The Willful Princess and the Piebald Prince (3 page)

On the third day of the trading fair, Queen-in-Waiting Caution announced that she wanted to stroll the picket lines and see what the traders had to offer. Often, I fear, did Queen-in-Waiting Caution indulge herself in such strolls around the market on a trade day, when some folk felt it would have been more fitting to her rank to have sat in her chair by her father’s judgment throne, learning how to serve justice to her people. Such duties never amused Queen-in-Waiting Caution: she was often heard to say that when she had to ride a throne all day would be soon enough to take up that duty.

And so she and a circle of her more adventurous ladies had gone down to the stock markets. I was there, trailing after them, ready to carry any parcel or dash off to fetch a cool drink for her. I did not much enjoy the Cattle and Horse Fair. It was a hot day and dusty, and often folk passed us leading oxen or horses. I found it alarming when such large beasts passed directly behind or in front of me, yet the Queen-in-Waiting made nothing of that, but looked about with eager eyes, as did her ladies.

Yet it did not seem they were in a mood to buy, for with tart tongues and mouths full of laughter they made mock of first one trader and his wares and then another. This one looked as like to his horse as to his mother. That one’s stud was more round-bellied than the pregnant mare he showed. This horse had a coat so rough it would sand a man’s buttocks to his bones, and that one had a head more like cow. Such were the jests her ladies threw, and the Queen-in-Waiting did not rebuke their unseemly behavior, but laughed loudly in a way that only encouraged them to speak even more coarsely.

At last they came to the Chalcedean trader and his blotchy horse. The beast was peaceful that day, for the tight-lipped man who tended it stood at its head. When Caution and her ladies drew near, he looked up at her and his eyes were as full of wonder as if he had never seen a woman before. Despite his poor clothes, he was a handsome man, well muscled, tall and raven-haired. When the Queen-in-Waiting glanced at him, he blushed like a maid, and sank to one knee before her, bowing his head, and his thick black hair fell like a mane, cloaking him from her gaze. The fall of his hair bared the nape of his neck, and it was pale and downy as an infant’s.

“Stop,” said Caution to her ladies. “There is something here I wish to look at.”

One of the ladies, thinking to prove her wit, pointed at the stud and said, “Oh, so that’s what became of that blanket with the holes burned in it; they’ve used it to make a horse.”

Another, vying for favor, said, “No, not at all. ‘Tis but a spotted cow with a horse’s halter on his head.”

A third said, “Behold, not a cow nor a blanket, but a white cheese gone to black mould.”

All laughed far louder than such jests merited, expecting to win Queen-in-Waiting Caution’s laughter as well. But instead she spoke in a terrible voice, harsh and cold. “Silence, you fools! Never before have I beheld a creature as perfect as this one.”

But when she spoke her eyes were not on the stallion, nor on his Chalcedean owner, but instead on the young man who gripped the Spotted Stud’s halter. There and on that spot, she declared that she would buy the beast. When the deal was closed and the gold passed, she had bought not just the Spotted Stud, but the man who held his halter, and this despite the laws of the Six Duchies against the buying or selling of a man. Slave he had been to the Chalcedean, but she in that moment raised him to free man and servant.

His name was Lostler. Now some will say that his name was Sly, and some will even call him Sly o’ the Wit when they sing of him. I never heard him called by such a name. The flaw of his mouth made him prone to soft speech and shy ways; yet for all that he was a man, as hard-muscled and strong-willed as his horse. Soon all would come to know that as well.

Before the month was out, the Stablemaster of Buckkeep stood before the Queen-in-Waiting, begging her to be rid of the spotted horse. The stud would not tolerate anyone to handle him, save Lostler. The other stallions in their stalls screamed and snorted at his presence and could not be calmed, save by Lostler. The Spotted Stud leaped a fence and serviced three mares that were to have been bred to another—nor would he leave them until Lostler came to fetch him away. “Be rid of one stallion, for the good of your entire stable,” the Stablemaster told her.

To all this the Queen-in-Waiting listened and then she said, “It is not one stallion we need to be rid of, but one Stablemaster. By your own words, Lostler does your work for you. Be gone, then, and let Lostler master my stable and horses for me.”

So it came to be, for even in this matter her father the king did not oppose her, but let go the man he had himself raised to Stablemaster a decade before and allowed Queen-in-Waiting Caution to put her own servant in his place.

Now let the truth be told. Lostler was a man with what some folk thought a gift in those days. He could whisper in the tongues of beasts, and so bend nearly any animal to his will. Some call this magic the Wit, and some speak of such a man as having the Old Blood, the blood that beasts and men once shared. It was no shame, in those days—not for one to have the Wit nor for one to use it. Some folk said then that much good could come of that magic. Certainly in the year that followed it is true that both horses and dogs in the stables prospered and many a sickly beast was cured and many a vicious animal made gentle. Many and many a spotted foal was born, for the blood of the Spotted Stud proved strong when mingled with the Buckkeep stock.

Whenever the Queen-in Waiting wished to ride out, Lostler prepared her horse for her, and held her stirrup for her to mount, and softly answered all questions she brought to him regarding her horse. She began to ride daily, even though in times past she had been indifferent to riding as a pastime, and only enthused for the hunt. Now, however, she began to find time each day for riding, and I, perforce, had to accompany her, regardless of how little I enjoyed it.

So it was that I saw how she was with her new stablemaster. Shy he was, this Lostler, flushing pink whenever she addressed him. But she spoke him soft and gentle, in the very way in which he spoke to the horses. So also he listened to her, standing still, eyes downcast. Some said that she charmed him with her quiet words even as he charmed a hesitant horse.

Soon she declared she would ride the Spotted Stud, although all knew the beast’s temperament was uneven and sometimes savage. “Only Lostler can manage him when he is in a temper,” her nobles said to her, beseeching her to be more considerate. “If you ride such a beast for pleasure, few other riders shall take pleasure in accompanying you.” To which she replied, “Then Lostler shall ride out at my side whenever I ride my Spotted Stud. He shall be there, to help me manage him if he becomes difficult. As for others, they may come along or not as they will, for I’m sure it will not matter to me.”

So it transpired, despite what other folk thought of that and much to the king’s displeasure. I, however, was never excused from such expeditions. Lostler chose a horse for me, one so gentle and spiritless as to be the equivalent of a cushioned chair. On that creature, my panniers laden with the morning repast, I trailed daily after the Queen-in-Waiting and her stablemaster. Most often we left the keep at a spirited gallop, something I did not enjoy and an exercise at which they quickly outpaced me and my decrepit mount. Yet before long, I would catch up to them and find them letting their horses plod sedately along while Lostler rode at Caution’s side in quiet conversation with her.

Only I observed them: I knew what others only guessed at. When Caution stroked the muzzle of her Spotted Stud, or traced her fingers down his neck, Lostler was the one who shivered with pleasure. When she mounted the horse and rode him, it was as if she embraced the man. Beast and man were alike under her spell, and I began to see in my lady a sensuality that I had only suspected in all our years together. It was all the more painful to me that she lavished on this Lostler all her attention and charms while I became ever more unseen and forgotten.

So the days passed, and with each passing day, she paid more heed to her riding pleasure than to her throne. Still, noble youths came to seek her companionship for courtship, but as often as not, to find time to speak with her they must try to court her while she rode her Spotted Stud and the Stablemaster shadowed them, mute and mournful. Never did I stop loving my lady, and yet I will admit that I saw her take a sort of delight in how this tormented the shy man who followed her as she flirted with these suitors. And privately I thought the attention she paid any of these young nobles was not for the man himself, but only for how it pricked the heart of the Stablemaster.

Came a day in the following autumn when the mists cloaked the morning and all the court rode out to the hunt. The Queen-in-Waiting said she would ride her Spotted Stud. So it was, but on that day, the king’s will had prevailed in another matter, and Stablemaster Lostler was commanded to remain behind at the stables. There was a young man the king favored who was to ride in the hunt, and the king made it most plain to his willful daughter, in a conversation not intended for my ears, that he expected her to pay attention to this young man and his courting. This vexed Caution and she did not fail to show her irritation, being short of speech with those around her and riding her horse most aggressively. Very soon the hounds took up a scent, and streamed forth and all the horses and nobles followed them. The Queen-in-Waiting on her capricious mount was at the very front of the riders, and soon she surged ahead of all. As they rode, the mists of the vales rose thick, and the baying of the hounds echoed from the hills until one could scarce say from which direction the dogs gave cry. In the trailing shrouds of mist, Queen-in-Waiting Caution on her Spotted Stud were lost from sight.

Now some will say that the air smelled of magic that morning, and that soon the hounds were confounded and ran whimpering back to their handlers. Some will say that the mist swirled only about the Queen-in-Waiting and her mount, or that the Spotted Stud deliberately bore her into the thickest bank of fog, to conceal her as he carried her away from her nobles. But I was there and it was only a miserably wet and foggy day. My poor mount and I were jostled right and left and soon left behind in the hue and cry. I had expected it to be so, and as soon as the hullabaloo of the hunt had gone, I was happy to turn my horse’s head around and let him find his way back to the stables.

Hours later, when the hunters and hounds and handlers, dripping with damp and dispirited, returned to Buckkeep, the Queen-in-Waiting was not among them. Her noble suitor would not apologize for her being missing, saying plainly that she had sought to out-ride him, and she had. Then the king was wroth with all, and ordered up his men to go search for Caution. But before they could depart, all saw the Stablemaster Lostler ride out. Now, I have heard some minstrels say that he stood in the stable yard and proclaimed, “I will find her most swiftly, for where the Spotted Stud is, there too am I, and even in the mist our hearts call to one another.” Thus it is claimed that with his own tongue he admitted his Beast-magic, though in those days there was small shame and little danger in owning to it. But I was there and he spoke no such words. He never called attention to himself or his stuttering tongue, so never would he have made such a public announcement.

And I will speak bluntly of the gossip that was noised about later and is still repeated even now. Some insist that the Queen-in-Waiting was never lost at all, but rode ahead of the pack and into a hidden vale, because she and the Stablemaster had decided she should do so long before the hunt. Some will say when the Stablemaster rode up to her, the mists parted to reveal her sitting on the Spotted Stud. I have heard one minstrel sing of how the mist cloaked her hair as with a thousand jewels, and tell of how pink her cheeks were with the chill. He sang, too, that she wept with joy to be found, and that when Lostler dismounted, she slid down from her own horse and into his waiting arms.

Oh, a hundred ways have their secrets been gossiped about and yet what really happened remains their secret to this day. Did Caution deliberately lose herself in some foggy vale, knowing that Lostler would come to seek her? Did Lostler whisper to the Spotted Stud to bear her astray and keep her hidden until he could come to claim her as his own? Some will say that he whispered to Queen-in-Waiting Caution as he did to the horses and dogs in the stable, and so bespelled her with his voice that she scarcely knew what she did. Some will say that he took her roughly, with no regard for her high birth, as a stallion will take any mare he pleases. Others will say, no, she could not wait to lift her skirts and pull him down upon her. Many say that it was her first time to do so, but by no means her last.

Since I was closer to her than any other and even I do not know the truth of any of it with certainty, I know that all the gossip and whispers are mere speculation, some of it more out of jealousy and hatefulness than any concern for the truth.

But this much is known, and truly. As the sun was leaving the sky, home they came, and there was mud upon Caution’s skirts and twigs in her hair. She said she had taken a fall from her horse and needed some time to recover even after Lostler found her, and then that they had needed more time to discover their way home in the fog and gathering dusk.

I quietly noticed that she did not limp from her fall, despite the mud upon her skirts. And that she was in as fair a temper as ever I had seen her, humming in her bath and going to bed early and sleeping deep and well.

From that day forth, all noticed a change in the Queen-in-Waiting. There was a glow to her cheeks, and she took to riding out very early in the morning with only the Stablemaster in attendance upon her and me trailing along behind. The wrath of the king over this was as nothing to her. As always, they began their ride with a spirited gallop, at a pace my horse could not hope to sustain. But in those days, I did not catch up with them as easily as I once had. Often I did not see them again until they came riding back to find me. Then Queen-in-Waiting Caution would be pink-cheeked and laughing at my worries and saying they must put me on a fleeter mount the next day.