Twice Upon a Marigold (13 page)

After a few more minutes the banging and the moaning stopped, and the bottom backed out of the kettle. Attached to it was a woman covered in dragon fat and soapsuds. She threw down the brush and dropped onto a stool, her head in her hands. Then she shook herself, straightened her shoulders, and looked up.

When she saw Marigold, she uttered a squawk. "Where did you come from? Who are you?"

Marigold said casually, "Who do I look like? The queen?" Then she laughed. "I'm supposed to help you in here."

"About time," Lazy Susan said. "Now that I've almost got these things finished."

"You've scrubbed all these yourself?" Marigold
looked around at an accumulation of sparkling pots. She really was surprised, considering all she'd heard about Lazy Susan's work ethic.

"All except those three."

"That's a lot of scrubbing. Why didn't you have some help?"

"Ask old lady Clover. All this hard work was her idea. I've been sitting in here for days while the pots piled up. The only way I could get a little space for myself was to wash some so they'd come take them away."

"You mean you've been
living
in here?" Marigold was shocked. Such mistreatment would never happen in the castle of Zandelphia!

"Well, almost. I get out for meals, and to sleep at night. But the queen assigned me to this job, so I get put in here every morning. And every morning there have been more pots."

"There are a lot of people to feed here. That means a lot of cookware," Marigold said, almost apologetically. She inspected a kettle. "But you've done a great job. This is spotless. And I've heard hoofenpoofer juice is really hard to get off."

"How'd you know there was hoofenpoofer juice on that?"

"Oh, there's hoofenpoofer juice on almost all the pots. Everybody likes it, but especially King Swithbert. He's always had to have at least one serving a day." It made her very sad to think of her poor father in the dungeon with none of his favorite treats.

"You really think that pot looks clean?" Lazy Susan asked.

"Absolutely. I don't know how you did it."

"Lots of scrubbing, that's how. And some spit helps, too, I discovered."

"Spit?" Marigold wondered if she'd ever want to eat hoofenpoofer at Beaurivage Castle again.

"Oh, I washed it off, but it seemed to make it easier to get the stuck-on stuff to come off."

"Well, let's get to work on the rest of these, then," Marigold said. She hoped she'd know what to do, as she'd never scrubbed out a pot in her life.

Pretty soon Lazy Susan was giving her advice and correcting her technique, to the point where Marigold began to feel annoyed. Scrubbing pots wasn't dragon slaying, after all, and from what Marigold knew of Lazy Susan's reputation, she was certainly no expert on cleaning things.

"You must have been doing this for a long time," Marigold said, somewhat testily, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Not so long," Lazy Susan's voice echoed from inside a kettle. "I guess I must just have a knack for it."

Remembering what she was there for, Marigold decided it was time to get down to business. "I guess you must. But didn't I hear you'd been Queen Olympia's maid? How come you're in the scullery now?"

Lazy Susan backed out of the kettle. "Oooh, that—that—that
woman,
" she said through clenched teeth, then proceeded to tell Marigold the whole story of how she and Angie had been friends, and what had happened after Angie turned into Olympia. "I couldn't believe how different she was then. Angie was sweet, and helpful, and had a sense of humor. Olympia is—" She stopped speaking abruptly, as if realizing that what she'd been about to say could be taken as treachery if said to the wrong person. Everyone in the castle had been very prudent in their conversations ever since they'd heard what happened to Swithbert, Ed, and Magnus.

"Why didn't you just go home?" Marigold asked her, really curious. "Back to Granolah." She was so stunned at the idea that for a year Olympia had been a nice person named Angie that she couldn't even think of a question to ask about that.

"I wanted—oh, you'll probably think this is silly—but I wanted to live in a castle for a while, just to see what it's like. My sister—my half sister, really—she's married to a prince, and she gets to live in one all the time."

"Living in a castle might not be what you expected."

"That's what Mrs. Clover says. And that's what I'm finding out. Now that you mention it, I might just about be ready to go home. Too bad this pretty castle isn't being run better."

"I know what you mean," Marigold said. "Sometimes I've wondered why everybody here doesn't just rise up and grab the queen and carry her down to the dungeon."

"Really?" Lazy Susan put down her scrub brush. "I've wondered that, too. I guess everybody's afraid of her. And there probably are some who would support her, and the riser-uppers would have to be afraid of them, too. If anyone even knew who they were."

"Do you think Rollo would be one of her supporters? With all his guards and archers? That would make a mutiny a lot harder, wouldn't it?"

"It's hard to tell about Rollo. His wife, Meg, is one of the kitchen maids and, to hear her talk, he's a big pussycat at home. Just a little jealous. But he loves being captain of the guards almost more than he loves Meg. Though she says sometimes he doesn't feel so good about doing things the queen orders him to do. But maybe he'd support anybody who'd let him still be captain."

"What if somebody sweetened that some?" Marigold said, thinking fast. "Gave him a fancier uniform, or a more important title, or a better horse?"

"From what I hear, I think he'd like that."

"What if I told you there was a plot forming to get rid of the queen? Would you be interested in joining in? If the answer is no, I'll deny I ever said any such thing to you."

Lazy Susan thought for a moment. Lying around in a hammock had once seemed like a pleasant way to spend her life, but she was starting to see that there was a lot of stuff going on in the world that she'd been missing out on completely. Some of the stuff was hard, and unpleasant, and even dangerous, but all of it was more interesting than lying in a hammock forever. And what could be more interesting (also dangerous and hard and, in parts, probably unpleasant) than a revolution? Might as well start in with her project of living a fuller life with the wildest possible thing.

"Sure," she said. "Count me in. If ever there was somebody just begging to be deposed, it's Olympia."

"Oh, great," Marigold said, clapping her hands. "Do you know anybody else we can count on for sure?"

"I haven't been here long enough to know very many people, but most of the kitchen staff seems pretty upset with Olympia, the way she wants special meals in the middle of the night, or orders a dish and
then finds something wrong with it, and throws it on the floor. That's just rude."

"You're right," Marigold said, hoping she'd never done anything so impolite, or spoiled, or discourteous. Being royal could turn into a bad habit if you ever forgot, even for a minute, how fortunate you were. It was good to remember that a rebellion could be brewing at any time. It was good, too, to remember how hard a lot of people had to work to keep a kingdom running well, and that it was simply good manners to let them know, from time to time, how valued they were. "Well, do you think you could do a little inquiring—subtly, of course—in the next day or so and find out how much support there would be for a revolution? And I will, too."

"I'll do my best. But as long as we're stuck in here with these pots all day there isn't much we can do."

"Well, let's get these pots taken care of and get out of here," Marigold said, taking up a scrub brush and starting in with a vengeance on a particularly nasty accumulation of dragon fat. As she scrubbed, she thought about Olympia as a nice person named Angie and had trouble believing it could be possible.

Ed, Chris, Magnus, Swithbert, and Finbar spent a long, boring afternoon waiting for Marigold to return. They devised a game of throwing Ed's gold button at the little mice that scampered with regularity through the dungeon. But they were all lousy shots, and before long it seemed as if the mice were taunting them by sauntering saucily along the wall, or zigzagging brazenly across the floor. Still, they were glad they had Ed's salvaged button to relieve the tedium.

Ed was about ready to go after the little rascals with his bare hands when Marigold returned, carrying a kettle of gruel.

Proudly, she said, "I volunteered to do what nobody else likes to do: bring the prisoners their supper."

"I'm not sure we'll be thanking you, precious," Swithbert said.

Marigold set the kettle on the floor. "At least it's hot," she told them. "I insisted."

"Still not sure about any thanks," Chris said, examining the contents of the pot, though he was certainly thankful that she'd made it back without her true identity being discovered.

"I have to go back and get Finbar's supper. It's different from yours."

"Thank goodness," Finbar muttered.

"He's supposed to stay down here, on guard, until the trial," Marigold added.

"I thought for sure she'd have it today," Finbar said, "since it was Market Day, and there'd be such a big audience."

"Oh," Marigold said. "I found out she's so busy with fittings for a new wardrobe she didn't have time for a trial today. But it'll probably be on the next Market Day. She wanted to be sure she had the right outfit to wear to it."

"So we're stuck down here for another three days?" Swithbert asked.

"I'm not," Chris said. "I can go back to Zandelphia and smuggle in things that'll make your stay more comfortable."

"And I can bring things down from your quarters here," Marigold said. "As a maid, I'll have the run of the castle."

"You're going to keep being a maid for three more days?" Chris asked, aghast.

"Well, I sort of have to, don't I, if I'm going to try to organize a revolt from within. Which, by the way, seems to be a popular idea. It's even possible we could get Rollo to join us if we offer him some bonuses."

"She's right," Swithbert said. "She has to do it. It's the only way we can stay alert to the mood in the castle. But I have a hard time believing Rollo would join us. However, we shouldn't pass up anything that could give us an advantage."

"Could you please," Magnus put in diffidently, "bring me some clothes? At least some pants? I don't want to go on trial in my dressing gown."

"If everything goes the way we want it to," Marigold said, starting back up the stairs, "there won't be any trial. But I'll find you some pants anyway. Back in a bit with Finbar's dinner. Maybe I can also bring something from the kitchen to improve the gruel."

***

F
OR THE NEXT
couple of days, Marigold buzzed around the castle, staying out of Olympia's way and doing all she could to drum up support for the rebellion. It pleased her to know how fond the populace was of Swithbert, and how opposed most of them were to living under Olympia's ironfisted rule. But she was also dismayed to see how the emotional tide was turning against Swithbert because of his failure to control the queen. If Swithbert didn't take a stand, he would be deposed along with Olympia. Someone else the people liked better—maybe even Magnus, the king's closest direct relative not already ruling somewhere else—would inherit the kingdom of Beaurivage.

Marigold vowed she would remove her own liver with a rusty fork before she would scare her father with that news.

L
AZY
S
USAN, TOO
, was spreading the word about a possible solution to the kingdom's discontent—and meeting a good many new people in the process. In Granolah she'd known everybody, and was so used to them that she barely paid them any attention anymore. Now, making so many new acquaintances made her feel all zippy with energy and curiosity—something she hadn't known could be so much fun.

She bumped into Mr. Lucasa on the stairs one afternoon. He was carrying a basket full of garments for Olympia, as well as a honey tart with a fancy crust that he'd made, and she was carrying a basket of beautiful fresh flowers from the gardens. Mrs. Clover had given her time off from the dirty pots as a reward for work well done, and she'd been assigned to distribute bouquets to the third-floor bedrooms. So hard work
did
have its rewards.

"Hello," she said. "I haven't seen you for days. What have you been doing?"

"Sewing, pinning, sewing some more, cooking, making cakes, trudging up and down stairs to run errands for an unreasonable woman, not getting much sleep. How about you?"

"Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing, and also not getting very much sleep. Whoever said working in a castle was a good thing?"

"I'm not sure anybody ever said it," Mr. Lucasa said. "But most people need jobs, and the castle's where the jobs are."

"Would you say this castle is a good place to work?"

"I've never worked in any other so I can't really say, but all in all, I think I prefer working for myself. There is a lot of satisfaction in making things other people
enjoy. But my primary customer here is somebody who's almost impossible to please, and there's not much satisfaction in that. There are times I want to call her a
Backpfeifengesicht.
"

"A
what
?"

"It's a German word. It means a face that cries out for a fist in it. But I'm keeping my temper under control. Anger hardly ever solves a problem, I've learned."

"But how about rebellion? Can't that sometimes solve a problem?"

"What do you mean? A rebellion against"—he lowered his voice—"the queen?"

She nodded a tiny nod.

"You just got here," he said, surprised. "And you're already involved in such a thing?"

"It doesn't take long to see how she operates. You already want to put your fist in her face. Think how people feel who've been working for her for a long time."

Mr. Lucasa rubbed his chin. He'd been so busy he hadn't had time to shave, and he'd begun growing a small white beard, which, Lazy Susan thought, was rather becoming on him. "You probably have a point. I've heard certain mutterings among the cooks and bakers. And I was told that Mrs. Vienna replaced a seamstress who got exiled because she'd left a pin in one of the queen's dresses and it poked her. The
punishment seemed a bit drastic for the crime, in my opinion."