«Cats, when they scratch, they just play,» he whispered to Rebecca. «Next time you dont play with the pet with your bare hands, youd better take the ribbon.»
Rebecca herself almost hissed with anger at the friendly advice, like a real cat.
«Idiot!» She muttered to herself under her breath.
«He us so handsome and so stupid,» her veiled companion said thoughtfully.
«Whats that?» Brendan couldnt help it.
«Its all right.»
«You need your rest. We have a bedroom for guests,» said Rebecca, who had taken a candle from the ornamental table, though there was enough light from the sconces on the walls.
«You must have hundreds of bedrooms here,» Brendan followed the ladies inside the castle, marveling at the lavish surroundings. True, there were too many locked rooms. But the gilded doors gave the impression of wealth and luxury.
«Are you the mistress of the castle?» Brendan wished he could see the mysterious ladys face under a layer of silk. The beige veil with lace trim was, alas, opaque.
«Shes the local princess,» Rebecca snapped. «She owns all the land and everything in it.»
«Then shes magic, because theres a lot of magic in the lands around your castle,» Brendan blurted out, and then bit his tongue. If she really did make all that magic hed escaped from in the night, she could hardly be expected to cast a spell on him. Turn him into a toad, for instance. He is being disrespectful. You have to agree with witches, or youll be in a lot of trouble.
«Am I a sorceress?» The lady gave a very theatrical show of amazement. «Thats the first Ive heard. I have been called many things-beautiful, a heartbreaker, a rival, a senseless person who sends knights to their doom-but never a sorceress.»
Her train, like a tail, whipped Brendan to his feet. It was certainly not done on purpose, but somehow he was still embarrassed. It was as if hed been put in his place.
«Youll play for me tomorrow night at dinner,» the princess decided.
Why not tonight? Its suppertime-unless theyve decided to skimp on the minstrels food tonight.
«Theyll bring your supper to your chambers. You are tired. Tonight you will rest and eat, and tomorrow you will entertain us.»
Now thats noble. He thought hed be exploited at once.
«Thank you!»
But the princess had already slipped behind one of the closed doors, and Rebecca led him down the corridor. There was no flirting with her. The beauty was very serious.
«Do not think that if you are allowed to stay, you can do anything,» she warned.
«Can I see the cat that scratched you so? Does it live in the Princesss apartments?»
The Bastard always slept and ate in the Kings apartments. It must be the same here. He wondered what the local cats name is. «Is it the Sadist? Is it Lady Scratchy? Or is it just Rival?» Rebecca was definitely hurt by it, so to her the princesss cat was no other than a rival.
«If you were smarter, you wouldnt ask so many questions.»
«You sound like a schoolteacher. Where are we going, by the way?» Brendan quipped. Rebeccas coldness hurt him. Its not nice when a pretty girl pretends shes not interested in you. Nothing! After listening to him play, shell be kinder. All girls love to hear minstrels.
At the end of the corridor was a winding spiral staircase.
«Its the way to the tower,» Rebecca explained.
«Is my bedroom is in the tower?»
«Yes, it is.»
«I feel like a prisoner.»
«Dont be so dramatic. Youre a guest, of course.»
The lock on the door was strong. Rebecca opened it with a key from a large bundle she carried with her. Behind the door, however, it was so luxurious that Brendan dismissed the notion of a dungeon. The silk-covered walls, the paintings on the ceilings, and the abundance of upholstered furniture created aristocratic comfort. The bed under a lush canopy was the size of an entire tent, and there were vases of flowers on the cherry wood tables. A tray of supper was already waiting here. He wondered who had brought it. Brendan did not notice the servants. They must have learned to sneak around like shadows. With Rebeccas nervousness, it was no wonder theyd been trained that way.
Who would have thought that a wandering minstrel would be treated like a nobleman? Somethings not right after all. Either they suspected he wasnt who he said he was. Or his uncle has sent out messengers with news that hes wanted. He must be on his guard. Brendan locked the door with a latch and prepared in advance a rope from a torn sheet to escape through the window in case of capture. It was very high up here, but there were bushes of vines twisting below the tower. Their vines braided the window vault. It was a pity they were not so strong that they could be climbed down at once.
Brendans entire dinner consisted of fruit. Not a crust of bread. He wasnt used to this kind of diet, but it was better than nothing. A pitcher of fine ale supplemented his diet. The ale was unaccustomedly strong. The first sip made him insufferably sleepy. Brendan hoped he might dream again about the blonde called Rashelina.
Prisoners Dream
The vines whispered something and reached out to choke him, like living snakes or dryad hands. Brendan now understood the warning of the whisper that hovered over the fields. The whispers might be a warning to the vines coming to life. They were whispering about his fate.
«Would he survive, would he not survive? Will he love will he not love?»
Their whispering was like a little counting rhyme.
«Would the same thing happen to him that happened to everyone else? Or was he the only one who would make it?»
«He looked like a smart guy!»
Brendan fluttered his eyelids open sleepily. Could the vines really be whispering, zigzagging above his bed? He was dreaming! Hed have to be out of his mind to believe they were reaching out the window like living hands.
«Look! Hes got a handkerchief with the Kings crest on it!»
«He must have stolen it!»
The voices were still whispering, and the tip of the grapevine slid down his neck. Brendan pushed it away with his hand and sat down. When he had entered this bedroom, the vines had only hung around the high arched window, but now they lay imposingly across the rug and even draped a border around the bottom of the four-poster. What the devil is this? Or had he not looked carefully the first time?
To one of the vines was indeed clung his new handkerchief, with an Aluars crown embroidered in the corner. It was a gift from his uncle! He certainly hadnt stolen it. But could one of the mischievous vines have stolen it right out of his pocket?
Its worth a walk. Theres something wrong with this room. Perhaps insidious Rebecca had deliberately put him in a haunted tower. Everything is to be expected of that proud girl. Unlike the princess, she doesnt like visitors. Perhaps thats why the castle is so quiet and there are no servants to be seen at all. Rebecca has driven everyone out of here. But he cant be handled that easily. He was used to his uncles mentoring, he would get used to Rebeccas whims.
Brendan was sure the door was locked from the outside, but he was wrong. It gave way easily. He strode down the empty corridors of the castle. All the rooms looked uninhabitable, but luxurious. There was lots of feline molding all around. But the cats themselves were nowhere to be seen.
Brendan touched the gilded symbols embossed on the walls and columns. The patterns are amusing, as if a wizard had painted the marble with witchcraft symbols. Its definitely an imitation of magical writings! It was well done. Even Ephigenia couldnt do it. And it also glows in the dark!
His fingers ached to touch the murals and his eyes felt as if a sheath had been taken off his eyes. Brendan only now noticed the hideous, deep scratches on the furniture, the sculptures, and even the walls. They certainly werent cats claws prints. They were more like tigers or a cheetahs. Or maybe they were something bigger. Suddenly the dreadful legends of woodland werewolves sprang to mind.