Chapter 4.
The anticipation of a real adventure cheered Peridot up for the rest of the day. She decided that the best time to go would be straight after breakfast in three days time. This would be a Hallow Day, when the princesses had no activities organised for them. The adults would go to the temple to participate in various ceremonies, depending on the time of year, but the princesses were expected to use the time to reflect on ways to improve their lives. Most of them chose instead to go to the Bath House, where they soaked in the warm scented water of the pools before being massaged with fragrant oils. Others would spend their time in the nursery wing with Noni and the babies or visit their mothers for a chat or advice.
‘If I go on Hallow Day no one will wonder where I am and I will have a whole day to spend all by myself,’ Peridot reasoned. She decided not to tell Topaz of her plans, as she had no faith in her little sister’s ability to keep such an awesome secret. ‘Besides, she’d only want to come too, and that wouldn’t work at all,’ she told herself.
Hallow Day dawned fine, and Peridot walked confidently in the direction of the pools, then when she was sure no one was watching she slipped down a series of passages, into the inner garden where she wriggled though the hole in the wall. She ran eagerly though the outer gardens. They were deserted, as there was still a quantity of dew on the grass and the sun was not yet warm enough to encourage walking there. To Peridot’s delight the gardener had not failed her. Beneath the seat was a tidily folded pile of clothes; baggy trousers, a long striped shirt in brown and cream cotton and even a length of rather faded blue cloth to bind her hair in as a turban.
With a quick glance around, Peridot stripped off her stole and found the shirt was big enough to slip on over her tunic and skirts. The trousers were far too big and she tossed them back under the seat in disgust. She added her bracelets and veil to the pile and wrapped the turban around her head, securing it rather untidily with a brooch from her stole. She looked at her golden sandals and frowned, but decided that the shirt was long enough to cover most of them.
‘Although I suppose I should go barefoot, really,’ she told herself. A few steps were enough to convince her that this was a bad idea and she slipped her sandals on again quickly.
‘Now I’m ready,’ Peridot announced cheerfully, then realised with a sudden shock she had no idea of how to leave the palace grounds. ‘The guards are bound to ask questions if I try to go out the main gate,’ she thought, ‘but there must be another way in and out. I’ll have to explore.’
Peridot walked around the garden, growing increasingly frustrated as each walled courtyard opened to reveal urns of flowers or marble statues but no door to the outside. Finally she stopped in frustration beside an ornamental pear tree, which drooped silvery branches down to form a bower beside the wall. Ducking underneath, Peridot grasped the trunk and began to climb the tree. A few breathless minutes later she was at the top. To her joy, she found that her guess had been correct. The top of the wall was in easy reach, and with a little clambering she managed to climb on top of it. The descent was a little less elegant, as there proved to be few handholds in easy reach. Peridot ended up slithering the last part of the way to land with a bump on the side of a dusty road. She could see the towers of the town buildings in the distance and set off down the road in good spirits.
After an hour of walking, Peridot was not feeling quite so joyful. The long shirt was itchy and smelled faintly of camphor. She would have liked to have taken it off, as she was far too hot with her other clothes underneath, but she didn’t dare.
‘I wish I had a drink,’ muttered Peridot. ‘I should have brought a flask of water and I should have put some nougat or figs in my pockets.’
She viewed the road dismally. It seemed to stretch on forever and there were no handy serving girls to arrive when she clapped her hands, only the occasional dusty group of travellers who ignored her as they moved past. This was at least interesting for Peridot. There were young boys idly whacking stones with their sticks as they drove scrawny goats before them. Others led plodding donkeys on the end of short frayed ropes. There were rich merchants carried in litters by strong, sun-bronzed slaves or riding astride well-groomed horses, which contemptuously flicked up clouds of dust as they passed. Once a group of young women walking past, balancing amphoras of oil on their hips. They giggled as they shot glances at Peridot. She held her head high and hoped her hair wasn’t showing beneath her turban.
When she had walked for what felt like hours, Peridot was delighted to see a cluster of buildings set back from the road. Deciding she would see if she could get a cup of cool water from the well, she made for the nearest dwelling which appeared to be some sort of barn attached to a mud brick house. There was no one around, but beside a group of straggly trees, Peridot could see a long stone trough of water. Even though she realised that this was probably for animals to drink out of, Peridot was too thirsty to care. She dipped her face in the water and drank her fill. The water was cool with a slightly muddy taste. She splashed her hot face and washed her dusty hands before setting off again down the road. She hadn’t gone more than a few paces when she heard a squealing sound coming from the thicket of trees. Following the noise, Peridot came to a small clearing that was obviously used as a rubbish dump. Tangles of wheels and ropes were mixed with heaps of wilted cabbage stalks and stable sweepings. Peridot was about to turn back, away from the horrible smell, when the squealing came again. Pinching her nose with the fingers of one hand, Peridot picked up a stick and poked it at a mound of filthy straw. The squealing grew louder, and using the stick she pulled back the rubbish to reveal a small, rather grubby pink pig, which was thoroughly tangled in a length of old rope. With a sigh, Peridot bent down and tied to untie the rope.
This was no easy task, as the piglet kept wriggling and pulling the knots tighter. She persevered and with a final yelp the piglet shot free, nearly sending Peridot headfirst into the rubbish pile as it ran past her. Muttering to herself, Peridot returned to the water trough and washed as best she could, drying her hands on the long shirt which was by now looking decidedly the worse for wear. She set off down the road and hadn’t gone more than a few paces when she realised that the small pig was following her.
‘Shoo. Go back,’ she told it sternly.
The pig snuffled and looked up at her trustingly.
Peridot raised her voice. ‘Go away. Go home.’
The pig sat down and regarded her with interest.
‘Oh, come on then, if you must,’ sighed Peridot as she turned around again. The road forked here and she had a choice. She could head directly for the town or take a much cooler path through a grove of olive trees.
‘I’m going to the town,’ said Peridot grimly, and plodded on.
A few minutes later, a motherly woman who was taking crates of chickens to sell in the bazaar gave her a lift in a cart.
‘Selling the pig, are you?’ commented the woman, as she clucked her tongue at her old mule.
‘Maybe,’ muttered Peridot. Her spirits rose as they neared the town and she was soon chattering with the woman.
‘What’s your name, young man?’
‘Peri.’
‘Well Peri, if you’re wishing to sell that pig, you can’t do better than to try Abdullah at the kebab stall. He pays a fair price. Not a lot, mark you, but fair.’
‘Thanks,’ murmured Peridot, with a guilty look at the small pig that was nestled trustfully beside her in a pile of hay. The mention of kebabs made her hungry, and she gratefully accepted an orange that the woman offered her and ate it greedily as they approached the town.
As they entered the bazaar, the noise was so great Peridot could hardly hear herself think. The shouts of vendors mingled with the jingle of harness, the wail of pipes from the snake charmers and the rhythm of drumbeats coming from a small group of entertainers. Everyone seemed to shout, and the braying of donkeys and the shrill honking of geese punctuated the commotion. With a smile of thanks,
Peridot slipped down from the cart with the pig under her arm for safekeeping, and set off to explore.
Peridot walked past a stall where large baskets of spices tingled her nose and made her sneeze. There were bolts of fabric in shimmering lengths displayed at the next stall and a crowd of woman of all ages fingered them and chattered to each other about the clothes they could make. Peridot groaned at the thought of sewing, and stopped to watch a snake charmer. He played his pipe slowly, swaying from side to side. From a small round basket in front of him, the head of a snake appeared. It too swayed from side to side and Peridot found herself swaying in sympathy. The pipe music was hypnotic and she shook herself with a start and walked on, averting her eyes when the snake charmer gave her an indignant look for failing to toss a coin at his feet. A small boy was selling cups of goat milk, but the cup looked none too clean and Peridot wrinkled her nose fastidiously. It didn’t seem to worry the small queue of people lining up for a taste but Peridot decided she would have to be desperate to drink it. She conveniently forgot that she had drunk from an animal trough herself, not long since.
‘Pots and pans,’ bellowed a voice, and she dodged to one side as a portly man pushed past her. He had brass pots of every shape and size tied to a large harness around his shoulders and he jangled as he walked. ‘Pots and pans,’ he bellowed again, as Peridot giggled and ducked around a corner.
There, several jewelry booths caught her eye and she lingered beside them. The walls of the booths were hung with copper and gold chains while counters held trays lined with dark velvet to display rings and brooches. Peridot looked longingly at a gold filigree brooch set with sparkling emeralds that would have been just the thing to clasp on her cloak. The stallholder gave her a contemptuous look as she asked the price.
‘More than you can afford, you young scoundrel. Be off with you.’
Peridot was affronted. She was about to tell the stallholder who she was when she realised that she looked nothing like a princess.
‘I guess this is what happens to ordinary people,’ she muttered, feeling all at once that having an adventure was not particularly comfortable.