Chapter 8: Girls will be Girls
****
Loisette was sitting on her bed and glaring at Catherine.
Catherine was also sitting on the bed and glaring back.
Loisette hadn’t thrown any temper tantrums since Catherine’s arrival--mindful of how much trouble she was in with her father and not wanting to be locked in her room for all eternity--but she didn’t have to be nice to this new lady-in-waiting. Especially not when Catherine showed absolutely no desire to be nice to her.
Finally sick of their contest to see who could stare the most venomously, Loisette exhaled and stated, “I want to go horseback riding.”
Catherine snorted and looked idly down at her fingernails. “You probably don’t even know the difference between a stallion and a bull, *Your Highness*.”
Loisette narrowed her eyes. “You probably don’t know the difference between a curry comb and a hairbrush,” she shot back, pleased to see her lady-in-waiting’s brow crinkle ever-so-slightly.
Catherine stood up abruptly and smoothed down the wrinkles in her skirt. “At least this will give me a chance to wear my new riding outfit.”
“Your new riding outfit?” Loisette echoed as she stared upward at the older girl. On Clarkent’s prompting, Loisette had started wearing shorter dresses and boots when going out to ride--but she hadn’t realized there were outfits made *specifically* for riding.
Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Princess, if I’m going to be your lady-in-waiting, we have got to start working on your clothes. Fashion has to be your number one priority if you want to attract boys.”
“Boys?” asked Loisette in confusion.
****
Loisette walked into the Riding Stable with Catherine, dodging Geralph as he shuffled past. Clarkent turned and saw her, and the smile he flashed her made her heart jump a little. He seemed glad to see her, and that made her feel really good. After a quick bow, he began to move forward, but then his eyes went to Catherine, and he faltered.
“This is my new lady-in-waiting, Lady Catherine,” Loisette said with a gesture. “Lady Catherine, this is Clarkent.”
Catherine glanced at Loisette with a sour expression. “So, this isn’t the first time you’ve been here, I take it?”
“It’s not,” Loisette confirmed, looking and feeling surly. Her new lady-in-waiting was ruining what should have been an enjoyable time. “I’ve become quite good at riding horses.”
“Then you won’t mind a race?” Catherine asked, her eyes flashing in challenge.
“I would welcome a race,” Loisette retorted as she gritted her teeth. “But you had better not cry when you lose.”
“Ladies!” Clarkent spoke up. When the two girls swiveled to look at him, he flushed and told Loisette, “I--I don’t think a race is a good idea, Your Highness.”
****
The glares the two females pinned him with made Clarkent swallow audibly. But he was remembering when he and the princess had raced . . . and how she had fallen. He didn’t want that to happen again. It had terrified him. He didn’t want her to get hurt. After all, she was supposed to rule the kingdom someday.
Perhaps the princess understood the direction of his thoughts, as she hissed in a low voice, “I have improved a lot since I first started riding, and I want to show *Catherine* that I am the better horsewoman.”
Clarkent shook his head adamantly. “These horses aren’t meant--”
“Peasant, I command you to let us race!” the princess said sharply.
A pang in his chest, Clarkent turned away, feeling hurt. It had become so easy to forget his place in life around Princess Loisette, but now she had reminded him of it once more. He had to tell himself once again: a princess couldn’t be friends with a stableboy.
****
Loisette felt every bit the snobbish jerk when she saw the pained expression on Clarkent’s face after she called him a “peasant.” She had only been thinking about asserting her dominance around Catherine and proving to the other girl that she had no interest in Clarkent as a friend. But now that she had hurt the stableboy, pretending aloofness in front of Catherine suddenly didn’t matter. Loisette didn’t care what the other girl thought.
She stepped up beside him and gently touched his arm, causing him to jump. He turned to look at her, and she stared at him with an apologetic look in her eyes. Softly, she told him, “I’m sorry, Clark.” And she really was. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.
****
Clarkent turned away from the princess, the use of her nickname for him a stab to the heart. They couldn’t be friends. She needed to stop making him *care* about her so much.
She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face her. “Please forgive me, Clark. I just want to race with Catherine. I promise I’ll be careful and hold on tightly.”
He stared into her brown eyes, trying to dredge up the resolve to deny the princess’s request. But she seemed so hopeful--and so sincerely sorry--that he at last bowed his head and said, “All right, Princess.”
She smiled and turned to Lady Catherine, who was obviously trying to pretend disinterest in the conversation that had been taking place. “We can race,” Princess Loisette proclaimed happily.
Clarkent’s thoughts were suddenly racing frantically in the effort to come up with a plan to alleviate some of the danger from the upcoming ride. But he was only able to come up with one idea. Still, anything was better than nothing.
“Lady Catherine,” he said, catching the girl’s attention, “I think you should take Agides.”
“Agides?” the lady-in-waiting echoed.
He moved to stand by the horse’s stall. “This is Agides,” he explained, reaching a hand out to touch the white star on the horse’s forehead. The brown and white horse was a gentle rouncey who had never showed an especial love of speed. If he could get Lady Catherine to ride Agides, then it was possible the princess would win the race more easily--thereby keeping her from pushing High Flyer to go so fast. And if the two horses weren’t going too fast . . . then maybe neither girl would get hurt.
But he still couldn’t help but be worried. Lady Catherine was a bit of a wild card. He had no idea how good she was with horses, but he hoped her riding outfit was a true indicator that she had at least ridden horses often enough to make paying for such a dress worthwhile.
The object of his thoughts came over and looked at Agides, standing closer to Clarkent than he was comfortable with.
“He seems like a nice horse,” Catherine commented as she looked over Agides. She turned to Clarkent and gave him a strange-looking smile. A few seconds later, she placed a finger on his chest and then brought it to rest on his chin. “I’ll take him.”
Clarkent stared at her, unable to shake the sense that she was a wolf stalking a helpless lamb. “All--all right,” he stammered.
“Let’s go,” the princess said loudly from behind them, and Clarkent and Lady Catherine both turned to look at her.
Clarkent slipped away from the lady-in-waiting, glad for the diversion, as he’d been feeling as if he were about to be eaten alive by her. “I’ll prepare the horses for you,” he said. As he turned his back to them, he wiped a bit of sweat off his brow.
****
Clarkent refused to be involved in any part of their race. While Esroh Repus had been trained well and would obediently respond to commands, Clarkent didn’t want to encourage any more competition among the horses . . . or the girls, for that matter.
He watched as High Flyer and Agides lunged forward, and he waited a few seconds before he encouraged Esroh Repus to start walking. If something happened, he wanted to be close by, so that meant he had to follow them.
Despite Agides’s being a lesser quality horse than High Flyer, Lady Catherine handled him well, and she and the princess were almost neck-and-neck until the very end, when High Flyer practically leapt forward at the princess’s prompting and raced past the designated “finish” area.
As the two girls slowed their mounts to a stop, Clarkent urged his into a gallop. Esroh Repus ran ahead happily, and Clarkent finally made him decrease his speed as they approached Princess Loisette and Lady Catherine.
Both girls were laughing and congratulating themselves on a job well done, having somehow apparently earned a grudging respect for each other out there amidst the wind and horseflesh and flying dirt. Clarkent was just glad they were laughing rather than crying. If one of them had gotten hurt, he would have refused to help riders out ever again, no matter what Dwayne told him.
As much as he liked seeing the princess--yes, he had to admit that much to himself--he couldn’t help but think maybe it would be better if she didn’t keep putting herself into harm’s way. Princesses were supposed to be kept away from danger . . . or, at the very least, saved from it. They weren’t supposed to go charging into it!
“I thought for certain you were going to win!” exclaimed the princess, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis.
Lady Catherine twirled her whip with a smile. “And I would have, too, if stableboy here had given me a better horse.”
Clarkent had the grace to look abashed. “Agides is a good horse,” he said weakly. He hadn’t realized Catherine would know the difference between a mediocre horse and a good one.
“Yeah, good for old men!” Lady Catherine proclaimed with a laugh. “But I don’t mind--there’s something I like about this fellow here.” She patted the horse’s neck.
Clarkent shook his head. There had seemed to be a little tension between the two girls when they had first entered the stable, but now they acted like old friends. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or sad. He wanted the princess to have friends, of course, but . . . if she made a new friend, then it was possible he would hardly see her anymore. And that thought made him suddenly depressed.
But when the princess looked over at him and smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back. If the princess stopped coming, well, Clarkent could always start spending a little more time with Billy. Once Clarkent had turned thirteen and risen up in the stable hierarchy, the other stableboy had seemed to better appreciate him . . . .
But Billy was no Princess Loisette.
****
The next day, Loisette--dressed as Gawain after having sneaked away from Catherine--managed to drag Clarkent away from the stable and out into the open field again, where she proceeded to force him to reenact the scene from the previous day.
Loisette had brought an old saddle blanket from the stable, and she was cradling it in her arms like a protective mother. “I have to keep you safe,” she whispered to the bundle, kissing it. “No matter what happens, I’ll figure out a way to protect you.” She rocked the blanket back and forth, waiting for Clarkent to jump in and say something. When he didn’t, she coughed slightly.
Clarkent, apparently recognizing a cue when he saw one, leapt forward with his stick sword, the noise drawing her eyes to him. “The king wants to see you,” he said, trying to inject some authority into his voice, “ . . . . *and* your baby.”
“Never!” Loisette proclaimed, spitting at his feet. He took a step back in surprise and made a disgusted face that didn’t seem to be an act. “I won’t let you have my child!” she told him with extreme vehemence. And then, clutching the blanket to her chest, she darted past him.
“Stop!” Clarkent yelled after her. He came charging forward, stick at the ready.
They ran through the field, the grass swishing against their pants. She swerved around a rock, leapt off a small hill, and tried her best to lose her pursuer. But she could hear him panting behind her, hot on her trail.
Finally, satisfied with the show they were putting on, Loisette faked a fall, landing forward with the “baby” held out.
Clarkent dodged her sprawled legs and went straight for the blanket, snatching it from her and holding it up in the air. “I have your child!” he cried out triumphantly. Then he lowered the blanket and brought his stick sword up, pointing it at the invisible baby’s throat.
“No!” shouted Loisette, crawling toward him, reaching up once she was at his feet, trying desperately on bended knees to get her child back from him.
“I--” he said savagely, his stick still hovering over the blanket, “I . . . I can’t do this.” The hand with the stick dropped to his side.
****
Clarkent had finally felt himself getting into his Gawain-imposed role when they dashed across the field. The thud of his feet against the ground as they moved had felt very *real*. And when he had laid hands on the fake child, it had been like he had just caught a prize.
But when he began to point his fake weapon at the invisible child, he found he couldn’t go through with it. What kind of monster would kill a helpless baby? How could even a Barbarian King do that, much less one of his soldiers?
He didn’t want the story to end like that. He didn’t want the queen’s child to disappear into oblivion.
Clarkent turned to see Gawain getting to his feet. “What are you doing?” Gawain asked grumpily. “We were going along just fine--”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Couldn’t do what?” Gawain asked in confusion.
Clarkent swallowed. “I couldn’t kill the baby.”
Gawain stared at him for a few seconds and then exclaimed in exasperation, “But there *is* no baby!”
“But there *was*,” Clarkent pointed out sadly yet firmly.
Gawain rolled his eyes. “Oh, whatever! We’ll do a different story next time.” He crossed his arms and began muttering something about sensitive stableboys.
Clarkent, trying to ignore his friend’s words, stared down at the blanket in his arms. He couldn’t hurt another human being, even in his imagination. Not without good cause.
And there could never be a good cause for killing a baby.
****
Peri waited until the two boys were done playing to confront Gawain alone. The boy’s steps faltered upon seeing him, and he crossed his arms and put on his most imposing expression. “So . . . Gawain, isn’t it?” Peri ventured. “I don’t recall seeing you around the castle.”
The boy squirmed under his gaze and averted his eyes. “I don’t actually work at the castle,” he admitted, looking abashed and a little fearful. “I just--I just want a friend . . . . ”
Peri softened. The boy seemed sincere. It hadn’t been nice of Peri to try to scare him. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. My name is Peri.”
“It’s okay, Peri,” Gawain said, finally lifting his head. He still looked a little afraid.
“Perhaps I will see you around?” Peri said with intentional warmth.
The boy nodded. “Probably.”
Peri smiled at him and then began to walk away. Clarkent could use a good friend. Peri was just jumping at shadows. The boy was probably just a runaway.
****
Weeks later, Catherine was brushing the princess’s hair. Loisette protested against the act every time, but Catherine persisted in declaring the princess’s hair looked like a bird’s nest when Loisette did it herself--and so the demanding offer of assistance was always grudgingly accepted.
Loisette had come to secretly enjoy having her hair brushed by Catherine. The older girl did it gently and (usually) quietly, so it gave Loisette some time to think.
She found her thoughts drifting to the Riding Stable. On occasion, she went to the stable with Catherine to ride horses. There was something about the way Clarkent’s face lit up when he saw her which . . . well, which made her want to cause it to happen again. But whenever she was with Catherine, she couldn’t spend much time talking to Clarkent, so it took a little joy out of the experience. Not to mention that he had appeared to clam up even more since Catherine’s first appearance at the Riding Stable.
As Gawain, Loisette visited him more frequently, though it meant she constantly had to give Catherine the slip (which was sometimes easier to do than others). When Loisette went as the princess, she had to be very careful to limit her time with Clarkent so as not to draw attention to herself--especially since Aliss seemed to be keeping a close eye on her. But as Gawain, Loisette experienced more freedom. She even took cakes from the kitchen to give to Clarkent, figuring it would be okay for her to do so since Gawain *was* supposed to be working for the cook. And Clarkent had enjoyed those cakes so much that she never regretted doing it.
It was strange to see how the stableboy treated her different personas. He was quieter and more awkward around her when she was around him in a dress than when she was wearing pants. Whenever she was in her magic clothing, he would more frequently joke with her or disagree with her or tell her his honest opinion, and it was refreshing. She thought they had been moving toward such a relationship with her before she got the magic clothes, but then her father had delivered his command for her not to spend any more time alone with the stableboy. When she’d had to decrease the frequency of her visits as princess, the intimacy they had been building up had also decreased.
Loisette sighed to herself. It was so complicated being royalty.
As Catherine finished her task of brushing--muttering to herself about not being able to understand how a *burr* had ended up in the princess’s hair--Aliss came into Loisette’s chambers.
Loisette smiled upon seeing her, and she nearly stood up, but Catherine pushed her back down with a sharp order to be still.
“I see you two girls are getting along, Princess,” Aliss commented warmly.
“That’s just what we *want* you to think,” Catherine jested. She put down the hairbrush and smiled at Aliss.
“Yes,” Loisette agreed solemnly. “Secretly, we despise each other.”
The nanny shook her head. “I just don’t understand children these days.”
“You mean my mother was nothing like me?” Loisette asked innocently.
Aliss laughed. “I guess I didn’t understand children during your mother’s day either, Princess. *She* was certainly always getting into trouble. One time, she put a mouse down the back of a Duchess’s dress. I started to think that woman would never stop screaming.” She shook her head, chuckling.
“My mother did that?” Loisette asked, her mouth gaping open.
Aliss nodded. “Yes. She did. Of course, her adventures weren’t always that amusing afterward. She almost died once when she ventured into the woods alone.”
“Really?” Loisette prodded in interest.
“Yes. If it weren’t for your father, she *would* have died. He was worried that she was out so late, and he went searching for her . . . . When he at last found her, she was unconscious. She’d fallen into a large hole a hunter had dug. She broke both arms and could easily have broken her neck.” Aliss’s mood had descended into sadness. “Your father became very protective after that.” She abruptly shook herself out of her sorrow. “But enough about the past. I just wanted to check on you two. I have some work to do, so I’ll leave you both alone. But feel free to come find me if you need me.”
As Aliss left them, Loisette gazed after her. Despite the troublesome story Aliss had just told her, Loisette found herself suddenly craving adventure. If her mother had had adventures, then Loisette wanted to have adventures, too.
She waited a minute before standing up and saying innocently, “I’ll be right back.” Then she walked toward the door.
Catherine had become distracted by a cracked fingernail, and she muttered, “All right, Your Highness.”
Loisette ducked out into the hall, where she looked both ways to ensure there was no one in sight. Then she sneaked to her secret alcove. In the wall of the alcove, there were some loose bricks. Behind those bricks was where Loisette hid her Gawain outfit in an old blanket. She only had to spin quickly into the clothes, and then she was scurrying down the hall.
In one of the corridors, she passed Herbie, who was the castle librarian and her occasional tutor, but he didn’t look up from the book he was engrossed in, and she continued on eagerly.
****
“I’m sorry,” the Stable Master apologized. “Clarkent is busy with the farrier.”
The Stable Master--Dwayne, if Loisette remembered correctly--had never really questioned the presence of Gawain in the stable, though Loisette wasn’t quite sure why. She figured it was probably because he saw her Gawain persona helping out with some of the stable work. She wasn’t very good at it--she didn’t exactly have bulging muscles, and she was highly averse to getting any manure on her at all--but she often *did* help make a dent in the work there was to be done. Sometimes, she thought she could do more in one hour than that incompetent Geralph could do in three.
“That’s all right,” she said with a sigh. “Thank you.” She turned and left the stable, feeling a bit put out. Well, now what was she going to do?
****
“I’m back,” Loisette said in a grumpy voice as she entered her bedroom after having changed out of her Gawain clothes.
“Ring the bells,” Catherine said dryly. She was filing her fingernails.
Loisette sat on her bed and fell backward, spreading her arms out like birds’ wings. “I’m bored.”
Catherine snorted. “You certainly are high maintenance, aren’t you?”
Loisette sat up a little to look at her lady-in-waiting’s face, but there was an amused smirk on it.
“This coming from someone who has more outfits than my father has soldiers,” Loisette shot back.
“A girl has to look her best!”
Loisette fell back onto her bed once more. Then she sighed loudly.
“Oh, all right!” Catherine exclaimed. “If you’re bored, then let’s do something. What do you want to do? Horseback riding? Archery? Go to court and look at all the handsome knights?”
“Archery?” queried Loisette with a frown.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t choose to look at the knights,” Catherine muttered (just loud enough that Loisette could hear it). Louder, she said, “Yes, archery. You know--bows and arrows?”
“I’ve never used a bow and arrow before,” Loisette admitted.
Catherine gaped at her. “Archery is a staple for every young Noblewoman--and princess. Come on--get up. Let’s find Aliss. Maybe she’ll know someone who can give you some lessons.” And then she was pulling at Loisette’s arm and practically yanking her off the bed.
“All right, all right,” Loisette muttered.
****
After they found Aliss, she led them to an area outside the castle with several targets set up. A young man with brown hair and a stubble-covered face was standing with a bow in his hand. He swiftly nocked an arrow, drew back, and let it fly. The head of the arrow buried itself in the exact middle of the target. Reaching back into his quiver, the man pulled out another arrow, and seconds later an arrow was whizzing through the air again. It split the first arrow, going right down the middle of it. He turned to them with a smile; it was obvious he had known someone was watching.
Upon seeing the coronet on Loisette’s head, he bowed. “Your Highness. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He had a strange accent--his voice was musical, and he spoke with soft vowels but hard consonants. As he straightened from his graceful bow, he smiled at Aliss.
“Hello, Patrik,” Aliss said.
“Hello,” he returned warmly.
“It seems our princess wishes to learn the art of archery,” Aliss told him. “I was wondering if perhaps you could instruct her?”
Patrik bowed again. “I would be honored to teach such a beautiful young woman my lowly craft.”
“Well, I see you two ladies are in good hands,” Aliss said with a nod, failing to hide her smile. “I’ll be going now.”
Loisette watched her leave and then turned back to Patrik, only to find him talking to her lady-in-waiting.
“Now,” said the archer, looking at Catherine, “who might this lovely young lady be?”
Catherine offered her hand for him to kiss and purred, “Catherine.”
He obliged her, gently placing a kiss on the back of her hand. “Well, Lady Catherine, have you ever shot a bow and arrow before?”
“I have . . . but I am afraid I am a little out of practice,” she said, a slight pout to her lip.
“Well,” Patrik said slyly, “then I suppose I must help you get back in shape.”
As Loisette watched them flirt back and forth, she reflected that she would rather die a virgin queen than marry if *this* was what courtship entailed. The two were quite sickening, and she was beginning to regret having agreed to come in the first place.
But she might as well do it and get it over with. Maybe she would even learn something.
****
As it turned out, Loisette learned a lot at her archery lesson. Despite the doe eyes Catherine made at him, Patrik proved himself to be a skilled archer. By the end of the lesson, Loisette had even hit the target with an arrow. The feeling of triumph that came over her when that happened was enough to make her resolve to come back for more lessons. She might talk to Aliss to see if she could find a different teacher, but she was learning a new skill, and it made her feel good. And this was a skill that would be great for adventures.
“He was kind of cute,” Catherine commented as they walked away. “He seemed to like you. Maybe you’ll have a few beaux after all when you’re finally of age to marry.”
Loisette rolled her eyes. “I’m a princess,” she said firmly and loudly, “and I’m meant to marry a prince--or, at the very least, a Noble. I am *not* marrying some poor archer, and I don’t know why you were so tender with him yourself.”
“Oh, you’re no fun,” Catherine pouted. “A little flirting never hurt anyone.”
“Well, it never *helped* them either,” Loisette returned, staring down at her feet in annoyance.
****
Clarkent had been sorry to miss Gawain, but Penelope Grace had needed shoeing, and he knew that the horse would be far too much for the farrier to handle alone. After the cranky beast had been properly shoed, he finally went out to look for Gawain. He wanted to apologize for being unavailable and see if perhaps Gawain wished to chase fireflies. He was hopeful that he would be able to find his friend.
He saw Princess Loisette and Lady Catherine walking away from the archery area, deep in conversation, and he began moving toward them without really thinking about it. But then something Loisette said made him stop in his tracks:
“I’m a princess, and I’m meant to marry a prince--or, at the very least, a Noble. I am *not* marrying some poor archer, and I don’t know why you were so tender with him yourself.”
Upon hearing that, Clarkent colored. Then he immediately admonished himself. Why would he care that the princess wanted to marry a prince? Of course she did! That’s what princesses were supposed to do. It was no concern of his!
Still, he suddenly changed his path, no longer desiring to talk to the two girls. He might as well just go back to the stable. Gawain was obviously nowhere to be found.
He told himself that the reason for his sudden rotten mood was the fact that he couldn’t find his friend. But no logic could dispel the cloud that had settled down on him. Not even the thought of Visiting Day’s being next week was enough to cheer him up.
****
Chapter 8 Glossary
Rouncey: In medieval days, this kind of horse was meant for general use and could be trained for various purposes. It was utilized by poorer knights. It was never used to pull carts, though it occasionally served as a pack horse.
Farrier: Farriers put shoes on horses. They aren’t necessarily skilled in all the ironwork done by blacksmiths, though they may do blacksmithing to craft horseshoes.
