In Which Lynde Sees a Bit More of the World

Lynde Falconer to Master Owen Falconer:

Dear Father,

Well, here we are in Seaward, and while the journey has been full of interest, I am saddened when I remember how much farther I am from you.

We left the day before yesterday, an hour after dawn. We would have left at dawn, only Lady Winifred Fleem had to get married first. Lady Winifred is – was, I should say – the princess’ principal maid of honor, and it is difficult to imagine what the court will be like without her. Her engagement to Sir Bardolph Hingle was a shock to everyone, announced only the day before, but now that I think about it, it was brewing for a long time. The king performed the ceremony, the wedding breakfast consisted of bread and cheese in the saddle, and we were on our way by the time the sun was over the tower.

The landscape in the south is very different from the trip north to Dumcruckle. Our hills are gray and jagged, but theirs are round and green, and the farming is done on a scale to make you open your eyes. There are no patches of cultivation hewn out of the rocks as we have in the north, but smooth tilled fields for as far as the eye can see. You are probably not plowing yet, but the weather is softer here so it is almost time to sow, by my reckoning.

We stayed the first night in the town of Durrell, but yesterday brought us to the Grange, which is Sir Bardolph’s new house on the way to Seaward. His face when he brought his bride into his home was beaming like the sun itself. Lady Winifred is a bit of an armful, but he insisted upon carrying her over the threshold, and managed nobly to behave as though his burden was as light as a feather. Lady Winifred, however, is a born courtier, and managed to identify the precise moment when the needs of his pride gave way to the needs of his lower back, and made him put her down.

The entire household was standing in the hall at attention to receive their new lady, with the steward and housekeeper in front, looking apprehensive for some reason. Sir Bardolph gave a brief and correct speech introducing his bride, and everyone clapped politely, then Lady Winifred herself gave a longer speech, after which they clapped enthusiastically, and finally they introduced the princess, which made them all gasp, and the steward started to get down on his knee and said something about them being her humble servants.

“Oh, nonsense,” said the princess, and they all gasped again. “No, really. Bentlefay has citizens, not servants. Please treat me like any other guest, or I shall feel terribly lonely.”

So they smiled, and the steward got up, and we were shown to our rooms. The Grange is only a few years old, so of course it is in the newest style – a manor, not a keep, low and wide to the ground with no fortification. The rooms are similarly low and wide, large enough to be comfortable but not so vast as to be drafty, and with wide plank floors instead of flagstones, covered with richly colored rugs. There is an impression of wood and fabric instead of stone and steel, which I enjoy very much.

The Grange is very close to Seaward so we did not leave until after noon. Our parting from Lady Winifred was very emotional and the princess came closer to tears than I’ve seen her since the last war. She has pledged to come stay with us at least once a season, and Sir Bardolph backed her up, so it is only “until we meet again.” It was an easy couple of hours to Seaward, and the next leg of the journey.

I suppose it is something to be able to say that one has been to sea, and perhaps I will think so someday, but just at present I am not enamored of it. It is certainly picturesque, and the ships are impressive – there is quite a ceremony about boarding, especially when the royal family is involved. We won’t actually push off until tomorrow, but if that ceremony is half as grand as the coming on board, I will have had a lifetime’s share of pageantry. I ought to have enjoyed it, but all I could think about at the time was my stomach, and whether I could prevent myself from being sick, and if one’s face could actually turn green or if that was just a turn of phrase.

The princess was soon running about the nasty old bucket as though she had grown out of it – which I suppose she has, in a way, being of the pirate kin as she is. I asked if I could see our quarters, but the mate took one look at me and said that it was best to be on deck if I felt poorly, so I must have looked green after all. He was very kind and explained it to me carefully: that the fact of motion is only part of what can make you sick, and if you subject your stomach to the motion while your eyes think you are still (by going down to your quarters, for instance), it would be much worse.

He also said it would get better, which I’m afraid I didn’t believe, but sure enough I had got used to it in a few hours – sufficiently for the mate to allow me below, at least. I must say that the living conditions on board a ship leave much to be desired. This one is said to be a marvel of modern comfort because the men have bunks instead of hammocks, and the captain has a cabin of his own, which is apparently unheard of. He has given the cabin to us, which is fortunate, because there is no other, and we would be living in the hold if the ship had been of the old style. I thought the captain’s cabin would hold all the possible comforts that the ship had to offer, and so it does. Unfortunately, that isn’t saying much. We have a bunk, a chest, a table, a chamber pot – and that is all.

I will give this to the messenger tomorrow before we push off. We should only be at sea for a few days if everything works out as expected, so I will try to send you an account of our journey by the end of the week.

Your loving,
Lynde