Once Upon a Winter's Night

9

As the Bear started downslope toward the huge manor, Camille tried to still her racing heart by studying the great house and the immediate grounds, that which she could make out through the rising vapor curling ’round.

Vast was the mansion itself, four or five storeys in height, though here and there it rose above even that, and broad and deep with many wings, and even courtyards within. Chimneys it had in abundance, yet Camille wondered why here in the warmth of the Summerwood fireplaces were needed at all-other than those required for cooking and perhaps those needed to heat bathwater. The far-flung grounds about the great chateau were surrounded by a lengthy and high stone wall, with gates standing at the midpoints, at the moment all closed. Inside the wall, in spite of the mist, Camille could make out groves of trees and gardens with pathways through, a small lake, and Is that a hedge maze?

She had read of such in Fra Galanni’s library, but she had never thought to see one.

Several outbuildings ranged along part of one wall, presumably at the back of the house. What they contained, Camille could not say, though she speculated that perhaps one was a stable and another a carriage house and still another a smithy and Wait. If the Prince had horses, then why did he send a Bear to fetch me? Mayhap because of the dreadful passage through the Winterwood, where the Bear could protect me, and a horse could not. Regardless, I do not know how to ride… except Bearback, so to speak. Camille laughed at her bon mot, but then sobered quickly, for the Bear had come to the floor of the vale and now angled leftward toward one of the gates, and Camille’s heart beat all the faster.

The Bear trod toward the great barrier, with its long brass bars running up and down through heavy brass braces across, the gate itself decorated with a copper bas-relief in the likeness of a great oak tree, verdigris making the leaves and trunk green; it was the same emblem that had been impressed in the wax seal of Prince Alain’s letter, though that on the entrance was in low relief rather than intaglio. As they approached, the oak tree split in twain and the two halves of the gates swung inward and wide, yet Camille could not see aught of who might have opened them.

Onto the grounds of the vast estate they went, the Bear padding along a road of white stone wending within a gallery of oaks, their limbs arching overhead and intertwining to form a green leafy canopy above. As down this way they went, to the left and right through the spaces between the boles of the oaks Camille caught glimpses of the estate, with its gardens galore and white stone paths and long stretches of green sward. “Oh, Bear, how large this holding. Why, Papa’s entire farm could fit in one small corner yon.” On they went and across a stone bridge, with a wide lucid stream meandering under and flowing between high mossy banks; and black swans swam in the water, their long necks proudly arched. And still the road gracefully curved, the oaks standing honor guard, yet of a sudden the Bear emerged from the canopy and into the open beyond, and Camille’s heart leapt upward again, for straight ahead across a broad mead stood the great chateau.

“Oh, Bear, I am wholly apprehensive,” quavered Camille, burying her hands into fur and gripping tightly. “Remain my protector, please.”

“ Whuff, ” replied the Bear quietly, and pressed on ahead.

As they went on toward the manor, Camille now saw just how vast a place it truly was. Left and right the building stretched away, and loomed upward as well. Pale grey it was, and made of granite, with a huge, deep portico upheld by fluted columns, the pillars granite, too. Here and there along the front, from second-storey rooms and above, leaded-glass doorways opened onto white-marble balconies, while all across and abounding, leaded-glass windows in white wooden sashes stood in white wooden frames.

Great Mithras, there must be two hundred rooms or more. Much to dust and sweep and clean, endless windows to wash, chambers to air, linens to-Oh, my, but I do hope that I don’t have to Just then Camille heaved a quiet sigh of relief, for she could see that within the great portico the doors to the house stood wide, and flanking and extending outward from the portal stood servants arrayed in two long rows. Steadily trod the Bear, to come up the two steps and onto the wide porch. And servants silently bowed or curtseyed deeply as the Bear trod between, yet Camille knew not how to respond, and so she rode into the manse on the back of the Bear without saying a word.

Past the open, brass-studded, thick doors of oak and down a short corridor she rode, to pass beyond another set of open doors and across a broad landing, then down two steps into a vast front hall: its floor was of white marble, with an inlaid depiction of a great oak centered therein-the leaves of malachite, the bole and limbs a subtle mix of grey and red granite. A full four storeys above, the white plaster ceiling held a leaded-glass skylight depicting the same oak-a reflection of the one below. Two massive staircases-one left, one right-swept from a common landing outward and up, curving to a high balcony all ’round, and higher up still were individual balconies jutting out of the three facing walls, with recessed doors leading into chambers beyond. There were doors and archways ranged to left, right, and fore, both at the great hall floor level and the balcony level above; through the archways, Camille could see corridors leading away. Sconces for candles and lanterns were arrayed along on the walls around, but sunlight pouring in through high, front windows and the leaded-glass skylight above lighted the chamber brightly.

The Bear padded to the center of the great hall and stopped on the inlaid stone-oak; then, led by a tall, slender, grey-haired man dressed all in black, a flurry of servants-footmen and butlers-surrounded both Bear and girl. At a signal from the man in black, a footman stepped forward and placed a small stool on the floor, while another held out his hand and murmured, “My lady.”

Camille swung her leg over and took his hand and stepped to the stool and then to the floor. At another signal, the footman whisked the stool away, while others un-clipped the harness from the Bear.

The grey-haired man, who seemed to be in charge of all, said, “Mademoiselle, my prince names me Lanval, and I will show you to your chambers.”

Camille’s heart lurched. “But my Bear: will he not accompany me?”

“No, my lady. There are other things my prince-”

The Bear growled low, and Lanval said no more.

Camille turned to the Bear and flung her arms about his neck and whispered, “Oh, my protector, will you come if I call?”

A soft whuff was his answer.

“My things,” said Camille, releasing the Bear and turning to Lanval and gesturing at the harness and bundles.

“They will be delivered to your chambers,” replied the man, “though I believe that you will find it quite well-appointed to serve the needs of a lady.”

Up one of the long sweeping staircases Lanval led her, to the balcony above and thence through an archway into a corridor wainscoted in cherry wood with red-velvet walls above. Cherry-panelled doorways stood left and right, some open, others closed. Up a short flight of steps he led her, and turned right and right again, passing through richly carpeted and panelled hallways, all hued in a pale green, to come to a massive oak door, which, unlike the others, had the Summerwood crest thereon. Camille’s heart beat a bit faster upon seeing the symbol, yet she breathed deeply and braced herself for whatever was to come.

“One moment, my lady,” said Lanval, and he opened the door to a dimly lit room and stepped inside. Within instants, light flooded the chamber, and Lanval reappeared. “Your quarters, my lady,” he said, standing aside and bowing.

Hesitantly, she entered, Lanval following after. Into a radiant sitting room they came, and though lamps and candles sat upon tables and stood ensconced along the walls for nighttime needs, all was illuminated by daylight streaming inward through a skylight above, its pull-cord shade now open. But it was the chamber itself that caused Camille to take in a deep breath, for it was luxurious: satins and silks of pale yellow and old gold and rich creams seemed everywhere, on lounges and chairs and love seats and the pillows thereon, though several of those were bright white instead. Filling the air with their subtle fragrance, yellow roses in yellow vases sat upon the oak-wood tables standing against cream-colored walls embellished with a gilded tracery. All was arranged for quiet conversation of pairs and trios and more. Camille saw to the left stood an archway and straight ahead an open door, and they led to rooms beyond.

Discreetly, Lanval showed her about the suite: he escorted Camille through the archway and into a small library with tall, book-laden shelves standing against one wall with a rolling track-ladder for reaching the top. Therein as well sat plush leather chairs and lanterns and candles for nighttime reading-though in this chamber, too, Lanval tugged the pull cord to remove the shade from the skylight high above to let in the light of day. Along another wall sat an escritoire and chair, with trimmed goose quills and an inkwell and blotters and talc and a trimming blade, as well as blank journals and foolscap and vellum and parchment with wax for sealing, all arrayed at hand or on the shelves above should she have the need to write. Camille looked about in wonder, and then stepped to one of the bookshelves and reverently ran her fingers across several of the spines of the leather-bound books thereon and whispered, “Oh, so very many.”

They lingered but a moment, and Lanval then led her through a small doorway and into another shade-managed, skylighted chamber; therein stood a great bed, covered with a yellow-gold, satin spread, with pale yellow silk draping down from the canopy above, the curtains held back by yellow-gold, satin ribbons tied ’round the four massive bed-posts. In this chamber as well were sitting chairs upholstered in yellow satin and cream silk. There, too, sat a wide vanity table and bench, an oval, silvered mirror on the wall above; a silver comb and brush and a hand mirror lay ready for use, with powders and rouges and soft brushes and cloths, and vials of fragrances at hand as well.

Lanval then pointed out the bathing room, with its great stone tub and stone basin chased in gold, and soft towels and facecloths and soaps and gentle bath oils and other such lady’s fare. In this chamber, too, a skylight stood above.

Camille looked about. “Is it all gold and yellow and cream?” she asked. “-The rooms elsewhere, I mean.”

Lanval smiled. “Nay, my lady. Elsewhere the rooms are of green and blue and red and white and other hues of the rainbow. These chambers, though, were intended to be a reflection of the gold of your hair.”

“Oh, my,” said Camille, and she glanced back toward the bedroom and the open doors to the rooms beyond.

Lanval cleared his throat. “My lady, the privy is yon.” He pointed to a curtained archway connected to the bathing room.

Camille stepped to the arch and peered into the skylighted chamber beyond-a goodly sized room with a commode enclosing a chamber pot, and a table with a washbasin and pitcher thereon, along with soap in a dish; shelves and racks laden with cloths and towels and additional bars of soap ranged along the walls; therein, too, sat a lidded bucket for disposal of that which was used. As she surveyed the chamber, Camille could not help but to think back to her papa’s stone cottage, with its burlap curtain on a rough hemp cord and the wooden bucket with its lid.

Sighing, she turned back to Lanval, and from her bedchamber he escorted her through a heavily curtained, gilded, glass-paned door, and Camille found herself on the central high balcony looking down onto the great entry hall below, now empty of all, including the Bear.

Camille turned to Lanval. “My lord-” she began, but Lanval raised a hand to halt her words.

“My lady, no highborn lord am I, but merely the steward of Summerwood Manor. Please call me Lanval.”

Camille sighed. “But I am not highborn either, Lanval, for until a handful of days past, and even still, I was and am nought but a mere crofter’s daughter.”

“Nevertheless, my lady, highborn or low-, you are the betrothed of my prince”-Lanval’s blue eyes did twinkle-“and from what I can discern of thy bearing and manner, he did choose most wisely.”

At the mention of her pledged future, Camille did start, for somehow in the display of all the opulence she had managed to forget entirely the reason she had come to this manor, yet Lanval’s words did jerk her back to reality.

Camille took a deep breath. “When will I meet the prince?”

Lanval looked down at the white marble floor far below, with its granite and malachite inlay. “It may be awhile, for he recently returned from a long journey.” Lanval then smiled at Camille. “You, too, have journeyed far, and must needs bathe and rest.” He stepped back into the bedchamber, Camille following, where he tugged on a yellow silk pull cord and said, “This will summon your handmaid. She is close by in her chamber, or mayhap in the servants’ hall. Regardless, these cords are in each room of your suite, and should you have need, simply pull, and aid will be here in a trice.”

“Handmaid? Oh, Lanval, what need have I for such?”

“My lady, you would not have the prince send her away, would you?”

“Oh, Lanval, would he do so?”

Lanval smiled. “I think not, my lady. Still, you must allow her to do that for which she was… intended. She will attend you, as well as show you the house and the grounds, and will speak of where breakfast is to be found, and other such daily matters. Yet I caution you to not ask of the prince, for he has made it plain it is a matter between the two of you.”

Again Camille’s heart leapt to her throat, for who but a monster or creature of some sort would have all keep silent in matters concerning himself, even unto his intended.

As they returned to the sitting room, there came a soft knock on the outer door, and Lanval called, “Enter!”

An ample young woman in a simple black gown stepped into the chamber. In her hands she bore Camille’s goods, taken from the Bear’s harness. Hastily, she set all upon a small table beside the door, then curtseyed and murmured, “My lady.”

“This is Blanche,” said Lanval, “your lady’s maid.”

Blanche looked to be no older than Camille, though she stood perhaps an inch or two taller. Fair was her skin, and black her hair, and her eyes so dark as to be black as well.

“Blanche,” said Lanval, “the lady needs to freshen up after her long journey, and to shed her travelling clothes for somethi-”

“Oh, Lanval,” blurted Camille, looking at the scant bundle holding her meager belongings. “I brought nought but a simple shift with me, one quite threadbare at that. Certainly nothing as elegant as these garments I now wear.”

Blanche smiled knowingly, even as Lanval said, “Show my lady her dressing chamber, Blanche.”

As Blanche clapped her hands together in pleasure, Lanval added, “My lady, now that you are in good hands, I return to my other duties. Even so, should you have need of aught…” He bowed low, and then turned and stepped to the door.

As he exited, Camille called after, “Merci, Lanval.”

“My lady,” said Blanche, a gleam of pleasure in her eye, “if you will but follow me.”

Blanche led her mistress through a small doorway off the bedchamber and into a dim room, where the handmaid tugged on a pull cord, drawing the shade from the skylight above. And Camille drew in a great breath of incredulity, for revealed was a room perhaps even larger than the bedchamber itself; and it was filled with splendid clothes: gowns, dresses, skirts, blouses, chemises, shifts, jackets, lingerie, shoes, boots, gloves, cloaks, hats, ribbons, jewelry cases, and more. Camille gaped at the trove in disbelief, her astonishment reflected in the gilt-framed, full-length mirror affixed to the far wall therein.

“Oh, Blanche, these are marvelous, yet I wonder if they will fit.”

Blanche laughed. “My lady, they were fashioned for you alone.”

“But how? I mean, it’s not as if someone came in the night and took my measure.”

“Do not be too certain of that, my lady,” said Blanche, grinning, pulling at the cord to close the skylight blind above and protect the clothes against sun damage. “And now let us to the tub with you.”

That eve, served by Blanche, Camille, while abed, ate a delicious meal of biscuits and butter and jellies and tea and cream over berries, for the handmaid insisted that she needed rest after such a long journey. And so, bathed and scented, Camille sat propped against many pillows in her great, soft bed, the first ever she had not had to share with a sister or two. And in the middle of that vast expanse, with a bed tray across her lap, her meal half-eaten, Camille fell quite asleep, for it seemed, after all, Blanche was right.

The very next day, Blanche escorted Camille about the great manor, showing her all within, all that is but one floor of one wing-“ ’Tis the quarters of the prince himself, when he’s about, that is, and none but Lanval is permitted therein.-Oh, once a fortnight, maids are allowed, but only under Lanval’s eye.” Camille frowned, for she did not think those chambers would be forbidden to her, for, after all, even though she had yet to meet Alain, she was his betrothed, hence surely she would not be barred; yet she did not gainsay her handmaid.

All through the rest of the mansion they went, with its sitting rooms and guest rooms and ballrooms and rooms of other sorts, some small, some large, some vast. In one of the smaller chambers sat an elegant harp, with violins in cases nearby. Lyres and lutes and tambourines and small drums lay in the chamber as well. In the next room sat a harpsichord, and though neither Camille nor Blanche could play, they sat on the bench and struck the keys and laughed at the plucked dissonance they made. Even so, Camille looked longingly at the music sheet on the board above the keys, and she wondered at the symbols thereon and yearned to be able to read the arcane notations and play. Elsewhere, in several ballrooms, other harpsichords sat, some on stages, others directly on the ballroom floors, others still on balconies above.

Guest rooms abounded, and they sampled a number, and each one they entered was furnished in elegant taste. And with but few exceptions, nearly all the chambers had fireplaces-“Seldom used,” said Blanche, “given the warmth of summer.”

“Yet the rooms are not overwarm in the summer sun,” replied Camille, frowning. “And even though my chambers have no outside windows, still I believe I felt a drift of air therein.”

“Oh, my lady, that’s one of the wonders of Summerwood Manor,” replied Blanche. “I am told by Renaud the smith that on the many roofs, great scoops with fins that catch the wind and turn their mouths into the blow, direct the air down through channels in the walls to the rooms within, and the air does flow onward and out other hidden channels beyond. Only on the hottest or stillest of summer days might it become uncomfortable, but then we all sleep outside.” Blanche pointed up at a wide lattice in one wall, and then down near the floor on the opposite wall to another. “Have you not seen the grillwork in your chambers, my lady?”

“I thought it was just decorative,” replied Camille.

Blanche smiled, and on they went, visiting the servants’ chamber down below, butlers and maids jumping to their feet and bowing and curtseying. Camille merely nodded in acknowledgment, having been instructed by Blanche that such would be sufficient, and onward they went.

They visited the kitchens as well, and here Camille was given a sweet pastry to hold her until the noonday meal, even though she had eaten breakfast in her bed, served to her by Blanche.

Through a laundry room they passed, with its great tubs sitting on platforms, wood-fired heating chambers beneath, cold for the nonce, no laundresses in sight.

They came to a door which seemed about to burst with women’s laughter. Blanche grinned, saying, “Follow me,” and they entered into a sewing chamber filled with gaiety, a half dozen seamstresses laughing. Upon seeing Camille their voices stilled, though mirth yet dwelled in their eyes, and the women rose from chairs and curtseyed. Feeling as if she had interrupted a festive party, Camille did thank them all for fashioning so many lovely clothes for her to wear. And then she and Blanche withdrew.

Later on they entered a ladies’ sewing chamber, with its tambour frames and sewing baskets and daylight streaming in, a place where fine fabric with cross-stitch and embroidery patterns laid thereon would be captured in hoops, and needles and thread and floss and yarn would pop and hiss through taut cloth, while quiet converse murmured about. Camille could not but think that the cheer of the seamstress chamber would be a better place to sew.

In one room they found a nursery with rocker, crib, and toys-cloth poppets, rattles, teething rings, and the like. “In a place such as this your children will sleep,” said Blanche.

“My children?”

“Those visited upon you by Prince Alain,” replied Blanche.

“Oh,” said Camille, reddening, feeling quite naive.

They stopped for the noontide meal, Blanche having deposited her mistress in an elegant dining room and then abandoning her. Camille sat alone at the foot of a great long table, feeling embarrassed at the number of servants waiting upon her-all those eyes looking without seeming to look, watching her every bite-the men ready to leap forward at her slightest need.

Somehow she managed to struggle through, and not a stray drop or crumb fell onto her lovely lavender dress. Thank Mithras for Mistress Agnes and the etiquette lessons she taught to me. “I may be nought but a gardener, young lady, yet manners I do well know, and we wouldn’t want you to embarrass Fra Galanni by acting like a pig, now would we? Here, then, I’ll teach you about knives and forks and other such, including finger bowls, though ’tis unlikely you’ll ever see any, much less use one.”

Camille dipped her fingers in the finger bowl and dried them, and, as if by some mystical means, Blanche reappeared, and they took up once again the tour of the manor.

In a grand chamber was a great library, one that made the small library in Camille’s suite look to be no more than a shelf or two by comparison. Books abounded, along with scrolls and pamphlets and journals and other printings and writings. Camille studied the spines of several books, finding poetry, legends, fables, histories, and much more ere Blanche dragged her away, saying, “My lady, there will be time in years to come to learn all, and I would have you see a great deal of this manse.” And so onward they went.

A game room they visited: in the center of the room sat a small table with facing chairs and holding an elegant echecs set of carven jade-pale yellow for one player, translucent green for the other-the pieces arrayed on an onyx-and-marble board. Tears welled in Camille’s eyes as she remembered the wooden set her pere had carved, the set she and Giles had used.

“Do you play?” asked Camille, taking up a spearman.

“Oh, no, I think not, my lady, at least I do not remember ever having done so.” Her voice trembled as if in some distress.

Camille frowned. How could one not know whether they had ever played echecs? But she merely said, “Someday I will teach you, then.”

There were other echecs tables scattered about, though the sets were not quite as elegant.

In one corner sat a large, round table with several chairs about, and thereon were a scatter of small, flat, very stiff paper rectangles. Camille took up several and studied the various depictions of vices, virtues, and elemental forces, and nobility and peasantry thereon. “What are these, Blanche?” asked Camille.

With her fingers interlocked and clasped tightly, Blanche said, “I only know they are used in a game called taroc, my lady, though some say there are arcane uses for such as well.”

On other tables sat games of dames, twelve red and twelve black pieces on alternating squares of the damiers, the boards like those of the ones for echecs, though the playing pieces were round disks all.

Camille looked up from the games and found hanging above a broad fireplace the portrait of a slender young man dressed all in blue and standing on a grassy hill, the wind blowing his cloak about and ruffling his dark hair. He was quite handsome, with a long, straight nose and regular features; across his body he held a walking stick in his two hands, almost as one would hold a quarterstaff low. He seemed to be looking out of the portrait and straight across the room. Camille turned, and on the opposite wall above a white marble table was a second portrait, this one of a striking woman in green, standing on another windy hilltop, her black hair loose and blowing, her cloak and gown billowing in the wind; she was dressed as if for riding horse-back, a crop in her hand. She faced the image opposite. It was as if they stood on adjacent hills in the same gusty blow, looking at one another across a vale between.

“Who are they?” asked Camille.

“Prince Alain’s sire and dam,” replied Blanche, her face quite pale. “They say this is how they met-him out for a walk, she out for a ride.”

“Does Alain look like his pere… or mere?”

“Oh, my lady, please don’t ask. I am pledged not to say aught of the prince. It is his wish, for he would tell you himself.”

Camille took a deep breath, and then asked, “Where are they now, pere and mere, that is?”

“No one knows, my lady. They vanished sometime back, and all the hunters and trackers in Faery couldn’t seem to find them. ’Tis a sad thing for his brother and sisters and himself, their parents gone missing.”

“Prince Borel, and Ladies Celeste and Liaze?”

Blanche nodded, and in a pleading voice said, “Oh, let us go from this room, for tragedy is like to overwhelm me.” And so they went onward.

Through hallways they trod, and here and there in the walls were panels, and when asked, Blanche opened one and pulled on a rope in the space behind, pulleys squeaking somewhere above; a wooden box, open on the front, came into view. “It is used to convey food or other goods from one floor to another,” said Blanche, smiling. “It is called a sourd-muet serveur.”

“Oh, but how clever,” said Camille. “It must save many a footstep bearing loads up and down stairs.”

“Indeed, my lady,” replied Blanche, closing the panel and then moving on.

They came to a chamber with a hardwood floor; at the far end there was nought but a great oaken desk and chair facing toward the door, with other chairs ranged about the walls. Blanche had no knowledge as to the use of this room, though Camille deemed it was for conducting the landowner’s business; meetings with smallholders, mayhap.

Still in another room sat a huge table of many shallow drawers running from board to floor, and therein lay maps and charts of lands both within Faery and without, some sections marked with warnings of dire creatures therein, other whole sections completely blank.

And thus did go the day, Blanche leading Camille thither and yon as they explored the whole of the house, all, that is, but for one floor of one wing, there where the prince did dwell. Camille was quite astonished at the size of it all, as well as o’erwhelmed by its opulence.

That evening, again she dined alone at the foot of a very long mahogany table, servants hovering in the candlelight and watching her every move like owls ready to pounce on a vole, even though they stood quite motionless with their backs to the wall and their eyes seeming elsewhere… more or less.

The next day Blanche took her out on a tour of the grounds, and they followed along white-stone pathways wending among the many gardens, with their chrysanthemums and roses and violets and tulips and entire spectrums of flowers that Camille could not name, their blossoms all nodding in a gentle summer breeze. They strolled past ornamental grasses alongside ponds of still water with flowering lily pads afloat. In some, golden-scaled fish swam lazily; in others, the fish seemed bedecked in many-colored calico. Streams burbled across the estate, lucid in their clearness, singing their songs as they tumbled over rocks. One stream was quite broad and fairly deep, and here did Camille see the black swans aswimming. She and Blanche passed by deliberate arrangements of large and small boulders sitting here and there, with vines growing between and spiralling up and ’round the rocks. And now and again to Camille’s wonder, they came across stone sculptings and metal castings and various other imaginative placements: small figures of toads and frogs sat on the banks of ponds; stone mice and voles peeked out from ’neath the bases of boulders; here and there were scattered burbling fountains and slow-flowing basins in which birds bathed and mayhap other diminutive beings as well; small footbridges crossed over rills, stanchions for lanterns along the rail, and in places only large, flat stones spanned the running streams.

Everywhere they went, gardeners and groundskeepers and other such bowed or tipped their hats to the Lady Camille. As she had been instructed by Blanche, Camille responded with a nod, though she also added a smile.

They passed by a long queue of empty stables to come to a smithy, where a fairly young and portly man with grey eyes peering out through a hanging-down shock of dark hair stepped forth and bowed low. “This is Renaud, my lady,” said Blanche, “blacksmith and farrier.”

“Smith I may be, Blanche, or at least I think so, for in these last several years, I have learned much about the blending and heating and hammering and shaping and molding and quenching of metals, bronze and brass in particular.”

“Bronze and brass and not iron?” said Camille.

“Oh, no, my lady, not iron,” answered Renaud. “There are those in Faery who cannot abide iron, and so we keep it out.”

“No iron whatsoever? Not even for nails or horseshoes?”

“Wooden pegs make splendid nails… likewise brass. Brass for shoeing horses, too-shoes and nails alike-not that I am much of a farrier these days, for there are no horses at all in the stables.”

Camille laughed and said, “Horses or no, it matters not, for I know not how to ride.”

Renaud grinned and thrust out a hand of negation, saying, “Not true, my lady, for did I not see you riding to the great house yon on the back of the”-Renaud frowned-“on the back of the-”

“The Bear,” supplied Blanche.

“Yes, the Bear,” agreed Renaud, nodding at Blanche.

“Ah, but, Master Farrier,” said Camille, “I would think that quite different from riding a horse.”

Renaud smiled and said, “And so would I, my lady. And so would I. Still, I think you’ll not get a chance to learn, for, ever since the Bear came, the horses are all gone away.”

“Bear? My Bear? Why would that ever make a difference? He’s quite gentle, you know.”

“Aye. We know-you and I and Blanche and all folk here at Summerwood Manor-however, try telling that to a horse.” Renaud sighed. “We simply had to send them away.” He glanced over his shoulder to the red coals in the forge. “But now if you will excuse me, I have fittings in the fire.”

Camille nodded, and Renaud rushed back into the smithy, leaving the ladies to go on.

At the noontide, in one of the many gazebos, servants provided Camille with a lunch of peeled cucumber slices served on a white, crusty bread. Too, there was golden honey and pale yellow butter, if my lady did so prefer; and all was enhanced by a sweet, tangy drink made of a yellow fruit from across the seas, or so did the handmaid believe. Camille did manage to have Blanche join her in this fine midday repast, though the black-haired girl barely ate a bite, belying her hale manner and her ample size.

After lunch, they came to the entrance of the tall hedge maze, and, in spite of Camille’s importuning, here did Blanche balk. “Oh, my lady, I dare not enter. ’Tis a puzzle I must not essay, else I would be lost forever.”

“Pish, tush,” responded Camille. “The maze is here for the fun of it. Besides, in Fra Galanni’s library I read about such labyrinths, and I’ve always wanted to experience one.” Laughing, she took Blanche’s hand and tugged, yet Blanche burst into tears and pulled loose and fled away.

Puzzled, Camille followed, coming upon Blanche sitting on the grass beside one of the many ponds.

Camille sat on the sward at her lady’s maid’s side. Calico-fish lazily gathered in the water nigh, as if waiting to be fed. “What is it, Blanche, that frightens you so?”

“I don’t know,” replied Blanche. “It’s just that I can never go in there.”

“Well, then, we shan’t,” said Camille.

Timidly, Blanche smiled at her mistress.

“Come,” said Camille, standing and holding out her hand, “there is much more to see.”

Blanche reached up and took the offered grip and stood and brushed herself off, brushing off Camille’s white dress as well.

Through shaded arbors they strolled, the summer air mild within. In one of the arbors they came across an elderly gardener upon his knees in a freshly tilled plot, where he carefully worked seeds into the dark soil.

“What is it you are planting, Andre?” asked Blanche, stepping past the turned-over earth to stand in front of the man.

Concentrating upon getting the placement just right, Andre glanced up and then back to the soil, replying, “White camellias, Blanche, a tribute to the prince’s most beautiful young mademoiselle.”

“Oh, my,” said Camille.

Andre looked back to where Camille stood, then scrambled to his feet and touched the brim of his cap, saying, “Beg pardon, my lady, but I didn’t see-”

“Oh, Andre,” said Camille, “there’s no need to apologize. May I help with the planting?”

A look of doubt crossed Andre’s face. “Oh, I don’t know about that, my lady, for ’tis but common labor I do. Besides, the seeds must be put just so, and-”

“Trust me, Andre,” said Camille, “for common labor I do quite well, especially planting, for I am a crofter’s daughter.”

“I mean not to gainsay you, my lady, but a crofter’s daughter you no longer are. Instead, you are the mistress of this great estate and all the holdings beyond.”

At these words, Blanche nodded in affirmation, but Camille said, “Nevertheless, I would aid.”

“Oh, my lady,” said Blanche, “you would soil your dress and-”

“Then I shall change,” said Camille, “into one which has seen many a spring sowing.”

A short while later, dressed in the shift she had brought from the stone cottage-her very best dress back there, though she did not say such to Blanche-Camille grubbed in the soil next to Andre, planting camellias in those places where he did direct.

After a pleasing afternoon of work, and a bath and another solitary dinner, that night Camille fell asleep while reading a book of poetry and sitting in one of the soft leather chairs in her small library.

When she awoke she was in her bed. How she had gotten there she did not know, but ’twas in her bed she awoke.

Past the silk canopy, through the unshaded skylight Camille saw night fading to dawn. Sliding out from under her light cover, Camille padded to her closet and quickly dressed, donning her travelling clothes, for they were suitable for what she had in mind. She stepped from her chambers and quietly slipped down the stairs and out the main door and ran lightly across the dew-wet grass, morning mist swirling in her wake, the sun not yet risen.

To the hedge maze she went and ’round to the entry, then, taking a deep breath, she stepped within. Along the shadowed path she trod, keeping track of twists and turns, noting openings left and right, and using the trick of which Fra Galanni had spoken-that of keeping her right hand always brushing along the right-side hedge-wall. She knew that in some mazes this was the key to finding the center… but this maze was not one of those, for she found herself back at the entrance.

Ah, then, another strategy is needed.

Camille once again followed the right-hand way, but at the first opening into another row on the left, she stepped across and entered, and moments later came to a dead end.

Back to the first row she went, and to the second leftward opening.

Again and again she repeated her tactic, exploring more and more of the maze.

Now rightwards she tended from leftwards, and the layout became clearer to her, and then she was quite certain where the center must lie, and toward this end she went.

As she came nigh the last of her journey, she thought she heard what seemed to be the soft sound of weeping.

Oh, my, it would not do to come upon a saddened someone unawares.

“Allo!” she called. “Is anyone there?”

Abruptly, silence fell.

Hesitantly, as the sun beyond the hedges lipped the horizon and day came upon the land, Camille stepped forward and ’round the last turn, to see “Oh, Bear, I have missed you so!”