The Tale of Mally Biddle (14 page)

“I needed to talk to you,” said Ivan, smiling broadly. “I couldn’t walk in and ask for you without suspicion.”
“So pretending that Sam was hurt—”

“I never said he was hurt,” Ivan replied happily. “You thought that.”
Mally glowered.

“Don’t be mad, Mally. I knew you’d come without hesitation if it was anything about Sam and seeing to your horse wouldn’t make the knights or servants think twice.”

“I told him it was a bad idea,” said Galen in an undertone.

“Well, there’s no need to do that anymore,” said Mally. “Meriyal has allowed me to visit Sam on Thursdays. I’m also running errands in the city then.”

A wide smile filled Ivan’s face.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed.

“So, how’s the castle been?” Galen asked softly.

Even though his air was casual, and he had his hands in his pockets, Mally knew he was tense.

“Smooth, I suppose. I’ve made friends with some of the ser
vants.”

“But you’re okay? No one’s hurt you?” Ivan asked.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Mally assured Ivan quickly. “The knights haven’t paid me much attention.”

“None of the knights?” asked Ivan shrewdly. His eyes na
rrowed. “Not even Bayard?”

“Well, Bayard’s another matter,” Mally muttered, glancing at Sam’s hoof.

“What’s he done?” Ivan demanded sharply.

“Nothing, except threats. No one’s tried to kill me.”
Yet,
she added silently.

Ivan seemed pleased at that but Galen looked uncomfortable and Mally suddenly felt that she had said the wrong thing.

After glancing around the meadow casually, Ivan asked, “Any news?”

“I don’t have much,” Mally sighed. “One of my roommates—Gerda Higgs—was at the castle when the Royal family died. What she told me is what we already know: falling off a horse and po
ison.”

“And the princess?”

“Died of a fever,” Mally relayed, shrugging.

“The same as what Romore told the people,” Ivan nodded, his expression hard. “Have you questioned any other servants?”

“No. I’ve been too busy cleaning,” Mally said ruefully. “And I’m still so new. I don’t feel comfortable enough to ask those sorts of questions. But there’s a handful of people that are promising.”

“Good, we need to get as much information as we can, and I hate to say this, but you may have to question some knights. They were around during that time as well.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mally sighed, though she silently swore that it would be only as a last resort. Glancing at Galen, she suspected that he felt the same way.

***

Mally was starting to wonder if she would ever get the
time
to question any of the other servants. Meriyal kept her and the others so busy that her interrogation project only entered her mind after dinner when she was stretched out on her lumpy bed. She would have thought that growing up on a farm would have prepared her for all-day cleaning, but cleaning a
castle
was just different. There were so many rooms and so many
things
in them. She was used to plowing and cutting wood and retrieving water, but cleaning from dawn till dust just seemed to require an energy reservoir that Mally didn’t have yet. And any time that Meriyal
thought
Mally wasn’t busy, she would quickly add a handful of jobs.

Mally wiggled her toes and stared up at the darkened ceiling. Gerda was serving dinner to the knights as she always did and Lita had to help because Abigail had a bad cold and had spent the whole day in the sickroom. With this rare bit of solitude, Mally could plan her next move.

Nathan seemed like a wise choice. Mally had heard that he had come to the castle about the same time as Gerda. He might have a different spin on the deaths. Meriyal had been the Head Servant during King Sebastian’s reign as well, but Mally couldn’t imagine asking her such sticky questions. Not yet, anyway. Then there was the cook, Archibald Diggleby, who Mally had not yet seen because he stayed in the kitchens, and Evelyn Green, who said something unflattering about Mally’s appearance every time they passed in the corridors. Mally ticked the names off on her fingers as she watched the orange light from the fire dance on the ceiling.

She wondered what the knights would say if asked about the deaths. Ivan had said that some knights might be good and helpful to the rebellion but it seemed awfully dangerous to go picking out who was and who wasn’t. And Lita was right, if a servant knew, then
Molick
would know. If any knight was moving against Molick, then he had to be smart about it. Not for the first time, Mally pictured Sir Brian carefully depositing small bags of gold in teakettles.

And thinking of knights … ever since Gibbs had spotted her in the corridor, she had been waiting for him to drag her before the king or Molick and prove her a liar. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t even looked at her again. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe he really didn’t remember her as the farmer’s daughter in Blighten.

Her mind wandering, her eyes following the dancing lights on the ceiling, she suddenly realized with a jolt that she hadn’t seen the king. She supposed that wasn’t odd. She had only been in the castle for a little over a week. But she didn’t even know what he looked like, though she was sure he’d be dressed in royal attire.

“I swear this is the last straw!”

Mally sat up and looked at the door. Gerda’s voice grew louder and the door banged open so violently that it ricocheted back off the wall. Gerda stormed in, closely followed by Lita and Joan. “Gerda, you need to be more careful,” Joan warned as Gerda sat cross-legged on her bed, fuming. Mally perked up as she considered Joan as a possible source for information about the Royal family, but then she remembered that she had arrived at the castle two years after Salir Romore had taken the throne. “Bayard’s dangerous and if you anger him—”

“Anger him!” Gerda shrieked. “Anger
him
! What about me, Joan? I’m sick and tired of his disgusting advances!”

“What if you ignore him?” asked Mally.

Gerda snorted vehemently.

“I tried that already.”

“What about—”

But there was a sudden knock on the door and Lita jumped from her bed to open it. There in the doorway, looking slightly out of place, was Nathan.

“Gerda, can I speak to you?” he asked.

Gerda blinked, quickly rose, and walked out of the room. N
athan closed the door behind them.

“I wonder what he wanted?” asked Lita, frowning at the closed door.

“What happened?” Mally asked.

“The usual,” Lita retorted, spinning around to face her. “Di
sgusting advances—not gentleman-like at all!”

“No one ever said Bayard was a gentleman,” said Joan, gazing out the small window. She smiled slightly and shrugged. “It’
s rather late. I think I’ll call it a night.”

“What a day,” Lita groaned, falling onto her bed. “I hope Ab
igail gets better soon. I hate serving that group.”

“Was the king there?” asked Mally.

“He’s there every night. Why?”
“I just realized that I don’t even know what he looks like,” Mally admitted, shrugging.

Lita frowned.

“He has black hair—a bit gray here and there, tall, thin and—the obvious bit—wears clothing that says he’s a king.”

“I assumed as much, but it just feels odd that I haven’t seen him.”

“He doesn’t usually flit around the castle.” Lita rolled over onto her elbow and said slowly, “You know what’s odd? I don’t think he’s as bad as the people think.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Mally startled.

“Well…” Lita sighed. “Wouldn’t a king who’s ruthless and uncaring
act
ruthless and uncaring?”

“I would think so,” Mally agreed.

“But that’s just it. He
isn’t
ruthless and uncaring … or maybe he is, just not around the servants. But we’re nobodies,” Lita pressed. “The knights treat us as nobodies so why wouldn’t the king?”

Mally stared at Lita.

“I don’t know.”

14
Mushroom Hunter

Mally would have to make up her own mind about King Salir when she met him, whenever that might be. Her primary goal for the day was to find Nathan and, magically, she got her chance after lunch.

She was folding napkins with Mildred Bolton, the woman who had convinced Meriyal to let Mally see Sam once a week. For that, Mally was deeply grateful to her. Mally was beginning to discover that Mildred was the sort of person who enjoyed spoiling people she considered ‘young’ and Mally, at seventeen, fit into the spoiling category. Mildred often sneaked sweets from under the cook Archibald Diggelby’s nose—an impressive feat—and passed them along to Lita, Mally, and Sammy. Lita always grumbled that Sammy didn’t need to be spoiled with sweets as his mother, Rosa McGriff, was Archibald’s assistant, which gave him ample opportunities to snitch sugared plums.

“Mally, dear,” Mildred said as Mally reached for anther pile, “why don’t you let me fold those.”

“But I—”

“There’s not much left,” Mildred pressed. “I know Meriyal tends to overwork the newcomers. Why don’t you go outside—it may be the last day of sun for a month.”

Mally tried to argue, but only halfheartedly, and was easily shooed out of the room. Hardly believing her luck, and hoping fervently that she wouldn’t run into Meriyal, Mally rushed to the armory. She often spotted Nathan nearby.

But upon turning a corridor and entering the room full of swords and javelins, Mally realized very quickly that Nathan wasn’t there. Instead curly-haired Betty and sour-tempered Evelyn turned to face her.

“Is Nathan here?” she asked Betty.

“No, sorry. I think he’s down in the orchard though, if that helps.”

“It does, thanks.” And before Evelyn could utter a single criticism, Mally had turned on her heel and left the armory. She trotted down to the first floor and through the door that led to the outside gardens.

She soon spotted Jack Arrington, the castle’s head gardener, walking along a few yards away, clippers and spade in hand. A floppy hat covered his balding head and his small, young assistant hurried after him, carrying shovels and rakes. Sammy caught sight of Mally and waved wildly, dropping his load as he did.

Jack glanced over the hedge at the sound of the clatter and also waved at Mally.

“What cha up to?” he called. Jack was a pleasant man, but slightly suspicious of people wandering through his neatly kept grounds.

“I’m looking for Nathan. Have you seen him?”

“Over yonder,” he grunted, jutting a dirty thumb over his shoulder. “Orchard.”

Mally nodded and continued on. She walked through mazes of neatly trimmed hedges, under half-naked trees (their leaves scattered thickly on the grass), and past fountains shooting jets of water into the air until she came across the orchard. It was separated from the rest of the grounds by a white fence and rambling bushes.

“Nathan?” Mally yelled, wondering just exactly where in the orchard he could be. She walked around an apple tree, its branches bending from its heavy load, and spotted him. He stood on a stool, picking rusty red apples off a tree.

“Nathan, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said Mally, walking up to him.

“Have you?” Nathan asked, surprised. “I’ve been right here.”

“So I’ve been told,” Mally replied tartly.

“What do you need?” Nathan asked, fighting with a branch.

Mally hesitated, unsure how to go about her questioning.

“Meriyal told me to help you,” she invented.

Nathan’s eyes widened.

“Did she? That’s nice. Archie wants apples for his apple cake tonight and told me the ones Rosa picked were too sweet.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “Why he can’t go pick his own apples …”

Mally let him grumble; she had other things to think about. How was she going to broach the subject of the royal family without being obvious?

“But there’s no point in me complaining,” he continued, though from his tone he fervently wanted to do just that. “Ol’ Archie isn’t going to change any time soon.” Nathan tugged an apple from its branch with more force than necessary. “He’s been dead depressed for years because his original assistant left—though no complaints on Rosa,” he added hastily, shooting a glance at Mally. “I know for a fact that Archie would rather cut off his mustache than lose R
osa.”

“Rosa and Sammy haven’t been here for very long?” asked Mally, placing two apples in the basket with care as Nathan tossed two more on top.

Nathan nodded.

“She came to the castle saying she was a good cook who nee
ded a job. Sammy’s been a right help with Jack, hasn’t he?” said Nathan, grinning. “He’s a good kid. I like him. Keeps his mother on her toes. But honestly!” Nathan suddenly exploded, glaring at the apple in his hand. “Archie is just ridiculous! Did you know that after his old assistant left he gave up mushrooms?”

“Did he?” Mally asked, confused.

“Yes. And Archie’s the crown connoisseur of mushrooms—knows them all. He hates to leave his kitchen so much that he’s given them up!”

Still confused, Mally asked, “Why?”

“Because his old assistant used to pick them for him, but Rosa’s no good at mushroom hunting and no one else in the castle is either—”

“I’m good,” Mally said without thinking.

Nathan stopped midway through throwing an apple into the basket.

“
You’re
good?”

“My father taught me. I’ve picked them since I was nine.”

Nathan looked so shocked that Mally started to laugh.

“I can prove it to you if you’d like,” she giggled. “Where did his old assistant use to pick them?”

Nathan led her through the ‘hunting’ grounds that were co
ntained by the castle’s walls. Mally was amazed at the large number of trees and meadows that secluded the castle—she could no longer hear the city. The castle was still in clear view, but the solitude and silence sent shivers through Mally.

“Is this where—“” Mally glanced around her, but they were quite alone “—Queen Amara rode her horse?”

“Yes. Every evening. She enjoyed sunsets.”

“Wouldn’t she have had a better view from one of the towers?” asked Mally, tripping over a root. “If she just liked sunsets…”

Mally blushed as she looked up and noticed Nathan staring at her oddly.

“Her Highness enjoyed her hour of solitude,” Nathan stated with enough emphasis on the queen’s title to make Mally blush harder, realizing how rude she had sounded.

She dropped her gaze and mumbled an apology, but Nathan had already turned and continued on. Though she felt like a little child being reprimanded, she wasn’t going to let the subject drop. Mally hurried after him.

“And you don’t believe Alice Spindle killed the king?” she asked. “Do you know of anyone else who could have done it?”

Nathan turned to her in surprise.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Gerda told me. She said that you and Meriyal and Nanette didn’t believe Alice had done it.”

Nathan suddenly looked awkward and embarrassed.

“I told Gerda that to make her feel better,” he admitted. Mally raised her eyebrows. “Look,” he continued hastily. “All evidence pointed—I mean, she was a very sweet girl … I was surprised, just like every one—”

“Could someone have set her up?”

Nathan paused, clearly thinking it over.

“She always gave him his evening drink. After dinner. But the poison was in his goblet. Not in the barrel.”

“Could someone have distracted her and put the poison in the goblet after she’d poured it without her noticing?” Mally asked.

Nathan stared at her.

“Why are you so curious about this?”

Mally shrugged and smiled innocently.

“I’m a curious person.”

Nathan snorted but answered her anyway.

“Alice was easily distracted. I could see something like that happening.”

“But who?” Mally asked, her excitement obvious.

Nathan mimicked her shrug and smile.

“That’s for you to tell me, Miss Curiosity. Now then, about those mushrooms.”

All in all, the day was a success. Mally felt sure now that Alice Spindle had been framed and that the killer was probably still alive. Maybe was still in the castle. But that didn’t get her any closer to the princess.

Nathan, for his part, was giddy over the mushrooms Mally had pointed out to him. Over the next few days, it spread quickly through the castle—at least among the servants—that their newest member was an exceptional mushroom hunter.

Archibald Diggleby was especially excited about the news that reached his ears. A fat, short man with an impressively large, white mustache and a gleaming bald pate, he had never enjoyed the ou
tdoors as much he thought he should. And though he treasured mushrooms above all other ingredients, he found the tedious act of mushroom hunting aggravating and time consuming. After all, he had a kitchen to run, with boiling pots of rabbit and pheasant stews and carefully watched loaves of honeyed-almond and sunflower-wheat, slowly rising and baking, not to mention the preparation of breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea, and dinner.

There just isn’t enough time!
he would fume to himself, silently. Mushrooms, in his humble opinion, were the crowning jewels of culinary cuisine and it galled him to no end that he had been forced to omit them for so long. If only there was someone he could trust! Archie was a bit pig-headed in the way he wanted things done, and even with people in the castle who knew enough about mushrooms to pick a few safely, he didn’t trust them to do so.

So he was quite beside himself at the talk circulating about someone named Mally Biddle. Wasn’t she the one with blonde hair? he thought to himself. Yes, yes, her face was vivid in his mind’s eye. Fair skinned with smooth, satiny, blonde hair—he never forgot a face. He smiled happily and hummed merrily as he added splashes of wine to a thick sauce. Yes, he would call for her after dinner and see for himself just how accurate the stories were.

When Lita told her Archibald Diggelby had sent for her, Mally was utterly baffled.

“Me? What’s he want with me?”

“Oh, Mally don’t be so thick!” Lita snapped. She had had a hard day. Meriyal had forced her to wash the windows on the west tower with Evelyn. A combination of two such unpleasant things would make anyone cross, so Mally didn’t take the insult to heart. “The news of you being a mushroom hunter’s all over the castle! He wants to quiz you.”

“Quiz me?” Mally repeated nervously.

“Yes, so will you go talk to him?” Lita said wearily. “Archie can have a sour temperament if he doesn’t get what he wants, and I don’t want to be eating gruel for the next week, so impress him!”

“No pressure, Mally,” Gerda winked.

Lita told Mally that a secret passage on the second floor led right into the kitchen, but Mally felt it would be rude to barge in, since she had never actually met Archibald Diggleby and wanted to make a good impression.

Dinner had just finished and Mally hurried down the corridors, weaving between knights with her head down. She spotted Bayard standing with Gibbs and Sir Brian. She hurried her feet.

Her boots clattered loudly in the silent stone passage that led to the kitchen. At the end was a wooden door. Nervously, she tucked a curl of brown hair behind her ear. Her hand hovered in midair momentarily before she took a deep breath and knocked.

The door was wrenched open by a man the same height as Mally, who stood on the other side. Half his round face was covered by a massive white mustache and his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Mally.

“Mister Diggleby, you wanted to see me.”

“You’re not blonde,” he stated.

“No,” Mally said uncertainly, tucking another curl behind her ear.

Archie’s eyes narrowed even more and he snorted in annoyance before saying, “Come in.”

He headed into the kitchen and sat smartly at a large wooden table. The kitchen was enormous. Shining pots and pans hung from the ceiling and long ladles sparkled in between them. The remnants of dinner were heaped upon the counters and a large vat of chicken and garlic soup still steamed on the stove. Even though Mally had already eaten, her mouth began to water at the delightful smell.

“Sit.”

Mally sat.

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I don’t like fooling around,” Archie said severely. “That’s why I don’t let people in here, if I can help it.”

Mally felt she was being scolded for some wrongdoing. A door to the right opened and a woman with sleek brown hair tied in a large bun entered carrying a handful of plates.

“Hello,” Rosa McGriff greeted her pleasantly. Mally immediately saw where Sammy got his round cheeks and dimples. “You must be Mally. Archie’s been talking about you nonstop.”

Archie grunted and his mustache twitched irritably.

“Don’t mind me,” smiled Rosa. She walked to the water basin and dumped her load in it with a splash.