Midnight for Morgana (3 page)

Morgana suppressed a smile. She wished she could tell them that the “princess” was no enigma at all, but their own flesh and blood, here among them. Heading on to bed after the sisters, Morgana left Nola’s cloak where it lay. So Nola would be angry to see it in the same place tomorrow, wrinkled. Too bad; let her learn to take care of her own things. A disturbing thought nudged her mind as she climbed into bed.  She dreaded the prospect that they would pester her father for more new clothes, so that the “princess” would not outdo them.

And wouldn’t you know, they nagged her father the next morning, begging for money to buy new clothes. And he, poor man, sold more books so that they could have their fine new clothes. Morgana wanted to wring her sisters’ necks.

* * *

The third Saturday approached, a day Morgana anticipated with mixed feelings. She wanted so much to attend the fair but feared Gwenith would not come this time. Surely two visits to the fair should make her happy; surely she shouldn’t wish for more. But oh! to get out of the house, away from all the tiresome work, to see young men and women again, to ride a fine horse among the crowds.

Washing the dishes, Morgana brooded after Alana and Nola left for the fair, biting her lip to keep from crying. Just one more time, one more trip to the fair. Please let it happen.

A knock sounded at the door. Yes, yes! Morgana rushed to the kitchen entrance.

Gwenith stepped inside. “What! Why aren’t you at the fair?”

“Same story.” Morgana wiped her soapy hands on her woolen apron. “Work to do, nothing to wear.” Please, please, she silently prayed. She wanted so badly to go to the fair, just one more time, and this visit could last her for the rest of her life.

“Bi d’ thosd!” Gwenith cried. “Tush! Don’t worry, child. What would you like to wear this time?”

Excitement burst inside Morgana, wild and crazy thoughts chasing themselves in her head. “A gown of pale lavender, a purple cloak, and slippers of midnight blue.”

“Done!”

 She touched her new clothes, her beautiful new cloak. “Gwenith, you are so kind to me!” Her slippers fit as if they’d been made only for her.

Gwenith made a dismissive gesture. “Only what you deserve. If your selfish sisters can have a good time, so can you.”

Morgana glanced around the kitchen. “But I just started the dishes, then there’s–“

”Go have a good time, child.” Gwenith gave her a slight push. “The work will be done when you arrive home.” She handed her a purse of midnight blue velvet. “Here’s money to spend, and don’t forget: don’t talk to anyone, and come home at twelve.”

“I’ll remember, and thank you, thank you!” Morgana clasped Gwenith’s upper arms, near crying with gratitude.

“Now, now, be on your way.” Gwenith wiped her fingers across her teary eyes.

Outside, Morgana mounted the white horse with the gold saddle and bridle, then trotted off down the dirt road. The weather remained cool, and she was thankful for her fur-lined cloak, which she drew closer about her.

In no time, she arrived at the fair, and as before, crowds filled every space, voices and music echoed through the air. She maneuvered her horse among the multitudes, noting that some of the previous stalls were gone but new ones had taken their place. One stall sold ribbons of all colors and fabrics–cotton plaid ribbons, lovely silk ribbons in blue, lavender and pink, so many lovely colors. She stopped, opening her bag of money, tempted to buy herself a length of ribbon. But no, it would never do. She had no place to hide any treasures, and her sisters often searched through her drawers to see if she had anything new. If they saw a new ribbon, they would surely wonder where she had obtained it or scold her for buying it.

And speaking of sisters, she spied them at the edge of the crowd, a look of annoyance on their faces because no one paid them any attention, nor admired their new clothes. Serves them right, she mused, then chided herself for her unkind thought.

Young men milled around Morgana, plying her with compliments. One in particular caught her attention, a tall well-built man with chestnut hair, a look of determination on his handsome face. Dressed all in black, he wore a gold torque around his neck, a sure sign that he was a member of a royal family.

Too soon, the bells tolled twelve, and she turned her horse around.

“Wait, dear lady, please wait!” The young man with chestnut hair rushed through the crowd and had almost caught up with her, but the throngs slowed him down. He reached for her stirrup to stop her, but instead, he chanced to grasp her shoe. She glanced behind her, seeing him in the roadway, her shoe in his hand. Her face flamed with anger at the loss of her slipper, but she could do nothing about it. Tempted to go back and grab it from him, she threw him a look of irritation, then rode on, for she must get home right away.

Torn between fury that he had taken her shoe and curiosity about who he was, she covered the remaining miles to her home. She wondered what in the world he would do with her shoe. When she arrived home, the horse vanished, and she wore her old clothes again. Stepping inside the kitchen, she saw that the work was done, but there was one difference.

Gwenith stood there, frowning. “You have lost something, haven’t you, Morgana?”

“My slipper!” She wrung her hands. “Oh, I am so angry! A young man at the fair tried to grab my stirrup but got my slipper instead.”

Gwenith smiled. “I stayed to tell you that his loss is your fortune. Just wait and see what will happen.”

“My fortune? What do you mean?”

Gwenith nodded with assurance. “You’ll find out.”

Chapter Two

Prince Keir stood in the roadway, the slipper in his hand, the princess escaped from his grasp. Other men–noblemen and commoners alike–gathered around him, everyone’s gaze following the retreating white horse, its hoofbeats gradually receding. The other men jostled him, trying to get a better look at the lady, even though she was well nigh out of sight. Keir’s stomach lurched with disappointment and defeat. But no, he would not accept defeat.

Clad in a black tunic and trousers, a gold link belt circling his waist, he was every inch the son of a king. A gold torque, studded with garnets and amethysts, adorned his neck, a symbol of his royal position, and his trousers were tucked inside supple black leather boots with gold tassels.

Keir’s friend Malcolm stood beside him while the music from the band blared on and fairgoers–those who were not clustered around him–sauntered from stall to stall. But for Keir, the fair had lost its fascination.

Malcolm tapped him on the shoulder. “You have the lady’s slipper, but you don’t have the lady.” Despite his flippancy, Keir recognized the sincerity in his friend’s voice. The son of his father’s steward, Malcolm was also a good friend, one who would assume the steward’s duties when the present officer died.

“But I will!” Keir slapped the dainty slipper on his open palm. “I intend to find the princess.”

“Princess! Everyone’s been calling her that, but how does anyone know? She may be a lowly scullery maid.”

“What! A scullery maid, dressed in those fine clothes and fur lined-cloak? And riding such a fine horse with a gold bridle and saddle?”

Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe she stole them.”

“And maybe you’ve had too much ale to drink.” He blew out a long breath. “Come, let’s go back to the inn. I grow weary of the noise and all these people.”

One of the local noblemen overheard him. “Better yet, why don’t you go back to your part of the island?” His gaze covered Keir and Malcolm. “‘Tis obvious neither of you hail from this kingdom, and it’s just as obvious that the princess does. If anyone deserves to win the hand of this lovely lady, it is one of us.”

Keir reached for his sword, his hand gripping the hilt. “Why, you–“

Malcolm took his arm. “Never mind. Let’s return to the inn and get a little sleep. We can discuss this tomorrow.” As they moved away from the crowd, Malcolm spoke in a low voice. “The man was right, you know. Haven’t you noticed that the people from this east coast kingdom of Ulaidh have a different accent from those of us on the west coast? They consider us foreigners.”

Keir had to accept that Malcolm spoke the truth. Five kingdoms comprised this island, each one different, with its own history and culture, and yes, the people had different accents in each.

The two men left the fair, headed back to the inn in Dornach, where they had rooms and their horses were stabled. Since the fair stood on the edge of town, it was but a short walk to the Sign of the Black Horse. Their booted feet clicked on the cobblestones as they passed a shoe store, a bakery, and other small shops, the air crisp and cool. The fragrance of baking bread wafted on the breeze, for this was the baker’s busy time, when everyone else was asleep or attending the fair. An occasional oil-lit street lamp cast a path of pale light on the cobblestones. Soon, Keir and Malcolm reached the inn, and once inside, clambered up the wooden steps to their separate rooms on the second floor.

The following morning, while they ate their breakfast of oatmeal, cheese, and warmed ale in a private dining room, Keir discussed his plan with his friend. Inside the small room, an oil lamp hanging above their table gave off a dim light, but one side window greeted the morning sunlight. The room was clean, the oatmeal hot, the service good, and the bed in his bedchamber last night so comfortable he’d slept the night through, waking up late this morning. An occasional voice reached them from the main dining room, which had been empty only a few minutes ago.

Keir raised a spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth and took a tentative taste. Finding it too hot, he waited a few moments. “I will go from castle to castle until I find the lady whose foot fits the shoe. And she will be the lady I marry.”

Malcolm all but choked on his ale. “You’re taking much for granted, aren’t you? Maybe she is already married.”

And her husband permitted her to attend the fair by herself?” Keir rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to think of something better than that.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Malcolm raised the tankard of ale to his mouth, this time taking a slow sip. “I still say she may not be all you think. She could be a scullery maid with a kind mistress who lent her pretty clothes and a fine horse–“

”The horse with the gold bridle and saddle? Come now, she could have taken the horse and ridden far away the first time she attended the fair, clear to our kingdom of Glennamin.” Finding that his oatmeal had cooled a little, he took a bite, eager to finish his breakfast and be on his way.

Malcolm chewed a piece of cheese and swallowed. “All I’m saying is that she might not be a princess. What if her father is a penniless lord? Plenty of them in all the kingdoms on this island.”

“Then where would she get the horse and fine clothes? She’s a princess,” he said in a firm voice. “No one but a princess will do for me. I am destined to wed such a one. When my father dies–may that day be long in coming–I will take the throne. I will not have a lowly lord’s daughter as my wife.” He tapped the slipper that rested on the chair next to his. “I will find this princess, for it is such a one as I deserve.”

Silent for a few seconds, Malcolm traced a knife gouge on the table with his finger. “You know, Keir, you and I have been friends for a long time, and it is only because of our friendship that I feel I can speak frankly with you–“

”Say what you have to say, man!”

“Very well. It would not hurt for you to learn a little humility–“

”Humility! Why should I even consider that?–when I am a prince and the best swordsman in our kingdom, or any kingdom, I warrant. Am I ugly? Deformed?”

“No, the ladies all consider you quite handsome. And yes, everyone in Glennamin knows you are a skilled swordsman. But I fear you will have a severe letdown some day. Oftimes when we expect so much in our lives, fate has a way of reminding us just how lowly we are.” 

“Lowly?  Not I.” Tired of the discussion–sermon, Keir thought privately–he pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “Come now, I see you are finished with your breakfast. Time I put my plan into action. I saw a message board in the village center yesterday afternoon. I will post a sign, letting everyone know I seek the woman I will marry, the one whose foot fits the slipper. You know how quickly news gets around in a village and aye, even in the countryside. Within no time, everyone will know of my quest.”