The Girl in the Tower

  “This is it,” Harry said.

  “Who’s she?” one of the young men said.

  “Violet,” Harry replied. “She’ll be crowned princess one day.” Harry looked around. “Where’s Cook?”

  “A delivery wagon carrying goods for the castle lost a wheel,” another young man replied. “He and Elmer went down the road to help.”

  “Good. Come on. I can show you the pantry real quick.”

  Harry led Violet outside, around a corner, through a door, and down a dark set of stairs. The earthy smell as they descended reminded Violet of the garden after a hard rain, although it had more of a stench about it.

  When they reached the final step, Violet looked around the dark room, lit only by a burning oil lamp set on the table. Barrels lined the walls in the very back, while the nearby walls were covered with strings of onions, mushrooms, and other vegetables hung to dry.

  “What are those for?” Violet asked, pointing to a couple of large hooks that hung from the ceiling.

  “That’s where we put the chickens in order to pluck them.”

  Violet shuddered at the thought.

  “This is where food and drink is stored,” Harry explained. “Elmer, the pantler, works down here. Since he’s busy at the moment, I thought you might like to see—”

  Before Harry could finish, Violet felt something rubbing against her leg. She let out a high-pitched scream and grabbed on to Harry’s arm, hopping from foot to foot.

  Harry laughed. “The cats.”

  “Cats?” Violet asked, standing still. “There are cats down here?”

  “Aye. There is. To catch the rats and mice.”

  “Oh dear. The queen told me about rats. They sound like awful creatures. Cats are nicer, then? I’ve never seen any animals, unless you count the birds in the garden.”

  “A couple of the cats are skittish, but this one here”—he bent down and scooped it into his arms—“he’s friendly. I call him Lucky. ’Cause we’re lucky to have such a fine mouse catcher. Do you want to pet him?”

  Violet watched for a moment and decided he seemed gentle enough. When she touched his fur, she smiled, for she’d never felt anything quite like it.

  Harry seemed to be studying the girl. Violet wondered if he thought it strange to meet someone who knew so little of the world. She was about to ask him about it when he said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Of course,” Violet said.

  “I was looking for the queen yesterday ’cause Cook sent me to ask her something about the meal. When I went to her bedchamber, I heard her in there with Maggie. It sounded like she cast…” He paused, as if he was unsure whether he should say it.

  “What? Go on. What did it sound like?”

  “It sounded like she cast a spell on the poor woman.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, I think the queen is actually a witch. Do you know what a witch is?”

  “Someone who uses magic?” Violet asked.

  Before Harry could respond, they heard a noise coming from outside. Harry dropped the cat and took Violet’s hand. “Come on. Time to go. Won’t be good for either of us if Cook finds you down here.”

  “Wait. Where are we going?” Violet asked as he grabbed the oil lantern and pulled her deep into the pantry.

  “There’s a secret passageway,” he told her. “The castle is full of them. This one isn’t very long and takes you right outside the kitchen. You can find your way from there. I’ll hold the lamp while you go on through, aye? There’s another one I can show you someday, if you’d like. It’s the best one of ’em all.”

  Violet smiled at the thought of secret passageways hidden throughout the castle. “Oh, I’d love to see it,” she said as he pushed hard on a spot in the wall, causing it to move so it revealed a slight opening. “And you have to tell me more about the queen and Maggie. I want to know more of your suspicions.”

  “Aye, but remember, it’s our secret!”

  “I know. I hope to see you again soon.”

  He hurried her along. As Violet walked through the dark and narrow passageway, she thought about how she couldn’t wait to see Harry again.

  “A friend,” she whispered, smiling. “I think I’ve found a friend.”

  24

  The first night of her freedom, Nuri didn’t make it to the nearest village before she needed to rest for the night. With little physical activity over the past several years, she walked slowly and became tired quickly.

  The area surrounding the castle had acres and acres of farmland, and every now and then, she would pass a farmhouse. Fortunately, she spotted an empty chicken coop behind a vacant house. In the event the residents might return, she decided the coop would make a fine place to bed down. She ate the bread and jerky as the sun set, and thought of her daughter falling asleep on a soft bed with a warm fire aglow in the room. At long last, Violet would have all the things she so richly deserved.

  She knew, however, that Violet would feel sad and somewhat alone without her mother, and she wished on the stars in the sky that Violet wasn’t missing her too deeply. Exhausted after all that had happened, Nuri lay down on the dirt floor in the coop and slept the whole night through.

  She awoke to a light pitter-patter on the roof the next morning. Instinctively, Nuri reached over for Violet, to tell her to listen for the rain. But when she opened her eyes, a sea of sadness washed over her, and she lay there for a while until it passed.

  When she stepped outside and into the mist, she noticed that with the rain had come warmer temperatures. It wasn’t long before she returned to the road that led to the village, baskets in hand. After the light rain shower passed, the sun peeked through the clouds. Nuri nibbled on some bread, thankful Maggie had provided enough to last her for a while.

  As she got closer to town, people joined her on the road, talking and laughing among themselves. She was in luck—it was market day. As she listened in on the conversations, she became aware of how much she had missed being around others. And how good it felt to move. Her legs were sore from the walking she’d done the previous day, but she didn’t mind. To be outside, in air that smelled fresh and clean, surrounded by others, was a dream come true. She couldn’t deny that it gave her a renewed sense of hope.

  In the market square, crowds of people bustled about, wandering from table to table, where food and household items could be purchased. There weren’t any performers in the square yet. This was fortunate for Nuri, although she still wasn’t sure she could manage on her own. She’d always had her family with her, not only for the performing part, but also for the collection of the coins.

  Nuri began to turn away, thinking maybe this had been a bad idea. And then she saw a girl with beautiful black hair and bright blue eyes walk by her. If Violet were here, she would tell her mother to not be afraid. That she must perform and make money so she could set out and find her Marko.

  After taking a deep breath, Nuri grabbed her tambourine and sang. At first, she performed softly, passing the tambourine back and forth between her hands, getting used to the rhythm and feel of the instrument.

  As her playing intensified, so did her voice, and soon she had captured the interest of a number of market-goers.

  When she finished the first song, the crowd applauded. She bowed and very subtly pointed to the basket. A man walked up and dropped a coin into it. Nuri thanked him, and soon a couple more did the same.

  Nuri continued singing and collecting coins for the next few hours, until her throat became so dry she had to stop. She looked around, searching for the old man with the white beard and mustache Maggie and George had told her about. It took a while, but she eventually found him.

  She made her way to him, eyeing the delicious vegetables he had for sale. “Hello, Richard,” she said. “My name is Nuri. I am a friend of George and Maggie’s. They said to look for you here. My daughter is still there, and they’ll be sending messages through you to let me know how she is doing.?
??

  He nodded as he offered her a drink from his goatskin bag. “Of course. They are fine people, and any friend of theirs is a friend of mine. But I’m not quite sure I understand. Why did your daughter stay on at the castle if you are no longer there?”

  Nuri finished drinking, wiped her chin, and handed Richard his bag. Then she proceeded to tell him the story of being trapped in the tower and the queen’s sudden desire to take Violet as her own child.

  “I am sorry for your troubles,” he said. “And I’m pleased to help you any way I can. I must say, you have a lovely singing voice. But ’tis not safe to travel alone. Where’s the rest of your family, lass? Do you know?”

  “Not sure, I’m ’fraid. That’s why I’m performing. I must earn enough so that I can go in search of them. You haven’t seen any wandering minstrels recently, have you?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t say I have. They usually travel to warmer weather this time of year. Surely you remember that.”

  “Aye. I do believe you’re right. I wish I could go looking for them now. But I’ll have to stay and work for a time.”

  He handed her an onion and a handful of beans. “Best o’ luck to you. I’ll be sure to let you know if any messages come your way.”

  “Thanks to you, Richard. I’m glad to have a friendly face here, that’s for sure.”

  They said good-bye, and Nuri wandered around the marketplace, munching on the onion like an apple, admiring the shoes, woven cloths, and pottery being sold.

  In the far corner of the square, she found an old woman selling colorful scarves. One of the scarves was a lovely purple color, and as she fingered the fabric, Nuri got a lump in her throat, thinking of her daughter and her pretty eyes. Oh, how she wanted to purchase the scarf. But the price was high, and there was no money to spare on frivolous items.

  When the people of the market began to pack up, Nuri headed back to the chicken coop. In the distance, the sun tiptoed quietly behind the hills, signaling the end of another day.

  While she was in the tower, the love of her daughter, along with the hope of seeing her husband again, had sustained her day in and day out. Now all she had left was hope.

  She closed her eyes and felt the cool breeze on her cheek, like a kiss from Mother Nature, reassuring her everything would be fine. And she knew all she could do was believe in that promise.

  25

  The minstrels and the birds had begun their journey back toward the castle. The birds had become accustomed to the rhythm of the minstrels’ days and nights, and they felt comfortable with them.

  One day, as the group of musicians walked along, singing and laughing, one of them pointed up in the air. The birds, curious as to what the minstrels saw, looked up, higher than they ever flew.

  And there, with wings spread long and full, reaching to the far sides of the sky, was a hawk.

  To humans, hawks are beautiful birds in flight.

  To hummingbirds, hawks are enemies.

  The two small birds watched as the hawk dove down, aiming straight for them.

  The birds had to be quick and find a place to hide.

  Faster and faster the hawk came, closer and closer. If given the chance, it could grab one of the hummingbirds with its talons midair, and off it’d go.

  Fortunately, the two birds spotted a row of old blackberry brambles and headed there. Although the leaves and berries hadn’t begun to grow back yet, the twisted brambles would provide a safe place to hide from the hawk.

  The hummingbirds flew quickly, their wings buzzing as they went. The minstrels watched, their mouths open, as the hawk dove through the air, obviously chasing something.

  Peace and Pax made it to the brambles just as the hawk tried to grab Peace. The hawk stuck around a moment, waiting to see if the small birds would reappear. But they stayed safely put. And so the hawk moved on, searching for new prey.

  As it flew back into the sky, the minstrels waved good-bye.

  The hummingbirds felt thankful for the minstrels, who not only sang lovely songs, but also spotted scary things in the sky. Now more than ever, the birds wanted to introduce the girl in the tower to these kind and happy people.

  26

  The days following Violet’s arrival in the castle were a whirlwind of activity. She was given daily lessons on social graces: how to walk like a lady, how to sit properly, how to use a needle and thread, how to write correspondence, how to dance, and, yes, how to play the harp. The harp lessons, which Maggie had arranged herself with one of the castle’s employed minstrels, were by far Violet’s favorite.

  Various ladies-in-waiting, sent to the castle by their relatives to receive an education, became Violet’s teachers on all matters. She was told again and again by every one of the ladies that six weeks was not nearly enough time to teach her everything she should know. They simply hoped she would learn enough to avoid making a fool of herself the night of the ball.

  After three weeks of nearly nonstop lessons, Violet awoke, rolled over, and heaved a great sigh.

  “Now, now,” Maggie said, rushing around, collecting the child’s clothing. “We’ll have none of that. Lady Sarah is expecting you in the ballroom for another dance lesson this morning.”

  “Maggie, must I go today? Can’t I visit my garden instead and see if there is any sign of the birds? I do miss them so.”

  “’Tis still too cold, lass. You must wait a bit longer, for spring will be here soon.” She paused. “While we’re talking about the birds, there’s something I must tell you.”

  Violet sat up, her eyes wide. “What? What is it, Maggie? Please, let it not be bad news.”

  “’Fraid it is. The queen has ordered George to destroy your little garden behind the tower. She wants the birds to live in the main garden when they return.”

  “Oh no,” Violet said, her eyes filling with tears as she climbed out of bed. “But I love that garden. And it’s the birds’ home. They love it there as much as I do.”

  “I know,” Maggie said as she pulled Violet’s nightclothes off her. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

  “Has he started the work yet?” Violet asked, wrapping her arms around herself as Maggie gathered up a lovely dress the color of sunshine.

  “Hold your arms up,” Maggie said. Violet did as she was told, and Maggie slipped the dress over her head. “No, he hasn’t started on it yet. But soon.”

  Violet fingered the elegant fabric and wondered how much such a thing cost. Every day she’d worn something new. At first, it was exciting. Now it seemed almost strange. Why did a simple young girl need so many clothes?

  “Perhaps I should try speaking to the queen about it. If she truly cares about me, she’ll listen to what I have to say,” Violet said. “I’m not just a doll she can dress up and show off. I have feelings, too. She needs to know that.”

  She bit her lip as her mother flittered into her thoughts. Her mother had always listened to what Violet had to say, caring about her feelings more than her own. She started to say something about how much she missed her but stopped herself. She was already feeling blue, and it would do no good to make it worse.

  Maggie took the girl’s chin and lifted it up so Violet’s eyes met hers. “I wouldn’t recommend going to battle with the queen. Trust me, she always wins. Her mind is made up, love, and that’s that. But I do believe the birds will be just fine, for they shall still have you, eh?”

  “I suppose,” Violet said with a sigh. “It won’t be the same, though.”

  “Come along,” Maggie said. “Let’s finish getting you ready, and then you can have some tea and a freshly baked tart.”

  A short while later, Violet went down the stairs toward the ballroom. Maggie had other duties to attend to, so she’d left the child to make her way on her own. Violet took her time, counting to ten each time she landed on a step, wanting to delay another day of lessons as long as she possibly could.

  “Pssst,” she heard from behind her. “Violet. Come here.”


  She turned around to find Harry standing there, wearing a dirty tunic. A grin spread across her face. Finally! She’d been wondering when she would see him again.

  She dashed to where he stood. He took her hand, put his finger to his lips telling her to be quiet, and led her around the corner. And then, before she knew what was happening, he pushed the wall in and they ducked into a small room. The wall, or door, or whatever it was, clicked shut behind them. A small candle sat on a shelf built into the wall on the far corner, and Violet was thankful for the light.

  “Another passageway!” she exclaimed, scanning the tiny room with her eyes. In front of them, a set of stairs extended down into a hole of darkness.

  “Aye. ’Tis something else, eh?”

  “What are the secret passageways for?” Violet asked.

  “In case of an unexpected invasion. With this particular one, the king and queen have an easy—but discreet—way to escape.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “Outside the castle. It twists and turns and takes you all the way down near the pantry. ’Tis how I found it. One day, I headed outside from the kitchen, to fetch some mushrooms for the cook. I leaned up against the wall to catch my breath, and when I did, the wall moved. I pushed on it a few times, and the wall opened up. This was the first of the passageways I found. Since then, I’ve discovered others, like the one I showed you the last time we met. But I wanted to show you this one especially, so I brought a candle along before I went to look for you.”

  “I’m so happy to see you again. Thank you for finding me.”

  “The queen is keeping you busy, eh?”

  Violet sighed. “’Tis true. In fact, I mustn’t stay long. But I want to learn more of your suspicions about the queen.”