Once In a Blue Moon (35 page)

When the three of them finally emerged from the trees and approached the carriage, the Sombre Warrior turned round sharply, and stopped what he was doing to take a good look at the ghost. Sir Jasper studied the huge warrior in his featureless steel helm with great interest.

“Is there anything in there?” he said.

“Yes,” said the Sombre Warrior. He turned to Catherine. “Who is this, your highness? And why can I see through him?”

“Sorry,” said Sir Jasper. “I go all transparent when I get nervous. At least I don’t leak ectoplasm anymore . . . Hello! Yes. I’m Sir Jasper. I’m a ghost. Why haven’t you got a face?”

“Lost it in a poker game,” said the Sombre Warrior.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” said the ghost. “And very unlucky.”

“I’ll say,” said the Sombre Warrior. “I wouldn’t have minded, but he only had two pair . . .”

“If you two have quite finished trying to weird me out,” said Catherine, in her best
brooking no arguments because I am after all a Princess
voice, “Sir Jasper is with me.”

The Sombre Warrior nodded. “He’s your pet, your highness. Keep him on a short leash. We’re ready to leave when you are.”

“Well, really!” said Sir Jasper, but the Sombre Warrior had already turned his back on all of them, to look the carriage over and make sure everything was as it should be. The ghost pouted, hurt. “I am not a pet. I am an aristocrat! Or at least, I’m pretty sure I used to be.”

Catherine looked at Lady Gertrude. “I’m sure you have all kinds of objections as to why I can’t take Sir Jasper with us to Forest Castle. Let us take it for granted that I have listened to them all carefully and then dismissed them out of hand because I’m Royal and I can do that. He’s going with us. I’ve got to get some fun out of this situation, and Sir Jasper should shake up the Forest Court nicely!”

“Can I just ask . . . ,” said Sir Jasper, diffidently. “Neither of you seem particularly bothered by the fact that I’m dead but not departed. Why is that?”

“Castle Midnight was famous for its many ghosts, back in the day,” said Catherine. “But they’d all disappeared by the time I came along. I read all the stories, listened to all the songs, including the really old ones you used to sing to me when I was still small, Lady Gertrude . . . and as soon as I was old enough to get about on my own I used to go wandering through all the darker corridors, in the early hours of the morning, searching for ghosts and spirits and anything that looked like it might go bump in the night if you prodded it hard enough.”

“That’s right, you did, you little . . . poppet,” said Gertrude. “Just a small slip of a thing, and already you knew your own mind. You never found anything, but it didn’t stop you looking. We had to lock you in your bedroom at night, just to make sure you got your proper sleep. Oh, the kicking you used to give that door . . .”

“I spent a lot of time confined to my rooms, as a child,” said Catherine. “For one misdemeanour or another. Until I got old enough to charm one of my guards into teaching me how to pick a lock; after that there was no stopping me. I’ve always had problems with authority figures. Even though I am one.” She stopped, and frowned. “Or at least I used to be. If I had any real power, I wouldn’t be here. On my way to an arranged marriage with a man I haven’t even met. I’ll bet he’s short and fat and eats biscuits in bed.”

“Crumbs,” said Sir Jasper. It was the best he could manage at short notice.

•   •   •

T
hey arrived at Forest Castle by early evening. The Royal carriage, with Princess Catherine, Lady Gertrude, and Sir Jasper inside it, and the Sombre Warrior out in front on his great black charger. The six soldiers surrounded the carriage, sticking close and keeping their eyes open. The driver was back in his place. The Sombre Warrior had tracked him down after he ran away, and drove him back with harsh language and entirely convincing threats.

They’d made good time, and arrived with almost an hour of daylight to spare. Only to find that the drawbridge wasn’t down, so they had no way of crossing the moat. Everyone took a good look at the Forest Castle. Catherine and Gertrude leaned halfway out of the open windows of the carriage, while Sir Jasper just stood up and stuck his head through the carriage roof. And for a while none of them said anything.

“I didn’t know . . . ,” said Catherine. “I didn’t realise, I had no idea . . . It’s so big! Much bigger than Castle Midnight!”

“This isn’t a castle,” said Gertrude. “This is a town in its own right! Maybe even a city. The outer wall goes on for miles, and look at all the towers and stonework and . . . We should have been told. We should have been warned . . .”

“Buck up!” said the Sombre Warrior. “You can’t afford to show weakness in the face of the enemy. Especially if you’re marrying one of them. Size isn’t everything. Look at the state of the outer wall. Cracked and pitted stone, moss and ivy everywhere . . .”

“Yes,” said Catherine immediately, feeling just a bit relieved. “My father would never let Castle Midnight get into such a state.”

“And one day, all of this will be yours,” said Gertrude. “Maybe you could have it painted a more pleasant colour . . .”

Sir Jasper sank back down into the carriage, and hovered just above the seat next to Catherine. He looked thoughtful.

Catherine pulled her head back in the window, started to say something, and then looked at the ghost. “Are you remembering something, Sir Jasper?”

“Perhaps,” said the ghost. “I think . . . No, I’m sure. I have been here before. When I was still alive.”

“I suppose you must have,” said Gertrude, “if you really were a knight of the realm. A knight serves his King.”

“Yes,” said Sir Jasper. “But which King? How long have I been gone . . . ?”

The Sombre Warrior had been bellowing at the empty battlements for some time, and finally managed to attract the attention of a lone guard. Who looked down from the lofty height, recognised the Royal crest of Redhart on the side of the carriage, and immediately had a loud and very satisfying fit of the vapours. He disappeared from the crenellated battlements, shouting loudly for help and assistance.

Sir Jasper walked through the side of the carriage and strode out across the moat. His feet made no impression on the surface of the water. Not even a single ripple. He stopped abruptly, halfway across, and peered down into the dark and murky waters.

“Is there anything living in the moat, guarding the Castle?” said Catherine, popping her head out the window again. “I seem to recall reading something about crocodiles . . .”

“I don’t see anything,” the ghost said dubiously. “Just a few pike and carp hardly big enough to be worth getting your rod out.”

While he was still speaking, the huge drawbridge came crashing down. It hit Sir Jasper right on the top of his gently glowing head without harming him in the least, passed through his body, and slammed into place across the moat. Leaving Sir Jasper standing, confused but unaffected, on top of the drawbridge. The Forest Castle Seneschal came hurrying forward, with as many people as he’d been able to gather together on such short notice, to form a guard of honour. Sir Jasper took one look at all the people running straight at him, disappeared immediately, and reappeared back at the carriage. Catherine and Gertrude were already getting out, so he went and hid behind them. The Seneschal crashed to a halt at the very edge of the drawbridge, found he was too out of breath to say anything, and bought himself some time by bowing formally to everyone in front of him.

“Profuse apologies, Princess Catherine!” he said finally. “We only received word you’d arrived in the Forest a few hours ago! We did send an honour guard to meet you and escort you safely here, but since we only had a rough idea of where you were . . . It would appear we missed each other.” He smiled weakly, spread his arms in a
these things happen
sort of way, and swallowed hard. “King Rufus and Prince Richard are on their way, I’m sure . . . Do come in, please! We have been expecting you, all appearances to the contrary. Your rooms are prepared.”

So they all went inside. The Seneschal led the way, with Princess Catherine and Lady Gertrude strolling regally along on either side of him. Sir Jasper brought up the rear, staring at everything with great interest. The Seneschal had shot several looks in his direction but wasn’t feeling confident enough to ask any questions as yet. The Sombre Warrior swung down from his great horse and walked behind them, followed by the Royal carriage and the six soldiers. The Seneschal led the titled guests into the Castle, leaving the Sombre Warrior to see that his men were found room in the barracks, and then to ensure that the horses were properly cared for in the stables.

•   •   •

T
he Seneschal led his honoured guests into the Castle entrance hall, looked quickly about him, saw there was still no sign of the King or the Prince, and thought quickly. He bowed formally to the Princess again.

“Would you mind awfully just . . . waiting a while, in this reception chamber, just for a few moments, while I go and see what’s keeping everyone?”

Catherine gave him her best regal nod, and the Seneschal practically broke in two from bowing repeatedly as he led them to a side door. The room he showed them into clearly wasn’t a formal reception chamber, just a side room, but it seemed comfortable enough, so no one said anything. Catherine and Gertrude and Sir Jasper looked about them in an ostentatiously unimpressed way, and the Seneschal shut the door quickly and hurried off.

Catherine stood in the centre of the room, arms folded, not deigning to sit. The room was actually quite a bit larger than she was used to. In Castle Midnight it would have passed for a suite all on its own. It did seem comfortable enough, though all the fittings and furnishings were very old-fashioned, to her taste. The portraits on the walls were in a whole mixture of clashing styles, from the painfully realistic to the exceedingly stylized, and Catherine scowled as she was reminded of the stylised portrait of Prince Richard that she’d been shown before. She still had no idea of what the man really looked like. It occurred to her she was finally about to meet the man she’d come all this way to marry, and a cold chill settled in her stomach. She wanted to just leave, walk out, and . . . go home. But she knew she couldn’t. No way back, no way out. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and glared at Lady Gertrude.

“Prince Richard had better turn up soon! But I am warning you: if he’s got a single wart, or is even slightly hunchbacked, this marriage is off!”

“You can be very trying sometimes, my pet,” said Gertrude. “Of course he hasn’t got any of those things!”

“You haven’t met him,” said Catherine. “He might have.”

“I would have been told,” said Gertrude.

Catherine gave her a hard look. “You mean,
we
would have been told.”

“Of course, my poppet.”

They didn’t know Richard was watching them through the half-open door. Richard had had an idea. If any of his friends or advisors had been around, and had known this, they would have trampled all over one another in their rush to talk him out of it. Whatever it was. Which was why he hadn’t told any of them; he was determined not to be talked out of it. Richard had dressed himself up as a servant, in particularly scruffy and even unclean clothing, and topped it off with a marvellously ratty false beard. His idea was that if Catherine was met by a rude enough servant, her pride would be outraged, and she would take umbrage and stalk out of the Castle and insist on being taken home again. And then the marriage would be off, and no one could put any blame on him. The Prince was very fond of romantic adventure novels, in which this kind of thing happened all the time. He paused a moment to practice his slouch in front of a handy mirror. He looked awful. He dropped his reflection a sly wink and then slammed the door all the way open and swaggered into the room.

“Hello!” he said aggressively. “Who might you be?”

“I am Catherine, of Redhart,” said the Princess. “And this is my companion, Lady Gertrude.”

“We all have our troubles,” said Richard. “Who is the gentleman in the nightie?”

“Don’t mind him,” said Catherine. “He’s a ghost.”

Richard looked sharply at Sir Jasper, who smiled affably back. The ghost had lowered his glow as much as he could, but there was still no way he was going to pass for normal. Or even mortal.

“Well,” said Richard, in his best practiced obnoxious tone, “I don’t know about this . . . No one said anything to me. I can’t let you just go wandering about the Castle; you could be anyone! Do you have any form of identification?”

“I am expected!” said Catherine crushingly.

Richard sniffed loudly. “Oh, they all say that. I’ll have to see some proof you are who you claim to be. Can you show me a birthmark? Scars? How about a tattoo?” He grinned nastily and threw in a full-on leer, just for good measure.

“This is intolerable!”
said Catherine, going straight to full volume. “I travel all this way to get here, and now they don’t want to let me in? That’s it! The marriage is off! I will not be talked to like this! Come, Lady Gertrude, we shall return to our carriage and show our backs to this whole sorry excuse for a Kingdom!”

“No, no, my sweet, my poppet, my Princess!” said Gertrude, placing herself bodily between Catherine and the door. “You can’t judge a Castle by one rude servant! Remember how important this marriage is!”

Catherine glowered at the disguised Prince, who was now chewing at his false beard and scratching himself in an unpleasant way.

“All right,” she growled. “I’ll stay. For honour, and duty, and all that stuff. But no more nonsense about identification!”

“Of course, of course, my poppet,” said Gertrude. She let the disguised Prince have the full force of her glare. “You! Fellow! Here is the official invitation from King Rufus, approved by your House of Parliament, calling us to the Forest Castle for the Royal wedding!”

Richard took the heavy parchment, unfolded it, glanced at all the many official phrases and the attached crimson wax seals, and tossed it casually over his shoulder. “Seems to be in order. You’ll have to register, though.”