Casimir's Journey (10 page)

The day seemed too bright, too early, when he left the chapel. Almost as though it were another world. He shuddered, thinking of what he’d left behind. He glanced over his shoulder, wishing he had salt to toss. He couldn’t say with any certainty that spirits wouldn’t follow him.

“Peace be with you,” he said. He meant it. Patting his pocket, he hurried to where he had left Toly. The relief he felt at seeing the horse was indescribable. It felt that a large weight had lifted off him. Until he rid himself of the Lady Illaria’s finger however, the weight would not be totally gone. It couldn’t.

He dug through the packs on the saddle looking for cloth that could clean his wound and make him look somewhat presentable. Thankfully, he could hear water nearby, and searching for a quarter of an hour led him and Toly to a stream where he cleaned his face. There were a few still pools on the banks, and he tried to get a look at how bad the cut was.

It wasn’t good. It really needed stitching, if he was being honest. He had no needle, nothing with which to bind it closed as it needed to be. He sighed. One more thing he’d have to ask Catrin’s help with, and he really didn’t want to ask the woman for anything more. After his own experience, and what the knight had said, he felt there was much about her that he remained unaware of, probably to his detriment.

Ripping the bottom from the extra shirt, he wrapped it across his face. He wasn’t sure how tight to bind the wrappings. He hoped it was not too tight. All the more reason to get back to the blasted woman and hand over the finger.

He swung into the saddle, and turned the horse back toward Gallivas. It would be about two days’ hard ride to get back to Catrin’s home. He sent a prayer skyward that he would encounter nothing to delay him.

Unlike the ride to the chapel, he made it to Catrin’s in record time. He was starving, having ridden as straight through as possible, not even stopping to rest except when he could feel Toly tiring. He had stopped last evening to purchase something to eat for the both of them, but he had pushed on after giving Toly a good rubdown. The horse had grumbled at not being left in a warm stable, but Casimir told him to hush as he spurred him on.

This was it. He would get his life back. He would get her to look at his damned face. It had not stopped aching since he left the chapel, and he felt the fingers of fear trickle through him at the thought of what that might mean.

Her house was as he remembered. A simple cottage set a ways off the road. He walked Toly up to the door, and then wearily slid from his back. He took the steps to the door and knocked, feeling he was nearing the end of his strength.

The door opened before he stopped knocking. It was Catrin herself. Surprise settled onto her face. “Prince Casimir! I had not expected to see you. Come—” her words were cut off as he fell in the door and nearly atop her.

“Ingrith! Come at once! He needs bed!”

His last thought was that it really wasn’t to his benefit to keep passing out in the home of this woman, and then he knew no more.

Casimir awoke. “This is familiar,” he said drowsily. He was in the same room he’d awoken in previously. His face—his face hurt. He remembered how badly it had hurt when he came to the door, and fearfully, he lifted his hands to his face.

There was stitching, as though his face were panels of tapestry sewn together. He traced the threads from his forehead and diagonally across his face, down to his chin. He let his head fall. A tear streaked down his face. The face that would never be the same. How could he be Casimir with this ugly gash? Well, another ugly gash. This made two, although the one on his neck was healing far more quickly than he’d thought possible.

He ought to be glad to be alive, once again. Yet here he was bemoaning his lost looks, on the verge of giving up. Again. Just like he felt watching Elspeth walk away.

As before, Thea’s face flashed before him. She had not given up until the bitter end. He remembered hearing her beg her father for more time, that she was sure things would change and he would discover what mystery lay at the heart of the slippers. He had heard her broken voice assure her father that she could offer nothing. And he knew that she was breaking inside.

He’d not heard of her death, so she persevered. He could do no less. He sighed deeply. He’d have to get used to it and hope that she would love him still.

He did not call out for assistance. He was not ready to face Catrin. The journey had been exhausting for all manner of reasons. Not just the physical hardship, but the aching realizations he’d come to along the way. He was not sure he was the man he’d always seen himself to be. He felt sure, his entire life that he had deserved Thea, deserved Gallivas and Ethion, and yet, in a testing, he was not sure he’d done well.

Crossing his hands behind his head, he considered what to do next. He’d need to heal first, so he could present as decent a picture as possible. Perhaps his hair would grow a bit before he went before the entire country. His musing ended as the door opened with a bang.

“You’re awake, then. Good.” Catrin had a tray in hand, and Casimir was thrilled to see it contained food. She held it while looking at him impatiently. “Well? Are you going to sit up? I’m not a table.”

He sat up quickly, and she deposited the tray in his lap. While he dug into the food, she pulled the chair from the wall to sit near him. “Did you find the chapel?”

He nodded. “Is that where you got yourself injured?” He nodded again, unable to talk with the food stuffing his mouth. Food!

Swallowing hastily, he asked, “Has Toly been seen to? He really deserves a good brush down.”

“Toly?” Her eyebrows raised.

“The palfrey. He’s as good a horse as I’ve ridden. He made it here from the chapel in two days. I didn’t think of him once I had my feet on the ground.”

She didn’t answer right away. “He’s been cared for. You’re right. He’s a good horse. Why do you call him Toly?”

“I didn’t know his name. He needed one. He brings to mind the first pony I had, same coloring, and same stoic disposition. Fairly forgiving too, as it happens.”

“I’m glad you recognize him for what he is.” She leaned back in the chair. “Did you bring what I asked?”

“You mean you have not gone through all my things to obtain it?” He couldn’t believe it. “How many days have I been sleeping this time?”

“Two. And no, I do not rifle through the things of others, even if they initially belonged to me. I wanted to hear the tale from you.”

He peered at her. “You did not think I would succeed, did you?”

She shrugged. “Many have attempted to liberate items from the chapel. I am sure you saw their success.”

“Sent by you?” His anger flared swift and sharp.

“At times.”

“Knowing they would probably die? At the hands of a man you put there?” His anger flared.

“Knowing they risked it, yes. You might have died, but did not. Life is always a risk.” She shrugged again, uninterested in his anger. “Where is it?”

“Where is the pocket that I wore when I came in?”

Silently, she went to a pile of clothing that was folded neatly on the chest at the foot of the bed. Rifling through it, she pulled out the pocket and stepped nearer to hand it to him. He took it from her and then opened it.

It was still there, wrapped in some of his torn shirt. Equally silent, he handed it to her. She sat in the chair and carefully unwrapped it. When it was fully exposed, she smiled, and leaned back.

“You did it. Excellent work, Prince Casimir.” He could hear a tone of deep, deep satisfaction when she spoke.

“What do you need it for?”

“That is none of your concern.” She wrapped it back up, so quickly he was not sure it was possible. “You need to sleep more and heal. While it’s not overly deep, the cut on your face was becoming inflamed and filled with pus. I am sure you want it to heal as well as possible. So eat, and then drink the medicine, and sleep.” She stood, moving the chair back.

“Why are you helping me? I don’t trust you,” he said. No sense in beating around the bush at this point.

To his great astonishment, she laughed. “Good. You should trust no one. It seems you can indeed learn, and are not merely a puppy at the feet of the court of Gallivas.”

“What is your complaint with the King Aland?”

“Also none of your concern. Sleep, Casimir. You need it.” She walked to the door and left, shutting it quietly behind her.

He wanted to throw her food at her, rage, get onto Toly and leave. But the thought of getting out of bed and exerting himself to such an extent made him tired. It seemed he would do nothing unless it followed her timeline. The thought made him uncomfortable. He noted also that she had not offered him a mirror in which to see the quality of her work. That was something to feel even more uncomfortable about.

Feeling unmanly and not caring at the moment, he ate his food, and then gulped down the cup of medicine. He wanted nothing more than to sleep and ignore everything.

He set the tray on the floor, nearly falling out of bed as he did so. It served to show him that he was as weak as he’d feared. He felt certain that Thea would be handling this better, and with that thought hanging over him, he turned over, carefully arranging himself on the pillow, and closed his eyes waiting for sleep to claim him.

When Casimir woke, the room was empty save for him. This made him glad, as glad as he could be in such a situation. All that had happened was instantly with him, like a suit of armor hindering his progress. He could only move, if he moved the armor.

He felt better, though. His face did not ache, his body felt something akin to normal, and he tentatively moved his legs off the bed and onto the floor. When he went to stand, they held. He stretched, a move that felt like a habit after his back started to heal. It itched, but not horribly. Perhaps he would indeed live through all this.

His pride had taken quite a lashing, literally. There was not an inch of him that did not show the effects of the turn his life had taken. While he’d heard the old men say that scars meant one was living, he wasn’t sure he’d agree.

He looked around for his clothes, finding them clean and neatly folded in a pile on the chest. There was a pitcher and basin on a table, and he gave himself a wash as well. No sense in putting the clean on the dirty.

Once dressed, he felt more human, more together, and more importantly, ready to face Catrin. He’d done what she wanted, there was nothing more than for her to release him to try to find his way back to his life. The encounter with Theobald concerned him, but he’d tackle that later.

He opened the door and peered into the hallway. No one moved, although he could hear noise from elsewhere in the house. Probably the kitchen, and he made his way towards it.

Catrin and Ingrith were grinding herbs when he walked in, and Catrin smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling well enough to be up and about. Would you be ready for something to eat?”

He nodded. She glanced at Ingrith, and pointed him to the table. As he sat, the serving girl placed a bowl of porridge in front of him, along with a steaming cup of hot ale. It all smelled delicious. The kitchen felt warm and inviting.

Catrin joined him, and they ate in silence. Once he’d finished the porridge, he looked at her. “It’s time for you to let me go. I don’t know what hold you have on me, but I have done as you asked.”

She didn’t look up as she replied. “It’s not time yet. You have more to do for me.”

“What? That was not part of our bargain!” He stood, outraged.

“Sit down. Stamping about and raging will get you nowhere. You will not have nearly as far to go. This part of your journey will take you perhaps half a day’s ride from here.”

He sat. “Why will you not just let me go?”

“Because I have things I need that you must get for me! And because I saved your life, you can do these small things for me!” Now she did look at him, and he could see the anger.

“I did not ask you to save me! I understand that my family is unaware of where my body is, so in saving me and not allowing me to do as I wish, you cause them great pain! Again, by your hand, not mine! My life is not yours to order, no matter how you’ve decided to meddle in it!” He banged his fist on the table.

“Your life is mine until I say otherwise. Why do you think that no one recognized you? Or do you need further proof? There are still some untouched areas on your back, after all.” She gave him a sly smile as she bent to her porridge again.

That stopped Casimir for a moment. How did she know? “I don’t know of what you speak,” he said stiffly.             

Catrin laughed. “And you with half your back lashed? Well, at least he went gentle on you. It could have been worse.” She waved a hand. “That is not my concern. You will be free to do as you wish, soon. But this is a price you must pay. Even with no request, when others do for us, we incur obligation. In order for your obligation to be repaid, whether you like it or not, I have requests for you. Once you have fulfilled them, you will be free.”

“I can just leave.”

“Of course you can. But when one does not do the right thing, bad luck tends to follow.” She stood, handing her bowl to Ingrith. She turned and left the kitchen.

Casimir watched her go. What was her hold? She was right—his one attempt to shirk his obligation, whether he liked it or not, had resulted in him being beaten and tossed out of his own home. Was she threatening him that until he did what she wanted, nothing but ill would follow him?

While he didn’t want to admit it, he did owe her. She had done a service for him, no matter whether he’d requested it or not. He did not want to be in her debt for longer than necessary, so it was better to do as she asked and be done with it.

Sighing, he stood, and followed her from the kitchen, nodding his thanks to the serving girl. She bobbed a curtsy as he left. He went to the open doorway where he’d seen Catrin go. The room was small with herbs hanging from the ceiling.

“You are right. I do owe you my life. I did not ask for it, but you gave it anyway. I will do as you ask, but you must assure me that this will not go on for an eternity. There must be an end.”

“There is an end, Prince Casimir. I give you my word.” She looked straight at him, and he believed her. He did not trust her, but in this, he believed her. He hoped that he would not regret it.

“What is it you wish me to do?” He kept the impatience out of his question.

“Half a day’s ride from here, in the center of Gallivas, there is a small cottage inhabited by a woman named Melasine. She is outside the village of Turistin. Do you know the village?”

He thought about it. “Yes, I do. You’re right, it’s not far from here.”

“If you go to the village, they will point you to her cottage. Once there, you will tell her that you are from me, and that you wish to collect the cup and platter that are mine. She’ll tell you that they are not, but tell her, from me, that I wish for them back. You may need to…” Catrin stopped, tapping her finger on her lips. “Well, you might need to haggle with her a bit. How are your skills of bargaining?” She eyed him speculatively.

“Bargaining? I’ve never bargained for anything in my life! Princes do not bargain,” he said.

She sighed. “Then this may actually be the harder of your tasks. You will not get far with her by just presenting yourself and expecting her to hand over the wares. This is not life as you know it, Princeling.”

“I am well aware of that, Catrin,” Casimir said dryly. “Nothing since you took me has been life as I know it.”

“Well, learning to adapt to life and new situations would be something that I think behooves a prince, don’t you?” She smiled at him.

He didn’t respond. She smiled wider, which told him she was laughing at him.

“Very well, I ask for the cup and platter, and then I haggle with her as one might in the market. Then what?”

“Bring the cup and platter to me.”

“Will we be quits then?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“That is not right, Catrin! I told you there must be an end. This is not an open-ended quest for me! You have no right!”

“Calm yourself. I swore to you that I would not keep you bound to me forever. I can tell you that your time with me is coming to an end, but I will not give you the exact hour.” She turned back to the mortar and pestle and began to pound something in it.