began to grow with a will and slowly poured itself out over the floor in a steady stream. I stood by, crying out such encouragement and commendations as occurred to me in my excitement. After a time, however, my enthusiasm dimmed somewhat, as it went on getting longer and longer and never gaining any altitude.

I decided to try to train it upwards, as one might train a fruit tree or grapevine up an orchard wall. I sat with my head pressed to the stone and pushed the tendrils of hair into the mortared joints. The hair seemed to understand the intention, but because the joints were so slender, it divided itself up into many strands instead of forming one strong lock. Furthermore, it still did not seem to have any sense of up, down, or sideways, but grew higgledy-piggledy every which way, so that had anyone been there to witness it, I should have been a truly terrifying sight. Indeed I would have put Medusa, that ancient Gorgon of Greece with the snakes growing out of her head, entirely in the shade.

Be that as it may, my serpentine hairstyle was of no practical use, and for a time I relapsed into gloom.

How long, I wondered idly, would my hair actually grow? I amused myself by imagining commanding it to
grow and grow without cease until it overwhelmed the earth and threaded its locks through the deeps of the sea, strangling and choking all life therein. In my mind's eye I traced its progress, saw it slowly filling up the dungeon and spilling out over the top—

My thoughts suddenly focused on that picture. What, I wondered, would happen to me in that event? Should I be smothered to death in all that hair, or would I—could I—?

A plan darted into my head.

I must wait until after the next food delivery, which came but once a day. To my great relief, that delivery would come soon, or so I calculated by my sense of the passage of time. I did not believe that I could bear to wait much longer to try my idea.