then yara entered with the platter of geese.
the prince glanced at her - and then stood up.
“my princess!” he gasped. “my queen!”
yara favored the prince with the briefest of smiles as she approached the table, as if to indicate that such compliments were an every day occurrence for her, or perhaps that she had not even understood the prince’s words, and was only smiling as she would to any guest.
the faithful arbo had seen such displays on the prince’s part before, though perhaps never one occasioned by one so young as yara.
“sit down, sir,” he admonished the prince gently. “we have a part to play,” he added in a whisper.
yara placed the platter on the table. the prince, however, did not sit down but continued to stare at her .
“innkeeper!” arbo cried, hoping to break the spell, “fill our glasses if you please.”
zashaw had been watching from behind the kitchen door, and he responded as quickly as he could.
“but, sir,” he said to arbo when he had brought the wine out, “i see your glasses are all filled. i filled them but a few minutes ago.”
arbo drained his glass and slammed it in the table in front of him.
“enough of this nonsense!” cried the prince, finally taking his eyes from yara. “it is no wine we want but this maid. tell me, sir innkeeper, what is your price for her?”
“the maid?” zashaw glanced at yara casually, as if noticing her existence for the first time. “why, sir, as to that,” he replied smoothly, though taken a bit aback by catching his prey so quickly and so completely, “i would not say that, strictly speaking, she is for sale.. she is but a child after all, my own flesh and blood, and a sacred trust - “
“how much do you want for her?” the prince interrupted him. “no nonsense, sir, none of your palavering with me! i am prince a——————, heir to the kingdom of d——————, and i will have this creature for my queen at any price.”
at this arbor and terno threw up their hands in despair. “come, innkeeper,” terno managed to say, “you can see that the young man is not to be denied. give us a fair price, and let us be done with this business, so that we may enjoy our dinner.”
clara the cook and murgle the stable boy had been watching and listening from behind the kitchen door, and at the prince’s passionate admission clara turned to murgle wth a grin of triumph.
“i have her now!” she exclaimed, “wait you here, murgle, and mind the kitchen. i have business to attend to.”
for clara, like many other servants in establishments great and small along the highway to the capital of the empire, was paid a few pennies a month to be a spy for the imperial police.
throwing a shawl around her shoulders,she hastened out the back door of the inn in search of the local bailiff, sure that her information would prove interesting to him.
at the very least yara’s chances of being carried off by the prince would be foiled. perhaps she could be implicated in a plot against the emperor - and hanged as a spy or burned as a witch!
No comments:
Post a Comment