“Stay calm or he may turn in rage,” she advises, trying desperately to keep smiling all the time.
The music ceases and they glide together yet apart towards Garty’s table.
Garty’s temple is bathed in perspiration and he wishes for the whole evening to depart immediately.
“You must sit with me at this table. We must never be afraid of evil, but conquer it,” Garty says lowly.
His hand touches her elbow, steering her to his table. Joanne was wondering whether to return to her own place again with the young ladies lined up as potential princesses.
“Hello, you must be Miss Weasley,” Mrs Bouchée says, by intrusion between the two friends. She peers from one to the other in blatant style.
“I hear you are good friends, you and the Knight, according to my sister?”
“Yes, that is true. Garty has been a wonderful conversationalist for me.”
“That is nice news, and I hear that you have been seeking a job as a governess?”
Garty ignores the discussion being carried on by two fiesta women, deciding they were equally equip to express their personal opinions. The conversation needs a new direction, he thinks. If she finds out about our night of frivolity she may ruin Joanne’s reputation for ever.
“Mrs Bouchée has arranged all this,” Garty says flamboyantly extending his arm in a vague motion, flaunting his frilled sleeve.
“How extraordinary, and talented you are,” said Joanne sweetly to the Inn Keeper.
Mrs Bouchée smiles and her eyes twitch. She is almost without words of reply.
“How nice this young woman is, such good manners,” she says, turning towards Garty, obviously giving him some kind of guardian permission.
“You must engage with so many more young ladies tonight,” she says, flicking her fan and pointing towards the bevy of beautiful young women waiting to enjoy a tete a tete .
“Of course,” Garty replies, excusing his presence at the table.
“I shall now leave you to your enchanting and fruitful conversation. I have a big night ahead of me!”
He rises immediately and strides across the slippery floor to ask the first damsel to dance. After all, the music was playing and the young women were expecting him to dance. Thanks to Joanne, I can dance, he reminds himself.
Dressed in white cotton and lace was she, Antia, a young lady with a freckled face, plump and round, pretty. Her mousey coloured hair is stuck up in lumps by clips of sorts. She dances as if she is jumping with two feet together and it is quite a painful experience for Garty.
He asks her questions about her birthdate and her education. He stares into her face for a moment and decides that she is not in the least likely to be a member of the royal family. She is far too young! He thanks her and escorts her back to the bench where she gazes at him as though she has danced with a king and not a Knight Commander, an ordinary horse soldier in his own eyes.
As the music wanes, he moves to the next young maiden, who again seems to be barely fifteen. She has bright red locks woven together down her bare shoulders. Her dress literally hangs on her thin growing body and she keeps pushing the floral patterned sleeves back up to the top of her arms. Her eyes are darkest brown with flecks of gold that added lustre to her overall colouring. She is barely a teen, he thinks. Controlling his rising anger at Mrs Bouchée’s impertinence in bringing children to a contest for a princess. This matter grieves his soul immensely. He escorts the girl back to her seat.
As he obediently dances with damsel after damsel the evening does fly away quickly as a bird flies over a ravine and returns, not knowing how time has disappeared in the exercise.
Finally, Garty sinks in his chair. He is in high need of a refreshment. He calls Ellie, who is walking hither and thither holding drinks. He summons her to the table.
“No free drinks after this hour. You must purchase drinks now!” she says in a sad voice.
Gladly she would have given him a drink or three.
Garty gives her a small silver coin. She quickly pours the apple juice into his silver tankard.
“I think he’s here,” she says suddenly leaving his table.
Trumpets blast and the entrance widens in a flurry for the king’s entourage. His guards wear their livery of gold and red with buttons everywhere on their garments and golden buckles on their blackened boots. They each hold a long spear and Garty is sure they hold secondary arms underneath their hip length jackets, for he identifies the soft bulge thereabouts.
Probably pistols and knives, he thinks. I wonder if there might be a fray later, with Axemanix and his cronies, his henchmen and soldiers at the ready on the far side of the marquee. I am pleased to see that the King has twice as many soldiers onside as Axemanix.
Axemanix stands up and stares in anger at his brother even as Garty wonders what might happen next.
As the parade with its king passes by Garty’s table, he stops and stares into Garty’s face.
“I know you,” he says. “Now, where have I seen you before, young man?” he asks.
Garty bows with reverence. This was a moment he had been dreading for years. Now it feels providential and inspiring to see this famous face at close range. His smile grows significantly and he finds the he needs to control it or he may gain the king’s anger.
“I am Knight Commander Garty Musdo, your servant,” he says in a hushed tone, drawing his lips and cheeks to severity.
The whole marquee has come to a silence that is almost stifling.
Garty’s looks into the king’s face, automatically noting his features as he is accustomed to doing. Now I see clearly.
“So, you are responsible for this occasion?”
“With the help of Madam Bouchée,” Garty replies, extending his hand towards the Inn keeper. She bows her high hairdo as her feathers of gay colours tickle the king’s nose. He has leaned forward to view her countenance. She steps back and looks up again into the King’s face. Her face is florid. But, her smile is brilliant.
“I am overwhelmed by your presence, Highness!”
He reached out and somehow grasps her hands and holds them to his breast for a moment in order to gather his balance. He simply nods his head, then releases her taut fingers.
The king marches towards the stage set at the end of the marquee, where the band seated below, had begun a new tune, playing their brass instruments once more, inviting the king forward.
His cloak reaches from his shoulders and onto the bare floor for several yards, indicating the distance required between him and his entourage. And of course, his importance.
Garty now becomes watchful, his automatic detection antenna alerted, in case someone highjacks the king. Everyone seems stable and respectful at this moment.
Garty turns towards Ellie, who has returned to his table. As the crowd is seated again, he catches her arm.
“Ellie, did you see Bubba?” He asks. She looks quizzically at him as if he should know where Bubba is.
“She is taking care of the horses. Someone had to stay!”
“She should be here, enjoying herself,” Garty says defiantly.
Ellie shrugs her shoulders and clears the table of empty utensils.
“Shall I bring more apple pies?” she asks Mrs Bouchée who is staring at the king as though he might disappear at a moment’s notice. Her gloved hands are held lovingly to her lips.
Garty leans towards Joanne and whispers, “Can you come with me to find Bubba?”
She nods her head and he gets up, excusing himself and Joanne in one gesture.
“Excuse us,” he says, taking her arm at the elbow and leading her towards the exit. Outside the tent of meeting, they find Brill, happily waiting for his master.
“Come on, Brill can take two, he’s done it before,” he says, helping Joanne onto the horse and nimbly springing up behind her. She sat side saddle because of her gown that flowed along Garty’s thighs, making his heart tingle and his mind determined not to falter in his quest.
Within a few minutes they arrive at the Maud. The place seems deserted except for a few horses tied at the post and a few extra buggies parked in the back yard of the inn.
Garty heads for the servants quarters near the chicken and pig pens at the bottom of the yard. He sees a lamp burning inside the window of her meagre room. He knocks on her door, speaking gently.
“Bubba, it’s Garty Musdo and Miss Weasley,” Garty says loud enough for her to hear him. He hears a shuffle of feet and then the door opens.
“Hello, what do you need?” Bubba asks. She is wearing her night gown and robe, an old dusty blue robe given to her by Mrs Bouchée. Her hair is tied up under a light net used in bed.
“Sorry Bubba, I see you are ready to retire,” Garty says, feeling pangs of regret immediately. “We do not mean to disturb you.”
“It’s okay.” She steps outside of her room. “What is wrong?” She asks. “Are the animals all right?”
Garty hushes her anxiety.
“No dear friend, but we wish you to come to the marquee now. See, the animals are settled for the night, and King Justice Swanfeather has come to join in. It is a poignant moment in history not to be missed by anyone, especially young damsels!”
“Garty, I own naught to wear on such an occasion!” she says, smiling brightly, shrugging her shoulders. What can she do?
“Miss Weasley, can you think of some way to find a suitable garment?” Garty asks his companion, who held the lamp they picked up at the entrance to the inn.
“It may not be legal, but there is a shop nearby that creates gowns for young ladies. Come now, let us investigate,” she says, by her actions applauding Garty’s idea and her own sense of adventure.
They walk together towards the street and she stops outside a building near the cobbler.
“This one is owned by a lovely lady called Betty, who sews for a living.”
Walking around the building they notice a window with fabrics displayed but no lights are seen.
“Alas, nobody is home tonight. They are probably at the Pageant!”
“Have you got a hair pin handy?” asks Garty.
Within a second two ladies hand him hair pins.
“Thank you. I shall take both,” Garty says as they watch in awe.
Within a few seconds, he has the door unlocked with a twist and a spin of two pins. It is now open.
“Do you mean to say we are breaking in?” Asks Joanne.
Bubba huddles near Joanne. She is very worried about this process.
“If need be, we had to do so,” says Garty.
“Do not worry ladies, for I shall compensate Miss Betty promptly on the morrow. Nobody shall be in trouble, except me!”
His two lady companions were satisfied by his solution and relaxed.