Tuesdays at the Castle (6 page)

Chapter

11

F
rom now on, we may only talk freely here,” Rolf said, his face so white and strained that Celie thought he might faint.

“But how will we tell each other when we need to meet here?” Celie kept folding and refolding the heavy cloak with shaking fingers.

Lilah was standing by the spyglass that faced south, nervously looking through it over and over again, adjusting the lens: searching for some sign of Pogue or their parents or anyone who could help, Celie guessed.

All three of them were in the Spyglass Tower. Celie had gathered her siblings there immediately after spying on the Council, and told them everything she had heard. They were shocked and horrified, as she was, and she was very grateful that they trusted her, and trusted the Castle. If they’d thought she was lying or telling stories to get attention, she didn’t know what she would have done.

“Stick a handkerchief in your sleeve, so that a bit of it is hanging out,” Lilah said.

Celie and Rolf both looked at her, a little startled by how promptly she was able to think of an answer. Lilah blushed.

“Mother told me that she and Father used to do that, when they were betrothed, and wanted to be … private.”

“If I ever see Pogue with a handkerchief hanging out of his sleeve …,” Rolf threatened.

“Well, you will soon enough,” Lilah said defiantly. “We’ll need to let him in on this as soon as he returns.” She glanced through the spyglass restlessly. “We have so few that we can trust …”

“There’s Ma’am Housekeeper,” Celie said. “I don’t think she needs to know about this room, but she will help us. And Cook. Most of the servants, I think.”

“And Sergeant Avery,” Rolf said.

“Can we be sure?” Lilah twisted the spyglass this way and that. “Lord Feen was a Councilor to our grandfather! And the Emissary to Foreign Lands! He’s always been so kind! Remember, Celie, how he brings us candy and presents when he returns from a journey?”

Celie nodded, but Rolf’s lips twisted into a cynical smirk.

“That’s his job, isn’t it?” he pointed out. “Those presents were probably from the kings of those ‘foreign lands,’ and he’s just taking the credit for them. I’ve never liked him.”

“So, a handkerchief in one sleeve means we meet here,” Lilah repeated, after they had all mulled over Rolf’s point for a moment. “But should we drop everything and meet at once? Or should we have a special time?”

“Midnight,” Rolf said decisively. “But if it needs to be sooner, put it in your left sleeve. Got it? Right sleeve, midnight; left sleeve, as soon as you can.”

“But what if we can’t find the staircase to the room?” Lilah took out a handkerchief, pushed it into her left sleeve, and pulled it back out again. “We could spend hours wandering. Usually only Celie can find it.”

“Don’t worry,” Celie said. She stroked one of the walls. “Castle, we need your help. Whenever we need to meet in this room, please let Lilah, Rolf, and Pogue find it without me.”

Celie wasn’t sure, but she thought the stones of the wall seemed warmer under her fingers.

“I think that will do it,” she said.

“Does that really work?” Rolf’s eyes were wide.

“If it doesn’t, we can meet in Celie’s bedroom,” Lilah decided. “We can usually all find that, and one of us can lead Pogue if he can’t.”

“That’s assuming he returns in time to be of help,” Rolf reminded Lilah.

“I’m sure he will,” Celie said loyally.

“But until then: What shall we do?” Rolf’s face was only slightly less strained.

“Don’t sign the agreement,” Celie said. “If you have to name an heir, name me or Lilah. Or Lord Wellen, the Councilor of Farm Matters. He’s always been so nice …” She trailed off, no longer certain if anyone she’d thought was nice before was a traitor or not.

“Wellen seems like a good enough sort,” Rolf agreed. “And he’s a second cousin, so he’s got a better claim than Khelsh, who isn’t even from Sleyne! At the very least, maybe I can use Wellen’s name to stall for time.”

“Don’t act surprised when they announce Khelsh as a member of the Council,” Lilah said. “Just nod like you’ve been expecting it.”

Rolf and Celie looked at her, curious.

“It will confuse them. And probably annoy them, too,” Lilah explained. “They’re waiting for you to pout and act childish, Rolf. They want you to prove that you can’t rule alone. But if you show everyone how gracious and … kingly you can be, people will question why you need regents. Khelsh isn’t popular,
and
he’s Vhervhish. I can’t imagine people won’t raise a hue and cry over his appointment. We won’t have to lift a finger in protest; we’ll let everyone else do it for us!” She raised a fist triumphantly.

“Then, if I start to disagree with the Council,” Rolf said slowly, “in public, you know, or act shocked at what they do, people will be more likely to see my side of things.”

“Yes, and when the time is right, you say that the regency is bad, that they’re trying to take over the throne, or give it to Khelsh,” Celie said. “By then, everyone will be ready to support you!”

“It will work,” Lilah said fiercely, hugging Rolf. “It has to work!”

“How long do you think it will take?” Celie looked at her siblings, wondering how many days they would have to live under this strain.

Rolf’s face became tense again, and his eyes a little wild. “Well,” he said. “Let’s just hope that it doesn’t take ten years.”

Lilah gave a hard laugh. “If it does, we’ll get rid of the Council when you’re old enough to be king on your own, and replace them with Councilors who aren’t traitors.”

“That’s if they’ll let me live that long,” Rolf said quietly. “My guess is that once Khelsh has his feet firmly planted in Sleyne, they’ll just get rid of me and crown Khelsh as King Glower the Eighty-first.”

Chapter

12

“
R
olf Edward Daric Bryce, son of the late King Glower the Seventy-ninth, you stand before this assemblage as a supplicant,” the bishop intoned. “You seek to take up the crown and scepter of the kings before you, and rule here in Castle Glower as caretaker of this magical structure, and as ruler over all of the kingdom of Sleyne.”

Celie’s nose itched. It was probably the incense.

She was standing behind the bishop, in a new gold satin gown, holding an incense burner. Lilah was standing beside her, also in gold satin, holding an olive branch dipped in rainwater that she had shaken over Rolf’s head at the beginning of the ceremony. Celie’s job was to occasionally swing the incense around and distribute the smoke, which made her cough whenever it reached her nostrils.

The bishop glared whenever she coughed, and her gown was so stiff that she swore it could stand up without her inside it, the scarlet sash so tight that she could only take little sips of air. All in all, Celie decided that it was not an auspicious beginning to Rolf’s reign as King Glower the Eightieth.

Of course, he wasn’t King Glower the Eightieth, not yet.

“You kneel here as one who wishes to take up the mantle of the kingship, to rule over Sleyne, and to be ruled by this goodly Castle, a thing of great and mysterious magic. Will you walk within its halls, and heed its caprices, that they may guide you to caring for your people?”

“I will,” Rolf answered.

“Will you live every day for the good of Sleyne, her land, her beasts, and her people?”

“I will,” Rolf said again.

The bishop waved his hand with a sour expression, and Celie hurried to swing the burner again, nearly smacking Lilah in the knee with the brass dish. She caught Rolf’s eye and he winked, his lips moving in the ghost of a smile, and she grinned back, to the bishop’s annoyance.

“If there is any doubt in your heart that you cannot take up the crown and scepter of Sleyne,” the bishop said, coming to the end of the ceremony, “speak now!”

Rolf was supposed to say “I have no doubts.” But he didn’t.

Instead he raised his head and said very clearly, “If there were any doubts in my heart, the Castle would expose them. And if I were not a fit king, the Castle would have rejected me. But since it has not, I take up the crown and scepter that Castle Glower has been gracious enough to grant to me.”

There was a thick silence in the hall, and Celie swung her incense burner vigorously to keep herself from cheering. The bishop had gone quickly from looking scandalized to looking thoughtful, and he took up the crown now without any hesitation, and placed it on Rolf’s head. It slipped down a little—there had been no time to have a jeweler resize it—but somehow it stayed above Rolf’s eyebrows and gave him a grave look. Then the bishop handed him the scepter, and Rolf kissed the jeweled knob on top and pressed it to his heart, as he’d been instructed.

“In this hall, on this day, I name you King Glower the Eightieth. Rule wisely, and well, King Glower,” the bishop said solemnly.

Rolf stood, inclined his head to the bishop one more time, and then turned to face his subjects. He raised the scepter, and the assembly cheered.

Celie and Lilah cheered, too, and smiled. There were tears on Lilah’s cheeks, and Celie was surprised to realize after a moment that there were tears on her own cheeks as well. It was gratifying to see how long the cheering went on, and how loud it was, with people on their feet and men throwing their caps in the air.

A pair of pages took the branch and incense from Celie and Lilah, and the girls followed Rolf down the long aisle and out into the sun of the courtyard. It was so full of people that it looked like all of Sleyne had gathered there. People were crowding the battlements, too, and hanging out of the windows that overlooked the courtyard, and all of them had bright faces and were cheering wildly. Rolf waved and they waved back, chanting.

“What are they saying?” Lilah whispered to Celie without moving her lips, a skill Celie was bitterly jealous of.

“Eighty,” Celie replied.

Indeed, everyone in the courtyard was shouting it with one voice now. “Eigh-ty, eigh-ty, eigh-ty!” It made Celie feel a bit sad, however: from now on, though the family would still call him Rolf, everyone else would know her brother as Glower the Eightieth. She wondered if he felt a little out of sorts, having his name changed. She wondered if her father had felt that way.

But if her parents returned, would Rolf go back to being Rolf? Would they have to un-king him? She supposed that Rolf wouldn’t mind; it would probably be a relief. She knew that she would feel better, sleep better, once her parents returned.

“And they will,” she said under her breath.

Rolf held up his hands for silence, and waited with a smile until the last cries died out.

“Thank you,” he said, and the words rang clearly through the courtyard, courtesy of the Castle. “It warms my heart for my people to receive me so well.” Another cheer went through the crowd. “I understand that there is a feast awaiting us just outside the gates!”

The cheers were deafening, one wordless roar. Lilah had taken up the matter with Cook earlier in the week, who in turn had employed anyone who could turn a spit or knead bread in order to provide food for everyone who wished to attend the coronation, from Prince Lulath of Grath to the village goatherds.

“What’s this?” The Emissary had stepped out from behind a gaggle of nobles. “I wasn’t aware of any feast for the peasantry.” He had a large, very false smile plastered across his face.

“That’s quite all right,” Rolf said airily. “I made arrangements with the staff some time ago.”

“In the future, you will need to inform us of these little whims,” the Emissary said in a patronizing voice that made Celie want to kick his shins.

Rolf gave a noncommittal nod of the head, and turned back to the cheering crowd. He raised his arms for silence again, and started to say, “Now, to the fea—” but the Emissary interrupted him.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he said loudly, but Celie thought that only the front rows of the crowd heard him, because the Castle didn’t amplify his words the way it did Rolf’s. “There is one more announcement that must be made.”

He walked over to Rolf, forcing Celie to scoot out of his way. She pressed herself to Lilah’s side, dreading what was coming next. They hadn’t known exactly when the Council would make their announcement. Rolf had suspected it would be after the coronation, if they didn’t say something before. But to do it now, when everyone was cheering for Rolf …

“As a member of the Royal Council of Sleyne,” the Emissary said, and still the Castle didn’t amplify his voice, and people whispered to each other, trying to pass along what he said and making a great rush of noise through the courtyard, “I have something to announce. It has been judged by the Council that His Highness … His Majesty, that is, King Glower the Eightieth, is too young to rule alone. In these uncertain times, when our beloved late King Glower the Seventy-ninth can be attacked and killed within our own borders, we need all the wisdom we can muster to guide us. Therefore, until he reaches maturity, the Royal Council shall stand as regents to King Glower. And with us, to specially tutor the king in foreign diplomacy, will be our newest member of the Council, Prince Khelsh of Vhervhine!” He said this last in a happy shout, as though expecting the assembly to cheer in excitement.

Instead there was only muttering as people passed on the news. The bright faces, alight with hope and joy, that had looked up the steps at Rolf when he emerged from the Castle, were now dark and confused as they tried to understand the reasons behind it.

“Thank you, my Lord Emissary,” Rolf said, and Celie was proud of him for having only the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice. He addressed the public again. “There is much to talk about,” he said, and Celie smiled as the Castle obligingly carried his words to the battlements. “But while we talk, let us feast!”

The cheers were ragged at best, and ended quickly. People dispersed, while Rolf turned around, stuck his scepter in the crook of his right arm, and held out his left to Lilah. She took it, and Celie went quickly to his right side, standing as close to him as she could without bumping into the jeweled scepter sticking out from his elbow.

“Let’s take the back way to the banquet hall, sisters dear,” he said. “So much shorter than winding through the crowd in the courtyard.” He steered them along the apse toward the rear door of the chapel.

“Your Majesty!” The Emissary’s smile was gone, now that the pages were closing the massive doors.

“Yes, my lord?” Rolf looked over his shoulder with a mild expression, but kept on walking calmly toward the back.

“There is much to discuss.”

“How so?” Rolf’s eyebrows touched his crown. “I have been crowned, you have made the announcement. Now we feast!”

“But … do you not have something to say to me?”

The Emissary, Celie realized with a bubble of laughter that she managed to bite back, was startled and perhaps even offended that Rolf wasn’t angry. He had probably been waiting for Rolf to scream and argue over Prince Khelsh’s appointment, but Rolf hadn’t even blinked. Celie very gently squeezed Rolf’s arm, just above the elbow, and he gave her a quick wink.

“Not at present,” Rolf said, looking slightly baffled.

“Well … but … I rather thought you might have something to say about Prince Khelsh,” the Emissary spluttered.

“Not at all,” Rolf said coolly. “He’s a bit of a blowhard, but really, it’s what one expects of a Vhervhish royal, isn’t it?”

“But … are you not surprised at his appointment?”

Rolf laughed. “Oh, my Lord Emissary!” He shook his head. “I’ve known about that for days!”

They had come to the little door at the back, the Emissary trailing behind them with a nonplussed expression, and the bishop watching from the nave. The bishop had a shrewd look on his face, and Celie gave him a cheery wave. He raised one eyebrow in reply.

“Shall we see what magnificence Cook has prepared for us?” Rolf said to Celie and Lilah. He gave the Emissary a querying look. “Are you coming this way, my lord?”

“N-no … I have things to see to,” said the Emissary.

“Well, try not to miss the entire banquet,” Rolf said. “People will talk—more than they already are, that is—if my regents are not there to show their support.” He looked beyond the Emissary to the bodyguards who had followed them as well, silent and nearly unnoticeable, despite their size and the brightness of their weapons. “Come along, boys,” Rolf called.

The Emissary, still looking extremely put out, had to step aside quickly as the three guards nearly pushed him aside to follow Rolf and the two princesses. Blaine, the guard assigned to Celie, saw her pleasure over this and gave her a faint smile. He took the door from Rolf.

“Lead on, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses,” he said, and bowed them into the passageway with a flourish.

“Hungry, my royal sisters?” Rolf adopted a plummy voice. “We ourselves could eat a gilded ox.”

“As could I, my most royal brother,” Celie said.

“Let us continue on to the feast, then!”