Elizabeth motioned for us to serve ourselves as she stood in front of him. “Good sir, have you any idea of who I am?”
He shook his head slightly but didn’t seem to care.
“Excellent. I am Princess Elizabeth of Crestfallen, and your king’s favorite daughter.”
His red face paled, and he took a step back, then another. That explained the horses from the royal stables and Alexis. He believed.
She continued, “I am going to ask a favor of you and will not take a negative response. I am your princess and can draw on the might of the entire kingdom to enforce my wishes with a few words. Do you believe me?”
He nodded, looking ready to run. We paused to watch and noticed Tater standing near the wall, a slight smile on his face. He also understood she was leading the farmer on, teasing him.
“Now that we have established my position and the power I control,” she waved her arm in a flourish and produced a pair of silver coins in her palm, a poor imitation of magic. However, to a farmer who had never held a silver coin in his life, it was more than magic.
He didn’t reach to accept them. He stared and waited.
Elizabeth grinned. “We had intended to stay here one night, and now we must as to remain until tomorrow when hopefully the storm breaks. For your inconvenience and generosity, you are commanded to take these coins and spend them well.”
He said, “No, you’re welcome to stay. All of you. But that is too much to pay.”
She stiffened, and her tone turned serious. “Will you stand there and disobey your princess? Wait until the king dispatches the dungeon-master here to teach you some manners.”
Kendra stepped forward and stage-whispered to him, “You’d better do as she says. Take the coins and be happy.”
“You don’t have to pay me, Princess Elizabeth.”
She took a bowl and ladled it to the brim. Then tasted the stew with a wooden spoon before speaking. “Sir, can you imagine the night we would have endured if you were not so kind that you offered your barn to weary travelers? I may have caught my death of a cold, and because of your generosity, you may have saved a princess’s life. Do you not believe my life is worth two small silver coins? Will you insult me by refusing them?”
His hand snatched the coins.
Elizabeth said, “This is perhaps the best stew I’ve ever eaten.”
“Are you really her?” he asked, trying to bow as he spoke.
“Yes. And now I have another command for you to obey. While we rest here, I expect you to ignore who I am. Treat me as you have already.”
Kendra had taken the time while they talked to finish her stew and a loaf of bread. “Can you make more of this?”
“Now?” he asked, shocked at how much we’d already devoured.
“Not to eat now, but for later?” Kendra asked.
His eyes still rested on Elizabeth. “Princess, would you move into my home and allow me to sleep out here?”
“Didn’t I tell you to forget my royal position? Or are you trying to intentionally anger me?” She smiled to remove the sting from her words.
I’d heard the phrase that said kill them with kindness but had never understood it until then. She could have asked that young farmer to charge into a flaming building, and his feet would have been moving. Elizabeth had provided the highlight of his life. She could ask or order anything and be certain he would do it.
He said, “I have to go fill the pot and let it simmer.”
Elizabeth flashed a smile. “While it is cooking, why not join us out here? We have a rainy day to while away and would appreciate your company.”
The farmer slipped out the door with the empty pot and ran to his house through the rain. Tater said, “You’re good people, ever hear that?”
“I once heard someone say that about you, earlier,” I said to him.
“They were lying.”
“Were not,” I smiled back. Despite being cooped up in a barn during a storm, there was no place I’d rather have been or people I’d want to be with. That thought brought a measure of warmth, then caution. There was another tale I’d heard. When you’re sitting on the peak of a mountaintop, you can only go down from there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The rain ended sometime during the second night, after a pleasant afternoon of laying around, eating, teasing, and laughing. The farmer told a string of funny stories, and while not a natural talker, shared them with us. He also shared his daily life, of what bothered him, and how his life could be better. We all asked questions. None but Tater had any idea of the life of a farmer in our kingdom, despite all of us eating the food they grew.
Elizabeth asked several penetrating questions, such as, what one thing could make your life better?
Instead of saying buyers could pay more for his vegetables, he took us all by surprise. “To sell at the market in town, a farmer has to get up early and spend time traveling there and back, and also the time selling. They lose a whole day of work or more. Our animals need care. Cows do not wait for milking. We can’t go sell if we need to plant, but if we wait, our crops don’t grow. I guess we need to learn to fly to market.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth had said. “Tell me something. What if every fifth day a wagon rolled past your farm and you could put your crops on it? The driver would deliver it to market, sell it, and take a share of the proceeds with you and the other farmers he hauls for?”
His head was bobbing long before she finished.
She leaned back in the straw and closed her eyes, then they sprang open. “Even better, what if he paid you a reduced price? And he could tell you what vegetables are selling for a profit, so you know what to plant. He could have five routes, one per day, and make a good living.”
“Wagons large enough and oxen to pull them are expensive.”
She smiled. “Maybe they might be provided by my father. Who knows what a king might do for his subjects?”
“You do,” I prompted.
She said, “All you know Damon, is that my father will listen to my suggestion and he understands that what is good for his peasants is also good for him.”
The day dawned clear and bright. We rode out early, after saying our goodbyes to the farmer. The ground was muddy, but we wanted to get going, and a little mud that only came up to our ankles wouldn’t stop us.
Springer ran ahead, veering from side to side with anything that caught his interest. His leg was healed, his coat covered in mud, and his good ear stood straight up. Tater rode ahead, and I took up the rear, along with the duty of leading the packhorse. I wore my sword, had one of the two surviving crossbows slung from my saddle, and the new knife I’d picked up at the store nestled in my pocket.
In mid-morning, the footing was more solid as the road dried in the sun, and we climbed the first long hill. At the crest, a pair of wyvern flew loops and turns, chasing tails and mock-fighting. We watched until they spun as one, facing us.
Kendra hissed, “Oh, no.”
She was correct. They had spotted her in some manner as if she glowed in the dark. While flying high, they raced to both descend and get closer to her. My mind knew fear, and it ordered me to run and take shelter. My body refused.
The pair ignored me and when one opened its tooth-filled maw to shriek, so did the other. The sounds pierced the air. They drew closer and passed over us so close it seemed one of them could have reached down and grabbed any of the four of us in its talons.
After they flew past, Tater said, “Scared the spit out of me.”