***
“Bloody hell!” cursed Mildred. She clutched her heart, dropping the bucket and mop as an anxious face suddenly appeared from behind the collection of brooms and other cleaning tools. “Tagius Oliver Yairet, what in heaven’s name are you doing in this closet?”
For a fleeting instant, the young man cringed. His father used to address him by his full name. Of course, that was only when he was in big trouble, but it was long ago since he last heard his father’s voice echoing through the corridors of this great palace.
“Shhh!” Tag, as he was usually called, pressed a finger to his lips. Remaining crouched on the floor amongst the clutter, he answered in a hushed voice, “I’m hiding.”
“No… You don’t say! I thought you were writing the next great literary masterpiece,” rebuked the matronly woman. “Of course, you’re hiding!”
“Keep your voice down, Millie,” ordered Tag, glancing nervously around the woman’s rotund form. “I don’t want her to find me.”
“Her?” repeated Mildred, her curious eyes darting about.
“You know whom I speak of,” said Tag, his words matter-of-fact. “The royal Princess Pain in the Patootie!”
“Well, I shall make you a deal, young sir,” offered Mildred, collecting her mop and bucket from the floor. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“You’ve got a good heart, Millie,” praised Tag, slouching against the wall of the closet as he relaxed. “In fact, you’ve got such a kind heart, I’m sure you won’t mind giving me one of those biscuits to eat while I bide my time in here.”
She gazed at Tag’s eyes as they stared hungrily at the leftovers on the kitchen table.
“Feeling a bit peckish, are we?”
“Yes, ma’am,” admitted Tag.
“I suppose it won’t hurt. It’ll only be added to the pigs’ slop anyway,” decided Mildred. Snatching up two buttery biscuits, she thrust her hand through the stand of the broom and mop handles to pass the food on to him.
“Thanks, Millie.” Tag nodded in appreciation.
“You are most welcome, young sir. And I won’t breathe a word as to your whereabouts either.”
“I’d appreciate that,” said Tag, his teeth sinking into the flaky crust of the round, crumbly biscuit.
“The door… Open or closed?”
“Closed, please,” replied Tag, using his finger to steer a stray crumb back into his mouth.
“As you wish.”
Alone in the clutter with nothing more than the seam of light pouring in from between the door and the floor to illuminate this tiny room, Tag enjoyed his solitude. He happily munched on the biscuits as he listened for the hard, sharp telltale sounds of heels striking against the flagstone floor to forewarn him of impending doom.
He took the opportunity to recall yesterday’s studies: lessons in the language arts, mathematics and history he had learned on the sly. Restricted by what he could see and hear through the open window of the palace library where Princess Rose begrudgingly endured the intellectual droning of the scholars appointed to educate her, the young man soaked up this knowledge. He craved and revelled in what details the Princess considered irrelevant and mundane for a young lady of her royal standing.
In a roundabout way, Tag felt it was fair compensation for having his plans of following in his father’s footsteps rudely thwarted by the Princess. Still, he could not deny he yearned to learn all he could of the knighthood, taking up a broken broom handle in place of his father’s sword to assault the neighbouring farmers’ scarecrows to practice his skills with this weapon.
Happily surrounded by his many thoughts as he sat on the hard floor of this cramped, dim-lit closet, he brushed the crumbs from his shirt.
“Here you go, Squeakers,” whispered Tag. He placed these morsels in front of a hole in the corner of the room for the resident kitchen mouse to feast on.
Now, had this been any other mouse, Tag would not have bothered with this small gesture of kindness, however this rodent was unique. A small, white star on its brown forehead made it stand out from all the others Tag had seen darting about on the palace grounds. This clever mouse had managed to elude every trap ever set, not to mention the hungry cat that vigilantly patrolled the kitchen, pantry and root cellar. For this reason, Tag felt inclined to reward the tiny creature for its ingenuity and will to survive in spite of the odds.
Tag suddenly froze.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Crouching motionless, his ears strained to hear through the closed door.
“Damn it all!” Tag cursed beneath his breath as the distinct click, click, click of designer heels striking against the stone flooring echoed and reverberated through the ground to rattle his nerves. “Why can she not leave me be?”
“Where is he?” Rose demanded to know, her arms crossing her chest as the toe of her shoe tapped impatiently on the freshly cleaned floor.
“Pardon me, my lady?” responded Mildred, barely glancing up as she continued her chores.
Grabbing the mop in Mildred’s hands to make her stop cleaning, Rose snapped at her, “Where is he?”
“Whom do you speak of, my lady?” asked Mildred, attempting to maintain her composure even as she winced under the Princess’ sharp tone.
“You know exactly whom I speak of! Now where is the court jester?”
“Which one?” probed Mildred.
“My jester! Tag, of course. Now, where is he hiding?”
“Young Master Yairet can be anywhere in the palace, my lady,” replied Mildred. Deliberately slapping the sopping wet mop against the floor, she knew the Princess would back away than to get her precious shoes wet with dirty water.
“That is rather vague,” pouted Rose. “The palace is a big place.”
“Indeed, it is,” agreed Mildred, glancing about the spacious royal residence. “I suggest you keep looking, my lady.”
“And you have not seen Tag?” probed Rose, staring doubtfully at the domestic help as Mildred collected the bucket.
“Not since earlier this morning,” answered Mildred. She did not feel an ounce of guilt in disclosing this information, for in her mind, she spoke the truth. She just chose not to be specific on how recent it was.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” chirped Rose, ignoring Mildred as she left to toss the dirty water.
The Princess’ inquisitive eyes searched about, scrutinizing all the possible hiding places in this usually bustling kitchen.
Her syrupy sweet voice made Tag cringe, shuddering involuntarily as he spied her through the keyhole.
“What are you staring at?” grumbled Rose. Snatching up a wooden mixing spoon from the table, she hurled it at the grey tomcat curled up by the fireplace.
The accosted feline meowed in protest, its amber eyes flashing in resentment as it fled her wrath. Tag breathed a sigh of relief as he observed the Princess sulk in defeat, stomping off as she departed from the kitchen.
All was quiet as he listened and watched.
Tag suddenly yelped in surprise. One of those unmistakable violet eyes abruptly appeared at the keyhole to stare back at him, catching him completely off guard.
“Ah-ha! I knew I would find you!” exclaimed Rose, her dainty hands clapping together in glee. She whipped the door open, peering into the shadows to spy upon Tag’s disgruntled face. His eyes seemed to flash a deeper shade of blue as his hand swept back his chestnut hair he had hoped would help to conceal him in the darkness of his solitude.
“Come out of the closet,” demanded Rose. Her index finger flexed, motioning for Tag to come hither.
“I’d rather not.”
“This is an order, not a suggestion,” insisted the Princess. “Now step out.”
“Not ready to.”
“You will do as I say,” demanded Rose, her hands rolling into tight fists that threatened of a pummelling. “Now get out of the closet.”
“Fine,” grunted Tag, pushing aside the mop and broom handles.
“What were you doing in there? You were not hiding from me, were you?” questioned Rose, watching as the young man brushed the dust from his clothes.
“Indeed, I was.”
“How dare you?” scolded Rose, appalled by his candid admission. “Who are you to think you can avoid me?”
“You were the one to demand I play hide-and-seek, not me, Princess Rose,” explained Tag.
“That was two days ago.”
“I know. You said I’d be made to play until you saw fit to end the game. You never said it was over, ergo, I remained in hiding. And I was quite enjoying myself.”
“In there?” sniffed Rose, staring into the dusty, cramped closet.
“Loved the company,” responded Tag. His voice was laced with sarcasm as he gave the Princess a smug grin.
“But you were alone.” She was momentarily baffled by his words.
“I know.”
Rose’s eyes flashed with anger, and just as suddenly, they cooled as she giggled one of those irritatingly high-pitched, girlish giggles, “Oh, you were just teasing me.”
Before Tag could respond, Rose unleashed a scream of fright to make the blood in his veins run cold. She hastily shoved the boy aside as she scrambled to stand on a stool.
“A mouse!” shrieked the Princess, pushing Tag toward the little creature trying to squeeze under the door to take refuge in the closet.
“So it is,” agreed Tag, kneeling down to observe the tiny rodent squirming to wriggle between this narrow gap.
“Don’t just stare at it! Do something!” demanded Rose. She quickly hiked up the hem of her gown to make sure the little creature had no way of reaching her. “Kill it!”
“It is only a mouse,” rebuked Tag, “a harmless, little mouse.”
The end of a broom suddenly swung down.
“Stop it!” shouted Tag, using one hand to intercept the blow as he used the other to scoop up the frightened creature. “It’s only Squeakers.”
“Make it stop squeaking!” demanded Rose. She backed away from the rodent as it eagerly sniffed the boy’s hand. “Give it the broom! And use it with gusto!”
“Her name is Squeakers,” explained Tag. He pushed away the broom the Princess was more than willing to use on the little animal. “She’s my pet.”
“Your pet?” gasped Rose, her face contorting in utter disgust as she watched the mouse climb the boy’s arm up to his shoulder. “It is a filthy, little rodent!”
“She is small and a rodent, but she is not filthy,” countered Tag, speaking with all certainty. “In fact, this particular mouse is cleaner than some people I know.”
“That is probably true, but all it means is that you know some very filthy people. Now, be done with that disgusting vermin before it spreads some dreadful disease and kills us all!”
“Kill us?” groaned Tag, his eyes rolling in exasperation. “Mark my words, Princess, there may come a day this little mouse will save your life.”
“And you mark my words, Tagius Oddball Yairet, like that will ever happen! What kind of fool do you take me for, anyway?” admonished the Princess. “That is a furry, little disease ball.”
Squeakers calmly sat on the boy’s shoulder, its tiny whiskers quivering with nervous energy as it sniffed Tag’s earlobe.
“Just because she is insignificant to you, it does not mean Squeakers is nothing to me,” grunted Tag, thoroughly annoyed by Rose’s condescending attitude.
“It is only a mouse, for pity’s sake!” rebuked Rose, cringing as she watched Squeakers’ tiny paws feel about for secure footing on Tag’s vest. “Kill the bloody thing!”
“Why? She’s done nothing to you.”
“Oh yes, it has,” argued Rose, backing away with broom in hand. “I find that creature offensive! That loathsome animal deserves to die.”
“I am sure there are those out there who find you offensive, but do you deserve to die?” countered Tag, lowering Squeakers to the floor so she could make good her escape.
“I cannot believe you just compared me to that revolting vermin!” exclaimed Rose. Her beautiful face abruptly scowled, taking on a hard edge as she absorbed the sting of Tag’s insult. “And who finds me offensive? I want names!”
“Why? So you can have those people killed, too?” ridiculed Tag, shaking his head in dismay as he waited for Squeakers to disappear into the closet.
“Say… You were speaking in jest! After all, everybody loves me.”
“Of course they do,” said Tag, with a dreary sigh. “And while you bask in the glow of self-adoration, I really must be off.”
“Not so fast,” said Rose, pushing Tag out of the kitchen.
“Where are we going?”
“Follow me,” ordered the Princess, steering the reluctant young man down the corridor.
“Follow? That’d imply you would be in front of me, leading the way,” corrected Tag, stumbling along as she prodded him on. “Not herding me like an old goat.”
“Never mind that, I have a grand plan,” announced Rose, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“A plan or a scheme, for there is a difference you know?”
“What difference does that make?” sniffed Rose. “The only thing that truly matters is that I benefit from it.”
“Of course,” sighed Tag. “But what does this have to do with me?”
“Plenty! I need you to help me.”
“To do what?”
“I need you to get me a tooth.”
“A tooth?” gasped Tag, frowning in confusion. “Even though you’re a princess, I’m not about to give you one of my teeth!”
“Keep your voice down. And who said I wanted one of your rotters?” grunted Rose, grimacing in disgust. “I want a perfect, little baby tooth.”
“Don’t you have still have a whole bunch of them in that mouth of yours?”
“You fool! I am nearing my sixteenth birthday,” muttered Rose, her hands on the curves of her hips to accentuate her blossoming feminine form. “I am almost a woman, so of course I have no baby teeth left in my mouth.”
“Pity,” said Tag, backing away from her. “Well, there goes your grand plan. Tootle-loo! See you later, Princess.”
“Not so fast!” snapped Rose, seizing Tag by his ear. “I know where you can get one.”
“Me?” He danced about on the tips of his toes as the Princess twisted a little more on his tender earlobe to make sure she had his undivided attention.
“Yes, you! Now, here is the plan. The scullery maid’s boy, what’s-his-name will be – ”
“His name is Timothy,” interjected Tag, annoyed the Princess never took the time to become personally acquainted with the palace staff.
“Yes, well… Timmy has a tooth that is coming loose. I want you to get it from him,” demanded Rose.
“How do you suggest I do that?” questioned Tag.
“For some strange reason, the boy quite likes you. He will give that tooth if you ask it of him.”
“And if he doesn’t want to part with it, then what?”
“Then do what you must,” replied the Princess, her shoulders shrugging with indifference.
“You will have me just snatch it from the boy’s mouth?” gasped Tag, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“If he does not hand it over willingly, why not?” answered Rose, nodding enthusiastically.
“Because it is called stealing. Not to mention, assaulting the child to do so!”
“So what?”
“I will have you know, I do have some sense of honour and common decency!” declared Tag.
“You are not a knight. You are my court jester. Why would you have a need for honour when you do not even have dignity?”
“And you made sure of that,” growled the young man, his hand slapping his forehead in frustration.
“My! You are bitter,” noted Rose. “But it is a wasted emotion. A knight needs a sword and you do not have one, nor will you ever, since your father’s weapon was lost.”
“The poin
t being, I refuse to steal the tooth, whether it was still lodged in his mouth, or not, just to appease you.”
“Then make him give it to you,” ordered Rose. “Tell him if he does not, you will tell the Queen you saw him nicking a bottle of wine from the cellar for his mother.”
“But I didn’t,” argued Tag. “Something like that can get him and his mother expelled from the palace, or worse! And you know Timothy would never do something as underhanded as that.”
“You might know that and I might know that, but my mother on the other hand… I do not believe the Queen knows the lowly, domestic staff as she should.”
“Brilliant!” groaned Tag, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Yes, I am!” exclaimed Rose, nodding proudly.
“I was not speaking of you! And if I were, it was not meant as a compliment.”
Rose’s delicate brows furrowed in confusion as she asked: “So you refuse to carry out my order?”
“First, it was stealing. Now, it is extortion! Just what kind of princess are you?” questioned Tag, bewildered by her strange demand.
“I am the kind of princess who knows how to get what she wants, when she wants it. Now get me that tooth! Besides, I only want to borrow it, so it is not really stealing.”
“Call it what you will, but I want no part in your deranged, little plot,” declared Tag.
“But you must! And it is a grand plan, but I desperately need that tooth to make it so.”
“Why? You want for naught. You’re in no need of coins from the Tooth Fairy, or anyone else, for that matter.”
“True,” admitted Rose, her shoulders rolling in a shrug. “I just need to speak to the Tooth Fairy. The only way to make it happen is to lure her with a tooth.”
“This is too bizarre. I’m afraid to ask what you intend to do with the Fairy once you meet her. In fact, I want nothing to do with whatever this plan is that you’re hatching.”
“You will help me!” declared Rose, her feet stamping in defiance.
“Why should I?” snapped Tag, thoroughly annoyed by her willfulness and outrageous demands.
“Because I say so. And as you so conveniently forgot, you are a nobody and I am a princess, so there! Besides, if you do not, it is one more day you will have to endure as my court jester. At the rate you are going, you may as well kiss the knighthood good-bye, for soon, you will be too old to be a squire to any knight!”
The same panic he felt in his heart when he was a boy of ten surfaced once more. That was the fateful day Princess Rose demanded he be removed from his post as his father’s page because she wanted to be amused.
Tag’s father, the captain of the King’s army, at first agreed to Rose’s demand that his son become her playmate and personal court jester to appease his King, but he believed the Princess would soon outgrow this stage to release Tag of this demeaning order. Unfortunately for father and son, he was killed in battle and Tag had been relegated to this undesirable posting for the past seven years, condemned to this lowly station for as long as the Princess saw fit.
“You would not dare!” groaned Tag.
“Oh yes, I will,” threatened Rose. “And I have.”
“Then what difference will it make to me? You’ve already ruined my life.”
“If you refuse to do what I say, I shall punish you!”
“You already have!” snapped Tag, pushing by the Princess to escape her torment. “I should be training as a knight, instead, I am your fool appointed to amuse and entertain you! What more can you do to me?”
“Plenty!” sniffed Rose, speaking with all certainty.
“And to think, I used to like you,” growled Tag, scowling in resentment.
“That was long ago, when we were children,” reasoned Rose. “And as you are too thick to know it, I have changed since then.”
“You most certainly have!” agreed Tag, not even glancing back to deliver this angry retort.
“Even if you do not like me now, what do I care? In the big scheme of things, you are an insignificant nobody. I have princes and other young men of noble lineage who would love to be in my esteemed company.”
“Only because they do not know you as I do,” grunted Tag. He stormed away down the long corridor to leave the Princess alone to sulk and plot her next course of action without him.
“Fine then!” hollered Rose, too dignified to chase after Tag. “I do not need you! If all else fails, I am confident that child can be bribed of his tooth.”