Sunday Story - The Story of Melanie continued

This is a continuation of the story I wrote last week about Melanie the lady's maid, who is to be sent to marry the King of Maravel in place of the princess she serves to prevent a bloody war. Some details might be different because I'm still working out how I want this world to be. Let me know what you think of this second installment!

The map (so far)

“You will be sent to marry King Harford in Genevieve’s place.”

The words echoed through Melanie’s mind. She thought of the arguments her king had presented. Maravel was a military powerhouse - they would not hesitate to invade Belgaband, she was sure of that. Their soldiers were notoriously cruel - when they invaded Aragren last summer, they had slaughtered their way to the palace, leaving behind rivers of blood and corpses on pikes. Aragren had resisted, and Aragren had fallen. Belgaband would fare no better.

Images flashed through Melanie’s mind. Her siblings in the town below; her mother, struggling to care for them all after her father’s death; the other lady’s maids, her friends, slaughtered in defense of their princess; the princess herself, either forced into this marriage or killed for refusing.

She took three deep breaths, one for each of her young siblings.

“When do I leave?”

***

Everything was arranged within the week. Genevieve had had another tantrum, trying to convince her father that Melanie should not have to go and do this. She did not, however, agree to go through with the marriage herself in order to save Melanie. Genevieve was not a selfless person; she never had been, and she never would be.

Melanie spent long hours with both the king and Princess Genevieve, brushing up on court manners and Belgabandish history and politics. She also studied maps of Maravel, of the capital city of Adria, of the great Red Palace at its centre. She stood for hours and Genevieve’s gowns were refitted for her, and though Genevieve cried through each fitting, Melanie was fairly sure that Genevieve cried not for her but for the loss of her favourite gowns. Or maybe both.

Though Melanie would take with her most of Genevieve’s wardrobe, she knew she would probably have to get a whole new wardrobe made in the Maravellian style. While the Belgabandish preferred deep, rich colours and full skirts, the Maravellians wore pastels with long, trailing wisps of fabric that served as skirts. Some of the Maravellian women that Melanie had seen had such thin skirts that you could see the matched leggings they wore underneath.

As the day that she would be leaving approached, a great procession was staged in the capital. Melanie would travel with two maids and a guard of ten men, members of the King’s Guard that had been tapped for the job. None of them seemed very happy about it.

Genevieve oversaw most of the preparations, making as grand a procession as she would have wanted on the day she departed for a new kingdom. Once Melanie left, Genevieve would be whisked away to Lessar, a long-time trading ally of Belgaband and too remote for Maravel to deem important - at least, so they hoped. Queen Dreyma would provide shelter for Genevieve while Melanie masqueraded as the Princess, hopefully not for too long.

The night before they left, Melanie sat with Gladys and Minithe, the two handmaidens who would be travelling to Maravel with her. They had volunteered for the job, and the king had agreed, knowing them to be discreet. Melanie had suggested hiring completely new maids who had no knowledge of the princess, but the king and council had overruled her, saying that it would be better to have friends close by who knew the princess’s routines and manners.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, my lady,” Gladys assured Melanie. “Oops - I mean, Your Highness,” she said, quickly correcting her mistake. They had been practicing their new roles for the last few days. “You have a courtly manner about you, and all you have to do is act a little spoiled to match the descriptions of Genevieve’s temperament.” Minithe giggled at that.

Melanie sighed. “I will do what I must. Tonight I must go out into the lower town to see my family. I need to tell them what is happening.”

“Is that a good idea, Mel?” Minithe asked. “The fewer people know you’re leaving, the better.”

“I have to,” Melanie replied. “They rely on my income, and I usually hand deliver it to them. I visit them at least once a month. Mother - she isn’t so well, and I have to make sure the children will be cared for.”

Minithe narrowed her eyes. “Wait here,” she said, rushing out of the room.

“Does she ever explain what she’s doing?” Gladys asked.

“No,” Melanie replied with a small smile. Minithe spent most of her time in her own head, dreaming up new lands and stories and concocting clever schemes. She was very intelligent, but almost impossible to understand because her mind moved so fast that her mouth couldn’t keep up. She’d tell you the beginning of the plan, something in the middle, and then the end - but the connections between them, while perfectly clear to Minithe, made no sense to anyone else.

Minithe came back with Jona in tow. “Min, what is going on?” she asked. It was evident from her tone that she had asked this several times on their way there.

Melanie looked at Minithe with calm, steadying eyes. “Okay, Min,” she said slowly, hoping that this would slow Minithe down, “you need to tell us from the beginning exactly what is going on here.”

“Jona will do it! Don’t you see? You’ll be gone to Maravel with Genevieve and Jona will bring your wages to them.”

Gladys looked completely dumbfounded, but Melanie thought she understood. “So we will tell my mother that I’m going to Maravel with Genevieve, and that Jona will be the one to bring the money down to them because the King will continue to pay me while I serve Genevieve,” she said.

Minithe nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That’s just the thing. Now let’s get you down there.”

Fifteen minutes later, Melanie and Jona were walking through the streets of the lower town towards her family home, covered in long hooded cloaks.

“Hello?” she called in question as she opened the door. She was immediately tackled by a small, solid weight that squealed, “Mellie!” It was three-year-old Amélie, closely followed by nine-year-old Éverard, looking as dignified as a nine-year-old scrawny twig of a boy can look. Nathalie rushed out of the kitchen, apparently halfway through the washing, as her hands were covered in soapy bubbles. “Hello, Mel,” she said stiffly. “Mama’s out back.”

Melanie just nodded and, kissing Amélie on the head, walked through the small house and onto the back porch. Jona followed her wordlessly, smiling at the children as she passed. Melanie’s mother sat in an old rocking chair, wrapped in blankets and cloaks, staring at nothing.

“Hello, Mama,” Melanie said tentatively. “I want you to meet my friend, Jona.” Jona stepped forward and bobbed a small curtsy. “She’s going to be bringing you the money for a while, OK?”

There was no response. Melanie had not expected to get one, but it was still unsettling and sad. “Mama?” Melanie tapped her mother’s hand. The older woman’s lips appeared to form words, but Melanie could not make them out. She sighed, kissed her mother on the cheek, and retreated to the kitchen, where Nathalie was supervising the younger two putting away the supper dishes.

“Mellie! Will you play with me? Nattie made me a new dolly,” said Amélie excitedly. “Who’s your friend? She can play too!”

Jona grinned at the little girl. “My name is Jona,” she said, crouching down to grasp Amélie’s hands. “I can’t play today, but maybe next time, okay?” Amélie stuck out her lower lip but nodded.

Melanie gestured to Nathalie to follow her into the sitting room. Nathalie did so, still straight-backed. She still hadn’t forgiven Melanie for ‘abandoning’ them three years ago to work in the palace. Never mind that it’s the only money they get, Melanie thought sourly.

“I have to go away for a while. You’ve heard that Princess Genevieve is going away to be married?”

Nathalie nodded. “You’re going with her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I am,” Melanie responded.

Nathalie stiffened more, if that was possible. “What are we supposed to do for money then? You saw Mama. She can’t work. Éverard is only nine and I can’t leave Amélie here alone.” Though Nathalie tried to look and sound stern, Melanie could hear a tiny quaver in her sister’s voice.

Melanie tried to refrain from rolling her eyes in frustration. She knew her sister was young and under a lot of strain, having to care for not just two children but also their ailing mother. “I brought Jona here to meet you because she will be bringing my wages down here while I’m away. The king has agreed to keep my pay here instead of transferring it to Maravel so that you will still be supported.”

Nathalie’s eyes softened in confusion. “What will you do for money?”

Melanie shrugged. “I won’t need any,” she said. “I’ll be with the princess.”

Nathalie nodded, holding her head up high and looking down her long, straight nose at Melanie. “Very well, sister,” she said, trying to sound disdainful and dignified, but only managing to look petulant. “I wish you good travels. You should say a proper good-bye to Mama while you’re here.”

Melanie went back into the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of a bemused Jona listening to Amélie give a detailed dissertation of the adventures of her new dolly Marie. Melanie just smiled and pushed through the door to see her mother, still sitting and staring into space as if it were the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.

Melanie went around the chair and stood right in front of her mother, hoping that by interrupting the woman’s line of sight she might snap her out of this strange trance. “Mama,” she said gently. No response. “Mama,” she said again, more forcefully. There was no obvious response, but Melanie thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in her mother’s eyes. That was probably the best she would get. When her mother got into these moods, there was nothing that could bring her out save time.

“Mama, I’m going away. You need to wake up.” Melanie snapped her fingers in front of her mother’s face, hoping that would break through the fog. “Mama!” Melanie practically yelled. She leaned forward, gripping the arms of the rocking chair and shaking it. Still nothing.

Fighting back tears, Melanie stood and brushed down her skirts. “Fine. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Maravel. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Try to look after Amélie. Make sure Éverard practices his reading. And don’t let Nathalie do all the work. You and Éverard can help her.” Melanie went to stomp past her mother when a weathered hand grasped her arm. Melanie gasped in surprise and looked back at the older woman.

“Fortnights and moons,” she said softly, still staring into the distance. “Fortnights and moons, and ravens at noon.” It sounded like utter nonsense. What was her mother talking about?

“What do you mean, Mama? What about ravens?”

“Ravens that speak with words so bleak, moon shines red and sun is dead,” she intoned in a flat voice. “Look to the east, back to home, then the beast will come to be known.”

It sounds like prophecy, thought Melanie, but that’s impossible. My mother is no seer. There hasn’t been a new prophecy in an age.

Suddenly, the vice-like grip on Melanie’s arm loosened and her mother went back to absolute stillness.

“Mother, what are you talking about?” Melanie demanded, swinging back in front of the chair.

“She does that sometimes,” Nathalie said from the doorway. “It’s just nonsense. Doesn’t mean anything. She gets like this and then words just spout from her that aren’t at all connected. I’ve heard her say this thing about ravens before.”

Melanie was uneasy, but she could tell she wasn’t going to get anything more out of her mother today. She turned to Nathalie. “Did you hear what I told Mama?” she asked. Nathalie nodded. “Well, the same goes for you. Don’t do all the work, you hear? Éverard can help you with the washing and laundry. Don’t let him tell you that’s ‘women’s work.’ It’s work that needs to be done and so it’s anyone’s work.” Nathalie nodded. Melanie made to sweep past her, but Nathalie stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Mellie?” she asked in a small voice. She hadn’t used Melanie’s nickname in over two years.

“Yes, Nattie?” Melanie responded with Nathalie’s own nickname.

“Please be careful,” Nathalie said quietly. “Please come back to us.”

Melanie nodded somberly, and Nathalie gave her a quick hug.

“Get out of here,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do before you leave with the princess.”

“Be well, Nattie,” Melanie said, gripping her sister’s hands. “Until next time.”

Jona and Melanie walked back to the palace under a three-quarter moon. It rose high in the sky and disappeared before Melanie was able to get any sleep.