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153 pages

English

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My life at the princess's court had become deadly dull. All the time I was in training, I had kept myself going by imagining the wonderful rescues I would perform, the great deeds I would do, winning admiration and renown. In real life, at the castle, nothing like that ever happened. When the novelty of being there wore off, what was left? An endless round of rising, eating, sitting around on duty in the throne room, eating, following the princess about from here to there, eating, and for variety, sleeping. And so on and so on, day after day.

I wished so much for a more exciting life, to go my own way and have adventures, as many as I pleased. I would show Gualthier how skilled I really was, and stop him from laughing at me!

But adventure came on its own, unbidden and unexpected. Skilled or unskilled, I would have to meet whatever life placed in my way.

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Fiction

Fantasy

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	25 mai 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781456626662
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0050€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Story of Rinette

by

Z.A. Mayes

edited by

Janey Ranlett

Copyright 2016 Z.A. Mayes,
All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2666-2

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Chapter 1
They may attack tonight. They would be wise to; it is dark of moon, and everyone is tired, and perhaps just a little, a tiny little bit drunk after celebrating the princess’s birthday, all day and into the night. They may attack. If so, we are prepared. There are extra guards on the castle walls, and three of our most alert hounds sleep on the princess’s balcony, should anyone try to climb up the outer wall.

There are more guards outside her door, though five will get you ten, they’re asleep. Still, they are there. I can think of nothing more to do, though all these precautions will avail us nothing if traitors have already let the enemy in, through the cellars, or the river gate. Some might have come in disguise to the party and been hidden away, behind the empty wine barrels, for instance, or even in them.

But all seems well, as yet. Walking through corridor after corridor, all is quiet, dark, settled, even the air, which earlier today swirled with laughter, pleasant talk, perfumes, music, and the myriad smells of a delicious banquet. Then the air danced, flirted, refreshed with breezes from windows and doors opened wide to welcome guests. Now doors and windows both are shut and barred, to keep out unwelcome enemies, and the air hangs heavy in the hallways, weighed down by age and custom, moveless, and so, my ally. I shall feel the first quiver, the first shock of response to cellar door opening, to trap door rising, to someone creeping out, stiff from hiding; there will be a breeze, a whisper, where there should be only an occasional snore, or sleepy murmur. The air will, as it were, tap me on the shoulder… What was that?

Aha! I said so. I said they would come — Ouf! There’s one intruder down at least, and no one the wiser. I can be quiet when I need to, whatever Gualthier says.

Perhaps there are more around that corner. If I hide right here, I can trip them as they pass, and knock them out… So! One, two, any more coming? Not yet — should I go farther down, or go up and check on the princess? Down that hallway, I hear voices, and the clash of arms, but whose? Ah, that is Gualthier, I’d know his bellow anywhere. No need to worry, if he’s at hand. I’ll go upstairs, instead.

And these are our so-called guards. I knew they couldn’t stay awake, even when guarding the princess’s door, of all doors the most important. “Hey, Philippe! Gaston! You damned dormice! Is this how you serve? We’re being attacked! Up with you, and hold the hallway, while I check inside. Gualthier’s fending them off down below — there may be others. Zut! There go the hounds — be ready to follow me when I call.”

Inside the princess’s chamber there is not much light — her ladies have awakened. They are milling about, asking:

“What is it?”

“Who’s there?”

“What’s to do?”

They want to know why their mistress’s slumbers are so rudely broken; me, I have no time to stop and tell them. Let them shriek, if they can’t be useful — would I be dashing through here like this for nothing?

The hounds bay more eagerly now; their quarry must be closer. There must be someone on the wall below this balcony. It is hard to see where, in this darkness. Wait! Something moved — yes, over there. A man, two men… but they are shouting. A message of defiance, no doubt. No, the idiots — it is a plea for help. They are stuck. So much for their invasion!

“Rinette!” The princess herself, awake and not happy about it.

“Yes, highness?”

“Rinette! What is going on here?”

“Why, we are being attacked, invaded, don’t you see?”

“And who is attacking us?”

“What does that matter? We’ve countered them, we’ve foiled their plans. We can find out who they are when we question the hostages.”

“You’ve taken hostages?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “I left two of them tied up in the corridor, unless they’ve managed to escape.”

“No, Rinette, they didn’t escape,” said a gruff voice from behind me.

“Oh, Gualthier, it’s you,” I said. “I knew none of them would get by you.”

“And did you also know that the men you took down were our own soldiers, Jean and Bertrand from the barracks?”

“Aha! A mutiny! They sided with the enemy, the traitors.”

“Rinette!” said the princess, in a voice full of exasperation. “We have no enemies! We have been at peace for over a hundred years! No one would attack us! This is one of your “exercises,” isn’t it?”

“Yes, highness. You see, the maxims say that… ”

“I do not care to know what they say! I would like to go back to bed, and resume my rudely interrupted sleep!”

“But highness, we are all asleep, here. If we do not practice, if we don’t at least make mock surprises, how will we deal with real ones, when they come?”

“Rinette, that’s enough. Make those dogs shut up, for God’s sake. What are they howling for, anyway, Gualthier?”

“Two of the ‘invaders’ have gotten stuck halfway up the walls, highness. I wonder if they’ll be able to get down again before they lose their strength and fall. Good men, too — it’s a pity.”

“Never mind — I’ll get them down,” said I.

“You, Rinette, will get them down, all by yourself,” sneered Gualthier.

“Yes! I inspired this venture, so I’ll rescue them. It won’t be that hard.”

And I did rescue them — they had only to crawl over to a window, after all, and we let them in, but the hounds howled the whole time, because no one thought to put them back in their kennels, so it was some time before anyone could sleep. Me, I think sleep is overvalued, and one need not make such a fuss to lose a little bit of it, eh? Everyone had to admit that I did well at rescuing the men, but as for my surprise, it was not very popular. The princess absolutely forbade me to do any such thing again.

So there I was once more, a bodyguard with nothing to do, for as the princess herself said, we had no enemies. What then was I to guard her from?

What, indeed? More than that, you may wonder, why is it that a woman, for I am a woman, as you might guess from my name, how is it that a woman should be a bodyguard? And the answer to that question is: two stories.

The first tale begins long, long ago, before there was an emperor who made everything safe, at a time when our little kingdom, Mirabol in the Middle, had many enemies who dearly coveted its fertile fields and pleasant climate. In those days the taking of hostages was a favorite bargaining ploy, so every member of the royal family was provided with a bodyguard to prevent such occurrences. They were chosen from among the younger sons of the nobility, and were required to be big, strong, and, for the prestige of the court, as good-looking as possible.

It so happened that the fourth king of Mirabol had only one child, a daughter; her bodyguard, a son of the Duc de Framboise, was also one of the handsomest men in the kingdom. Ladies had been known to swoon while watching him compete in the jousts, and many were the flowers thrown to him from balconies and windows as he passed through the streets, or so it is told.

Whether he was truly handsome or not, the princess fell in love with him, and he with her. They wished to marry, but since he was the duke’s fifth son, of no importance whatsoever, she feared her parents would object. Therefore, she persuaded him to elope. He had an old aunt in the country who doted on him, and was happy to provide sanctuary for the young lovers. The elopement, carried out in the greatest secrecy, went well. No one tried to stop them, no one pursued them, the priest was waiting, and just like that, they were married.

But no sooner were they alone, than the princess began to weep. Her new husband was dismayed, and said, “What is wrong, dearest? Here, let me kiss those tears away. Please, my love, stop weeping.” But she did not stop crying for three whole days, until her father came, and assured her that he and the queen forgave her, and indeed, approved her choice, though it would have been nice if they could have had a big wedding. The people would have appreciated the chance for a feast, but never mind, they could have one to celebrate her return. And so all was well.

Except: the poor bridegroom, who had suffered terribly during those three days of tears, made a resolution, and when he became king consort, he acted on it. He had a new law made, which said that from that time on, princesses could only have female bodyguards, for he did not want any other man to ever have to go through an experience like his. And from that time, in our kingdom, the princess’s personal bodyguards have been women, even to this day.

But how did I, Rinette, only daughter of the Comte de Momottin, become a bodyguard? That is the second story.

To make certain that the princesses had only the best associates, their bodyguards were chosen from the ranks of only the most noble families. Such a family was mine, although my mother always maintained that hers was nobler by far than my father’s. True, his had only been among the ranks of the highest for a mere two hundred years, whereas hers dated, to hear her tell it, at least from the time of Mirabol’s first king, if not from long before that, in the time of legends.

My father was the younger son of his family, and though he had inherited three estates comprising many acres of land, they were the worst of his family’s holdings, mostly rocky, infertile ground that was barely good