«Cats, when they scratch, they just play,» he whispered to Rebecca. «Next time you dont play with the pet with your bare hands, youd better take the ribbon.»
Rebecca herself almost hissed with anger at the friendly advice, like a real cat.
«Idiot!» She muttered to herself under her breath.
«He us so handsome and so stupid,» her veiled companion said thoughtfully.
«Whats that?» Brendan couldnt help it.
«Its all right.»
«You need your rest. We have a bedroom for guests,» said Rebecca, who had taken a candle from the ornamental table, though there was enough light from the sconces on the walls.
«You must have hundreds of bedrooms here,» Brendan followed the ladies inside the castle, marveling at the lavish surroundings. True, there were too many locked rooms. But the gilded doors gave the impression of wealth and luxury.
«Are you the mistress of the castle?» Brendan wished he could see the mysterious ladys face under a layer of silk. The beige veil with lace trim was, alas, opaque.
«Shes the local princess,» Rebecca snapped. «She owns all the land and everything in it.»
«Then shes magic, because theres a lot of magic in the lands around your castle,» Brendan blurted out, and then bit his tongue. If she really did make all that magic hed escaped from in the night, she could hardly be expected to cast a spell on him. Turn him into a toad, for instance. He is being disrespectful. You have to agree with witches, or youll be in a lot of trouble.
«Am I a sorceress?» The lady gave a very theatrical show of amazement. «Thats the first Ive heard. I have been called many things-beautiful, a heartbreaker, a rival, a senseless person who sends knights to their doom-but never a sorceress.»
Her train, like a tail, whipped Brendan to his feet. It was certainly not done on purpose, but somehow he was still embarrassed. It was as if hed been put in his place.
«Youll play for me tomorrow night at dinner,» the princess decided.
Why not tonight? Its suppertime-unless theyve decided to skimp on the minstrels food tonight.
«Theyll bring your supper to your chambers. You are tired. Tonight you will rest and eat, and tomorrow you will entertain us.»
Now thats noble. He thought hed be exploited at once.
«Thank you!»
But the princess had already slipped behind one of the closed doors, and Rebecca led him down the corridor. There was no flirting with her. The beauty was very serious.
«Do not think that if you are allowed to stay, you can do anything,» she warned.
«Can I see the cat that scratched you so? Does it live in the Princesss apartments?»
The Bastard always slept and ate in the Kings apartments. It must be the same here. He wondered what the local cats name is. «Is it the Sadist? Is it Lady Scratchy? Or is it just Rival?» Rebecca was definitely hurt by it, so to her the princesss cat was no other than a rival.
«If you were smarter, you wouldnt ask so many questions.»
«You sound like a schoolteacher. Where are we going, by the way?» Brendan quipped. Rebeccas coldness hurt him. Its not nice when a pretty girl pretends shes not interested in you. Nothing! After listening to him play, shell be kinder. All girls love to hear minstrels.
At the end of the corridor was a winding spiral staircase.
«Its the way to the tower,» Rebecca explained.
«Is my bedroom is in the tower?»
«Yes, it is.»
«I feel like a prisoner.»
«Dont be so dramatic. Youre a guest, of course.»
The lock on the door was strong. Rebecca opened it with a key from a large bundle she carried with her. Behind the door, however, it was so luxurious that Brendan dismissed the notion of a dungeon. The silk-covered walls, the paintings on the ceilings, and the abundance of upholstered furniture created aristocratic comfort. The bed under a lush canopy was the size of an entire tent, and there were vases of flowers on the cherry wood tables. A tray of supper was already waiting here. He wondered who had brought it. Brendan did not notice the servants. They must have learned to sneak around like shadows. With Rebeccas nervousness, it was no wonder theyd been trained that way.
Who would have thought that a wandering minstrel would be treated like a nobleman? Somethings not right after all. Either they suspected he wasnt who he said he was. Or his uncle has sent out messengers with news that hes wanted. He must be on his guard. Brendan locked the door with a latch and prepared in advance a rope from a torn sheet to escape through the window in case of capture. It was very high up here, but there were bushes of vines twisting below the tower. Their vines braided the window vault. It was a pity they were not so strong that they could be climbed down at once.
Brendans entire dinner consisted of fruit. Not a crust of bread. He wasnt used to this kind of diet, but it was better than nothing. A pitcher of fine ale supplemented his diet. The ale was unaccustomedly strong. The first sip made him insufferably sleepy. Brendan hoped he might dream again about the blonde called Rashelina.
Prisoners Dream
The vines whispered something and reached out to choke him, like living snakes or dryad hands. Brendan now understood the warning of the whisper that hovered over the fields. The whispers might be a warning to the vines coming to life. They were whispering about his fate.
«Would he survive, would he not survive? Will he love will he not love?»
Their whispering was like a little counting rhyme.
«Would the same thing happen to him that happened to everyone else? Or was he the only one who would make it?»
«He looked like a smart guy!»
Brendan fluttered his eyelids open sleepily. Could the vines really be whispering, zigzagging above his bed? He was dreaming! Hed have to be out of his mind to believe they were reaching out the window like living hands.
«Look! Hes got a handkerchief with the Kings crest on it!»
«He must have stolen it!»
The voices were still whispering, and the tip of the grapevine slid down his neck. Brendan pushed it away with his hand and sat down. When he had entered this bedroom, the vines had only hung around the high arched window, but now they lay imposingly across the rug and even draped a border around the bottom of the four-poster. What the devil is this? Or had he not looked carefully the first time?
To one of the vines was indeed clung his new handkerchief, with an Aluars crown embroidered in the corner. It was a gift from his uncle! He certainly hadnt stolen it. But could one of the mischievous vines have stolen it right out of his pocket?
Its worth a walk. Theres something wrong with this room. Perhaps insidious Rebecca had deliberately put him in a haunted tower. Everything is to be expected of that proud girl. Unlike the princess, she doesnt like visitors. Perhaps thats why the castle is so quiet and there are no servants to be seen at all. Rebecca has driven everyone out of here. But he cant be handled that easily. He was used to his uncles mentoring, he would get used to Rebeccas whims.
Brendan was sure the door was locked from the outside, but he was wrong. It gave way easily. He strode down the empty corridors of the castle. All the rooms looked uninhabitable, but luxurious. There was lots of feline molding all around. But the cats themselves were nowhere to be seen.
Brendan touched the gilded symbols embossed on the walls and columns. The patterns are amusing, as if a wizard had painted the marble with witchcraft symbols. Its definitely an imitation of magical writings! It was well done. Even Ephigenia couldnt do it. And it also glows in the dark!
His fingers ached to touch the murals and his eyes felt as if a sheath had been taken off his eyes. Brendan only now noticed the hideous, deep scratches on the furniture, the sculptures, and even the walls. They certainly werent cats claws prints. They were more like tigers or a cheetahs. Or maybe they were something bigger. Suddenly the dreadful legends of woodland werewolves sprang to mind.
Brendan felt sick to his stomach. But why should he be so nervous? It was a field, not a wilderness. But in those fields he had encountered more evil creatures than he could count in hell, much less in the woods. What if one of those things got into the palace?
«Hey! Somebody! Help me!» A desperate voice came from somewhere on the lower floors. It was barely audible, but Brendan broke out in a cold sweat.
A trellis just caught his eye, completely torn apart by someones claws. And on the mantel screen he could see the furrows from five large claws.
«Where are you?» Brendan climbed down the stairs, trying to determine which side the voice was coming from.
«Go this way! Quick! It is before they come back!»
The voice was clearer now. How much anguish there was in it! It was as if the unfortunate man had been tortured.
Brendan had seen the executions of traitors and rebels in Aluar, but he had never heard such despair in anyones voice.
Trying to find the victim, he went deep into the cellars. It was damp and cold. Cobwebs laced the walls. Instead of the customary cellars with wine and food supplies, there were cells with bars. The floor was flooded. Clamps bolted to the walls where chains had been fastened. Where had he gone?! Maybe he should turn back, but Brendan heard another call for help. How could he not help? No good fellow would leave a man in trouble. And Brendan was very kindhearted. This time it was on his own head. Because the prisoner discovered in the dungeon was definitely insane.
At any rate, his eyes gleamed madly in his pale, feverish face. His neck was crushed by an iron collar from a chain embedded in the wall. Thats the kind they usually put on crazy people. Brendan would have turned back if he hadnt noticed the deep scratches from the paws of an unknown animal on the prisoners body. The same scratches as on the walls upstairs!
«Who are you?» Brendan came up to the bars. «Im from Aluar myself, and»
«It doesnt matter who you are! It doesnt matter who I am! Weve got to get out of here»
If it hadnt been for the bars separating them, the mad prisoner would have clung to Brendans collar.
«Come on, lets go!»
«But how could we escape?» Brendan was taken aback. «Where are the keys to your um fetters?»
It was as if the prisoner only now realized that he was shackled and frustrated.
«Thats right. You are the only one who can escape. Run to Aluar! Get help! Tell them its urgent! Im the ambassador from there myself.»
«I never saw you there,» Brendan said, scrutinizing the pale face as if he did not recognize the prisoner as anyone he had met at Court.
«Dont go into details!» The prisoner pressed himself against the bars, as if he could walk through them. «Get out of here! You will thank me later for my advice.»
He does not think so! He is comfortable here too! Unlike the prisoner, he does not sleep in chains, but in a comfortable bed. Except that the vines have become restless. Perhaps the prisoner had such hallucinations too, which is why he is sitting here now.
Again there was a bad suspicion that Rebecca deliberately put him in the tower, which is haunted, driving everyone who sleeps there crazy.
«You didnt happen to sleep in the tower before you got here?»
«Youre out of your mind, boy!» The prisoner sounded like Brendans own thoughts. Their opinions about each other seemed to be mutual. Each suspected the other of losing his mind.
«You have to get out of here and tell them its time to attack the castle, or they will attack Aluar.»
«Who is it? Theres no one here but pampered women and a couple of servants, I suppose.
«There are cats,» the prisoner whispered fearfully.
«Only plaster and marble ones. I havent seen any real ones.»
Brendan would have been more likely to believe that there were werewolves, clawing at the furniture, if the man had told him there were.
«It is peaceful here,» he tried to reassure the poor creature, but he found the man was in a feeding frenzy, uttering one absurdity after another.
«Cats leash people up in here,» he finally blurted out.
«What is it? Are you serious?»
«Get out of here!» It sounded like an order.
«Okay, Ill really go,» Brendan hurried toward the exit.
«And get some help!»
«Yes, yes of course dont worry»
Where would one come from? The prisoner must be out of his mind. Two exquisite noblewomen live in the palace. Not even guards at the door, and no sentries in the towers. Whats there to worry about? Why hasnt a physician been called to this madman? Perhaps the physician lives too far away. Even at the royal court, theres only one physician.
Theres a reasonable explanation for everything, if you think about it. Brendan returned to the tower and went back to sleep, forgetting all about the night walk into the dungeons. And in the morning he decided that he had only dreamed it all.
Vines of grape
Early in the morning Rebecca herself knocked on his door, but she did not bring the tray with the light breakfast (again, of only fruit). Somehow it had ended up on the bedside table. Who had put it there? Had not the living vines slipped the tray through the window?
«Good morning to you!» Rebecca said hello, but she did not look friendly.
Rebecca clearly didnt want to get along with him. To hell with her! Let her be arrogant.
Brendan quickly devoured his breakfast, which consisted only of orange and pineapple slices. They should have brought a ham sandwich or at least a cheese sandwich! Has the feudal estate become so impoverished that there is nothing but fruit from the garden to feed the guest?
He could ask Rebecca about it directly, but she is so prickly that it is better not to annoy her with unnecessary questions, or else she will give an angry tirade. Brendan didnt like confrontation. It was better to keep quiet so as not to argue.
There must be no bread in the castle because of the evil creatures that occupied the fields and drove all the peasants somewhere. After all, to get bread, someone must work the land, sow, plow, and then take the harvest to the mill.
«Where did all those things come from in the fields? Brendan couldnt stand it any longer.
Rebecca struck him again with a wave of icy contempt.
«You are dreaming!» She muttered.
Tonight she wore a beautiful light outfit with pink ruffles. She was crumpling a bowed hat in her hands.
«Lets go for a walk in the garden!» She commanded rather than suggested.
«Am I not supposed to play for the princess?»
«Her Highness does not wake so early,» replied Rebecca in a stern tone.
How capricious princesses are! Does she sleep till afternoon or evening?
«My uncle,» said Brendan, «always wakes up with the rooster.»
«Is your uncle a prince or a king?» Brendan sarcastically snickered.
«Actually» Brendan realized hed almost blurted out whose nephew he was. Hes traveling incognito.
«Shut up!» Rebecca took his hesitation as a guilty pleasure at the awkward joke. «You dont know the etiquette of nobles.»
«Whats up, noble persons!» Brendan muttered to himself. «They are sleeping until dusk, like werewolves.»
At just the right time he was reminded of the tortured man who had been chained up like a werewolf caught in the woods. What if? Brendan was taken aback by his own hunch. Why were there so few people in the castle? He followed Rebecca through sumptuous enfilades of halls that were empty. There were no servants, not even the steward. Even if his attendants were confined to a discrete wing, the steward was sure to intrude.
«Where is everyone?» Brendan asked Rebecca as she led him into the fragrant garden, with its many fountains and pergolas.
«Who is everybody?» She made a puzzled expression.
«Well the other inhabitants of the castle.»
«Am I not enough for you? Would you prefer the company of a noble lady to noisy drunken company?»