A True Princess Page 2

Before I left, I looked around the farmhouse one last time. It was a humble place, but it had been my home. Jorgen was as close as I had to a father, and Kai and Karina were my dear friends. I felt the press of tears, but my excitement was stronger than my regret.

  I turned my back on the room, eased open the door, and left. The midsummer moon had risen and lighted my way brightly enough to show the stones and bushes that lined the path. I glimpsed the nisse scrambling over rocks as I climbed the hill to the pastures where Kai and I brought the sheep to graze. From there I knew I could see the farmhouse clearly below, but I did not want to look back. I was starting a new life. I looked forward, to the River Alfta and the North and the unknown—to my home.

  Chapter 2

  A True Princess Does Not Perform in Public

  I joined the road just outside Hagi but hesitated to enter the village, for I did not want people to wonder why I was out alone at such an hour. The suspicious townspeople already had a low opinion of me. Whispers of my mysterious origins often followed me through the streets, and no one felt any remorse about speaking ill of me, since I was only a servant to them. Still, to go around the village would add an hour or more to my journey, and I had already walked for miles. I decided to take my chances and go in through the stone gate.

  Hagi was a homely place. Its few streets were dirt and its houses small and pressed close together. There was hardly anyone about; a few merchants walked sleepily toward the market, where they would peddle their wares when morning came. But I was unlucky enough to pass by one of the miller’s sons, returning from a night of revelry. Konur stopped when he saw me.

  “It is the foundling, Lilia!” he jeered, his fat face creased with a grin at his own great cleverness. “Soon you will have yet another home, won’t you? Ylva says your cooking is very fine—we are all looking forward to it!”

  I clenched my fists but kept walking, unwilling to dignify his comments with a reply; and Konur stumbled off, laughing. I thought that it would almost be worth going to the miller’s just to see their faces when they tasted my cooking. I had to smile when I pictured Odur and his family trying to eat my lumpy porridge and rock-hard bread.

  I was through the town quickly and out the far gate just after the early sunrise. Before long I left the path and found the small cave that Kai had discovered many years earlier. It was clean and dry, its floor hard-packed dirt and its rock ceiling low and snug. I settled myself, pulled out bread and cheese and slices of mutton. When night fell again, I would make my way to the river and begin to follow it northward. I would enter new territory then, for I had never in memory been farther from the farm than I was now.

  It was the first moment I’d had to consider what I had done. I could hardly believe that I had found the courage to leave without a word or a backward glance. I was happy to leave Ylva behind, but I was beginning to realize how terribly I would miss Kai and Karina. Karina had always been as good to me as a real sister would be; and Kai and I had spent countless hours out in the fields talking, chasing after sheep, and playing games. We knew each other’s dreams: his, to become something—anything—other than a shepherd; mine, to find my family and a home I could call my own. I let a few tears fall, but I stopped myself from giving in to sadness. Instead, I pulled the soft blanket out of my pack and wrapped it about my shoulders like a shawl. In a moment I fell asleep, leaning against the cave wall.

  A group of men, dressed in fine silks and velvets, ride on horseback across a green field. The sun is high, and it glints on one man’s golden crown. He carries an enormous falcon, a bird so large that it seems his arm could hardly bear its weight. All at once the riders halt, and the king—for a king he must be—raises his arm. The falcon takes flight, its heavy wings beating and beating until it is only a speck in the azure sky. The men shout, and the bird plunges toward earth. Just before it will surely crash to the ground it sweeps upward, a rabbit in its sharp talons. The men clap and call out their praise, and another horse gallops near. On this white steed is a woman, her long skirts flowing as she races toward the group. She comes nearer. . . .

  I woke suddenly. I had dreamed of this dark-haired woman before but never was able to see her face. She was forever moving—on horseback, or dancing, or walking through gardens with a gait so graceful that she almost seemed to float.

  Then I realized that something had awakened me: there was a strange noise outside the cave. It was a sort of snuffling; a creature was moving near the entrance. Thoughts of wolves sent a shiver through me. As stealthily as I could, I crept to the front of the small cave, grabbing a stick as I moved. My hand trembled as I peered into the dimness.

  Suddenly a beast leaped forward, knocking me back into the cave. I screamed in terror, feeling wetness on my face. But a moment later I realized it was not a wolf, and the wetness was not blood. My attacker was Ove, and he was licking me wildly with excitement and joy. Behind him, Kai and Karina were shaking with laughter. I struggled to retain a shred of my dignity.

  “Bad dog!” I scolded. “What are you doing here? You should be guarding your sheep!” Ove grabbed the stick I’d dropped and offered it to me. He cocked his head to the side in a way that was almost human, showing that he was listening hard. Kai laughed even harder.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Kai, crawling out of the cave to stand upright. “How did you find me?”

  Kai smiled, proud of his dog’s talent. “Ove did it,” he said. “He pulled us right through town and straight here. I knew he could herd, but I didn’t know he could track!”

  Ove’s tail wagged happily, and he sat on his haunches and panted, as if pleased by the praise.

  “But . . . ,” I said helplessly. “I am going north, you see.”

  “And you didn’t tell us,” Karina said reproachfully. “We should be very angry at you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, looking at Kai. “I felt dreadful saying nothing to either of you. But I had to go.”

  “We know that,” Kai said gently. “When Papa discovered that you had left, he told us why. You could not go to the miller. He understood that.”

  “But you cannot go wherever you are going alone either,” Karina added. “We are going with you.”

  I gasped. “That’s impossible! What about your father—and your stepmother? They will never let you go!”

  “Ylva wouldn’t have let you go either, not when she was expecting payment for you,” Kai noted wryly. “Yet you went nevertheless. And you took the blanket!” He pointed to it, still wrapped around my shoulders. “Ylva was so angry about it that she turned on us both. She forgot she wanted Karina to help her with the baby and threatened to betroth her to the miller’s son—that pig Konur.”

  I looked at Karina, horrified. “Your father would never allow that,” I exclaimed.

  “I think he would not,” Karina replied, her lips trembling slightly, “but who can say, when Ylva wants something? And even if it did not happen, I do not want to be nursemaid to Ylva’s baby, though it will be our half-brother or -sister. I would have had all the work of it, while Ylva sat like a queen and kissed the babe good morning and good night.”

  Kai added, “And I—I do not want to tend the sheep without you.” His voice was soft, and I looked at him with surprise.

  “It would be boring,” he went on, scuffing his foot in the dirt. “I would have no one to talk to but Ove, and he rarely answers.”

  “But your father,” I protested weakly. “Can you leave him like that?”

  “Karina and I talked about it when we found you had gone,” Kai replied, sighing. “Father has his new family now. Without our three mouths to feed, he can hire a hand to help him with the farmwork—someone who would do better than you and I together, no doubt!”

  I imagined Ylva’s wrath when she discovered that all three of us were gone. It was a shame to miss that spectacle, and I smiled at the thought.

  “Will you have us as your traveling companions?” Kai asked uncertainly.

  “Will I h
ave you?” I cried. “It would be wonderful! I was so afraid to go by myself—you know I would dream as I walked and probably fall off a mountainside. Karina can show us the best places to make our camp, and you can protect us—it will be grand!”

  He laughed, relieved. “And what will you do?”

  I shrugged. “Tell you tales, perhaps?” He liked it when I told him my dreams as if they were stories. “Sing you songs? Cook our porridge?”

  He shook his head. “Your porridge is dreadful,” he teased me. “Really, Karina’s is much better. I’ve never understood why Ylva had you make it each morning.”

  “She did it to torture me,” I said. “She knew I was bad at it, and she knew I hated to do it, so of course it was my job. Oh, imagine no more Ylva!” I twirled around with happiness, and they laughed at my joy.

  “I think for a time, at least, we should walk by night in case Ylva sends someone after us,” I said finally.

  Kai smiled. “You will have to lead us then, Lilia. We are not used to walking in the dark.”

  I was pleased that there was something I could do to help. “It is nearly Midsummer,” I reminded him. “It will be light until very late. And the moon is waxing as well. It will light our way, and it will get fuller each night. Walking should not be difficult.”

  “Not for you, perhaps,” Kai said wryly, “but I do not have your falcon’s eyes, and you know that Karina is scared of the dark. You will have to be our guide.”

  “But we may see people, even at night. What then?” Karina asked, her practical mind ever working.

  “We will walk near the edge of the road,” I replied, “so we can hide if need be. But who would be out so late?”

  “Robbers and brigands,” Karina answered gloomily. “Bears. Wolves.”

  Kai snorted. “There are no bears this far south,” he informed his sister. “And wolves are more afraid of us than we are of them in this season. Besides, I do not fear brigands!” He waved the knife he carried to cut bread and cheese—our only weapon. Karina and I exchanged a doubtful look and then burst out laughing. A shepherd’s knife would do little to protect us against a band of thieves with swords.

  “We have nothing to steal anyway,” I pointed out.

  “True enough,” Kai acknowledged. “Now I think we should rest for a while, and then you can lead us onward.”

  They curled up on the rough cave floor and were soon asleep, but I went outside with Ove. We found a small stream that fed the nearby river, and I washed my face while Ove drank. Then we went back to the cave and waited for the dimming of the light that was midsummer nightfall. I roused Kai and Karina, and we shared some of the food they had brought. At last I stuffed my blanket back into my pack, and we started out. As we walked, I told them about the dream I’d had before they came.

  “Can people really hunt with falcons?” Karina asked.

  “I am sure that kings do,” I said. “I once heard a peddler in town tell about such a royal hunt.”

  “But falcons are so big!”

  “Birds are very light, even the big ones,” Kai pointed out. “I think it could be done. I recall that story—that must be where you got the idea, Lilia.”

  I nodded. I loved and remembered all the tales I heard from passing traders or minstrels of the doings of royalty. And of course they found their way into my dreams.

  Before long we rejoined the wide dirt road, which ran along the River Alfta. My plan, which Kai and Karina approved, was to keep traveling that road until we passed from the South Kingdoms into the North Kingdoms. The few people we had seen in Hagi who came from the north had dark hair, like mine, so I felt that perhaps we shared a kinship. I stared at the slow-moving green river and ran over to dip my fingers in its icy waters. This, I thought with a flutter of excitement, might be the path that would lead me to my family.

  We spent the next several days on the road. On our right was always the river, sometimes obscured by trees. The sound of its rushing waters was the musical accompaniment to our long hours of walking.

  I found that our strange schedule suited me well. During the day we lay on the ground, sheltered from the road and any passers-by. Since I did not have to lie in a bed, I was actually able to sleep, especially if I wrapped myself in the multicolored blanket. I woke rested and alert. Sounds and sights became clearer to me, no longer viewed through a haze of exhaustion. The world took on a brighter hue, and I was far happier than I had been at the farm. Once Kai and Karina got over their initial soreness from walking and sleeping on the ground, they too seemed to enjoy the journey.

  But our contentment did not last. Our food supply began to run low, and then clouds moved in and light rain started to fall. Walking became a misery as the road grew muddy and the rain came down harder. When we saw the lights of a small town in the distance, we hurried toward it to find shelter.

  “What shall we do if someone wonders why we are traveling alone?” I gasped as we dashed through the puddles.

  “I will say I am taking you both up north, to relatives, should anyone ask,” Karina replied. “It is not really a lie.”

  The rain dripped off my nose as we slogged through the town gates. We were immediately drawn to the candlelight in the windows of a tavern. A sign above the door showed a large, badly painted bird and proclaimed the inn the Falcon’s Roost. When Kai pushed open the door, we were met with the sound of cheerful voices and the mingled smells of food and ale. I breathed in deeply, feeling the warmth from the welcoming fire at the end of the long room.

  All eyes turned to us as we entered. I was sure that questions would be asked at the sight of three young people and a dog traveling alone. But the men were well into their cups, as it was late, and the serving maid, a plump woman in a grease-streaked apron, greeted us with a smile.

  “’Tis late to be out, and so wet!” she exclaimed. “You must be hungry. Let me dry your cloaks by the fire. Some stew, a cup of cider?”

  I looked questioningly at Kai, for I had no money. He pulled out a few coppers and asked, “Will this do?”

  “That’s enough for supper and a bed,” said the woman. “Do you wish to spend the night?”

  Karina nodded vigorously, water spraying from her braid. “Oh, please,” she begged. “I long for a bed!”

  “You girls can share, since you are the only females,” the woman told us kindly. “And the lad can stay with the men. The dog must bide downstairs, though.”

  She took our rain-soaked cloaks and pointed us to a space at the long table. The men slid over to make room for us on the bench. In a moment we had bowls of fragrant stew and mugs of warmed cider. The meat was strange but good; I was so used to mutton that I could not name it.

  “’Tis reindeer,” the serving maid, Sigrid, said when we asked. “It makes a fine stew, doesn’t it?”

  We nodded with enthusiasm, eating as fast as we could, and Ove gulped his food down by the fire. When at last we pushed our bowls away, we were full for the first time in days and beginning to dry out.

  The men—I marked them as traders from the North Kingdoms by their full packs and dark hair—began to sing. Their voices were rough, but their songs were like stories, and we listened, enthralled. After two songs, a trader turned to me, his dark beard flecked with foam from his ale.

  “You must sing for your supper too, ladies!” he cried, and the others took up the call. “Sing! Sing!”

  Karina was fearful and embarrassed, but I took her hand and stood. “We had better do as they ask,” I whispered to her. We chose a song about a knight enchanted by elves. At first Karina’s voice was weak and shaky, but mine was strong; and the attentive silence of our audience soon made her feel more confident. We harmonized well, and at the end the traders clapped and cheered and stomped their heavy boots, and we bowed our heads, pink with pleasure.

  Then, from the far end of the table, a short, bearded man spoke up. “I know an elf song as well,” he said. He was one of three, all richly dressed and obviously of high birth. Next to him sa
t a tall lord with a long, craggy face who shook his head at his friend’s words.

  The third companion, a lord in a dark blue cloak, protested sharply. “No, that one is too dark, Erlend; it will frighten the ladies.” I noticed that his eyes were on Karina. But the traders called again, “Sing! Sing!” and so Sir Erlend began.

  “Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?

  The father it is, with his infant so dear;

  He holds the boy tightly clasped in his arm,

  He holds him there safely, he keeps the boy warm.

  “‘My dearest son, why do you try so to hide?’

  ‘Look, father, the Elf-King is close by our side!

  Do you not see him, with crown and with train?’

  ‘My son, ’tis the mist rising over the plain.’”

  Sir Erlend’s voice was clear and pleasing, but shivers ran through me as he sang more stanzas telling of the father’s desperate ride to save his son from the grasp of the Elf-King, and finally finished the song:

  “The father now gallops, with terror half wild,

  He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;

  He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,—

  The child in his arms he finds motionless, dead.”

  Chapter 3

  A True Princess Moves with Measured Grace

  At the end of the song there was utter silence. All I could hear was the crackling of the fire. Then Ove whimpered in a dream and the spell was broken. The men laughed and began to talk again. Sir Erlend turned to us.

  “They say ’tis a true story,” he told us, his eyes twinkling above his trim beard.

  “It’s a very terrible tale,” I said. “I would hate to meet the Elf-King.” We had heard little about him in Hagi, but I knew he was a creature of the North Kingdoms.

  “Are you going north?” Sir Erlend asked. We nodded.

  “Then beware of Bitra Forest, for it is said that is where the Elf-King bides.”

  “Does he only take children?” Karina asked nervously. “For we are all beyond childhood, and should be safe.”