In Which The Queen Returns Home

Lynde Falconer to Thomas Crowder:

Dear Tom,

Such a whirl of excitement today! The queen and her retinue arrived this evening from Seaward, and the court bids fair to become quite a showplace. The second herald came in the morning, so we were able to prepare for them, and they came themselves right at dusk, just in time for what Princess Dulcie calls “the receiving,” which is kind of a reception-cum-refreshment period before dinner, when the household greets each other and any guests they might have for dinner or the night. Once a week it serves as an open court, where any subject of Bentlefay may troop through the large hall for a cup of wine or mead, a look at the famous tapestries (embroidered by ten successive generations of princesses – no wonder Princess Dulcie hates them so), and a word with one of the royal family if he likes.

Of course the open court was today, so the audience for the queen’s homecoming was enormous. First came the gentlemen, decked out in their finest cloaks and hose for riding and obviously in fierce competition with each other in the matter of bright colors and fussy patterns. Then came the men in livery, at least twenty of them, two abreast through the great double doors, with the queen’s majordomo in the rear. He is taller even than I am and wears an enormous hat with a feather, which he swept off, held to his chest and intoned “Her majesty, Queen Christina!” before bowing so low that his head was practically to his knee. Of course we all bowed too, but I kept my head up enough not to miss anything, so I was able to see the queen sweep in like a ship in full sail, followed by her ladies twittering and laughing like a flock of birds in bright plumage. The maidservants were last with the ladies’ dressing-things, and they went straight into the bedroom wing while the men in livery stayed in the hall at attention. The queen went straight up to King Davin, kissed him on the cheek and said “There, darling,” and everyone got up from their bows and broke into a hearty round of applause. We were all beaming from ear to ear, from King Davin himself to the plainest citizens who were there for the open court – even I was beaming, although I couldn’t imagine why. The queen beamed back at us, looking everyone right in the eye and nodding. I liked her at first sight.

She is also very beautiful, which of course I was expecting, given the way the princess looks. The queen is just as fair as her daughter, with green eyes instead of violet, and her delicacy of feature is even more noticeable, as it tends to be in an older woman.

On the other hand, I wasn't particularly impressed by the queen's retinue, fulfilling as they did the expectations pressed upon me by the princess and Lady Winifred. The princess, of course, hates all courtiers, even her father's, who are by and large a settled middle-aged group of gruff military and hunting men with their comfortable outdoor wives, interspersed with a few rickety grandparents who set great store by their social prominence but are unwilling to uproot themselves to burnish it. I have been able to get along with them quite well and they have made rather a pet of me, with the gentlemen talking barracks gossip with me and asking me to dance, and the ladies making sure I am adequately nourished and punctilious in not making me feel like a servant.

The queen's courtiers, on the other hand, have status to maintain and ambitions to further, which makes them quite tedious indeed. The gentlemen, after the initial dumbstruck silence to which I am accustomed by now, have ignored me as completely as they would a piece of furniture, which is quite an accomplishment as I am larger than all the furniture besides the chimney-breast and I move about quite a bit more than the chimney-breast does. The ladies on the other hand are openly offensive, snickering behind their hands when I pass and making cutting little comments about my looks and clothes just loudly enough for me to hear, but not so loudly that they can't deny them if pressed.

I don't really mind all that much, since as I've mentioned silence makes anyone easier to ignore, but for a group of people whose manners are held up as the paragon it seems awfully rude. The princess grows quite pale with anger and cuts them dead, but they just coo sweetly at her and don't care a bit. They are very careful not to do anything in front of the king and queen, but I have a feeling that the queen is aware of it nonetheless. She made a point of addressing me most particularly at the slightest opportunity, which of course forced anyone with her to do so as well. Lady Winifred says that none of the queen's courtiers have ever been able to cut any ice with the princess and they are punishing me for my success where they have failed. She says that a similar thing happened to her after the princess' debut, and that I can overcome it by being careful to address them exactly as though their manners were perfect, even to the point of pretending they have spoken when they haven't. They are not clever enough to mount a counteroffensive, so they will forget all about it in a few weeks and become human.

The queen retired early last night and took the king and princess with her to her boudoir, so they were at least able to have some of her homecoming in decent family privacy. I didn't expect to have any private conversation with the queen myself, but this morning when I came back from the barracks, I was surprised to find her in my room waiting for me. I bowed hastily and said that I was sorry I hadn't been there to receive her and that she could always send for me at her convenience, but she only laughed.

"That would mean involving anyone who was in the room when I sent the message and anyone in the room when you received it, not to mention the messenger himself and anyone he cared to tell. No, my dear, I wanted to see you alone."

I offered her a chair, but she looked at me keenly for a moment and then suggested that we have a walk instead, which was a relief to me, since I would otherwise have had to stand while she sat, and I find it very difficult to keep from fidgeting under circumstances like that. So we went to the herb garden, which is on the other side of the kitchen garden with a high wall and formal paths, and started walking.

The queen was silent until we had gotten half way round, and I didn't like to say anything in the nature of "Well?" but just as I was wondering if I might have to, she spoke.

"Thank you for what you have done for Dulcie," she said. "You haven't just kept her safe, you have made her happy. It's like a miracle."

"I have?" I asked.

She laughed. "Well, nothing else has changed around here."

"I suppose not. It's very kind of you to say so."

We walked for a few more moments in silence.

"I would like to ask you somewhat of a favor," the queen said finally.

"Of course," I said. "Anything."

"It shouldn't be too difficult -- I would just like to know that you are continuing to do what you are doing. Dulcie has had an odd kind of life, being an only child and her father's heir. She has had all the love we can give her, but a court is no place to have a happy childhood, and she has never really had any friends."

"She has had Lady Winifred, though?"

She laughed again. "Winnie is a host in herself, certainly. But it's good for Dulcie to have friends her own age. You are unique in many ways, my dear, but you are also very normal, and that is a rare thing in this kind of life. Your upbringing, your family, your betrothal, even the gardening -- they give Dulcie a window onto normal young womanhood that she has never had. It is good for her as a human being, but it is also good for Bentlefay for its future monarch to know how people actually live."

I said something which I think in retrospect might have been impertinent. "I think she will learn all she needs to know about statecraft from her mother."

The queen grinned, if you can imagine a grin on a woman like an ivory figurine. "My father was the First Sea Lord, and I grew up on a ship with four brothers and a one-eyed ex-pirate for a nursemaid. We traveled everywhere and met everyone, and I know more about how people actually live than all the rulers in the Nine Kingdoms put together. Dulcie has lived in a glass cage by comparison."

I knew the next thing would be impertinent, but I didn't know how else to say it. "What about the trains on her gowns?"

She looked away. "That was a mistake. Dulcie has never been a tomboy, but she has always lived deep in her books and her imagination, and I thought that after her debut, it made sense to give her the trappings of maturity. I knew that she would have trouble from the young men because of her looks, and I wanted at least to intimidate them into remembering her position. I expected her to enjoy it -- she has always loved clothes -- but it was stupid and superficial. She shall have two new ankle-length day dresses for walking and gardening, and you may tell her so when you see her again."

So there it is: the princess is to become a tomboy, under my auspices. I told her when I got back from the herb garden, and she squealed as though I had just given her a puppy. It reminded me amazingly of Katti Dumcruckle and the barn kittens. Is she still on the long visit to the Tunneys?

This is a terribly long letter, and I hope you will forgive my gossiping on about my affairs. Please give my love to Father and the Dumcruckles, and keep me in your heart as I keep you every day in mine.

Your own,
Lynde

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