Never had so many guests been invited to the castle: dukes, bishops, princes and even kings of foreign lands. A whole army of carpenters and workers had to be called in to put up new buildings in an unbelievably short time to provide quarters for all. And this, in order that everyone should have apartments worthy of his rank, with furniture and silken hangings and what not, required a lot of planning and overseeing.
The Chief of the Royal Cooks lost a lot of weight from his enormous figure getting in and storing away hundreds of wagon-loads of good things to eat. He, too, was determined that his department should do its best, and better, at the great festival.
Then there were the games and entertainments to be looked to. The Master of the Horse, helped by Luke (who now showed great skill in riding and tilting), arranged a two days’ programme of tournament and joust, in which the foreign knights could try their lances against the nobles of the King. In this Giles’s friend, the good Count Godfrey, also aided.
And Geoffrey (busy enough already, raising wedding roses for a queen) was given a new task in the royal service. This was to search the country for players, acrobats, jugglers and singers to entertain the King and his guests. The Gipsy, who knew the haunts of such troupes, soon gathered to the castle a whole host of show folk. These rehearsed merry plays and masques and dances on the green sward above the Lower Lake, now dotted with their tents.
Anne, also, was now at the Court, a grown-up girl and Second Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen Mother. It was about six weeks ago that she had first arrived. Giles was glad to see her and to get news of their parents and their native town. He also asked her about Agnes; and was deeply disappointed to find his sister had not seen the Applewoman, nor heard of her, since he had left nearly nine years ago. Often, when he yet had the shell, he had listened for her voice in it. But with no success. He felt a great wish, almost a need, to see and talk with her at this time. Now he wondered sadly if she could be dead.
Anne soon settled down into the grand life of the Royal Household. But she could never quite seem to get used to her brother’s important part in it. She twitted him with first hiding all the things he found for the King. This of course she only did, sister-like, to tease him. She had known well, even when they were both little, this great gift of his for finding which had now made him famous throughout the land. And the last few weeks she had seen him performing at his best.
For never before had Giles been kept so busy. With the palace packed and teeming from morn to night; with new servants and guests who didn’t know their way about; with princes who brought with them dozens of grooms and horses and coaches filled with wedding presents, the poor Finder didn’t know which way to turn. It was now persons as well as things he had to find. Often in the same hour he had not only to look for a lost piece of a guest’s baggage, but would have to go hunting a bishop or a prince who had gone astray. So great was the turmoil in the castle.
But Giles did not grumble at the extra work. He was indeed glad of it—to keep his mind from brooding on his own trouble. Ever since that day at the Lower Lake he had carefully kept out of the Countess’s way. He still could not trust himself to talk with her lest he speak of his love; and he was still desperately determined not to be untrue to the King, his friend.
He saw her but seldom, even at a distance, during those busy days of preparation. When he did, he noticed she seemed the least excited of all, still serious, still quiet. He supposed that it was merely that marriages interested her no more now than they had done when she was very young.
Not even to Luke had he ever spoken of the great longing in his heart, though the two talked of other matters freely enough. Nor had the esquire ever mentioned Barbara’s name again to his master since he had brought him the news of her betrothal. It was as if that understanding friend, who had guessed the way the Finder’s heart was yearning before he knew himself, felt that this was a matter for no more words.
But if Giles now saw very little of the Countess Barbara, he saw a great deal of the Princess Sophronia. In the last nine years that lady had not grown any younger—nor any better looking. The prince who was to have married her had changed his mind and gone elsewhere to seek another wealthy bride. So the flattering courtiers did not sing her praises any more. Shortly after that Sophronia’s hearing had grown worse; and she was now quite deaf.
At the announcement of the King’s betrothal she had appointed herself Mistress of Ceremonies, and took general charge of all the preparations for the wedding. She had to do something to keep her self-importance. And a great nuisance she was to everybody. She pushed her nose in everywhere, and kept changing this, or altering that, as soon as the others had completed some specially hard piece of work. And again, because she was the King’s aunt, no one dared complain. But, oh, the things they said behind her back!
Her greatest joy and treasure was still the Whispering Shell. This, after her promise to Giles, she never brought out or showed in public. But secretly in the privacy of her bedroom she spent long hours with it, holding it, waiting for it to grow warm. And it often did, about that time, wax boiling hot. Which made the King’s aunt very happy. For whenever anyone in the busy palace cried in despair, ‘Drat that ugly old fuss-box! I wish she’d mind her own business!’ a gleam of joy would light up the face of the deaf Princess. And she would whisper to herself:
‘Ah, there they go! Still talking of my beauty. Patience, Royal Sophronia! Another prince will come.’
6 The eve of the wedding
It was nearly midnight. At last the great work of getting ready for the wedding was all done. In spite of Princess Sophronia putting herself in charge, the Lord Chamberlain was now quietly going round to the heads of the different departments of the Royal Household to make sure that everything was complete and nothing overlooked. Of this all were heartily glad. For they were only awaiting his final inspection before going to bed. Tomorrow, the great day itself, would be a long one, they knew; and everybody wanted to get a good sleep before the gaieties began.
Giles was the last to go off duty and retire to his rooms. He could rest now, certain that nothing was lost or missing. But in spite of all the running round that he had done, he found he was not sleepy. Instead of getting into bed he threw open the window and sat down in a chair before it. The cool night air was soothing. But his mind would not stop working; it was full of worrisome ideas.
So, he thought, Barbara would be Queen tomorrow.—No, today, for it was now past midnight. He would have to see more of her now, whether he wished it or no. After her coronation she would sit on a throne beside the King and be with him constantly. Would he himself be able to talk to Her Majesty like any of the other knights about the Court? And the King? Would the close friendship between him and his Finder be the same, now that he had a wife claiming his attention and sharing his plans? No, whichever way it was looked at, this marriage must make a big difference to them all. It would be better if he, Giles, went away now for a spell. For the present, he feared he could not bear to see them together all the time. At the Court it would not be possible to keep away from the King, as before he had been able to keep away from the Countess. Now they would be together; and he would have to be in attendance on them every day.