Bewitching (18 page)

“I sometimes feel quite burned by her myself.” Kendra twisted her long hair, and it seemed to grow longer still. “It would please me to best her. I will do it.”

“Good. But how?”

With a wave of her hand, Kendra changed shapes again. I gasped. She was an exact replica of Lady Agnes, one of Mother’s ladies-in-waiting. “I will ascertain the sort of test your mother intends to use, and then I will make certain Princess Maria Luisa passes.”

“What will you do with Lady Agnes?”

“Something temporary,” Kendra replied. “The only payment I ask is that I be invited to your wedding. It would please me to see your mother required to entertain a witch.”

I agreed to this, and we arranged that I would contact her through the duke as soon as Princess Maria Luisa arrived.

In those next weeks, I began to hope again. In a month’s time, the princess’s ship entered our harbor, and the castle’s four thousand servants flew to the task of entertaining her.

I watched Lady Agnes, searching for signs that she was not, in fact, Lady Agnes. I found none. I would have, though, had I examined the upstairs scullery closet, for that is where, as I later found out, the real Lady Agnes slept peacefully for a period of four days.

As for Princess Maria Luisa, she seemed a pleasant enough girl, though after what had happened with Princess Maria Teresa (the memory of whom still invaded my dreams), I tried not to fall in love with her. Still, we discussed the usual subjects of young men and women—riding and dance and whether imported goods should be taxed at the same rate as domestic. She was charming and pretty enough that I hoped she would pass.

We continued these subjects over dinner, though it turned out that the princess was a great lover of art.

“I have heard,” she said, “that you have in your collection a painting by Leonardo da Vinci, called
La Joconde
, in which the woman’s eyes appear to follow one around the room?”

I nodded. “Yes. It hangs in Versailles. It belonged to my great-great-grandfather.”

“I would love to see it.”

I nodded. I knew the princess was trying to impress my mother with her knowledge of the art that hung in our palace, but I was so busy waiting for the quiz that I could barely hear her. I also knew that if the princess indicated an interest in art, Mother would choose a different subject for her test.

“They say that the woman in the painting is quite plain, but her smile is enigmatic,” the princess said.

“Mmm,” I replied. Why was Mother so quiet?

“Can you tell me about some of the other art I might see here?” the princess asked.

Had Kendra cast a spell upon Mother so that she would not be mean to the princess? It was too much to hope for. Still, I would not mind.

“Your Highness, I asked—”

“What?” I stared at her. “Oh, yes, of course. I will arrange a tour after dinner. It would be my pleasure.” It would. After all, perhaps I was speaking to my future wife.

For the rest of dinner, Mother was the soul of politeness, and as we had dessert in the drawing room (the first time I had done so with any princess—the rest left in tears), I wondered whether we would marry in France or Spain. Even the princess looked relieved. Of course, she had heard of Mother’s test from her sister.

But as I dressed for bed (having sent the servants away—and thank goodness I had) with the extra care taken by a lad who intended to propose marriage the next day, there was a rap at the window.

This would have been less upsetting had my apartment not been on the third floor.

At first, I thought to ignore it, but so persistent did it become that I could not do so. Finally, I opened the casement. No sooner had I done so than a black crow hopped inside.

“Kendra?”

The crow turned into a woman. “Ooh, fancy diggings. Your family had better watch out—this castle’s going to get you in trouble someday.”

“I really don’t—”

“Trust me—
kkkkkkk
.” She made a crude gesture, running her finger across her throat as if beheading herself.

“You should not be in my room. It is improper.”

Kendra laughed. “What is proper in any of this?”

I nodded. “Of course. I should be grateful to you. Princess Maria Luisa has passed the test. We shall be married.”

Kendra stared at me. “Passed? The princess has not passed any test, not yet.”

There was ice in her voice, and it invaded my bones. “She has not?”

Kendra shook her head, a gesture very crowlike, which caused the light to reflect off the green and purple highlights in her black hair. Finally, she said, “The test is still to come.”

Of course. It was too easy. Mother had something up her long, lacy sleeve to make certain Princess Maria Luisa had to work and work hard for the dubious prize of my hand.

“The test will happen in the night,” Kendra said.

“The night? What sort of test—?”

Kendra did not smile. “Do not fear. I will make it impossible for Maria Luisa to fail.”

And then, before I could say another word, she turned back into a crow and flew away.

The test will happen in the night
. The words haunted me, as words do when one knows one has done wrong. They brought a shadow over the light of happiness I had felt just moments earlier. I entered my bedchamber with great trepidation and did not sleep at all. What sort of test could happen in the night?

Around midnight, I thought I heard a thumping noise. I fumbled for a light, unwilling to rouse the servants, but it stopped before I could rise to investigate.

As the clock struck two, there was a muffled groaning of some sort. But, again, it faded quickly. Or perhaps I was simply too afraid of what I might find. Yes, that was it. I did not sleep more than ten minutes at a time the whole night.

When morning finally dawned, I went to the dining room to find Mother. She looked extremely well rested and embraced me. “Dear son, you are here. Now we will find out together whether Princess Maria Luisa passed my test.”

“Test? What test?”

She looked away, adjusting her hood over her lace cap as if nothing of any importance was happening. “A simple test to ascertain whether the princess possesses the delicate nature of a true princess. Lady Agnes helped me dream it up. You see, last night, we placed—”

“Oh, what has become of me?”

It was the princess. Mother held up her hand, and we both turned to look. Then, to gape.

The princess looked nothing like the cheery, normal girl I had met yesterday. Indeed, she resembled someone who had been through some horrible ordeal, a shipwreck perhaps (maybe involving one of Mother’s icebergs) or a rock slide. Her wig was off, and her hair stuck out in all directions as if she could not be bothered to brush it or, perhaps, as if she had brushed it only to find it would not obey. Her clothes—she still wore her dressing gown—were wrinkled, askew, and slightly damp. Her face looked ashen. When she saw me, she fixed me with a pleading look. On whole, she was more like a refugee of war than a princess.

“Did you sleep well, Your Highness?” Mother’s voice was made of sugar.

“Sleep well.” The princess repeated the words as if Mother had spoken in tongues. “No. No, I did not sleep well.”

I remembered the sounds in the night and, looking at the princess’s face, I began to imagine what might have happened. But I did not have to imagine long for the princess was more than happy to share her tale of woe.

“I began the night comfortably enough on the twenty mattresses you provided.”

“Twenty mattresses?” I stared at Mother who, again, seemed quite interested in her hood.

“It was a bit high,” the princess said, “and I am afraid of heights, but Lady Agnes insisted this was the French custom, and I knew the French were prone to excess. I did not wish to offend, even though the featherbeds swayed a bit when I ascended them, and I needed some help reaching the top. But once I turned out the lights, I pretended I was on the ground, and I was comfortable enough.”

“Comfortable?” Mother looked surprised, then pleased. “So you felt no discomfort?”

“Mother, how could she be uncomfortable on twenty mattresses?” I asked.

“Well, I wasn’t at first,” the princess said, “but after a few minutes, it seemed like the mattresses began to move. Indeed, they … turned on me.”

“Turned on you?” I said.

“They tried to eat me!”

I could only stare. The princess had gone mad. That was the only explanation. Gone mad, and as she was the very last princess of suitable age, I would remain a bachelor forever. Even I could not fault Mother for refusing to allow my union with a princess who was insane.

And yet, Mother seemed unsurprised as the princess described her ordeal.

“Yes, you heard right,” the princess said. “The mattresses tried to eat me. At least, one of them did. The ticking opened up and tried to swallow me. I have the feathers to prove it!” She pulled a handful of them from her dressing gown pocket. “I managed to escape with my life and beat it to the ground when a second mattress attacked, then a third. But when I reached for the fourth, it was not in the mood for warfare. Rather, it began to hum.”

“Hum?” Mother asked.

“Would you care for some tea, Your Highness?” I tried to change the subject. “You look like you could use some.”

“That would be nice,” the princess said before turning back to Mother. “Yes, humming. A bourrée, to be precise. Then, three other mattresses rose and sought to persuade me to join them in the dance. They would not stop, even when I told them I would prefer a gavotte. I attempted to settle down on the remaining thirteen mattresses, but they bucked me off like a wild horse. As I lay on the floor with three vanquished mattresses on one side, three dancing ones on the other, it began to rain.”

“Rain?” That explained the wetness. Indeed, it explained many things. The princess was not insane. Rather, it was a spell, Kendra’s doing. But why did she bewitch the mattresses? And why were there twenty of them in the first place?

“Where is that tea?” Princess Maria Luisa barked at me as if I were a loafing servant boy instead of the heir apparent to the French throne.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry. The servants…” Well, the servants were all standing around, listening to her convoluted story. Now one handed her a cup, which she drank down as if it were a glass of sherry. She presented it for a refill.

“That is how it was all night,” she continued. “Every hour brought a new horror. At two, the mattresses began playing leapfrog. At three, it was croquet, and at four, they had a fox hunt, using me as the fox. I have never had a worse night’s sleep in my entire life.”

“You’ve passed!” Mother crowed.

“What?” The princess drained her tea. “What is she talking about?”

The servant refilled her cup again, and I said, “Mother tests the princesses who wish to marry me. For worthiness. You’ve heard about that.”

“This … was … a … test?” the princess stammered. She was breathing rather shallowly, enough to cause concern.

“And you’ve passed,” Mother said. “You see, I placed a pea, one tiny pea under your mattresses, knowing that a worthy princess would have a sensitive constitution and would not be able to sleep in such a lumpy situation. And you have passed! You are a real princess!”

Princess Maria Luisa stared. Was it sleeplessness that made her gape so, or something else? I gestured to the servant to refill her tea once more, but she waved it away.

“Are you not happy?” Mother asked.

“To be a real princess? Why, I have been a real princess since the day I was born. There was never any question in my mind, or anyone else’s.”

“No, silly girl.” Mother clapped her hands. “To have passed the test, to have bested the others, to be marrying my darling Louis!”

The princess gawked at her, but finally she straightened her dressing gown (several feathers fell out) and said, “No. I would actually rather not.”

“What?” Mother screeched.

“Why?” I said, though I knew the answer.

“Why would I wish to marry someone…” She glowered at me. “… whose mother would subject me to such a torture? What would our marriage be like? What of our children? You are a vicious, cruel woman!”

“B-but…” Mother stammered. “I merely placed a pea under the mattresses. I did not make them do any of those other things.”

“I would not put it past you,” I said.

“And you!” The princess pointed a finger at me. “You are worse than she is! You watched it all happen and did nothing to stop it!”

“But … but she is my mother.”

“And you are a mama’s boy of the worst kind. I would rather marry an undertaker or a street sweeper than someone like you.”

She stood and flounced from the room, dripping and trailing feathers as she went. She turned as she reached the door to say, “You will be lucky if you do not go to war with Sardinia over this!”

I followed her, but no form of persuasion would convince her to leave her room. She asked for a servant to see to her packing.

When finally I returned to the dining room, Mother was in tears. “I do not understand. It was merely a pea, a little pea.”

I nodded, though I could not help but think she had gotten what she deserved, if not for Princess Maria Luisa, for all the princesses before her, for every time she’d tried to control my life.

Still, I explained what had happened.

And that is how the witch, Kendra, came to be banished from France.

K
ENDRA SPEAKS
(
BRIEFLY
)

Yes, banished. Can you believe it? I tried my best to help, and instead, I ended up kicked to the cobblestone curb. France is, as you may have figured out by now, not the only country where I am forbidden entry, maybe not even the nicest. Still, it gnaws on one, particularly because, as you will see from the remainder of this story, no real harm was done. And yet, even when all was well, as Shakespeare said, that ends well, did they say, “Hey, Kendra, we understand that you made a noble effort. Why not come to the palace for some champagne sometime?” Noooooo. They’re all, “Get thee from our kingdom, witch, or it’s the guillotine.” They’re lucky I didn’t turn them into talking swine.