Book 2, Chapter 21: A Warm Welcome

The castle sat near the crest of a hill, against a rocky cliff face that stretched upward several hundred yards. It must have been the remains of a mountain. Years of erosion took everything but that impossibly tall stone structure.

More walls surrounded the castle. The inner walls, I guess. These were shaped like a pentagon, round towers at each. Thick, as wide as a house. As we rode through them, I turned to Bechalle, asking, “How are these so thick? Are they solid stone?”

He smiled, “Of course not. These walls house the soldiers and all the servants needed to keep an army functioning, a castle running.”

What I was really looking at was a massive apartment complex, that doubled as a shield for the ruler. I wondered how people thought about that. ‘Oh, my bed is up against the wall again. Have to stop the dragon from getting through.’ Or worse, ‘The baby room faces the inner courtyard. You know how it is.’

Inside, there were wooden buildings up against the walls, a road, then free standing ones. Some were spaced out more than others. It was basically a town inside the outer walls and the castle proper turned out to be further away than I’d imagined.

We entered the courtyard to a veritable celebration. Hundreds of people waiting. Young teenage boys dressed in loose brown pants and beige shirts, started taking the reins, leading the horses as we rode in. Stableboys. Other servants appeared to be waiting for the wagons, to unload them.

Beyond the servants, a mass of nobles. Men and women talking with each other, children running around, laughing. All dressed in clown suits. I mean court fineries. It looked like a medieval costume party, which I guess was my life now. The men had cloaks, the women had parasols.

A herald, dressed in greens and golds, a hat with a crazy long feather, pleasing me to no end, announced, “His Grace, Duke Bechalle! Her Royal Highness, Princess Cayce!” as we passed. He continued announcing others. I had to laugh when I heard, “His Lordship, Captain Morrentz!” and, after a few moments, holding my breath and desperate to hear it, “Captain’s Assistant, Tread!” Yes! Totally called it, they didn’t know what to title Tread and came up with that on the spot.

Two were especially happy to see Brin, presumably her parents. They squealed and hugged each other, Brin nearly in tears, she was so happy. Children, her siblings probably, raced around her legs.

Brin eventually introduced me after I got down from the horse without falling. I really, really wanted to walk off the saddle soreness, but I had to meet people. “These are my parents, Earl and Countess Carlisele. Her Royal Highness, Princess Cayce.” The earl had brown hair, blue eyes and a scruffy reddish-brown beard and the countess was taller than him, long blond hair, medium build. Brin definitely took after her mother, a shorter, younger version.

I curtsied, privately cringing at all the highnessing going on, “A pleasure to meet you.”

They likewise bowed and curtsied. “And you as well.”

The kids, tugging at my dress, “Are you really a princess?”

I squatted near the cute little blond-haired girl, “Nope, but let’s not tell anyone, ok?”

“Ok.”

I caught Bechalle staring at me, oddly smirking, so I stood up.

He said, “I see you’ve met Lord Carlisele. Excellent.” The duke turned to Brin’s parents, “If you’ll excuse me, I will introduce Her Highness to everyone.”

“Nonsense!” said Brin’s mom, taking me by the hand, “Princess Cayce must be exhausted after such a long ride. I will show her to her apartments, help her get freshened up for supper. She can meet people then.”

The duke’s hands were clenched again, leather taut against his knuckles, when the earl stepped forward, taking him by the shoulder, saying, “They’re girls. Let them be children for a little while longer.”

Bechalle looked back at me with a nod and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t hear what he said to the earl, but they walked on to greet the waiting nobility.

“Come.” The countess took me by the hand, Brin taking her other hand, “Once we get you settled, we’ll freshen up before supper. It’s the prerogative of us ladies to monopolize the baths.”

“Baths?” I asked, worried that we were going to bathe together.

“Brin hasn’t told you of our hot springs? Why, we’re famous for them. A place to recuperate, refresh and feel womanly again. Much needed after such a long time on horseback.”

I looked back in the direction of Morry and Tread, who were talking with the stablehands, probably about where to park. I suddenly wanted to be back with my cavalry unit in the field beyond.

But I was ushered through large wooden doors, spacious stone hallways, up a set of marbled stairs, large window cut into the wall, another hallway, though this one had carpeting running the length of the floor and hanging as tapestries on the sides, and finally to the entrance to our rooms beyond a thick, wooden door reinforced with steel.

***

The rooms, which they called apartments, were huge. The first was a large greeting room, with a giant fireplace, sofas and chairs around it, a table with more chairs, a hallway that led to rooms for myself, Brin and my new ladies in waiting, plus an entire room for clothing and freshening up. It was my first time in a castle.

“Uhm, where will my bodyguards be staying?”

“You won’t need them here,” said the countess, “we’re quite well protected.”

“I see. Still, I’d like to know where they’ll be, where their rooms are.”

“By the time we’re bathed and ready for dinner, all of that will be sorted. I imagine your men will be a while getting their horses in order, then getting settled as well.”

She wasn’t helping me not feel alone. Morry and Tread had become fixtures in my life, giving me some feeling of safety in this crazy reality. “Ah, ok. Hot springs, you say?”

Brin chimed in, “A perfect time to try on your new dresses, Cayce! After we’re all cleaned up.”

“The sole agenda on my mind. I can’t wait.”

***

I was having troubles. The hot springs, you see, were entered in the nude. We hadn’t gotten in the water yet and were standing next to the bath while Brin gave me instructions. I was practicing a studied technique in staring straight into Brin’s eyes, her mother’s eyes, and ignoring the rest. There’d been a time when I’d have jumped at the chance to bathe naked with a bunch of ladies. Though, a little voice inside my head said, minus the minors. But it seemed so long ago, it perhaps wasn’t even real. A fading memory.

The bathhouse itself was entirely stone. The ceiling arched high above us, round pillars supporting it at the corners of the rectangular bath. Near what I imagined was its front, water bubbled out of a well-like pedestal, down a stone channel, steam rising off it, making a little waterfall into the bath, and pleasant tinkling sounds accompany it.

In front of the bath, where we now stood, were several ‘stations,’ little wooden stools, buckets and dippers, and soap. Now that I was looking anywhere but at Brin’s naked body, I could see little grates on the floor, draining away errant water. The entire room was comfortably humid, warmth given off by the spring water as it entered and drained away.

“First,” Brin was saying, “draw water from the bath and soak yourself. Then soap down everywhere, lots of lather. Rinse that off and we can step into the hot spring, beautifully and wonderfully clean!”

“Yeah, alright.” I sat down on the little wooden stool in front of me, trying not to look like I was hiding. Not just from these ladies, but from myself. I felt like both an imposter and a sneak. I stole a girl’s body and snuck into the nude bath! It wasn’t even that I was interested. Just a cultural clash. This was their normal. My normal was a craft beer in the shower. Alone.

“Cayce!” She laughed, “Wash the stool first! You don’t know whose ass was there last.” She squatted, lathered up her hands, rubbed them on her stool.

“Ah.” I did the same.

“Normally we soap down a towel, get it all sudsy, like this.” Brin rubbed soap into a towel, then turned her back toward me so I could see the towel on her back, held in place by her hands, one over her shoulder, the other by her waist. She used it to lather soap on. I was glad for her facing the other direction. “But, since I’m here and you’re new at this, I’ll do your back. Turn around.”

“Gladly. Thank you.” She rubbed the rough towel in circles on my back, then up and down my spine. It was relaxing and almost a massage. “Brin, that’s so nice, I’m going to rename you mistress of the bathhouse.”

“See? I knew you’d like it. It’s so relaxing and clean! Then everywhere else. And your bum. You were on a horse all day.”

“Yeah. I was trying to forget.”

“Cayce,” said her mother, “you are growing into a fine young lady. Back straight, don’t slouch your shoulders.”

I was slouching to hide, curl up inside myself. “Right, right.” I closed my eyes and dumped water over my head. It was warm and soothing. Dump, dump, a couple more times. Then we climbed into the hot bath and the water offered a touch of security for my insecure self. This is foolish to say, but Brin was taking after her mother in the well-endowed department and, just for a sec, I felt lacking. Then I reminded myself that not only did I not care, but I was happier this way – I wasn’t trying to compete with anyone for size. Plus, I wouldn’t be needing a sports bra.

No, it was all sword and spear practice for me. Riding. Proper, warrior activities. That and killing helpless wizards and wizardesses, while they begged me not to. My grim forte.

“Cayce, you’re brooding again.”

“Ah, sorry, I just . . . yeah, got lost in thought there.”

“Oh? Perhaps you want not to talk about the details of the last few weeks then.”

“Not so much.” We’d gone over those details over and over with different people. As stories, as jokes, as horrors and hugs. “I kind of just want to relax.”

“Of course, of course you do.”

“Well,” Brin started, tilting her head just so, “I was thinking that Uncle would make Cayce a fine husband.”

“Oh?” her mother raised her left eyebrow.

“Yes. The way I see it, with the Barclay duchy in rebellion and the Ketzillians invading the kingdom, Cayce needs Uncle’s support and-”

“Perhaps you should tell me what has been going on, dear.”

I rolled my eyes as smiling Brin broke into story. Well, her rendition of my story. And she got some of the details wrong. I did not sulk, though I may have closed my eyes at the telling and sunk, just a little lower, into the warm water.

***

“Ah, that is a delicate situation. I can see why you’d think marriage was a solution.”

“As for myself, I have no intentions of getting married.”

“None?”

“None.”

“How exactly do you plan on retaking your kingdom?”

“Uh, I’m still coming up with a plan in that regards.”

“You’ll need more soldiers. And to get more soldiers, you’ll either need gold or bannermen.”

“I see.”

“You don’t seem to have bannermen if Barclay is in rebellion.”

“The Barclays are that important that they hold power over all the other lords?”

“It’s more that they control the fiefdoms on that side of the river Dernam.”

“Ah.”

“And it sounds like the other side is largely controlled by the Ketzellians.”

“Yes, it appears that way. Your grandfather, though king, did not choose the location of his castle wisely.”

“Why did he choose the opposite side of that huge river? Why not on the side of the kingdom he ruled?”

“I only met the man a few times myself, and when I was as young as you are now. I think he wanted it as a staging point, to capture more Ketzillian land. That, of course, is the cause of your problems today.”

“Ah. Perhaps I could simply relocate my capital?”

“Princess Cayce, you won’t leave behind any of these problems by moving. The Ketzellians will invade wherever you go, perhaps the Northern Barbarians, perhaps others. You need to build a strong army, take back what is yours, then push into their territory to prevent similar incursions in the future.”

“I can see why you’re suggesting marriage, but I don’t like it.”

“So, have you much gold? To buy an army.”

“No, not a lot.” I sighed. What were, exactly, my options here? Realistically, I couldn’t think of any, but I’d thought it was because I didn’t have enough information. I’d believed the info would present itself and then I could make a choice or undertake some action that would help. I did not think to be cornered into marriage. Yet here we were.

“You can see why Brin suggested marriage. Cayce, your reluctance . . . “

I had to come up with something! “He’s like twice my age.”

Blank stare. “And?”

“I feel like that, uh, seems to me, please don’t take offense. It’s a little predatory.”

“For not knowing the duke that long, you’ve picked up on his personality very well.”

“Excuse me?” I was horrified, then figured it was a translation problem. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“He’s a predator, it’s true. It drives him. He’d make a very strong king.”

I just stared. Ok, ok, we were for sure talking about different meanings here. Good god, I needed to double check. “You mean, like, aggressive, right? Strong willed?”

“Exactly! He keeps his nobles in line, the lands under check. You’ll see, he’ll drive the Ketzles out with little problem.”

I breathed out. “That’s a relief.”

“You see? Good qualities for a king.”

“Anyways, he told me today that I was too dangerous to marry. Too many potential enemies, too many future wars.”

“Too dangerous?”

“Yes, after telling me about my Laemacian heritage.”

“Oh,” she leaned back against the hot bath wall. “It sounds like he’s maneuvering you to want the courtship.”

“Courtship?” I was aghast. No chance!

Brin added, “It’ll be fun, Cayce!”

“The potential wealth your throne offers.” She shook her head slightly, long blond hair swaying from side to side, “No, he’s testing your resolve. How badly do you want your kingdom back? Do you want to take the Laemacian lands, as well?”

“No. I mean, yes for the soldiers. It’s their homes I hope to return. But for me, not really. Let the, ah, ‘Northern Barbarians’ keep their lands. I’ve never set foot there.”

“I think they’ll involve you in their politics one way or another.”

“Assassins?”

“Potentially. Mind you, you haven’t given any indication that you’re interested in their, ahem, your territories there.”

“Is Duke Bechalle interested in those territories?”

“If he is then he’ll be pressing you for marriage.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be!”

“You could begin taking suitors. Perhaps even consider the Barclay boy.”

“Wait, what?” The water felt like it was getting warmer.

“He’d be, what, nearly sixteen now? Not old enough to have experience and wisdom under his belt, but he did inherit the duchy.”

“And thanks to me his father died! Why on earth would he want to marry me?”

“Cayce,” Brin said, “that was through his father’s actions. You’re at no fault here.”

“Even more reason to not marry the son of the man who betrayed my . . . family.”

The countess patted me on the arm, “Very true. It could prove awkward. In any case, it might be time to begin accepting suitors. See what offers you get.”

“In this castle? Won’t the duke be mad?”

“Mad? What have you heard?”

“Angered, I mean, won’t he be angered? I mean, he invited me to this castle. His castle. It seems impolite to then invite suitors . . .”

“I shouldn’t think so. Especially with your situation, needing military aid and all that.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” And that’s when it hit me. I was a king maker. Sure, only by the power of my heritage. And marriage. Yet if I was willing, and it didn’t have to be my not-cousin, I could bargain with this kingship I possessed. I just didn’t know any of the people to talk to, or which states were powerful, or pretty much anything. I was left trusting the information and advice of people who had their own agendas, their own designs, and a lust for power that I simply didn’t share. Or understand.