First Chapter: The Pretender Princess
THE PRETENDER PRINCESS
CHAPTER 1
Shell looked up and down the street for prospects. She might not have been clear about what the word “prospects” was or what it meant, but she knew the concept well. To her, it meant men she could steal coin purses from and get away.
It wasn’t that she enjoyed stealing. Stealing was against the law, and there was always a risk in breaking the law, even when you were still a child. Begging and honest work paid slightly better, and were both safer. But there hadn’t been honest work in a while, and she didn’t yet look rough enough to be a good beggar.
That was something she was learning as she was getting older. Young children could be dressed any which way and, if they were on the streets asking for coins, someone would toss a copper or two their way. Perhaps even a silver now and again. Older children, however, had to be in clothes that were torn and a bit dirty to get tossed coppers. If they weren’t, then folk said they were children from “good homes stealing from the poor.”
It didn’t seem like stealing to her, nor did it seem fair. But life was hardly fair for anyone out on the streets, especially a girl.
What was just as unfair was how bad her hair felt. Her hair was the color of fire, and it made her stand out. Even in Falls Mouth, where there were more with her sort of hair from the north coming and going, she stood out. She’d learned from getting caught twice before that she needed to change the color of her hair if she was going to get away with stealing. She’d gone to the edge of town, found some dirt, and rubbed it into her red locks to dull them.
She’d thought about going to the port side of town and getting mud. But as itchy as dirt made her hair feel, mud made her feel worse. It took a long time to clean off. Sometimes it stank, and the smell lasted for more than a day. And it wasn’t like she was going to come by soap easily.
That was something else that had gotten into her head of late. There was a time, not long ago, when she enjoyed playing in the mud, with or without other children. Now, though, she thought of mud as an annoyance to be avoided. She suspected she was getting older, and that was giving her strange thoughts. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be older, yet she didn’t like the notion of always being a child and at the mercy of adults.
Adults, her rambling mind reminded her, like the men walking up and down the street.
Not finding good prospects made her mind wander. A rumble in her belly got her mind to focus on the task at hand.
A few moments later she saw a man she thought might be good. He was dressed well, in a fine green shirt, black leggings, and shined brown boots. His coin purse was on his belt. She paused for a breath, then burst from her hiding place at the head of an alleyway.
She skipped towards the man, laughing. That part was easy. What was hard was paying attention to her target while not appearing to notice him. She didn’t have as much practice at that as some of the other children of the streets did. All the same, she put in her best effort.
Then the man stopped walking and tried to avoid her. She in turn had to alter her movements so she ran into him. They both tumbled to the street in a heap.
“Stupid girl!” he shouted.
She looked into his dark eyes. “Forgive me, good man.” She managed to get her hand onto his coin purse.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“I’m ever so sorry.” She almost had the purse loose.
A hand clapped onto hers. “You little thief!”
“What?”
The man was on his feet faster than she thought possible. His hand was grabbing hers. “Soldiers! Soldiers!”
“Let me go!” she squealed, trying to wriggle free.
She was almost free of him when she saw a pair of soldiers coming up the street from the east. She turned west, and saw two more approaching. Her mind raced as she tried to determine what she ought to do, since it was uncommon for soldiers to come so quickly, and from different directions.
The moment of indecision cost her. The man was able to get hold of her other hand and restrain her. He held on tight, even as she continued to twist and pull away from him. He kept his grip on her until the soldiers arrived.
“You’ve done well, Master Lucas,” she heard one of them say to the man.
“I am loyal to His Grace, after all,” the man replied.
“And His Grace will reward you for your loyalty in due time.”
“I have time to wait.”
Shell understood their words but not their meaning. It sounded to her like this was an effort to capture her. As she hadn’t broken the law in a season or two, she didn’t know why they would bother. She knew Cloudy had broken the law just the previous day.
Yet it was clear someone wanted her taken. She glanced around to see if she might be able to disappear if she got away from the soldiers. There were enough on the streets that she could fade into the crowd, but all four soldiers were now around her.
That seemed like a great many to arrest one girl.
She had heard of one of the ways in which adults could hurt older girls that seemed to have to do with how babies were made. But she knew she was still at least a few years away from looking old enough to worry about that. What’s more, there were only a couple of men in Falls Mouth who were said to like girls in that way. But they had coins and paid for the girls’ time, and neither was the Baron of Falls Mouth.
Shell didn’t think of herself as particularly curious about how things happened. Her life and the city were what they were. But to be arrested by four soldiers, and to have a man help them arrest her, felt strange in a way she couldn’t understand. Something bigger than trying to get through each day was happening.
Something big was happening to her. It felt to her that, if she was to survive, she’d have to accept that this big thing was indeed happening. She would have to be curious. She would have to watch and learn.
“Come along, girl,” one of the soldiers said to her.
“As you say,” she replied.
“And don’t think about trying to get away.”
“Why not?” she chose to ask.
“You’d make us angry if you tried. You’d not like us angry.” His voice was stern but not entirely threatening.
Shell shrugged and nodded to him.
He took her by her left upper arm. He held her arm firmly but not so tightly that it hurt. The soldier that had arrived with him fell in beside her to the right. The other two soldiers marched behind them.
From an early age she had to know the city. This was most helpful when she needed the skill she’d picked up of reading. Being able to read letters as well as symbols allowed her to get work delivering messages. Because of that skill she was more familiar with the city than most of the children on the streets.
The city sat at a place where a river poured into a sea. She wasn’t certain about the name of either the river or the sea, just what they were. What was important about them was that they brought in trade, and trade shaped how the city was laid out.
That part of the city next to the sea was known as Dockside. It was where ships brought in goods, and as such was where most of the warehouses in the city were located. Some folk did travel by ship, so there was one inn there. Past the warehouses were taverns for the laborers and the sailors. There were also places women worked called “brothels,” but Shell was told by older children that she wasn’t old enough to know what went on there.
Past Dockside and along the river was the part of the city where tradesmen worked. There were blacksmiths, wheelwrights, masons, and others in the skilled trades with their workshops. Some did work for the ships and their owners. Some did work for the folk of the city. Shell didn’t know why they were in that part of the city, nor had she ever thought to ask. All she cared about was that it was the part of the city where she was most likely to get honest work and to be paid well for such work.
Between the side of the river and the docks, in the center of the city, were the marketplaces of the city. Because of the ships, and the wagons that went north over the Falls Mouth Bridge and south into the kingdom, several marketplaces had arisen. There was one for buying goods that came in by ship. There was one for buying clothes, another for tools, and another for pretty things. Each marketplace was where two streets came together, and was as wide as a building. Folk lived around these marketplaces, either because they had a shop or a stall in them or because it was an easy place to be found. In was just past the one where the pretties were sold that Shell had been caught.
The poor folk lived south of the marketplaces and west of Dockside. As one went west across the city the houses got better and better. Shell was certain this was because the smells of Dockside and the markets decreased. Finally, just east of the city, was where the Baron’s Manor was located. It was the one place in the city Shell had never been to.
She’d never had a reason to go there. Along one of the marketplaces was the Town Hall, where trials were held. She’d been brought in there once or twice, charged, and let go because of her age. Not far away was the soldiers’ barracks, and under that was the jail, where she’d spent a few nights because she’d been caught stealing late and was forced to spend a night and a day there. The Baron never had cause to hire a girl of the streets like her. Yet the soldiers were taking her across the city towards the Manor.
No one she knew from the streets had ever been there. Trials took place at Town Hall, and only if one committed murder or some other serious crime did the Baron preside at the trial. She’d done jobs for men and women who knew the Baron, but that’s as close to nobility as she’d been. She hadn’t been able to steal the coin purse, and she hadn’t worked recently for anyone who knew the Baron, so she had no notion of why the soldiers were taking her there.
It was impressive to her once she saw it. Like the best homes in the city it had a ground floor and an upper floor. Unlike those homes it was as long as three, and there were other buildings next to it. One seemed to be a stable, as she saw a man leading a horse out of it. The main home was built of stone with wooden beams around the doors and windows, the latter of which there were quite a few.
Aside from the width of the Manor, what captured Shell’s attention was the open space around it. It was set back from the road leading west, and there was a field of grass between the road and the Manor. There was another field behind the Manor, and that one was bordered by trees. The trees extended to the river, which angled away from the manor before continuing westward. Close to the front of the Manor were flowers in neat rows showing off an array of colors and, as she passed by them, smells.
It wasn’t at all like anything in the city. That made her think the Manor was both wonderful and terrifying.
Only the soldier holding onto her arm took her to the two front doors of the Manor. The doors opened, and two more soldiers stood just inside. One of the two looked to the solder holding her. “Her hair doesn’t look at that red,” he said to the soldier.
“Give her a bath,” he replied. “She sometimes puts things in her hair to hide herself.”
It was only then that Shell realized the soldier was one of those that patrolled the streets. There were several of them, and she had tried to avoid being known by them. That meant knowing their chainmail armor, black boots, and white shirts, but not their faces.
She’d thought that to know a soldier’s face was to have him know hers. She’d never thought to ask if that was the right thing for her to do or not. She understood in that moment that it had been a mistake. Knowing their faces would have led to her knowing their names. She might have therefore known they were searching for her. If all this was for a job she’d put them through a great deal of work for coppers. They’d remember that and might be inclined to punish her if the job didn’t go well.
She vowed to pay more attention to those around her, if she survived whatever was going to happen to her.
The soldier past the door who’d spoke looked at her. “Behave and do as you’re asked, and you’ll be clothed and fed. Understand?”
“Of course I understand,” she answered.
“Good. Come in, then.”
The soldier holding her arm gave her a push. She went through the open doorway. The doors closed behind her.
She was inside a room that was wide but not very long. Halls led to her left and right. Another, wide hall was ahead of her, and it led to a staircase. There was no decoration in the room, other than a painted shield over the entrance to the hallway ahead of her. Sunlight flooded into the room from tall windows, but sconces told her it would be lit by lanterns and candles at night, which spoke of great wealth.
One of the soldiers called out a woman’s name. A round woman raced in from the hallway to Shell’s left. The soldier told her to give Shell a bath and to put her in a clean gown. That soldier remained in the room while the other went with her and the woman.
Shell was indeed given a proper bath, with soap, the first she’d had in ages, but it wasn’t a warm or relaxing bath. She’d been taken to a small washroom. The soldier had remained outside while the woman took Shell into the room. The woman had Shell take off her clothes and hop into a tub of cool water. She was told to clean herself thoroughly, including her hair. The woman stepped out of the room, then came back several moments later with a yellow gown with white trim.
The thought of escape hadn’t entered Shell’s mind. For one thing, there were no windows in the washroom. The only way out was through the door, and she was certain that was guarded.
For another, she didn’t think she was in any trouble or danger. She’d failed at theft earlier, and it had been a good long while since she’d broken the law. She hung around the other poor children of the streets, and that meant being around the city’s criminals. But it had been a season or two since anything had been done to the rich of the city that would upset the soldiers, so there was nothing she could tell to the Baron to get anyone arrested.
Then there was the prospect of being clothed and fed, and perhaps paid. Her old gown was getting threadbare, and the bottom was only a little past her knees, as she’d been growing again. She’d attempted a theft to get coins to buy food. Who was she to question free food and new clothes?
Once she was clean and dry the woman helped her into the gown. It held loose on Shell’s body, and was only a finger or two lower than her old gown. But it seemed to make her worthy of being seen by the Baron, and was good enough for the woman. She took Shell out of the room and handed her off to the soldier.
The soldier took her by the arm and led her back down that hallway and up the one that had been to her right. She was taken past one door and to a second. The soldier knocked on the door. Another soldier opened in, and she was taken into another room.
This one had two windows on the wall opposite the door. It felt large to her, but even the washroom had felt large to her. The soldier turned her to the right upon entering. There she saw grand tapestries around the door and behind an ornate chair that was white hints of gold. In that chair sat a man in a crimson shirt, brown leggings, and tall black boots. He had light brown hair and dark brown eyes. His back was stiff but he didn’t appear to Shell to be the least bit uncomfortable, as if he always sat that way.
The soldier brought her within a couple of paces of the man. “This is her, Your Grace,” he said.
The man looked at her for a moment. “She does indeed have the hair.” He looked into her eyes. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Shell,” she answered.
The soldier jerked her arm. “Be respectful!”
“What?”
“Give him your name, and respect his title.”
She looked from the soldier to the man. “I don’t understand.”
The man smiled to her. “You say, ‘I don’t understand, Your Grace.”
The words started to make sense to her. “I don’t understand, Your Grace.”
“Good. Now, girl, what don’t you understand?”
“I gave you my name.” She paused. “Your Grace.”
“No one names their child ‘Shell,’ girl. What was the name given to you?”
She sighed. “I don’t know, Your Grace. I’ve always been Shell.”
She knew she once had a proper name. But Blade, the boy that took her in from her parents, told her to forget her proper name. “It’s born names that’ll get you caught by the soldiers,” he warmed. “It’s born names that put others in danger.”
He asked her what she had on her. The only thing she had, other than her clothes, was a necklace she’d made from twine and a seashell. Blade took to calling her “Shell,” and that was that. Within a season everyone just called her Shell, and it was the only name she’d answered to ever since.
“Not always, girl. Do you recall what your parents called you?” the man asked.
She shook her head. “I barely remember them now. Your Grace.”
“What do you remember?”
She thought back. “I remember a house here in the city.”
“Where?”
“Not far from Dockside.”
“Were they young? Old?”
She shrugged. “Parents. Your Grace.”
He pointed at her. “Did they have hair like yours?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t, Your Grace. They had hair more like yours, Your Grace.”
He gave her a slight frown. “No need to lay it on so thick, girl.”
She was confused by what he said but she kept quiet.
“Very well. Do you know the color of their eyes? Light brown, like yours?”
She shook her head.
“What happened to them?”
“Father was sick, as I recall, Your Grace.”
“And your mother?”
“She wasn’t sick.”
“Then how did you end up on the streets?”
“Mother told Blade she couldn’t care for me anymore, Your Grace. She asked him to look out for me while Father was ill.”
“Blade? Who is he?”
“Killed in a fight in Dockside, Your Grace,” the soldier said.
Shell had felt sadness about hearing of Blade’s death over the winter. He’d looked after her for years. Then last spring he left her with the other children. He was grown, so the others said, and was more interested in women than in girls. From what she’d heard, he was so interested in one that he was willing to fight a man over her. Shell wasn’t certain she believed the tale, but it was what went around the city, so she took it as truth.
It was another part of life she didn’t understand but simply accepted.
“Tell me, girl,” the man in the chair said to Shell, “did this Blade keep you from your parents?”
“No, Your Grace,” she replied. “He looked after me.”
“Didn’t you want to go home?”
“He did take me home.” She thought again. “I left in the winter, and we went back in the spring. Mother and Father were gone, and a young man and a woman were there instead.”
“Didn’t you or this boy ask about your parents?”
“We did, Your Grace. The man said he’d bought the house at Town Hall. The owner had died and the widow had left the city.”
“Widow? Your mother?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I see. Had you any brothers or sisters?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“I’m told you can read. Who taught you this skill? Your parents?”
Shell could only shrug again. “I suppose so, Your Grace. I knew my letters when Blade started taking care of me. He helped me to put them into words.”
“Could he read?”
“Only a little, Your Grace.”
“But you continued to learn, yes?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Why?”
“It helps me earn honest work, Your Grace.”
“You carry messages around the city sometimes, is that so?”
She nodded.
“And you read to find out where you’re supposed to go, yes?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Can’t you just see the signs?”
“I’ve been asked to take messages to houses, Your Grace. I get told where to go. Which street and which house. I have to know the street signs for that.”
“That’s quite unusual, girl.”
“It is, Your Grace?”
“Indeed. Few of my subjects of means would trust a child of the streets with carrying private messages. Do you know what that means?”
She shook her head.
“That is a message that only the one who gives it and receives it is supposed to know what it is. A young man wishes to marry a young woman, say. The young man feels he cannot let his master or his family know his feelings for this young woman. He must therefore send her a private message, from his house to hers. Now do you understand?”
“I do, Your Grace.” She was certain she’d only carried messages like that once or twice, but she could grasp the concept all the same.
“Because you can read, you can be trusted to go to the right street, rather than to a shop. Let’s see how well you can read, shall we?”
She shrugged and nodded. She noticed that he had a rolled-up piece of paper in his lap. He unrolled the paper and handed it to her.
“Read as much as you can, if you would.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She looked at the paper. The writing wasn’t light straight lines she was used to. The ink was deep in the paper. Some lines were curved or angled, and a few flowed into or around the letters around them. All the same, the words were as clear to her as they had been any other time she’d been asked to carry a message.
“‘Be it known,’” she read slowly, “‘that Baron Talbot of Cross Timbers has been crowned King of Centerland, as he and his army have dispatched the most cruel King Edward the Second in a battle that took place near the village of Round Top.’”
“That’s enough,” the man said. “Enough for now, at least.”
Shell handed the paper back to him. “Is that what you wanted me to do, Your Grace?”
“You’re a bold one. No, girl, it’s not. But you have shown that you can read, and that’s what I heard about you. As to your parents, I cannot say, though I shall try to find out who they were and what happened to them. For now, you will be given a room here, along with proper clothes and food. You shall also be taught a few things, girl.”
“Taught?” she whispered.
“Yes. How to eat properly, at a table with folk of means. How to dress yourself, and what clothes to look for. How to speak to those with titles. A few other things as well.”
“May I ask why, Your Grace?”
“For now, girl, learn your lessons, and learn them well. If you do so, over the winter we shall talk about why I’m granting you this blessing.” He pointed at her. “And make no mistake. This is my gift to you. Abuse it, and you’ll be out on the streets.”
She had been on the streets for years. That threat didn’t frighten her. But if the choice was learning from this man or scrambling for food and warmth, she’d learn. She bowed her head to him.
“Good. One last thing, for now. You must have a proper name. That name shall be Rebecca. From this moment on, it will be the name you answer to. Do you understand?”
She bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good.” The man looked at the soldier. “Put Margaret in charge of her. Tell her she’ll answer to me about what to do with this young lady.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the soldier said.
The man turned to Shell, Rebecca, once more. “I am Baron Simon of Falls Mouth, Rebecca. Welcome to your new home.”
Blurb:
Shell is a girl of the streets when the Baron of Falls Mouth has her brought to him. He teaches her manners and tells her she is Princess Rebecca, thought to have been murdered years before.
This takes her to a battlefield, the center of the kingdom, and life in the castle, but not as a Princess. But curiosity has a hold on her, and knowledge has kept her alive. By always asking questions and finding answers, she might overcome her reputation as a pretender Princess.
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