Annatrice of Cayborne (5 page)

“You must help yourself, otherwise there will be little left.” Marianne gestured to the spread the like of which Annatrice had never seen. Annatrice looked down at her intricately engraved wooden platter and matching eating tools and then up to see a dozen eyes watching her every move. Annatrice froze and refused to be drawn into potential ridicule, she had no idea how to proceed, and these tools were alien to her as was the setting. Marianne seeing her caution attempted to strike up a little small talk to distract the curious girl's curious attention.

“I hear Marubelle the King's cook has a new addition to her family, a Greystone Cat!”

Marianne smiled as her ladies cooed in delight.

“Oh Marianne, you must tell her to bring it to us, they are such treasures!” An excitable girl appealed and the others echoed her sentiments. Annatrice took the opportunity to ignore the banal conversation to study the array of food and snaffle a large bread roll and a slab of boiled ham. Breaking the tender bread with her fingers, she rolled the meat and stuffed it between the spongy layers and took a bite so large that her mouth was too full to speak. Marianne noticed her faux pas but wisely let it slide, she did not yet know the background of this child who spoke so eloquently but was clearly not from a noble line.

“Tell us Anna, have you ever owned a pet?” One of the smallest of the girls piped up and suddenly the table fell silent, all eyes drawn towards the new girl, cheeks bulging and macerated bread clearly seen as her lips could not possibly close over, her mouth being too full. An excruciating period of silence ensued as Annatrice tried desperately to clear her load but the meat's chewy bulk did little to aid her efforts. Finally swallowing loudly and with some discomfort, Annatrice took a deep inhalation and looked up to the heavens for some kind of inspiration.

“My name is not Anna.” Was the reply, a stern and unexpected scolding to the small girl who clearly expected a more pleasant start to the conversation? Another awkward silence followed as the other children seemed uneasy about resuming the small talk lest they get another firm rebuke. Marianne interjected.  Her diplomacy skills well practised.

“Yes, we should all make efforts to refer to each other with the names we prefer, I personally was often referred to as Mary in my youth...quite disenchanting.” The girls laughed at a rare insight into their nannies youth.

“I believe we were talking about Miss Marubelle's new pet. Annatrice, as Lehona asked, can you tell us if you have ever owned a pet?”

Marianne was determined to get Annatrice involved in the conversation, she could see that she was at this time, isolated and unwilling to initiate conversation with her peers. Annatrice once again froze; the expectation of her next words seemed to be greater than they ought to be.

“Had a brown rat. Stumpy.”

Instead of the proportionate response she had expected, a set of contorted, disgusted faces revealed more than just their dislike of verminous rodents. Annatrice realised that these were not the children of slain peasants like her father, but the orphaned offspring of nobles.

“Stumpy!” One girl squawked in mirth as the others followed. Annatrice was unimpressed at first, but the fact that she had brought a little laughter to her new 'family' gave her some comfort, and realising her success, she continued along the same vein.

“Stumpy so called because he used to chew into our food store, my father caught him one day and was going to splice him in two with the spade but then we noticed he only had three legs and we took pity on him.”

Annatrice's tale brought about mirth, and then trepidation followed but coos of maternal warmth.

“And what happened to dear old stumpy?” An older girl asked above the hubbub of noise.

“We ate him.”

Annatrice's reply brought about a sudden deathly silence. Her serious and solemn face sent the rest of the girls into a state of shock. It was not the thought of eating rat that seemed to be objectionable, but the motive itself.

“But...but why?” Lehona's timid voice inquired.

“We were hungry.” Annatrice replied succinctly. There was another long and lingering silence, even Marianne was quite speechless. Annatrice looked around the room at the girls, so naïve they were, so privileged that they were appalled by such trivia. Annatrice motioned to speak.

“Look at your faces!” Annatrice burst out laughing, it was a humour that was lost upon the other girls and it took quite a time for the penny to begin to drop.

“You liar!” Lehona squealed, quite appalled by Annatrice's behaviour, she began to cry and the others comforted her. Annatrice looked at Lehona with some disgust at her apparently weak constitution. She grasped her table knife and stabbed a morsel of meat, thrusting it into her mouth, her contempt for the fortunate rich girls clear, choosing not to follow convention. A sharp pain brought about a quick withdrawal of the tool as Annatrice realised she had sliced into her lip, the knife sharper than she had reckoned. With the recoil of the stinging sensation of her flesh being spliced, a sudden wash of emotion, confusion and then clarity overcame Annatrice. In a fleeting moment, the thoughts and emotions of her contemporaries were glaringly apparent. Annatrice looked around the room and one by one, analysed each of her peers. The results brought Annatrice to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the cold stone floor. Another silence was brought about as the girls once again looked at the new and mysterious arrival.

“Fascinating...” Annatrice said as she cocked her head to one side, her face anguished as she tried to make sense of the muddle. One by one, she looked at the faces of those sat around her and called out as if unable to hold her tongue.

“You...you think I am a peasant, therefore I am worthless.” Annatrice looked deep into the eyes of the nearest girl, a tall blonde haired individual with a sharp nose and prominent teeth and then moved to the next.

“You think I am a threat to you as I am beautiful and slim.”  She said looking at the next girl in line, a larger, fuller faced specimen.

“You are frightened of me and think me to be a witch.” Annatrice addressed the child Lehona, whose face emptied of all colour, her jaw agape. The next in turn was Marianne herself who sat upright and nervous, attempting to take in the fast paced course of events.

“You Marianne...” Annatrice halted her savage display of perception, her face more pained now.

“You fear for me... you wonder how long it will be before I am sent for, like the others, just like you were... before you grew old and no longer captured his interest. You wonder why you do not have the courage to leave, why you did not have the will to resist his advances...”

“STOP!” Marianne cried out with a blast of anger and the urgency of a mother whose mystique was being blown asunder in front of her children.

“Go to your bed now and do not return until I have sent for you!” Marianne's demand was stern and Annatrice immediately took flight having been scolded in such an aggressive manner. Annatrice struggled to fight back the tears as she threw herself into the bed and pulled the covers up over her face. In the day room, several stunned young girls finished their meal in silence as Marianne sat and stared into space. They dare not even look into their guardians eyes through fear of seeing the moisture well up in them. Marianne was always so strong and in control, Annatrice had seen fit to destroy her veneer of invincibility with the careless slip of a knife and an even more careless slip of the tongue.

CHAPTER SIX

Annatrice lie in her bed for what seemed an inordinate amount of time. She could hear from the next room the movement and chatter of the other girls and the occasional distinct voice of Marianne. Annatrice was hot, sweaty and in turmoil. She had not planned her first encounter with the others to be so eventful, nor did she intend to offend Marianne who had shown her such patience. The stuffiness of the heavy sheets eventually subsided as the room grew darker and cooler and it was clear that night was falling.

“Are you awake?” A voice came from the doorway; a silhouette cast a large shadow across the room.

“Yes.” Annatrice replied meekly to Marianne who entered and stood at her bedside.

“May I talk?” She asked. Annatrice did not expect her to be so nervous around her. She sat up, the lamplight shining a warm glow across her face. Marianne sat perched on the edge of the bed and looked Annatrice in the eye.

“I know this is a frightful situation to find yourself in. I too was once a young girl as you are, alone and in fear. I'm sorry that things did not go well earlier. We should have spoken beforehand; I should have made the time to get to know you a little...”

Marianne was indeed contrite and seemingly blaming herself for the earlier episode.

“I am sorry too. You have shown me great kindness.” Annatrice could not yet look at the elder woman, she had realised that she had overstepped the boundaries of acceptable behaviour.

“We are all in a curious position here in the castle. We have all loved and lost, we are all victims to a degree. I am sure that you understand.” Annatrice nodded, she certainly empathised in that respect.

“We are here at the King's bidding, it is a role that we as free spirits find abhorrent yet we linger because we have strength in unity. You may feel that the other ladies have seen great privileges that you have not and you may feel that they will not accept you into their 'family' but fear not, they are much like you and deserve your respect as much as you will demand theirs. You will see in time that you have far more in common than you realise; they too are the spoils of war, their fathers devoted as was yours. They have come to accept as you will that living at the mercy of the Regis although unsavoury as it may be, is necessary in order to maintain a level of dignity and the prospect of a future. We live here very well; the ladies are schooled, clothed and offered the best of everything the King can provide albeit...at a price.”

Annatrice listened to Marianne and understood her sentiments despite them being addled by years of incarceration.

“And when the King comes for me, I am expected to willingly give myself to the man who had my father slain?”

Marianne looked at Annatrice's dark eyes and bit her lip not quite knowing how to respond.

“The first time will be the hardest, it will get easier.”

Annatrice was outraged by Marianne's capitulation and her weak answer.

“I'll take his manhood off with a sharp blade; it will be he who will be left with regret!” Annatrice whispered through gritted teeth causing Marianne to clutch at the young girls arm.

“No, Annatrice. You do not understand. This would be your undoing. Be like the tree that is battered by the wind and rain but remains standing tall and proud to prosper the next day. We live a fortunate existence here at Fontayne; we suffer in silence but grow strong through our kinship.”

Annatrice looked up to the heavens and ran her fingers through her long, sleek almost black hair.

“The King has cast a spell on you all; you give thanks to your captor for the bribes he bestows upon you in return for your favour. You are slaves to his depravity. Can you not see how wrong this is?”

Marianne nodded, this was not the first time she had had this conversation.

“Annatrice, you are wise beyond your years. I have never met another of the like. I have heard petty talk and rumour of your encounter with Tragian; you speak from the heart and with the courage of a lion but your outspoken nature will quickly become your weakness in this place. Quarrel with Tragian at your peril, his thirst for blood equals only his hunger for virgin flesh, you must relent to his will, to oppose him would be your end.”

Annatrice looked at Marianne with a sideways glance; they both knew that the time of her purity had since passed. Annatrice motioned to speak on the subject but was quickly silenced by Marianne.

“You will not speak of it...ever. If Tragian discovers that you have been taken, he will dispose of you quicker than he would wipe the mud from his boot.”

Annatrice looked downwards glumly; it was not in anyone's interest to reveal this except for the small satisfaction of denying Tragian his sick fantasies.

“It is almost time for our gathering. It is a time where we sit and share stories. We are about to begin a new manuscript of some renown. I believe you would enjoy it. Will you join us this evening?” Marianne was doing her best to be inclusive; she was all too aware that solitude at a time like this was only destructive. Annatrice nodded reluctantly, she did not enjoy the prospect of returning to the scrutiny of the others.

“Before we do, I...”

Marianne seemed suddenly speechless, as if trying to formulate her words without causing offence. Marianne laughed.

“I think that I was waiting for you to read my thoughts and finish my sentence?” She smiled at Annatrice to understood and saw the humorous side of it.

“I am intrigued.” Marianne said, hoping that Annatrice would enlighten her.

“How do you...what...?” Marianne stumbled once more.

“I do not know. It is something that seems to be happening since yesterday. I don't really know how it works.” Annatrice struggled to put her feelings into a cohesive sentence, it was clear however that a curious talent was emerging.

“I cannot see your thoughts now if that is what you are asking? I'm not sure it works that way.”