The Black Swan (26 page)

Some of the girls settled into beds of their own, but fully half of the benches were untenanted. When Odile took a tally of the flock, she noticed that most of the young women settling in were the ones of noble birth.

Before she had cause to more than wonder about that, the rest arrived, with Odette in the lead.

“Now,” the Swan Queen said, in a firm tone, “You've already fed us tonight, and you are in no condition to produce food for yourself, so you will have to make do with what we have found for you.” She brought the others to Odile's side with a little wave, and they each placed their gleanings beside her on makeshift plates of leaves.

There was a handful of wild grapes, another of tart gooseberries, last year's nuts (blackened, but still sound), the peeled roots of cattails, a bunch of water-cress. Now Odile knew why the “missing” girls had all been those who had some knowledge of the land— they were the only ones who could be trusted to know what was good to eat and what was not.

But Odette with a proud smile produced the best prize, a fine lake trout. Odile gaped at it, unable to imagine how the woman had caught it without hook or line.

“I drove it up on the bank while I was still a swan,” Odette explained. “And one of the little swans gutted and cleaned it for us with a sharp rock. I thought you might be overspent, and I wanted to return the favor of dinner.” Having presented her prize, she handed it to one of the others who neatly skewered it on twigs and held it over the magic fire to cook. The savory aroma was enough to drive Odile wild; suddenly she was ravenous, and when the fish was done, she took it in her bare hands, juggling it from hand to hand while it cooled, and picking off bits and popping them into her mouth as she did so. It tasted wonderful, even eaten without salt or any kind of seasoning.

When the fish was a fond memory, she turned to the other offerings, and devoured them all, with words of thanks to the flock as she did so. If the nuts were small and hard to pry from their shells, and the grapes a little sour, it hardly mattered; hunger made everything taste like dishes at a feast.

Meanwhile, Odette shooed the girls into their beds while Odile ate, and the measure of
their
exhaustion could be taken by how quickly they fell asleep. Odette was the last one to take her place, and she watched Odile with a curious expression on her face as the sorceress finished the last berry and licked her fingers clean without shame.

Odile returned the gaze, then dimmed the light coming from the fire (though not the heat; the shelter was just warm enough, and none of them had anything in the way of a blanket). “Thank you again,” she said, feeling oddly shy. It was perhaps the first time anyone other than her father's invisible servants had done anything
for
her in a very long time—and even longer since anyone had done anything for her without her having to ask first.

“You've done more than you had to for us on this entire journey,” Odette replied with a little shrug. “It seemed more than time to return the favor.”

With that, the Swan Queen laid her head down and nestled into her own bed, leaving Odile to follow her example. A full stomach and the cozy warmth left her no strength to do anything else, and the headache that overextending her powers had given her made her long for the oblivion and relief of sleep.

And in a few moments after her head touched the pillow of fragrant grasses, she got her wish.

Siegfried sighed, and laid a calming hand on the shoulder of his restive horse. They had been waiting to ride off for the lake for the better part of an hour now, and that was
after
the queen had indicated that everyone was ready to depart.
I should have known. Of course, when one is the prince, and one's birthday is near and one's mother the queen has invited half a dozen lovely princesses to attend festivities, it isn't going to be possible to sneak off with two friends for a little hunting.

What
had
started as a simple hunting party of three, with Siegfried going incognito, had turned into an expedition, involving all the visitors and most of the Court.

When Queen Clothilde learned that Siegfried, Benno, and Wolfgang were going hunting, she decided that a hunting party would be just the sort of entertainment needed to occupy the six princesses and their various entourages. The princesses themselves all voiced enthusiasm for the plan—and given that none of them wanted any of the others to have more time around Siegfried than her rivals, they probably would have been enthusiastic even if they had
hated
hunting.

Now Siegfried and his friends were cooling their heels, waiting, while stewards and servants packed up half the palace for what should have been a simple trip, requiring only three horses at most.

Each of the princesses had her own pavilion, as did the queen; several more pavilions were needed for courtiers and hangers-on. Servants would have to sleep in and under the wagons, but there would be plenty of those. With the pavilions came beds, bedding, cushions, carpets, washbasins, camp-baths, plate and cutlery, embroidery supplies, musical instruments, and the appropriate hunting wardrobes. That was just for the queen and the young ladies. Then came the same, in lesser quantities, for the courtiers, servants, and so forth. There was a pack of hunting dogs, both sight-and scent-hounds, hence there must be food, the packmaster, and the dog-boys. Most of the falconry mews came, which meant the falconers, cadges, perches, shelters, and equipment. There were beaters and trackers, the huntmaster, a stableful of hunters and jumpers, their grooms and tack. Of course, a hunter had much too rough a gait to ride for pleasure, so each lady also had a palfrey to ride on the journey. One could not depend on the quality of a peasant cook at a peasant inn, so one of the chief cooks and all his helpers traveled as well, and all of the pots, kettles, and miscellaneous equipment
he
would need. And all of these people and animals needed supplies of food and drink, which meant there were wagon loads just of fodder for man and beast. Siegfried had intended to take two days, three at the most, and return with ample swans for his birthday feast. It took a full day for this raree-show to be organized, and it would take another two for everyone to get to the village common and pitch a camp—and he
still
wouldn't have his swans!

But the ladies were delighted, the weather looked to be splendid, and the queen was right; it was the perfect way to pass some time before the festival began.

So Siegfried had bowed to the inevitable and allowed the juggernaut to roll over his simple plan, squashing it beneath the weight of the queen's. He insisted on one thing only: that he be the only one to hunt the swans. Let everyone else course whatever game they cared to—let them hawk for duck and wood-pigeon, grouse and pheasant, let them chase hare, boar and deer, let them harry the fox, wolf, and bear, even. He and he alone, with the help of Benno, would seek the shores of the lake and the elusive swans.

When he had that pledge from the queen, he made no objections, and now, at long last, he rode his palfrey to the head of the procession, surrounded by the chosen maidens, each of whom had probably arisen before dawn to dress and primp to show herself at her best. Finally, the entire cavalcade passed through the palace gates and onto the open road.

The queen followed behind them, pleased to allow the prince to ride in the vanguard. Wolfgang was somewhere behind, with the wagons; no great surprise there, since given the choice between a horse and a wagon, he would always select the latter.

Benno rode with Siegfried at the prince's urgent invitation. He didn't fancy being left to be the sole focus of all of the six women.

Just at the moment, he was trying to get all of their names straight. It wouldn't do to miscall any of them.

Fortunately, most of the heavy wagons and baggage had gone on before them last night; by traveling through the darkness, urged on by the truly tyrannical wagon steward, they should have arrived at the village by now—or if they had not, they would in a few hours. That would give them time to set everything up before the royal party arrived. By that time, pavilions would have been pitched, the camp established, and dinner would be waiting for them. Siegfried, Benno, Wolfgang, and Arno would be lodging at the inn instead of a pavilion; the accommodations might be of a more primitive quality, but he wouldn't have to endure the shrieks of maidservants finding insects among the bedding, or the flirtatious attempts by the princesses to get him alone for a moment. That could be very unfortunate—he could only choose one, and any of them could claim he had made a secret pledge to her, if she could have a moment with no witnesses. Not that
any
of the six were bad choices, but he wanted the choice to be his, as promised.

As the royal party finally got out of the palace grounds and turned off onto the main road, the six maidens each vied for his attention. There was room for only two to actually ride beside him, but each of the six was determined that
she
would have one of those two prize positions. As he made no attempt to indicate a preference, they maneuvered with the determination of a falcon with prey in view, “accidentally” jostling each other, or causing a horse to start forward or lag back.

Finally, after half an hour of this, the queen stepped in. She invited four of the ladies to ride with her, leaving Siegfried and Benno with only two—the implication being that
she
would see to a fair rotation of time spent with the Prince.

He sighed with relief, though he did his best not to show it, and waited for the two singled out to urge their horses to his side.

To his right, in a habit of garnet wool trimmed in satin, was Ysabeau von Andersburg, her golden hair surmounted by a fine hat with a cockade of rooster plumes, and caught in a net of garnet beads and gold wire. Tiny, rosy, blue-eyed, she handled her spirited Spanish Barb mare with expert skill he would not have expected in a girl who looked like a child's toy.

To his left, Angelique Fortescue chattered like a magpie, rattling on about her delight in the countryside, the outing, the prince's companionship, the queen—if Ysabeau's tactic was to smile demurely, say little, and allow her looks and her riding impress the prince, Angelique apparently planned to batter his reticence with a barrage of words. Just as golden-haired as the other girl, Angelique had all the statuesque beauty of Aphrodite, with classical features, marble complexion, and ample proportions. Her chosen color was a tawny gold, with jewels of gold and topaz, her hair confined in a coiled braid held in place by golden pins beneath her riding hat. Her mount was a placid bay gelding of no particular breeding.

Behind him were the other four, who no doubt would take their turns at charming him: Gabriela von Bern, a plump, cheerful maiden with hair the color of her chestnut stallion's coat, garbed in a warm brown and bejeweled with amber—Ursula Brednesi, wearing a small fortune in sapphires, raven-haired and clothed in blue, with the eyes of an angel and a body that would tempt a saint—Honoria von Hansberg, who hid her hair completely beneath a coif of snow-white linen embroidered with silver thread and pearls, but whose violet eyes and heart-shaped face, combined with a body clad in velvet to match, with tiny waist and generous bosom, made hair-color seem irrelevant—and Evangeline de Luchen, for whom
black
pearls were the gem of choice, clothed from head to toe in the finest deep brown leather, a bare shade lighter than sable, whose fierce black stallion, handled with skill and strength, matched her hair and eyes, and whose piquant and clever features were more handsome than beautiful.

Each one had her own particular beauty. No doubt, each one had her own particular faults. And he had only days to discover them—although he did know one thing already. Although he had gazed into the eyes of each of them, hoping for a sign, for a special spark to spring up between them, lighting a fire in both hearts at once, there had been nothing. Nothing to show that there was anything more in the ballads of the minstrels than fantasy; nothing to show that there was such a thing as love, overwhelming, striking all unexpectedly and at first sight.

Or if there is such a thing, it is not to ignite between me and any of these women,
he thought with a stifled sigh.

Well, if he could not choose one for love, he could at least choose by process of elimination.

As Angelique chattered on, he decided that he did know at least one other thing. He
would
grant Angelique a second and even third chance, but if she showed no signs of different behavior,
she,
at least would be out of the running.