Courage and Cowardice - Chapter 20
Courage and Cowardice - Chapter 20
“Oh no?” Antoinette laughed haughtily. “And I suppose that you didn’t murder your own child as well?” Instantly Isabela went cold and stiff, her heart stopping as her lips struggled to find words.
"There is none," said he, "except that he who will be chief, let him be a bridge. I will be so," said he.
-Branwen the Daughter of Llyr
“I’m sorry, you want me to waste valuable men and resources to go and rescue a slave?” King Charles sighed.
“Um…” Erin seemed not to understand the question. “…Yes?”
“My dear child, I don’t know how things are done in your native Hibernia,” Queen Antoinette laughed softly. “But here in Carolina-”
“Look, cultural differences aside,” Erin interjected. “Surely the existence of frogmen, and the whole duke-going-crazy-thing, that has to at least warrant some attention, doesn’t it?”
“True,” Charles muttered. “These frogmen may be responsible for the recent disappearances.”
“See?” Erin grinned. “So let’s go! Mount a rescue and get some answers.”
“But how are we to even find these frogmen?” Antoinette asked. “How can you be sure they weren’t merely sorcerous summonings of the Chevalier?”
“Huh?” Erin looked at the queen as though she were stupid. “Why would you summon something with no intention of following your orders? The Chevalier wanted to kill the girl, not abduct her.”
“Are you sure?” Antoinette inquired. “I’ve heard many a rumor that the Chevalier was involved in secret black magic.”
“That makes no sense!” Erin barked. “If you had access to black magic, there are a million cooler things to summon than stupid frogs!”
“Hey!” Illyria squeaked from beside Erin.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Erin grimaced.
“And how are we to know you aren’t in league with the Chevalier yourself?” Antoinette glared at the young sorceress.
“What? Me?” Erin blinked in surprise.
“No-one else saw the events you claim to have happened,” Antoinette pointed out. “And you yourself are a pagan. One who has wheedled your way into our court, admittedly, but one nonetheless.”
“Madam,” Isabela interjected from where she sat. “Both the Duchess of Romany and myself have already vouched for Erin’s honesty.”
“Oh?” Antoinette raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “And what proof do you have that Erin even did what she claims? Were you there at Bluebeard’s death? Did you see her strike the killing blow? And as for the duchess, how trustworthy can one noble be when another is apparently on a murderous rampage?”
“That doesn’t-! You-! You’re picking and choosing-!” Erin stammered.
“Please your majesty,” Illyria chirruped. “Esmeralda was my friend.”
From the other end of the ballroom, Jourdain stiffened as he heard that name. Esmeralda? It was her that the Chevalier had tried to murder, and whom the frogmen had abducted? No, he began to shake and shiver at the thought of Esmeralda dead. He couldn’t allow that to happen!
“Consider me a part of this rescue then!” Jourdain called out, prompting a profusion of protests from the various lords and ladies present.
“My prince!” Joan protested.
“We’ve only just lost your brother!” Morgan objected.
“Indeed, my prince, the safety of the realm is not worth the life of one slave!” Gastronomix cried.
“The life of one person!” Jourdain cried. “The value of a single human life is the foundation of every king’s noblesse oblige!”
As Rosa stared up at the man who was to be her husband, she couldn’t stop a strange flutter from occurring in her heart. He just looked so cool, standing there so bravely and resolutely! She had no idea that this bravery was all for the sake of a completely different woman.
“Yeah!” Heroix and Gigantix grinned. “Count us in as well!”
“Count me out,” Roland hissed. “A slave is hardly worth my attention, and certainly not my aid.”
“Heroix! Gigantix!” Gastronomix bristled. “What are you saying? I forbid you to go on such a pointless venture!”
“But chief-!”
“No buts!” Gastronomix growled. “So long as I am chief, you must do as I command.”
“ENOUGH!” Charles bellowed, and all fell silent once more. “Jourdain! You are not to go on this mad quest, regardless of your own idea of nobility. The risk is too great. I won’t lose two sons.”
“But-!”
“I will not lose two sons!” Charles screeched. “As for you, Erin…”
“Uh… yes sir?” Erin asked.
“I trust you and your companions to investigate this matter,” Charles said.
“Darling!” Antoinette cried. “You can’t be serious!”
“Who is king here, you or I?” Charles hissed, before a dizzy spell rendered him mute.
“My love!” Antoinette rushed over to the king’s side, even as he recovered and brushed her aside.
“Leave me be!” Charles gasped. “I won’t have you hovering over me like some pet!”
“But please! You are far too ill to continue this evening.”
“I… unnnh,” Charles began to faint again, before he was steadied by a group of slaves.
“Please, take my husband to his chambers,” Antoinette pleaded, before casting one last glare at Erin.
“This isn’t over,” she hissed, and went to follow her husband to his bedchamber.
“Please, everyone,” the royal scrivener said. “The king is very tired. Perhaps we should all retire for the evening.”
Erin cast a glance at Illyria, before looking at her traveling companions and shrugging.
“So… business as usual I guess?” she chuckled.
After all was said and done, the group of travelers (along with their newfound froggy friend) changed into more appropriate attire and began the task set before them. Meanwhile, as the guests settled into their rooms, Rosa was brought to her own private chambers, where she would be staying until her wedding night.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” the attendant slave said.
“Thank you,” Rosa nodded politely, and the slave left her alone in her chambers.
Imagine, Rosa cast her gaze across the room. Soon this would be her home. Soon she would be a queen, just like her mother, married and content with life. From the sound of the night’s events, there would be some political upheaval in the near future, but Rosa was not too worried about that. Whatever happened, she was sure Jourdain would be able to handle it. He seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. And Rosa would be there, supporting him by his side. Maybe, as Rosa reflected on the letters from Louis, the ones she had read and reread a million times over, life with Jourdain would not be so bad after all. Maybe she could even learn to love the young prince.
Just then, there was a sound from down the corridor. Poking her head outside to see what was the matter, Rosa saw a slave rushing away, fear in her eyes.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Rosa asked worriedly.
“Prince Jourdain! He’s gone! Missing from his bed!” the slave cried.
“What?” With a start, Rosa ran over to the room from where the slave had exited, and saw to her horror that this was indeed the case. A series of blankets, tied into a makeshift rope and fastened to a bedpost, trailed out the window and into the night air.
“Ow!” Morien fell to the ground and clutched his swollen head.
“Ooh!” Julia winced and rushed over to him. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Morien moaned. “Just, didn’t see that sign.”
As Morien squinted up at the dangling inn sign, he couldn’t believe something so obvious could have been so invisible. He could hardly see anything around him, the night sky having rendered the city streets pitch-black.
“Make sure you don’t stray too far from my light,” Erin and Illyria walked over to Morien, the sorceress’ staff emitting an emerald glow.
“Or from mine,” Hobie and Yann came over to join the rest of the gang.
“I just… how can these streets be so dark?” Morien cried. “Seriously, Lon would dash through city streets at ni-”
“Are you still going on about him?” Julia sighed.
“Well he never had this problem,” Morien rubbed his sore head.
“Um, are you sure we’re on the right path, Erin?” Illyria inquired.
“Positive!” Erin grinned. “Esmeralda had the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, and so long as it’s green, I can track it! We’ll find your friend for certain, Illyria!”
“Illyria?” Hobie gleamed thoughtfully. “Isn’t that a name for a kingdom, not a girl?”
“Oh,” Illyria blushed, which in her current froggy state was quite a sight. “Y-yes, Illyria used to be a kingdom. It bordered the west of Romany, or, where Romany is today. My father named me after it.”
“How come?” Erin asked.
“J-just, he wanted me to be proud of who I was, even if that was a Slavonian.”
“Slavonia?” Morien exclaimed. “I know that place! That’s where the savage mountain men are!”
“You’re wrong!” Illyria cried, before nervously retreating back into herself. “I-I mean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Julia scooped the froggy girl into her arms. “You don’t have to be afraid around us.”
“S-sorry,” Morien hadn’t expected such a reaction from Illyria. “I just… that’s what all the stories sa-”
A deadly glare from Julia made him realize how foolish he sounded at once.
“Okay. Sorry.”
“N-no,” Illyria squeaked. “I know all the stories. The vampires and werewolves. The shifty savages. I hear them all the time.”
“Is Slavonia still where Augusta gets its slaves?” Hobie asked quietly.
“Yes,” Illyria nodded. “Sometimes they get them from Saxony or the White Sea markets, but Slavonia is still the main place to get them. It’s where they got my parents.”
“Huh?” Morien was confused. “Wait, how can you be a slave? Slavonia isn’t part of Carolina.”
Julia and Illyria stared blankly at Morien.
“It… doesn’t have to be,” Julia said.
“But… wait, how were you born into slavery?” Morien asked Illyria. “Even if your parents were prisoners of war, that still…”
“They weren’t prisoners of war,” Illyria seemed amazed by the question. “They were just Slavonians. They were captured and sold, just like any other Slavonian.”
“But that’s not how slavery works!” Morien cried.
“Excuse me?” Julia turned her icy gaze on Morien.
“It isn’t!” Morien insisted. “You either get captured in a war and get shuffled off to some job that needs slaves, or you can’t pay a debt, or you did some other crime, but-”
“And just what makes you such an expert on it?” Julia advanced threateningly towards him. “What makes you think you know what you’re talking about?”
“B-because that’s… that’s how it is… in… Songhay,” Morien had the nagging suspicion that he should probably shut up. But there was no arguing with facts, and he was well-versed enough in facts of law to know that you couldn’t simply gallivant into a random country and enslave its inhabitants. Could you?
Julia knew better. Even though she herself had escaped slavery’s cruel clutches, her travels had led her to many a market, where she had seen many a young girl, just like her, chained and bereft of hope. She knew that cold, dead look in their eyes, the look she herself had had, after her parents had died, and she had been “mercifully” spared. She knew the leering gazes of the potential buyers, the scent of musk from the sweaty masters who tugged at their newfound property greedily, the tallying and carting of human beings as though they were cattle.
She had outsmarted her master, had kept his cloying advances at bay through sheer force of wit. But she knew many other children were not so lucky. When she had escaped, taken her freedom for herself, Julia had once tried to save those children. For all the profits she had made as a merchant, half of it had gone to purchasing and freeing child slaves. But soon she had realized how pointless her altruism was. She could not save, clothe, feed, house, settle, and comfort every child she came across, no matter how rich she became. Even with her mastery of market forces, Julia was powerless to halt the tide of slavery. So she had given up, hardened her heart and tightened her grip on her purse.
But now, now it seemed at last someone with power could do something. Prince Jourdain could chip away at the blot that tainted the world. For the first time in a long time, Julia knew hope again, and wasn’t that what Morien was all about? Hadn’t he always stressed the noble path, the hopeful path, the path of storybook heroes and knights in shining armor? Why was he so apathetic, so insistent that the reality she had experienced was not true? Was he really so arrogant as to believe he knew better about the world than those who had to live in it? It was too much!
“You…” Julia shivered and seethed, before finally erupting. “You… CHILD! You stupid, naïve kid! How dumb are you? How blind are you to the… how can you say… how can you even think that!?!”
“Um, h-hey,” Erin tried to intervene.
“WHAT?” Julia hissed.
“Um, j-just, I think right now we should be focusing on the whole rescue thing, that’s all,” Erin gulped.
“Yeah, better focus on what’s in front of ya,” a chuffing chortle cut in, and the traveling companions all turned to see a trio of lumbering lugs lurching their way towards them.
“Er… hello gentlemen,” Hobie said.
Yann instinctively pulled out his lute, ready to thwack a fellow upside the head at a moment’s notice, and Erin swung her staff to a defensive position.
“A bunch o’people wanderin’ around da middle of da city streets, talkin’ up a storm an’ widout any guards,” the leader of the pack chuckled. “Dat’s pretty stupid.”
“Yeah. Heheheheh,” the two other men cackled as a single unit.
“Look, buddy, if it’s a fight you want-” Erin began.
“Not so fast!”
Everyone turned to see none other than Prince Jourdain, a lantern in one hand and a drawn sword in the other.
“As the royal prince of the Carolingian crown, I command you to cease and desist at once!” he cried.
At that, the thugs stared blankly, before bursting into a chorus of uproarious laughter.
“Oh… um…” Jourdain stammered, not expecting that sort of reaction.
At last, once the trio had wiped their eyes and calmed their breath, they rushed the young prince.
“C’mon, let’s rob dis guy,” one said.
“Imma smash his head in,” another grinned.
“Heheh, chump,” the other snorted.
“Wh- st-stay back!” Jourdain gulped, as he frantically flitted his sword in a manner most amateurish.
The trio of course paid no mind to this pathetic display of novice swordsmanship, and it was only with a massive, green blast of energy that they were convinced to halt their current course of action.
“What da…?” one glanced up from the barrel he had been tossed into.
“How… how…?” another peered over the rooftop he now lay upon.
“Heheh, nice,” the other snorted as bits of broken window-glass stuck to him.
The owner of the house the trio had fallen into was evidently none-too-pleased at their presence, as he began to shout and curse, and burst out of his house to chase off the thugs with a rusty shovel.
“You hooligans! Look what ya did! I’ll kill ya! Come back here so’s I can kill ya!”
“Um…” Jourdain stared blankly at the scene before him.
“Seriously, what the heck!” Erin berated the prince. “What were you thinking, taking those guys on yourself? Have you ever even been in a real fight?”
“Uh… I… that is…” Jourdain stammered nervously.
“Erin!” Julia protested. “Show some respect! He’s the prince, remember?”
“I don’t care if he’s the Queen of Sheba, he was an idiot to do what he did!” Erin countered.
“Um… what exactly are you doing here?” Morien asked.
“Yes. Correct me if I’m wrong, but your father did forbid you to investigate this matter, didn’t he?” Hobie inquired.
“I… I know,” Jourdain grumbled. “But I couldn’t just let this slide by! I had to help you!”
“Your nobility is admirable, but I must agree with your father,” Hobie glowed. “You’re obviously of no skill when it comes to fighting, and we’ve no idea how dangerous this mission will be. Perhaps you ought to simply return.”
“No!” Jourdain insisted. “I won’t get in your way! Please, I have to do this! I have to make sure she’s… I… please, just let me help.”
Everyone exchanged confused glances. What on earth was this? Something was obviously up, but what could it be?
At last it was Erin who broke the silence.
“Fine,” she groaned. “If you insist, your highness. We’ve wasted enough time already. No point in wasting any more to get you back home. Just don’t get in the way.”
“Th-thank you!” Jourdain cried. “You won’t regret it, I promise!”
“Let’s just go,” Erin motioned for everyone to follow her, as she made her way further into the pitch-black streets. As Jourdain rushed over to join them, he was suddenly stopped by the steady hand of Yann. The bard had placed a firm grip on the young prince’s shoulder, and was now staring sternly down at him. Jourdain gulped, taken aback by the somber seriousness of Yann’s gaze, and quickly averted his own eyes. Why was the bard staring at him like that? Did he know something? Had he discerned the secret of Jourdain’s motive?
“Yann?” Hobie called out from a distance. “What are you doing? Come on.”
Yann continued to stare at Jourdain, until it became obvious he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted. With a sigh, the bard released the prince, and they both made their way to catch up with the rest of the group. And all the while, a nagging paranoia began to tug at Jourdain’s heart. What did Yann know?
“Shhh, it’s alright darling,” Antoinette’s sweet, calming whisper breezed into her fitful husband’s ear.
At that moment the king was protesting feebly from his bed. The slaves had set him down there, and the queen had bidden them to leave, assuring them that she would take care of him. But once Charles realized he and Antoinette were alone, he began to panic.
“The slaves. Where did they go?” he asked, his face caked in a frightened sweat.
“Gone. It’s just you and me, my love,” Antoinette whispered calmly.
“St-stay back!” the king hissed, his cane raised threateningly. “Stay back, I say!”
“You don’t scare me,” the queen smiled serenely. “You can barely even swing that stick. Give it here.”
Charles resisted, his eyes wide with fear and anger, but the queen had spoken truly. As the king’s vision blurred and his limbs weakened, he felt his cane fall to the ground with a clatter, and his body collapse upon the bed. He was so weak. The sickness that had taken him years ago was becoming too strong. He knew he was not long for this world. Slowly he felt the blood begin to bile up his throat, and he knew that she had won. She had beaten him.
“Please,” he whispered. “Leave Jourdain be. He’s… a fool, but he… he doesn’t deserve this.”
“You would ask a mother to abandon her child?” Antoinette laughed as she picked up the cane and set it by the king’s dresser. “Jourdain will need a stern hand to guide him, if he is to become a truly great king.”
“N-no…” Charles gurgled. “Poison…”
“Hush, my love,” Antoinette produced a snuff box from the dresser, and took out a pinch of its contents, before blowing the pink powder over her husband’s face. At first the king fought the drug, tried to repel its magical effects. But he had taken too much of the powder to resist for long, and soon his eyes had taken on the glazed, complacent dimness of subservience. He was hers to command, body and soul.
“Yes,” Antoinette purred. “Very good. Now, listen very carefully. Those outsiders, the ones you just sent on that mad quest, we need to get rid of them. They run the risk of interfering. So, why don’t we summon one of our assassins and make them disappear? We can say the Chevalier got them. He’s obviously gone mad, no-one would suspect a thing if we say he killed them. That sounds like a good plan to me, doesn’t it? Hm?”
To the queen’s surprise, her husband’s only response was one of laughter. It was a hacking, sickly wheeze, blood erupting from his mouth with each heaving gasp, and yet somehow, there was a tinge of triumph to his voice.
“What are you laughing at?” Antoinette hissed. “I’ve given you an order, haven’t I? Obey me!”
“P-poison…” the king chuckled weakly, before his eyes rolled back and he fell to the bed, his body cold and lifeless.
For a moment the queen simply stared, the realization not yet fully upon her. Then, as she noticed the wry, spiteful smile on her husband’s dead lips, she began to curse and rave. That fool! That stupid, old fool! He had beaten her! He had robbed her of her greatest tool! The assassins would only follow his word, not hers. She was just the queen, after all. Just an accessory to sit beside her husband and look pretty. Any power she had was purely circumstantial, all dependent on the king’s will. And now, the pink powder she had used to bend her husband to her own will had killed him! She had known the powder’s toxic toll, as soon as Charles had begun to show signs of his sickness, and she had made preparations for his inevitable demise, but she hadn’t expected him to die so soon! What was she to do? How could she turn this defeat into a victory?
Her mind racing, weighing all the options and possibilities before her, Queen Antoinette began to form a plan at last. A dead king made a great tool, one she could surely use to her advantage. Yes, now Jourdain, poor, foolish, naïve Jourdain, was hers to control. There was still the matter of that pesky slave girl of course, but after years of living with King Charles, the queen knew a thing or two about getting rid of other women. And as for those travelers, perhaps an assassin was unneeded. Perhaps all it would take was a weeping widow. Yes.
With a quick glance at the dresser mirror, Queen Antoinette made herself presentable. She had quite the performance before her, and it was necessary that she look her worst. So with a quick welling of tears and her most pitiful wail, Antoinette flung herself out of the room, pleading and crying for aid.
“Captain, look!”
Captain Cazador looked up from where he stood on the Argo deck, and to his surprise saw a familiar group of travelers making their way down the docks.
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Morien glanced around at the flabbergasted sailors who were tending their boats.
“Yeah,” Erin furrowed her brow. “But from the looks of things, we’re going to need a boat.”
“What, is Esmeralda in the river?” Julia asked.
“Oh no…” Illyria gasped as she imagined Esmeralda, drowned and dead beneath the Aenon River. Beside her, the prince did his best to not let his own sorrow show as the same image flashed in his mind. And beside him, the bard glanced a knowing glance, first at Jourdain, then at the orb that hovered beside him.
“Erin, are you unable to pin down Esmeralda’s exact location?” Hobie inquired.
“It… seems so,” Erin focused all her energy, but still could find no clarity. “It’s weird. Normally I’d be able to find exactly where she is, but this time, I’m just getting a vague idea. There’s probably some magic interference at work.”
“But she’s alive, right?” Illyria asked. “She’s still alive?”
“Oh yeah, without a doubt,” Erin grinned. “No worries on that. Still, wherever she is, we’re gonna have to go down the river to reach her.”
“I guess we’ll need a boat,” Morien muttered. But who here would be willing to offer such a thing?
“Ahoy there!” a familiar baritone called down to the travelers, and as they turned their gaze upward, they saw Captain Cazador peering down from his ship.
“And just what are you all doing here at this hour?” he asked incredulously.
Isabela had first heard the cries when she’d made her way to the royal guest chambers. She had been making her way up a stairwell, when suddenly a waifish wail had stopped her in her tracks, and she had been forced to investigate. Now, as she stood in the corridor, and saw Queen Antoinette curled up on the floor, surrounded by her slaves, Isabela knew that something terrible was afoot.
“What happened?” Isabela asked the queen, who looked up with a start, tears streaming down her face.
“M-my husband… the king…” Antoinette moaned. “Dead! Killed by sorcery! I knew that witch couldn’t be trusted!”
“Witch?” Isabela furrowed her brow. “You mean Erin? How do you know she did this?”
“Because it was magic that killed him!” Antoinette cried. “Magic powder, from pagan lands! It must have been either that witch or the Chevalier!”
“We found pink powder all along the king’s pillow,” a slave confirmed.
“Pink?” Isabela queried. “But… Erin’s magic only works for green things. She couldn’t have done it.”
“How do you know?” Antoinette hissed. “And how do we know that you didn’t help her?”
“Me?” Isabela reeled.
“Yes, you!” Antoinette stood up, her fists shaking in anger. To any passerby, she would have looked the very definition of a weeping widow. But as Isabela peered at the queen with a more discerning eye, she could see her sorrow was nothing but an elaborate ruse, the same ruse she had used upon her son’s passing.
“What proof do you have?” Isabela glared unflinchingly back at Antoinette. “I have no motive, no reason, no past crimes to even suggest I would do something like this.”
“Oh no?” Antoinette laughed haughtily. “And I suppose that you didn’t murder your own child as well?”
Instantly Isabela went cold and stiff, her heart stopping as her lips struggled to find words.
“What… where is Rosa?” she asked.
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Antoinette grinned viciously. “You know I’m not talking about her. I mean your other child, the one you left to the vultures when she was only a babe.”
Isabela choked. Her knees began to buckle, her head began to swim. The walls of the corridor seemed to warp and change, closing in on her like a metal vice. As she stared into the vile, accusatory gaze of Queen Antoinette, Isabela felt the queen’s eyes stab into her just as terribly as any blade.
“What is she talking about?” one slave asked.
“Queen Isabela?” the other inquired.
Isabela could give no response. For years she had kept her sin a secret, locked and hidden away deep within the recesses of her heart. No-one had known. She had never allowed them to know. She had used every resource, every trick in the book, to make sure the secret had never gotten out. So how? How could this Carolingian queen know the truth? How could she know what Isabela had done?
“Go on, tell them,” Antoinette sneered. “Tell them exactly what you did.”
Isabela found herself suffocating. How did Antoinette know? How could she have known? The question laughed at her, a cackling, mocking, gruesome laughter, and she could do nothing to answer it. All she could do was run away, stagger drunkenly out of that corridor, away from the queen, away from the gossiping slaves, away from the secret she had kept for so many years. She had to get away! But even after she had retreated into the safety of her chambers, Isabela still could hear the accusations, the gossiping, the cruel, wicked laughter ringing in her ears. There was no escape. No escape at all.
“How is it that we always run into each other?” Usuff sighed as he rowed the lifeboat down the river.
“Thank you for doing this, sir,” Morien sat cramped on the tiny boat with his companions.
“Hey, it’s the least we could do,” Usuff replied. “Still, I have to say, this all sounds incredible. Frogmen, crazy dukes, mystic quests and all that. Kind of reminds me of when the captain and I were younger.”
“Oh?” Hobie flickered. “Do tell.”
“Well-”
“Wait!” Erin cried, as she ran over to the side of the boat and plunged her head deep into the cold waters.
“Whoa, hey!” Usuff cried. “Don’t rock the boat!”
“What is it?” Jourdain asked.
“Did you find something?” Illyria asked.
“She’s here!” Erin erupted from the river, face sopping wet but grin irrepressible. “Right here, this exact spot! This is where she is, just… lower down.”
“Lower down?” Julia glanced at the pitch-black water. “But… how exactly do we get lower down?”
“I… er… I can’t swim,” Jourdain grimaced in embarrassment.
“And I don’t think any of us can breathe underwater,” Morien said.
“I might,” Illyria suggested.
“But then how can you get the rest of us down there?” Hobie asked.
“Um… everybody?” Usuff called out, drawing everyone’s attention to Yann, who sat there pointing to the distance.
“Er… what is it Yann?” Morien asked.
Yann’s only response was to point more frantically, and as the travelers all peered towards the river’s edge, they saw a darkened, familiar figure rush into a coastal cave.
“The Chevalier!” Erin cried.
“So… where does that cave lead to?” Usuff wondered.
“Mother?” Rosa quietly poked her head into the room where the Antilian queen lay.
Deadly, mechanically, Isabela raised her face from the bed, her eyes red and swollen.
“Mother!” Rosa cried.
“Rosa…” Isabela murmured. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I… Jourdain is missing. But- wait, never mind that!” Rosa rushed to her mother’s side. “What happened to you? Why are you like this?”
“Jourdain missing?” Isabela mumbled. “Is he dead too?”
“What?” Rosa gawped. “What are you saying, mother?”
“Rosa…” Isabela turned her gaze toward her child. Every day she was growing up a little more. Every day she moved further and further away from the baby Isabela had held in her arms. She had given everything she could to raising Rosa. In some ways she had considered it her atonement, her way of making amends for the terrible thing she had done. But now that terrible thing had seen the light of day. Soon enough the slaves’ gossip would spread like wildfire all across the Carolingian court. What would Rosa think of her, once she learned the truth? Once she knew the monster that she really was? That was right, deep down, beneath the courtly mask every noblewoman had to wear, Isabela was a monster. Who else would have done such a thing, simply to save face in the public eye?
Isabela knew then that she had to tell Rosa. She had to hear the truth, and not from some stranger. The truth had to come from Isabela’s own lips, no matter how difficult it might be.
“Rosa, please…” Isabela said. “I… I’ve done a terrible thing…”
“You sure you don’t want me to join you?” Usuff asked as the rest of the travelers extricated themselves from the boat.
“It’s alright,” Erin grinned. “We should be able to handle things from here. Thank you for bringing us all this way.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Usuff said. “After all, you saved everybody back there in Bastilla.”
“Come on!” Jourdain shouted agitatedly from the cave mouth. “The Chevalier may have already caught up to Esmeralda by now!”
“Right,” Erin waved a last good-bye to the first mate. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Ah! Uh, w-wait a minute,” Usuff stammered.
“Huh?” Erin turned back to look at him.
“Er… well, I know the captain said it didn’t matter, but there’s something he’s been meaning to say to Julia for a while now,” Usuff said at last.
“What is it?” Erin asked.
“What’s taking them so long?” Jourdain huffed from a distance. “They’ve been chatting it up for a while now!”
“They haven’t been talking for that long,” Hobie said calmly.
“Yeah, and why are you so bent out of shape over it?” Morien wondered.
“Esmeralda could be dead!” Jourdain shrieked, before regaining his composure. “I mean… we have a duty to rescue her, don’t we?”
“Yeah, Morien, isn’t that what your stupid fairy stories always say?” Julia hissed.
“What?” Morien stammered. “I… I didn’t mean…”
“Okay!” Erin appeared. “Sorry about that. Let’s get moving!”
“Finally!” Jourdain dashed into the cavern, with everyone following close behind. At the front, Jourdain, Erin, and Julia led the charge. In the middle, Illyria, Hobie, and Yann kept pace. And at the back, feeling confused and bewildered and so, so stupid, Morien wondered what he had done wrong.
“When I was young, very young, younger even than you,” Isabela began. “I was not yet the queen. I was simply another noble lady in the Antilian court. And I was brash, and stupid. And one day, in my youthful arrogance, I did something unforgivable.
“There was another noblewoman, another lady of the court, and I hated her. We had never gotten along, both of us too proud and arrogant to view the other as more beautiful or beloved amongst the people. We each sought to tear the other one down, like the childish fools we were.
“On her wedding day, I made a fool of myself, trying to ruin what should have been the happiest day of her life. It was the talk of the court for many months, and she never forgave me for it. But I didn’t stop there. No, I did something even more terrible. When she gave birth, to two beautiful baby girls, I couldn’t even let her have that happiness. I spread a rumor through the court, saying that if the woman had had two babies, she must have had two lovers. It was a horrible rumor, nothing more. But the people still believed it. The scandal was enough for the woman to be sent to a nunnery. I had accomplished what I’d set out to do, I had engineered her downfall. And I was so young, so cruel, so unbelievably stupid, I felt nothing but happiness at this.
“But then time passed, I grew up, I matured… somewhat. At least, enough to draw the court’s attention as a viable bride for the king. You probably know what happened after that. I was wed, and soon I had you.
“But I…” Isabela halted for a moment, unable to find her voice. She had buried the memory so deeply, to even call it up was painful. But she had to continue. She had to tell the truth.
“You were not the only child I had. There was another. You and she… you were the most beautiful baby girls I had ever laid eyes upon. To punish me for my wickedness, Yehovah had made me give birth to twins, while the rumor I had planted still grew furtively through the noble court. I knew what would happen if the truth got out. I knew it would be the end of me, just as it had been the end of her.
“So I wrapped my other child in a cloak, and left her by a church, with a note begging them to take care of her. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that it was the best thing to do. But now I know, I know abandoning my child was just as cruel and wicked as anything I ever did to that woman! I’m sorry, Rosa, I’m so sorry!”
Rosa could only stare blankly at her mother’s wretched face. As the tears streamed down the queen’s cheeks, the queenly mask was wiped away, and Rosa saw her mother laid bare before her.
The sound of her mother’s sobs was hardly noticed by Rosa’s deaf ears. The only noise she could hear was the hollow ringing in her head. How could this be true? How could her mother have done such a thing? How could she have kept it a secret for so long? Rosa suddenly realized she could no longer trust her mother, no, this alien creature that now sat before her. What else had she lied about? What other dark secrets had she kept from Rosa? Numbly, dazedly, Rosa stumbled away, away from her mother, away from the room, away from the sobs and wails that echoed through the castle corridors.
Isabela moaned as she saw her child walk away. Was this to be her fate? Was this what Yehovah had planned for her? Would she never be forgiven for what she had done? Desperately she clutched her shaking hands together and prayed, prayed with all her heart that this was not the end.
But all she heard back was silence.
Deeper and deeper the travelers trudged, guided only by the light from Hobie and Erin’s staff. Above them they could hear the roaring river, loud enough to echo along the cavern walls. Beneath them, a noise, some sound unfamiliar to them, growing louder and louder with each passing step. Straining their ears, each and every one present tried to discern the noise’s identity, but to no avail. Whatever the sound was, it was far too alien for anyone to recognize. Anyone, that is, except Illyria.
“Wait…” Illyria mumbled. “It… it’s a song! Someone’s singing.”
“Huh?” Julia tried to hear the lyrics. “But… I don’t hear anything like singing.”
“No…” Hobie muttered. “She’s right. There’s… something. Something powerful…”
“If they’re singing, then what are they saying?” Morien asked.
“Something… ‘mother’,” Illyria said. “I keep hearing the word ‘mother’, and… ‘clean’? Something to do with cleaning.”
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good,” Jourdain charged down the tunnel, his sword drawn at the ready.
“What the-! Hey, wait!” Erin chased after him, barely keeping pace with him.
As Jourdain stormed down the underground passage, soon he could see a light coming from another tunnel up ahead, and from within he could hear the strange noise louder than ever before. Here must lie the frogmen, he thought, here they must have taken Esmeralda. With a savage war-cry, Jourdain leapt into the tunnel, his blade ready to strike down the first froggy foe he could find.
With a start Jourdain halted his charge, as he saw that the tunnel led to a massive internal cavern lit by mushroom-light, where hundreds of frogmen all lay prostrate, chanting some obscene ritual before a monstrous face that stood before them. How many frogmen there were exactly he did not know, but Jourdain knew he could not rest until he had found Esmeralda safe and sound.
“Fiends!” he bellowed. “What have you done with her?”
The frogmen squealed in fear as they saw the man charging at them with his sword. How had such a madman gotten in? Before they could summon their best sorcerers though, a blast of green energy knocked Jourdain to the cavern wall, where he plummeted with a painful groan.
“You… why did you do that?” Jourdain moaned.
“You idiot!” Erin barked. “This is a rescue mission, not a massacre! We’re not going to find Esmeralda anywhere if you keep picking fights with everyone!”
“I… I’m Prince Jourdain!” Jourdain howled as he got back up to his feet. “Soon to be King of the Carolingian Empire. Who are you to command me?”
“Wait, Prince Jourdain?” a voice cut through the air in perfect Norman.
“Oh sard!” another cried. “Quick boys, let’s get out of here!”
“Huh?” Erin and Jourdain glanced up to see a group of strapping young men making their way through the crowd of frogs and away from the prince.
“Humans…? But…” Erin muttered as the others caught up to her.
“Good heavens,” Hobie exclaimed.
“The Tarasque!” Morien gaped at the gargantuan face etched into the cavern stone. There was no denying it. The same massive mane, the same herculean horns, the same fearsome fangs, and above all else, the same mother’s eyes, gazing down lovingly at her children, the frogmen. She was the very image of her portrait in the book.
“The who?” Julia furrowed her brow.
“Mother!” Illyria cried. “The mother they were singing about!”
“What’s going on?” one of the human men asked the other.
“People’ve come to take us back, man!” another cried.
“Wait.”
A voice, clear and loud, gently settled into everyone’s mind. It was not a physical voice, a voice that made its way into your ear and then to your brain. Rather, it was a voice that everyone felt deep inside them, a warm and pleasant presence. But whose voice was it?
“Please,” the twinkling eyes of the Tarasque soothed all who were present. “Let us talk.”
Rosa sat by her bed, face buried in her arms, mind deep in thought. She did not know what to feel. How could she trust her mother, after what she had done? How could she ever look at her the same way again? It had all been a lie, hadn’t it? Underneath the mask she wore, the mask she had taught Rosa to wear, she was just a monster, wasn’t she? Only a monster could have done what she’d done.
But still, every memory Rosa and her mother had shared now flooded into her, every birthday, every ball, every lesson in ladylike manners. Her mother had always watched out for her, always protected her, always been there for her. It was because of her mother that Rosa was who she was now. She could still hear the song her mother had sung for her, when she was just a baby, still remembered how it had felt when her mother’s finger was big enough to fit in her hand. How could it all have been a lie?
It couldn’t. Rosa realized it couldn’t. But how then could the monster and her mother be one and the same? How could she reconcile the two? As Rosa lifted her head, and gazed out the window to the night sky, the question still echoed in her mind.
But all she heard back was silence.
“And that just about sums it up,” Erin explained.
“I see,” the Tarasque replied. “In that case, I suppose my children have some explaining to do as well. Gerrick, Gorrum, Grenn, what do you have to say for yourselves?”
Instantly three of the frogmen, the same three frogmen Erin now recognized as having taken Esmeralda, erupted into a chorus of squeaks, squeals, and chirrups, each obviously protesting their own innocence and the others’ guilt. Then they started to punch and kick and hiss and growl at each other, until any confession they had planned devolved into a rowdy round of roughhousing.
“Gerrick, Gorrum, Grenn,” the Tarasque continued calmly but firmly. “As far as I can see all of you participated, so all of you are to blame. Now if you tell me the truth, you shall be alright, but I want the truth, do you understand?”
The three frogmen stopped their fighting, and guiltily agreed to their mother’s demands. How could they disobey when she had asked them in that voice? The leader of the trio at last began to calmly, slowly gribbit out an explanation for their behavior.
“He… I can understand him,” Illyria said. “He’s saying… they thought that since… the plumbers couldn’t clean her… they would get a… a scullery maid to do it instead!”
“The plumbers?” Morien furrowed his brow. “Wait a minute…”
“You there!” Prince Jourdain called out to the humans. “You’re the missing builders, aren’t you?”
“Sard! He’s found us out!” one of the builders shrieked.
“Yeah, we are, and you can’t take us back! We won’t be slaves anymore!” another cried.
“That’s fine!” Jourdain laughed. “I wouldn’t ask you to! After all, I’m going to free the slaves.”
“You what?” a builder blinked in surprise.
“Can you… do that?” another wondered.
“Why does the Tarasque need cleaning?” Hobie asked Illyria.
“He says…” Illyria translated. “It sounds like the Tarasque has been sick lately.”
“Sick?” Julia furrowed her brow.
With what? Yann wondered.
“I see,” the Tarasque sighed. “I must apologize to you all. When you brought me the young scullery maid, and when she agreed to clean me, I did not stop to ask how you had come by her. I was too happy at the chance of being well again.” Then, to the travelers, “You see, my children, though intelligent, do not have the same mindset as you humans to clean things. I was forced to recruit human hands to use the human supplies my children took, and found unable to use themselves.”
“We’re sorry, mama!” the brawny builders burst into sobs. “If we were any smaller we’d help you in a heartbeat!”
“It’s alright,” the Tarasque smiled gently. “But now I have already swallowed Esmeralda, along with all the cleaning supplies you took from the human world.”
“You… what?” Jourdain blanched, before emitting a guttural sob. “You swallowed her?”
“Just as I swallowed the builders, before they proved too large to fit through all my passages,” the Tarasque said. “But, with luck, Esmeralda should be able to scrub out the sickness inside me, after which I will gladly return her to you.”
“Whew,” Erin breathed a sigh of relief. “Well then, I guess that settles it. All we have to do is wait for Esmeralda to finish and then we can-”
Suddenly a shadowy figure dashed into the cavern, jolting past the travelers before they could even react. The Chevalier Ténèbre! With a gasp, Erin tried her best to blast him away, but the Chevalier deftly dodged her attacks, as well as all the spells cast by the frogmen. Caught off-guard, no-one could halt the Chevalier’s progress before he slashed his sword across the Tarasque’s face with a vengeance. Such a puny blade was hardly a challenge for the Tarasque, her hide being thick enough that only a nick was made, but a nick was enough to warrant a cry of pain, through which the Chevalier plunged deep into the Tarasque’s throat before she could spit him out.
“N-no! No!” the Tarasque cried, but there was nothing she could do. The Chevalier was already inside her, and soon he would find Esmeralda.
“Esmeralda!” Jourdain howled.
“No!” Illyria squeaked.
“Oh no…” Morien moaned.
“Now what do we do?” Julia cried.
Morien knew the answer. If even Erin couldn’t beat the Chevalier, there was certainly no way he or anyone else could take the fellow on. But if the dark knight was left to run about the Tarasque’s insides, he would surely kill Esmeralda. Morien knew it. Morien did not know this Esmeralda. He had never met her, never spoken to her, never even seen her before. But he knew that whoever she was, he couldn’t abandon her to such a fate. Slave or freewoman, Morien knew she was a person, and thus in need of help. So he steadied his shaking knees, calmed his frantic breathing, and set his gaze upon the Tarasque.
“There’s not much we can do,” Morien gulped. “Except… go after him.”
With the knock at her door, Isabela sat up startled. Who could that be? Doing her best to wipe away the tears and not reveal her inner turmoil, Isabela went over and opened the door to her chambers.
“R-Rosa,” the queen stammered. “Y-you…”
“Mother,” Rosa said. “If I never forgave you, what would you do?”
Isabela faltered, taken aback by the question. But then, after a minute’s pause, she answered honestly.
“Even if you never forgave me… I wouldn’t stop loving you. And I wouldn’t stop trying, any way I could, to make up for what I did.”
It was a while before Rosa spoke.
“In that case…” she said at last. “I think I can forgive you. Just… not now. Not yet.”
“I… I understand,” Isabela bowed her head. “Thank you.”
And with that, the two women stood together in silence.