OF COURSE THERE HAD BEEN a state dinner after the funeral, a somber affair, as befitted the occasion, with toasts and speeches and cold meats. Men fiddled with the buttons of their black coats and soberly reflected on their own mortality. Women hid their faces behind black veils, dabbed their eyes with black handkerchiefs, and speculated about the cost of one another’s dresses. All agreed that the late monarch, despite a teensy little bit of fondness for the bottle, was one of the finest dead men to ever rule Damask. Catherine and Rosalind played the roles that were expected of women, looking pale and wan, and eating very little. Now they were making up for the lost opportunity, with a late supper in the dining room of the castle. They were seated at one end of a long table, still wearing their mourning clothes, but with the veils pushed back over their heads. The only other occupants were two solicitors at the other end of the table, talking in low voices on some technical point of law. A trio of logs burned steadily in the fireplace. Candles provided a small pool of light around the two girls.
Catherine reached for a loaf of brown bread and tore a piece off the end. “It went very well, I thought. I do so like it when it rains at a funeral. Not thundering rain, you understand, but a dreary little drizzle adds so much to the atmosphere. It make the whole affair seem so much more—well—funereal.”
“Oh, I agree,” said Rosalind. “When the world seems gray and bleak, you can tell yourself that life is filled with misery and despair, and the departed did well to quit it when he did. Whereas, on a bright and sunny day, you feel the loss of an early death so much more. Did my dress pull across the back?”
“No, it looked fine.”
“I thought it might be too tight. I’m not sure I trust my new seamstress. The men looked very good, don’t you think? Especially Bad Prince Charlie. That was so wild, the way he stood up to those bandits in the forest. Don’t you think so?” Rosalind looked at her friend carefully. “Do you find him attractive?”
Catherine picked up a pat of butter with her knife. “I suppose.”
“He was looking at you.”
“Oh look, here’s Oratorio. He must be getting off his shift.” Catherine waved her bread. “Oratorio, come sit here with us.”
Oratorio, in uniform and holding his helmet under his arm, bowed low from across the room. He paused a moment to warm himself at the fireplace, then took the seat next to Rosalind. “Good evening, ladies. Ah, three more months of this, and I’ll have completed my service to the crown. In the meantime, how pleasant to have your company at the end of a long watch. Have you eaten yet?”
“We were just starting.”
“I wonder if I could get an omelet,” said Rosalind.
“No,” said Catherine. “Not in Damask.”
“Unless you want dried eggs,” said Oratorio. “And you don’t.”
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten that you don’t have eggs in Damask. Some sort of curse, right?”
“Not a curse,” said Catherine. “More like a spell that went awry.”
“And in truth, we can have eggs. You can have duck eggs or goose eggs, if you want them badly enough. It’s the chickens that don’t survive here.”
“All due to a sorcerer named Thessalonius,” said Catherine. “He eventually turned out to be pretty good. In fact, he is now the Royal Sorcerer for Damask. But this was many years ago, when he was just starting out.”
“He killed all the chickens?”
“He drove them out of the country. He was actually trying to drive the snakes out the country. He heard about someone else doing it in some other land, and he thought it was a good idea. But he made a mistake somehow, and instead of driving out the snakes, he drove out the chickens.”
“Well, it was a good idea,” said Rosalind. “I don’t like snakes. Ick.”
“Eventually he did figure out how to drive away the snakes,” put in Oratorio. “Then he had to let them back in again.”
“Goodness, why?”
“Rats,” said Catherine. “Snakes eat rats and mice, so the vermin were infesting the granaries. Ground squirrels too, eating the crops when they were still young shoots. It turned out we need snakes. So a properly humbled sorcerer, sadder but wiser, had to reverse his big spell and let them in. No doubt there’s a lesson there for us all.”
Rosalind thought this over. “If he could reverse the spell that drove out the snakes, why couldn’t he reverse the spell that drove out the chickens?”
“A quick thinker,” said Oratorio. “I like this girl.” Rosalind gave an involuntary little wiggle. “Because,” he continued, “Thessalonius didn’t know what his mistake was when he drove out the chickens, so he didn’t know how to reverse it.”
“Thus no omelets,” finished Catherine. “No soufflés. No egg salad. No popovers.”
“No cakes,” said Oratorio. “No custards. And worst of all, no eggnog.” He attempted to put on a tragic expression. “During the winter holidays, we have to drink our brandy straight up.”
Rosalind patted his hand. “That must be terribly difficult for you.”
“It is indeed. But we’re tough in the Guard. We can deal with hardship. Plus, every autumn we have the chicken festival, where cartloads of cold fried chicken and hard-boiled eggs are brought over the mountains. Everyone picnics in the parks.”
“But still, no eggs, or cakes, or custards, or chopped liver, or chicken soup. I’d think people would be pretty mad. Why did the King keep him on?”
“He didn’t just keep him on, he promoted him. No one knows why, but Thessalonius and the King were pretty close. And then when the King died, Thessalonius disappeared.”
“Really?” said Catherine. “I didn’t know that.”
“No one has seen him in weeks. Packard and Gregory gave us orders to keep an eye out for him.”
“He might just be in mourning somewhere. What about Bad Prince Charlie? Why do they call him Bad Prince Charlie? Is there a story behind that?”
“Yes,” said Catherine severely. “I gave him that name. He treated me in the most ungallant manner. He betrayed my trust.”
Rosalind looked at her, wide-eyed. Catherine wore a grave expression, and she twisted her napkin in a fretful manner. The blond girl looked at Oratorio, who was leaning forward, listening, and back to Catherine. This was new to him. She said, “Don’t hesitate, girl. Tell us about it.”
“He invited me to dinner. You must remember, this was when I was young and innocent.”
“And you’re not young and innocent now?” asked Oratorio.
“Alas, no.” Catherine sighed. “Years of sorrow have left their mark upon my careworn cheek.”
“He asked you out to dinner…” prompted Rosalind.
“Yes. He sent a carriage for me. It was quite a nice restaurant. We were dining out on the terrace, late in the evening. He poured chilled wine into my glass. It was a warm summer night and I was a bit heated. I drank it down quickly, perhaps too quickly.”
“Oh dear.” Rosalind knew where this was leading. She glanced sideways at Oratorio to see how he was taking it. The young soldier looked stern.
“There were so many distractions. The moon shining on the terrace, the warm breeze bringing the scent of roses, a trio of musicians playing romantic airs. There were multiple courses to the meal, and several different wines. He kept filling my glass before it was empty. It was so hard to keep track of how much I drank. But I thought I could trust him.”
Oratorio and Rosalind nodded gravely.
“My head began to swim. The candles seemed but a blur of light. The waiters cleared away the dishes and brought out the dessert tray. As if from nowhere, a snifter of brandy appeared in front of me. I told him I didn’t want it. I’m sure I told him. But he urged it upon me. That final, after-dinner drink pushed me over the edge. I could no longer think clearly. And it was then, when my defenses were down, my protective instincts stripped away, that Charlie took cruel advantage of my weakness.”
Oratorio’s lips were set in a grim, tight line. Rosalind seemed struck with horror at what she was about to hear. “Oh, Catherine!” She leaned across the table, her voice dropping nearly to a whisper. “Surely he didn’t…no…not Prince Charlie…not what I’m thinking!”
“I fear it’s true.”
“You mean—he ate your dessert!”
“Yes!” The red-haired girl gave a heartfelt sigh. “And it was chocolate, too!”
Oratorio stood up. “Cute, ladies. Very clever. I admit I was taken in. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.”
The girls laughed. “Don’t be mad at us, Oratorio. We were just having some fun.” Rosalind patted his chair. “Sit with us, Oratorio. Our food is just arriving.”
“Oh, I’m not angry, Rosalind. I’ll be back a little later, if you’re still here. But now I have a duty to perform. I must deliver a message to our Bad Prince.”