A QUESTION OF LOVE
Published by Writers Exchange E-Publishing, Smashwords Edition
http://www.writers-exchange.com
Copyright 2011 Carolyn Ann Aish
Writers Exchange E-Publishing
PO Box 372
ATHERTON QLD 4883
Cover Art By: Carolyn Ann Aish
ISBN 978-1-921636-52-3
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.
To Margaret
Prologue
King Clovis the fifth and his beautiful wife, Anne Olivia, were one of those rare, blessed royal couples throughout history truly in love with each other. In every way they complemented one another. He, the absolute monarch who reigned, and she, the rose to grace his image with the thorn to gently remind him of his kingship, to keep him true to his pledge to serve the kingdom and their people.
The royal couple was Christian in name, but not in practice. They left God outside of their private lives.
The queen bore four sons. Clovis junior, John, and Albert arrived within the space of four years, and then four years later Michael was born. When Michael was three years old, the queen bore a daughter and they named her Olivia Anne. A daughter after four sons, what joy! The children all loved their mother and father as much as all children love their parents. And the parents in turn, loved them back.
Michael was seven years old when Olivia turned four.
Because the little princess demanded it, the queen took her out on her horse for Olivia's first horse ride. The little princess sat in front of her mother. Olivia loved the ride, and the queen urged her horse into a light canter. Olivia screamed in delight and the horse became spooked. The creature wanted to buck the 'thing' on its back off, the thing that screamed so much. Not only did the horse buck Olivia off its back, but it also threw the queen.
To the shock and dismay of all in the kingdom, the queen died instantly. The only consolation was that the little princess, other than a few bruises, was unhurt. What a sad occasion, the queen's funeral. How shocked and grief-stricken were the king and the five motherless children.
For three weeks, the little girl woke each night screaming for her mother. In desperation, the king allowed a new physician to give his daughter some 'sleep medicine'. At last the royal people and the servants and guards in the palace could sleep through the night.
After a year, the royal physician suggested ceasing the sleep medicine and to everyone's great joy, the princess continued sleeping at nights without screaming fits or nightmares.
Another year passed and the king, bowing to the pressure of his court, and hoping to find love again, married a young lady named Dorothea. When this new queen was introduced to Olivia as her 'new mother', the princess threw such a tantrum and screaming fit that everyone in hearing was shocked and embarrassed. Olivia Anne was toted off to the nursery, fighting and yelling, "I hate her! She's not my mother! I want my mother back! Bring me my real mother!"
The next day, the king visited his daughter and told her, "You must learn that everything is not about you, Olivia Anne. My marriage to the new queen was not for you, but for me. When you learn that you are not the centre of the world, then I shall want to be with you again."
A year later it was the new queen's first anniversary and a celebration was planned. The little princess was not invited. Due to the servants' chatter, Olivia knew exactly what was happening. "My beloved father's having a party with that wicked queen and they don't want me! I hate them all!"
At seven years old, Olivia knew the palace corridors very well, and, having escaped from the place she called 'my prison', she led the castle staff a merry dance all the way to the banqueting chamber. In a bid to escape her pursuers, she knocked over tables and chairs, candle stands, and finally, the small table bearing the First Anniversary Wedding Cake, which smashed on the marble floor.
Extra and more secure locks were fitted to the nursery doors where Olivia was confined.
"We don't wish to see our daughter again, not until she grows out of her tantrums!" the king declared. Again, he told his daughter, "Until you learn that there are other important people in our world, I shall not want your presence at any event."
The sleep medicine was again administered, to be continued until the young princess gave up her tantrums. Daily lessons were begun, and Princess Olivia Anne found consolation in learning to read and to write. She had found something to master and in which to grow and learn.
The first night Olivia had without the sleep medicine, she went to sleep without fuss, but then, when the palace was quiet and everyone slept, including most of the guards in the halls, Olivia arose. She wanted to look at the picture book, the one the teacher had shown her. Pictures of creation had been painted beautifully and the words seemed to sing to her mind in the night. She longed to look at the letters and read the words without the teacher lecturing her on the benefits of learning to read. It was moonlight, quite bright, but not bright enough to see the words in the book. Olivia decided to light the large candle on the sideboard near the window.
Taking a flint-kit as she had seen the footman do, she tried to light the candlewick, but it just was not going to happen. Taking a taper to the fireplace, she lit this then carried it to the candle, but the taper burned almost to the end, and the searing heat pained her fingers. She half-dropped, half-threw the taper remnant. It fell on the floor at the base of the full-length velvet drape at the window. A small flame licked at the hem of the curtain, tripling in size by the second. Flames raced up the drape to the top of it, spreading out, devouring the fabric and turning it to ash.
Olivia was so shocked that no words or screams came out at first. A tapestry on the wall caught fire and soon the room was filled with smoke and flames.
Flames destroyed all of the fittings and furnishings in the royal nursery. The stonewalls were ruined by smoke. Servants sleeping in the nursery almost lost their lives. Olivia, unable to leave because the doors were locked, was almost overcome with smoke inhalation and only because of the diligence of a group of young guards who smashed down the door and searched for her, was she rescued.
The king questioned his daughter the next day, and discovered that she had set the room alight. "It was my fault, it was all my fault," she sobbed. "Don't leave me, Father, don't leave me." But the king had gone.
Servants around her whispered about her, and Olivia heard that it was her screaming that had killed her mother.
"The horse bolted because she screamed," one servant woman said.
"If she hadn't screamed, the queen would still be here," another servant said as they discussed the tragedy of over three years previous.
Olivia felt so guilty that she wept most of the time. There was no word of comfort from anyone.
A week later, the little princess was summoned into her father's presence.
"Do you know what you have done?" he asked.
"Yes, Father."
"What did you do?"
"You know what I did, Father, and reliving it all just makes it about me again..."
"You're a disgrace, Olivia Anne. Your rebellious attitude is hard to bear. You can't be trusted!"
"Then it IS about me, isn't it?"
"You have chosen to make it so. We all want you to be good and not to bring attention to yourself with such destructive behaviour."
"I try to be good, Father, but it always turns out bad..." She wept and he did not attempt to comfort her. He held both palms out vertically at her so that she would not come closer to him.
"You are still practising your belief that everything is about you, Olivia Anne. You must learn to be compliant, obedient, or I will not wish to see you again," the king said. "Go, and consider your behavior."
"That just makes it all about me, Father," Olivia retorted, stamping her small foot.
"Go!" the king declared, pointing with his forefinger at the far door.
The next day, the little princess was missing. She had decided to run away and had left a short note to her father that read, "To King Clovis 5, my loved father. I am finding somewhere else to live. Forever yours, Olivia Anne." Soldiers searched the palace and the grounds.
The king walked his young hound out of the palace gates, hoping that the animal would know what to do. The dog followed her scent to where she slept beneath a hedge in a field a mile outside the city gates. Such a shock to be awakened by one's kingly father, surrounded by large numbers of serious-faced soldiers. In silence, she was brought back to the palace, to safety.
The king's counsellors were summoned to meet and discuss the problem of a princess who suffered such a troubled mind as to run away from her royal home.
"She is still the king's daughter," one counsellor said, "and I do not advise that she be locked away like a criminal."
"Given time, she may grow out of her childish rebellion and turn into a worthwhile royal person," another counsellor pronounced.
The men suggested that the king spend some time with his daughter as a reward for a solemn promise of good behaviour, with further reward if the good behaviour was delivered.
The king spent time in the tower room with his daughter. She was confined on the upper floor of the tower while the nursery was refurbished. The king sat her on his knee and said, "Princess Olivia Anne, if you will solemnly declare to be good and not run away again, I solemnly declare I will commission a special banquet for just you and me."
In a very small voice, she asked, "But, that is about me, Father..."
"It is about me, Olivia Anne. I would like to have some good times with you."
"How often, Father?"
The king had thought once would have been enough, but his counsellors had told him to try and remember what it had been like when he had been seven going on eight. Unwillingly, he recollected his fears and tears for the large loneliness of the royal dwelling.
"We shall do it once a month," he promised his daughter.
"How many times will that be?" she asked.
"Twelve times in a year. The first one will be after you move back into your quarters and when you have been good for four weeks."
"All right. I will try really hard," she said.
When the nursery had been refurbished and the smell of smoke vanquished, the princess moved back into her spacious suite with its schoolroom and children's library.
To read became her delight, and it was reported to the king that his daughter was calm and quiet, and seeking knowledge.
The banquet time seemed to be never-coming to the princess. One thing she learned was that her father always kept to his word, he never deviated from any promise or vow he made.
She tried hard to be good, and the king met with her once a month to have one-on-one time with his troubled daughter.
Word circulating the court was that the young princess was unstable. This was a word that stuck and was added to until it was voiced that not only was she unstable, but socially deficient, unpredictable and dangerous.
Tutors treated Olivia with half-heartedness but took the credit as she matured in her reading and writing. She began learning to speak and read French and Latin.
At the age of ten, Olivia threw a tantrum because she was ordered to take riding lessons. Her first episode on her mother's horse and the ensuing gossip would never be forgotten. When her father summoned her, she yelled at him and told him, "I will never ride on a horse, not ever!"
"I will not see you again, daughter until you take your first riding lesson. We shall see who will win this battle, we shall see."
Three months passed before Olivia, with the help of her brother, Michael, mounted a pony and allowed him to lead it around the courtyard. The riding lessons began and the king arranged a banquet for two. The king had invited his queen to be present this time, but she did not wish to have another confrontation with her troubled stepdaughter so declined the invitation.
King Clovis ordered that his daughter be taught correct manners, and the proper protocol concerning speaking to him, the king, in front of the court--how to curtsey and how to control her feelings and words--especially when Queen Dorothea sat at his side. "I do not want her physically punished when she is incompliant, but left alone in the school room, seated at her desk, until she complies. She must be rewarded for complying. Time outdoors will be her reward."
It had been reported to the king that his daughter had a particular place where she would go, a place she called 'her secret garden' and although he disliked the fact that this place was 'all about her', he remember that long ago, this place had also been his special quiet place. It dawned on the king that although his daughter looked like her mother, she was, in temperament, like him.
What a difficult childhood he had suffered--an only child--heir to the throne. She was like an only child, the only princess, and King Clovis knew that he was making allowances for her. I hate it when I say one thing, and think the opposite, he told himself. Most of my conflicts with her are because I see my own child self in her...
He commanded that the riding lessons continue, "Once a week, riding lessons, and she must be taught other skills that need coordination, perhaps, yes, archery. Her mother, Queen Anne, was very good at target shooting. She could hit the bull's-eye every time."
Olivia grew and changed even though she managed to have her own way in her small world. She would read at the desk when left alone for 'discipline time', or she drew pictures with charcoal on parchment, trees and hills and flowers, animals and people's faces, enjoying this time. Therefore it did not serve as the correction that her father intended.
There were no girls her age, no children to play with and no one at her level to challenge her or bring her in line when she pushed her boundaries too far.
Her young nanny covered for her, the servants made allowances for her and the young princess could hardly remember what it was like to be loved by a mother.
It was so long ago, but I do know my mother loved me. Who loves me now? Father is too busy to love me ... Dorothea certainly doesn't love me ... perhaps Michael does, but he doesn't give me any of his time, and Clovis, John and Albert--well, I don't even know them.
If it's a question of who loves me, then it's up to me. I must love myself, for no one else does, nor will they ... I'll work hard to make my father love me more ... I need my father's love ... I'll try to be good for him ... so that he is on my side ... I want him on my side, so how do I learn that it's not about me? I must learn to make it about him ... I must try to please my father if it is at all possible...
Chapter 1
"We hear that you've been practising a new archery skill, Daughter," the king said. Beneath his jewelled crown, deep frown lines creased his forehead.
"Yes Father, and I'm a really good shot, too," she replied, smiling impishly.
"One is supposed to be practising firing at a round target with a bull's-eye," the king said. "Firing arrows at a window is not a good thing Princess Olivia Anne." When she did not reply, the king said, "We are hereby banning you from archery..."
"Oh, Father, but that's too harsh a punishment! I only got one arrow through the window, and it didn't hit anyone, and if it had, he's not a special person is he? He must have done something really bad to be locked in our highest tower!"
"Why were you targeting that particular portal, Daughter?"
"I wanted to know his name," Olivia replied.
"How would an arrow bring you his name?"
"I wrote him a message, a question. I wrote, 'What is your name?'--And I attached the parchment to the arrow..."
"Did he reply?"
"No, he just dropped the arrow from the balcony up there. It fell to the ground, and that's when one of your snoops, Claude, saw me..."
"Claude?--It was Noel who reported your misconduct, not Claude." The king was very particular about names.
"Whoever..." Olivia said carelessly, frustrated. "You're not really going to ban me from archery Father, are you? I've been good according to your rules Father, for a long time now..."
"For the space of one month, you won't touch a bow or arrow and thereafter if you practice firing at anything other than a practice target, you shall be banned forever."
"Thank you Father. I do so want to continue archery." Rushing to him, Olivia kissed her father's cheek.
She would have run off, but he held her and said, "You must give up your curiosity about that tower, Olivia."
Reaching her arms around his neck, she pulled herself to sit on his lap. The king's eyes scanned the looks of disdain on the faces of the several dozen court members present and he said, "You're getting too big for this, Daughter."
"I've only done this four times before today, Father. I wish you would grow too, and then I could always sit here." She hugged and kissed his cheek and said, "I'm not curious about the tower, Father, only about the man who's locked in it."
"No more arrows," he said. Softly, so that only she could hear, he added, "You melt my father-heart with your earnest brown eyes. You remind me of your mother." He blinked at her smile and said loudly, "No more arrows."
"Not for a month," she agreed, shaking her head so that her contrived brown ringlets jostled around her face.
"And only at a target."
"Never at a window. But Father, what's his name?"
Drawing a deep breath, the king said, "I'm going to give you an assignment, Daughter. You wish to learn the man's name?"
"Yes, Father, oh please," she replied, her child-like rounded twelve-year old face joyful with the expectation of discovering 'the name'.
"Learn the names of all in our court, and I shall tell you the name of our guest in the tower."
"He's a guest?"
"Do not question my choice of word, child. Do you know what would happen to anyone else who stood before me and questioned me like this?"
"I'm not standing, Father, I'm sitting, and you are the only other one in this chamber doing that. So, just as a king has privileges, so does the king's daughter."
"With the privileges, there are responsibilities."
"You will tell me the name, Father?"
"If you learn the names, word perfect--mind, you'll have to pledge to keep his name a secret--not even the court knows his name..."
"I know that," she replied, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
"You would know, Daughter, I'm sure you would. You listen to the things you should not hear and do not listen to the important matters you should hear and heed. Learn all the names of the court, including our 'snoops', as you called them and that's the last time either you, or I shall use that word, Daughter. They are Palace Guards..."
"How many are there, Father?--they all look the same. Like buzzards then if I can't us the 's' word..."
"There are twenty in the Elite Guard, and eighty-four Royal Guards..."
"One hundred-and-four?--and there are over fifty in the court, or, sixty..."
"There are seventy-five in our court, and that includes the scribes and counsellors..."
"I have to learn one hundred and seventy-nine names?"
The king blinked. Adding it all together, he found she was right. "You'll have to match each name with each person, and be able to remember them," the king said seriously, "also the names of any new personnel, don't forget the new-comers."
"It's impossible!" she said, trying to pull away from him.
His hold tightened on her hands as he said, "Your brothers all know all of the names, not only of the court, but each of the names of our two hundred footmen and five hundred city guards too. Clovis, Albert and Michael know the names of all of our palace servants as well."
"Do you know them all?" she asked.
"Yes, of course..."
"And, Stepmother knows them?"
"Most of them, but this is not about your step-mother, the queen, it's about you, Daughter."
"It's about me?"
Without blinking this time, the king said crisply, "It is about you knowing all of those important people in your home. This is like one large family, Olivia Anne. It is about them, all of them."
She crinkled her face in thought, then smiled and said, "Then I shall do it."
"You must have them perfect," he said, "no mistakes allowed."
"That will be too hard. Can I not even have a few little-bitty mistakes?"
"You get all of your arithmetic correct. I hear you are very good at advanced mathematics. One kind of memorization is the same as another. Would you like me to say your name--wrongly?" he asked. She shook her head and the king saw, beyond her curls, one of his aides, Hiram, raising a forefinger, trying discreetly to gain his attention.
"How long have I got--to learn all of the names?"
"As long as it takes, just remember they have to be said correctly, no errors. So, take all of the time you need and be mindful of new additions. You will be given one chance only."
He kissed her forehead and stood, lifting her and setting her on her feet.
As she skipped from the throne room, he sighed and said, "One daughter has been more trouble than all four sons put together. But she's growing up fast. One can only hope..."
Olivia could not remember when she had chosen her favourite place in the palace gardens. It was long before 'the man' in the tower had come, she knew that much. This was the place she would go for her 'reward time'.
Sunshine and birdsong mingling with perfumes from flowers made this spot seem like heaven to the girl. It also was a good position from which to view the tower, the one where 'the man' lived.
When he had first come to stay in the tallest tower in the palace, where she had lived while the nursery had been refurbished after the fire, guards had stood to attention at the one tower door. As the months turned into the first year, the guards were no longer commissioned to stand there. Olivia had heard that her father had declared, "There are more important things in this kingdom to guard than an exile that has nowhere to go."
That the man was a prisoner at first, then an exile, intrigued Olivia. She had never been commanded not to go into the tower, but she did not need a command. Something terrible was wrong with 'the man' in the tower, of this, Olivia had been sure.
The man was allowed to go riding each day for one hour, early in the morning. He did not ride alone, but had a mounted escort. No less than six riders accompanied him, sometimes a dozen.
Olivia knew this because she listened to as much gossip as she could. She had learned to keep silent when others were talking, this way she would hear much more. If she opened her mouth even to gasp, the chatter always ceased. Her nanny, Lydia, whom she called 'Leedee', often passed on tidbits in Olivia's hearing, but the girl had heard few details, certainly not the man's name, nor the reason why he lived such a lonely life, locked in the highest tower of the royal palace.
Seated in the warmth of her special place, Olivia spent her free time there, playing with and talking to her wooden toys, reading and drawing. How nice it was to have her lessons done for the day and to be out here in the fresh air. Having positioned her wooden horses and other animals in various places, she looked up, up, up, to the balcony surrounding the tower top. And as usual, 'the man' came out and looked over the ledge, down, down, down to where she sat. Olivia always pretended she did not see him, but as quickly as he had come, he disappeared.
Today, Olivia's curiosity gave her no peace. Placing her parchment drawing down with the charcoals, she gingerly moved across the garden and towards the tower.
Into the shadows under the archway she crept. Up the steps to the tower door. She stopped there to furtively scan the area to make sure no one watched her. A large knob on the door dared her to touch it, and she imagined it would burn her hand. It was cool to her fingers. Her small hand could barely wrap around it. The knob did not turn and she wrapped her other hand around the other side of it, twisting it with as much strength as she could muster. The knob did not budge.
"I'm stupid! So stupid!" she said fiercely. "The door has a bar across it, and I dare not touch that. He's locked in from the outside. He's a prisoner, not a guest!" But then, she thought, the tower is not a dungeon. I liked it up there. I could see all of the garden and the palace grounds, and out into the countryside for miles. I wonder what the man did to deserve being locked away forever? she mused. I wish I could find out ... I'll have to think of a way to get to him, to talk with him.
Olivia asked her brother, Michael, about the man, but he said, "We don't talk about him, Olivia."
Michael was the only one of Olivia's four brothers who would speak to her. For as long as she could remember, the three older brothers all treated her as if she were invisible, or worse, an unwanted animal, perhaps even a rodent that was a pest. I'm not even a pet rat, she told herself. At least if I were a pet, they would stop and look at me and say something. My brothers spend more time talking to their horses than they do to me...
I wonder if the man would talk to me? I don't even know how old he is. He looks older than Michael, but not as old as Clovis ... perhaps, if he would not talk to me, he would answer a written question ... This thought had led to Olivia's arrow-shooting expedition.
Now I have to learn all of these names, and match them up with all of the different faces, shapes and sizes. The court should be easy, but not the snoops. And I'll have to change the name 'snoop' to 'buzzard' ... they prey on seeking out trouble then tell tales about it ... like buzzards waiting for their next meal to die before devouring it slowly...
Olivia learned the names of the people of the court within one week. She found this exercise quite easy, especially as she was an early riser. The court all assembled outside the king's breakfast chamber, waiting for him to appear and thus begin the day. Olivia mingled with the members of the court while they waited. Having heard of the king's youngest child's 'assignment', the members of the court were helpful, willing to assist.
"What person does not like to speak one's name, and have it spoken back in return?" Olivia said. She turned on her best manners and nicest words to compliment each of the court and found she was popular, a new experience for her. Then, to be sure that she had learned every name, she wrote a list and compared it with Sir Malcolm's records. He was Keeper of the Records. After she was sure of each court member, she turned her attention to the Palace Guards.
The names of the twenty men of the Elite Guard were easy for Olivia to remember. These men had been here all of her life. They were older men and she had repeatedly heard their names.
Then came the eighty-four Palace Guards. Wearing the same uniform, it was a matter of somehow memorizing each man's features and trying to put a name to them. When Olivia was ready to give up, she thought of her brother, Michael, and decided to ask him how he had learned all of the names.
"I have my own way," he told her.
"Please tell me, please," she begged.
"I will, if you'll do something for me," he replied.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked eagerly.
"When you learn the name of the man in the tower, you must tell me."
"But Father says it's a secret..."
"He's going to tell you, so how can it be a secret?"
"I have to pledge," she said, her voice sad.
"Then I'll give you no help," he said, folding his arms.
Olivia ran from him, out into the garden to her favourite place, to think. After a minute, she looked up. The man was looking down at her, but the instant she caught sight of him, he withdrew.
"There you are," Lydia said, "Your riding instructor's waiting at the stables for you, Princess."
"I forgot," she said, jumping to her feet. "Oh Leedee, I need your help. How do I learn all the names of the Royal Guards?"
Lydia laughed and said, "I'll tell you how I do it, Lovey, but I don't know them all, that will be a mission, it will! Then, it may not work for you ... you see, every one of them looks different, at least their build and height does, but most of all their faces. Let me see ... that one over there, standing by the wall, he's been told to watch for you, Lovey ... let's go close to him and then, when we walk away, I'll tell you how I do it. His name is Guard Mark. You'll have to remember the 'Guard' title too Lovey. All of the Royal Guards have 'Guard' before their name. Only the footmen and servants have plain names. Now, take a good look at Guard Mark's face..."
Olivia gazed up into the granite like face of the Royal Guard named Mark. He gave but one brief glance down at the princess, then his eyes lifted back to stare out at a distant wall. His eyes, glimmering with amusement as he listened to the conversation, seemed to mock.
"Now, come, Lovey, let's walk a bit ... it's best Guard Mark doesn't hear how you're going to do it." They walked out of earshot and Lydia said, "Tell me what his face looks like..."
"Well, I couldn't see his hair because of the helmet, and all of them wear the same helmet, but he had thick eyebrows, dark eyes, a big nose and thin lips..."
"What else?"
"What else is there?"
"You missed something, Princess."
Olivia pivoted and hurried back to where the guard stood. She stood close to him, causing him to look down at her. "I'm examining your face again, Guard Mark," she said. He grinned as her large doe-like eyes circled his face. "I'm trying to match your face with your name," she said. He kept grinning and raised his eyebrows. He was not permitted to speak to the princess unless she asked a question, was breaking one of the king's rules, or was in danger.
Lydia joined Olivia and said, "Look for detail, Lovey."
"He has a moustache, and a scar coming from under it," she said at last.
"It's not a scar, Lovey, but a mark. And that's it. You look for something peculiar to each person, and match it to his or her name. Think of an object, or an animal, or anything, but it works, it does."
"That's really clever, Leedee. Mark, Guard Mark. I will now never forget you, Guard Mark, but I will have to be close and look at you properly to see the little scar-mark there..."
"That's what your father always does, he stands close to people when he says their name," Lydia said, adding proudly, "he even remembers my name!"
"Let's look for another guard," Olivia said excitedly.
"Don't go that way, you must come and get your riding costume on," Lydia said, "we'll just look at one more guard, but he'll have to be along our way."
Olivia stopped in front of a royal guard who stood at attention at the bottom of the staircase leading to the nursery. She looked up into his face, and asked, "I need to know your name, please, Sir."
"Guard Edgar, at your service, Princess Olivia Anne," he replied and bowed.
"Guard Edgar, Edgar..." She searched his face and saw that his eyebrows and goatee beard were dark red. "Red, Ed," she said to Lydia and began walking up the stairs.
At the top, Lydia whispered, "I remember his name because he has such a long face, oval. I think of an egg ... Eggar, Guard Edgar..." they both laughed loudly.
"You're brilliant you know, Leedee," Olivia said. "Thank you so much."
Lydia smiled with pleasure. "And you're so much nicer, easier to talk with, lately. I like your good manners, Lovey, I do. And, there's something you can do for me."
"What is it?"
"Call me 'Lydia' please..."
"Only if you stop calling me Lovey ... you make me sound like a bird."
"It's agreed, Princess," the nanny said, adding, "Leedee sounds like an animal's name. I may be your nanny, but I'm not a nanny-goat!"
They both laughed loudly.
Chapter 2
A month had passed since Olivia had taught herself that the man with the small scar was named Guard Mark. One by one, the men's outstanding facial features had brought life to their names. Several names were very difficult to imagine a visible connection to the face, but copying Lydia's peculiar talent, Olivia learned to identify each and every one. She wrote a list of the names and while seated in her favourite place, she closed her eyes and sought to remember each face and each name that went with the face. How easy it all has been, really, she told herself. I should not have been so worried.
The man appeared up on the balcony and she waved up at him. He did not wave back, but did not disappear as quickly as usual.
Olivia looked up, focusing on his face. His hair was short, dark brown, as were his thick eyebrows. She imagined him to be handsome. How she longed to be closer to him, to be able to talk with him. He is as lonely as I am, she mused. At least I shall learn his name soon.
Olivia was finally scheduled to stand in front of both her father and stepmother, King Clovis and Queen Dorothea. The moment had arrived.
The Elite Guards passed by, and she named all twenty. Then the Palace Guards, and after them, the court lined up for her to name. They remained standing around the large courtyard, waiting to hear the outcome. Everyone knew about the 'secret prize' that the princess was trying to achieve today. Olivia knew that if she made one mistake, it would be over.
Near the end of the line of members of the court, with just five people to go, a face came into Olivia's view, one she could not remember having seen before. She searched her mind, but no name matched this face. Dread rose within her. This was such an important test, and she could not fail, it had to be perfect. Looking along at the remaining four, she reeled their names off perfectly. Turning back to the new man, she said, "You're new, Sir." She had not asked a question, so the man was silent. "Sir, are you not new?"
"I've been here for two weeks, Princess Olivia Anne."
"I've not seen you before this morning, Sir. I've not learned your name," Olivia said and wondered if this contest was over and she had lost. Her hand flew to her mouth as she remembered her father's words, Also the names of any new personnel, and, You must have them perfect ... no mistakes allowed.
It was as though the whole courtyard swirled and all of the faces in it merged into the stones in the walls, mocking her, laughing at her. Her stepmother, her father and all four brothers, their faces seemed to scorn her--and the court, all staring at her--as well as the guards who had stayed. People lined the walls. They had all come to hear her fail. She had so wanted to win, but now, all was lost.
"I've failed," she said and spun around, running from the courtyard as fast as her feet could carry her, heedless of her father's call, "Stay!"
Olivia flung herself down into the grass where she had sat to learn the names and to picture the faces in her mind ... I failed! I failed. Just because of one new face. I didn't check with Sir Malcolm's record, I'm so stupid, I should have checked ... he'd have told me and I'd have learned his name ...
Unable to prevent herself, she broke into desolate sobs. It was not about the man in the tower any more, but about the people who had seen her fail. It was about embarrassment and shame. It was about her parents knowing that she had fallen short of their expectations. About her brothers' scorn at the sister who could never get anything right. She wept and wept.
A ball of crinkled parchment fell on Olivia's arm but she did not stop weeping. Then, as it dawned in her mind that something had fallen from above, she rolled over and looked for the 'missile'. The paper lay close. Looking up, she saw the man. He looked down at her and did not move away. I'll never know his name now, she told herself. Father knew ... he knew also that l would fail ... he wanted me to fail ... he employed another person and kept him out of my way so that he could be sure I couldn't learn them all ... I wish I'd never tried to do it in the start! Oh, why did I want to do it? To shame myself? To show everyone how stupid I am? I should climb up the vines to that tower and jump off! No one would blink an eye, or drop one tiny little tear for me, it would be a relief to them all to see me dead...
Looking up again, Olivia called, "It's all your fault!" Standing up, she cupped her hands and shouted louder, "It's your fault! You're to blame! I hate you!"
Cupping his hands, he called, "Read the paper!"
Her eyes fell to where the paper ball lay.
"Read the paper!" he repeated the call.
Dashing away her tears, she collected the parchment ball. Looking up, she saw his clean-shaven face with its mop of dark brown glossy hair. He stayed there, looking down at her. Unraveling the small piece of paper, she sat and smoothed it on the rock. Evenly formed scripted writing met her eyes and she read the words, 'God loves you. He knows your name. He knows all about you, even how many hairs you have on your head. He knows your thoughts, your troubles, your worries and your joys. God loves you.--J.
"J?" She looked up, but the balcony was empty. No face looked down. She read the note again.
If only I could talk to him. He'd tell me his name, I'm sure ... and I want to ask him why he writes such words. How does he know these things? Who can know such things about God? How can God love me and know my name? God knows my thoughts? How can it be?
She read the note again: God loves you. He knows your name. He knows all about you, even how many hairs you have on your head. He knows your thoughts, your troubles, your worries and your joys. God loves you.--J.
Looking up, Olivia blinked, not once but twice. The vine grew almost all of the way to the balcony, its leaves touching the bottom stones of it. I could climb the vine ... why haven't I seen the vine before today? It's always been there ... how stupid I am...
"Princess? There you are." Lydia hurried to her, saying, "You ran off ... you shouldn't have run off. Your father waited for you, but you didn't return. He's upset, I can tell, not that he shows it. He used my name, and commanded me to fetch you. I looked everywhere. Come, hurry ... but, what have you got there?"
Olivia scrunched the paper back into a ball, pressing it tighter, and said, "Nothing. It's nothing." But in her heart, she knew it was not 'nothing'. She could call the man, 'J'. He had a name beginning with J. And he wrote such wonderful words. He was the one up in the tower, the one with no freedom, yet he wrote words that gave such comfort. It was as if he had said that he loved her, that he cared for her ... it was something to cherish, something to make her life more worthwhile, she decided. And one day soon, perhaps tomorrow, I'll climb up to him ... I'll do it, I will!
Facing her father, the king, was not the ordeal it would have been had Olivia not received that note and seen the vine. Although the 'J' was not the man's full name, Olivia felt that somehow she had been vindicated. She had not been left empty, and her heart felt huge. Even her father's lecture could not take away the new secrets she harboured. The man--Jae--had written a note especially for her, and there was a way up to him.
"You ran! Not only from your king and queen but also from the court! We are appalled with your behavior, Princess Olivia Anne," the king said, adding, "What have you to say for yourself?"
Olivia looked around the courtyard. If she had not felt the crinkles of the ball of paper clenched in her palm, she would have been devastated. "I'm sorry, Your Majesties, I humbly apologize," she said in a contrite voice. Turning a full circle, she said, "I apologize to you all." Curtsying to the two chairs where her parents sat, she said, "Please accept my apologies. I am truly punished."
"Punished? What punishment have you borne, child?"
"Not only have I failed in the assignment you set Father, Sire, but I've been humiliated twice before you and your court. Here and now, I again admit my fault. To lose was expected, but to run from your presence was childish and wrong, Sire. Punishment is mine because I failed on one name out of one hundred and eighty. To have missed one is to have failed on all..."
"Not quite. You must look at this exercise more positively, Princess Olivia Anne. You have won on all, save one. And the benefit of knowing the names of those around you brings its own reward. It's a great achievement. We all feel that you did extremely well."
Olivia looked up into her father's face. "Thank you, Sire. But you did not wish me to win on all of them, Sire, did you?" When he did not reply, she said, "It would have been hard for you, Sire, had I been more diligent and learned from Sir Malcolm that there was a new member of court. Then, Sire, I'm glad. There are some things we're not meant to know..." she heard her thoughts condemning her as a liar because she had learned something secret about 'the man'. He himself had given her a 'J'. And there was no way she had given up on learning what she was not supposed to know...
Wanting to make her father squirm, Olivia asked sweetly, "What is the name of that man? You must tell me, Sire, I have to know." She saw her father's face change colour and she smiled and said, "not 'the tower man', Father, Sire, but the new man--the one who joined the court just two weeks ago ... I know the other man, the one in the tower, his name is a secret, Sire ... but the new man?"
The king raised his eyebrows and his face changed back to normal. "Sir Clovis, step forward."
The new man stepped across to Olivia and bowed.
"I shall never forget you, Sir Clovis," she said and curtsied to her father saying, "He has the best name of them all ... it's almost the same as our king's name."
"Almost?" the king queried.
"Oh Sire, you are King Clovis the Fifth. Sir Clovis has no king title and no royal fifth about him ... but he does have a very grand name!" She bobbed a curtsy and all of the court broke into applause.
Olivia left the courtyard feeling pleased. The piece of paper in her hand was her reward. She thought, I won! I really won. Perhaps it's because I have this paper ... but then, it's really my attitude from this paper. It's because I believe I'm not a loser that I have not lost ... oh, I'm confusing myself. I'm a confused winner then. But I feel happy, and I'm glad. She quoted to herself, 'God loves you. He knows your name. He knows all about you, even how many hairs you have on your head. He knows your thoughts, your troubles, your worries and your joys. God loves you.'
Olivia rose before dawn the next morning, dressed in a riding costume with its long pantaloons and gathered overskirt. She whispered to Lydia, "Don't get up, Lydia. I'm going to the library. I want to be there when the sun rises so I can look at some books in the light. I'm going to do a name study, I am. I'll have breakfast when I return."
The curator of the library had just unlocked the door when Olivia arrived.
"Princess Olivia Anne," he said, "Well, good morning. What may I do for you?"
"Good morning Sir." The curator had large ears and Olivia had remembered his name because she had likened his ears to the large gills of a fish. She almost giggled now, looking at his large ears and bald head, but she stifled her mirth and asked her question.
"Sir Gilbert, I'd like to look at a book of names, men's names. They come with meanings don't they?"
"They also give the origin of each name, Princess Olivia Anne. We have three volumes. But the names are intermingled, female names with the male names. Take your name for instance, Princess. Olivia. It comes from Olive and the male is Oliver, both mean 'Olive Tree'."
"I'm an olive tree then, am I?" she asked brightly.
"An olive tree that should be full of grace, graceful and gracious," he said.
"Grace? Graceful?"
"Anne is a derivative of 'Hannah' with the graceful meaning," he said, his voice sounding his disdain toward her.
"Perhaps one day I shall be graceful," she said, smiling at him.
"Perhaps," he said, his face not giving her any hope. "I'll fetch the books."
He would have moved off, only she said quickly, "Oops. I have to go, I'll be back ... please keep the books out for me, Sir Gilbert. I'll come back, if not sooner, then later."
Olivia hurried as fast as she could, along the corridor, down stairs, across the courtyard, under the archway and around to the base of the highest tower. She looked up, taking a deep breath and mustering her courage. Could she do it? She hoped she could. Pivoting, she looked to see if any 'buzzards' had followed her. Stepping quickly, she went to her chosen spot and sat on the flat rock trying to look normal. She picked a stem of lavender, sniffed the small flowers deeply before tucking the stem into her hair. Guards Claude and Noel were commissioned by the king to watch her, but Olivia knew they had other duties as well and they would not expect her to be outside at this early hour.
The king would not even be at his breakfast yet. Confident that no one was watching, Olivia returned to the base of the tower.
Gripping the thick trunks of the vines, Olivia was pleased that they were so strong and thick, with so many tendrils attached to the tower. The ivy had grown to become part of the tower. She pulled herself up, then, realising that her slippers prevented her gaining a good grip with her feet and pushing her feet closer to the wall, she kicked them off to land in the grass at the base of the wall, inside the trunks of the vine.
Climbing to the top of the vine was easy, only at the top, the vines, though clinging to the wall, were thinner and not strong enough to hold her. Finding indents between the stones of the tower structure, she climbed higher until she was level with the top ledge of the balustrade. Grasping hold of the ledge, Olivia grazed skin off her bare arms as she pulled herself up and over the balustrade and on to the floor of the balcony itself. Rolling on the stone, she whispered, "I did it, I did it!"
Excitement from the victory to have achieved the impossible, standing in the dwelling of 'the man', was dampened when she looked down, down, down to 'her' place. Her head swam. She squeezed her eyes closed. Had she really climbed so far up from the ground? When I go to climb down, I must not look down, she told herself.
Olivia entered the tower chamber, expecting to find it familiar. She had lived here for almost three months. But that was years ago, and nothing was the same now. The four-poster bed had been moved to a different location and there were no servants' beds in the room. The scarce amounts of the man's possessions were so neatly placed that the chamber seemed to be bare. A bookshelf of books, a large map on the wall showing the kingdoms in the close vicinity. Olivia moved around the chamber, taking in everything while at the same time, searching for a name, his name. A thick sideboard held a jug filled with water, a large metal pitcher half-full, and a large washbowl, filled with clean water. Beside the bowl was a used round of soap and a neatly folded clean towel. Shaving blades, a pair of scissors and a hairbrush sat in front of a square wall mirror at the end of the sideboard.
"Jae will use this bowl for his wash when he comes back from his ride," she whispered. Lifting the jug, she poured water into the goblet and drank it. Placing the vessels back in their places, she whispered, "I drank from his goblet, and he won't even know. He mustn't know I've been here, but I will know, forever, I will know."
Under the high window were a desk, a chair and a trunk. Two inkwells sat at their places on the desk, and a sheaf of quills, each put away in its particular pocket. Normal writing tools, such as a scribe would own sat on the desktop. Lifting the lid of a white porcelain pot, Olivia discovered it held fine sand, used to dry the ink faster. In the top drawer there were scissors, wax and a seal ... Olivia lifted the seal, turning it to look at the inscription. "It has a 'J'--he has his own seal, that's interesting, but I want to know what the 'J' means," she whispered aloud to herself. Opening the bottom drawer, Olivia found it contained pieces of new parchment paper. The papers were blank. The middle drawers contained writing instruments and tools. A bottle with red ink in it nestled in a little wooden box with a larger bottle of black ink beside it.
Olivia opened the trunk and saw that it was full of books.
"He's good, he doesn't leave anything lying about, not like me, I scatter ... he puts it all away. Unless that is, he has a servant-man up here ... no, I don't think so," she whispered. "But someone must bring him food and water.
"He doesn't get any letters either, unless he burns them." She looked across at the fireplace but it was void of embers or ash. Olivia again moved around the circular walls of the chamber. A clothes rack revealed nothing important, a half-dozen different male outfits hung on it. One trunk contained rugs for the wintertime, another his underclothes, breeches and woollen singlets all neatly folded. A low shelf near the door held a pair of moccasin slippers, a pair of dress shoes and a pair of winter riding boots. A cloak hung on a hook on the wall by the closed door. Olivia shivered with excitement. "I'm really here," she whispered.
Fingering the rich velvet lined cloak, she shook her head and said, "I don't think he's a poor-man, everything seems well-made." Stepping closer to the map, she saw that one kingdom was outlined with red ink. Reaching up, she touched the name, written across the width of the small kingdom.
"Jasinki ... Jasinki. It begins with J. Maybe his name is 'Jasinki'. Or, it could be 'James'--or a hundred other 'J' names! I haven't found anything else of value, but perhaps, yes, the library will reveal something. I'll find books about this kingdom, Jasinki. It's northwest of here with a small amount of land bordering our kingdom." She traced the name written across her father's kingdom, saying it, "Polmark. My father's name is 'Clovis' so the name of the kingdom has nothing to do with the name of its king ... but then, he wouldn't be a king, would he?"
She scoured her memory for any hint of the kingdom, Jasinki. There was nothing. "I haven't learned about other kingdoms, just about the history and geography of Polmark. It will give me something positive to work on..."
"Princess! Princess Olivia Anne! Princess!" This call floated faintly from the open balcony door, "Princess! Princess Olivia Anne!"
Olivia remembered how many times she had looked up at the balcony. She knew she would be seen if she looked down, that is, if Lydia was looking up. She dared not look over at Lydia, did she? She hesitated.
The deep male voice of Guard Claude sounded out, "Princess! Princess!"
She drew further into the round tower chamber wondering what she could do next? The Jae man would return from his riding soon, and she must not be found here. "I'll wait for him," she said and walked across to the chair to sit on it. Stepping from the circular mat to the cold floor beside the chair reminded her that she was barefooted. What if Lydia, or the guard down there ... what if they find my slippers under the vine? But, they'll be hidden in the grass. They won't be found unless ... oops, what if they fetch Father's hound, Weasel? But he's old now. I don't want anyone to find me here ... except perhaps Jae, then I could talk with him. But then, I'll be in big trouble. No, it's not worth it; I didn't climb up here to be trapped in here. Father's anger is not worth it. I'll have to go out of the door at the bottom, then I'll fetch my slippers and no one will know ... I must keep the secret of the vine then I can climb here again ... it will be my secret...
Olivia hurried down the winding staircase, down, down, down to the circular chamber at the bottom. The outer door was locked. Stepping to the key rack she lifted the one key from its hook. She tried it in the door, but it was the wrong shape and would not go in, no matter how hard she tried.
Then she remembered, this door was not opened with a key, it had a bar on the outside! Looking up, she saw a thick rope with a knot in the end; it was out of her reach. It's a bell pull ... if the man wants something, he has to pull the rope...
Another much smaller door in this chamber beckoned to her and she hurried over to try the knob. It was locked. She plied the key to the lock and it turned, unlocking it. I'll hide in there, she told herself, but I'll put the key back and when he's gone up, he should leave the other key on its hook and I should be able to unlock the outer door and leave...I hope there is a key to the outer door ... and I hope they don't put the bar across it, or how will I get out?