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Garden of Hideous - Chap. 1

KJ · 2008-05-08T13:45:12Z

This is something I started when I felt that I needed a break from Needles and Roses. I feel that it has some potential - I've got some good twists in mind. It's pretty rough, I know. I wrote this without stopping to look back. So tell me what you think. Chapter One Our prince was the most beautiful man in the world. Even those who had not seen the world—and that was most—had to concede that there was no possible way that any other person could equal to Philip’s beauty. Whenever the prince entered a room, there was always a great collective sigh of appreciation. He was denied nothing, and given everything he ask for, for who could say no to such a countenance? His hair was a brilliant yellow, and his eyes a piercing blue of the sky. His nose was long and noble, and his cheekbones high. Men and woman alike wanted him. He grew up in a beam of sunlight; people smiled and laughed around him, his world was full of color and riches, and he never worked a day in his life. The king and queen could find no wrong with their son… even if he beat a servant for dropping a cup, or rode a magnificent horse so hard that it was ruined for the rest of its life. He was perfect in everyone’s eyes. Mine, included. Everyone’s but my own mother’s. “He is on a path of destruction,” she would say in her wise and quiet way. I would roll my eyes but say nothing in return. I had dreams of catching the prince’s attention, as did every other girl in the kingdom. I was not without my merits; I’d inherited my mother’s golden hair and my father’s intriguing gray eyes. My teeth were straight, and my carriage graceful. But if I were to stand in a crowd among the other girls, I would not stand out. Philip was notorious for his hunger of women. There were rumors that he spent every night with a different one. I would be a fool not to believe they had some truth to them, but they did not hinder my eagerness to be noted by my prince. I would call out as loudly as I could when he and the kind and queen rode by in a procession. I’d linger around the royal stables, hoping to gain a chance encounter. My mother knew nothing of my lovesick antics. She was far to busy acting as a healer; she was continually delivering children, applying a poultice to a cut or burn, giving a family charms against a ghost or uneasy air. The only time she spent with me was spent passing on what she knew and teaching me my reading and writing. Ours was not a close relationship. I was merely something that had come out of her first marriage. She did not love my father—it was an arranged marriage. I do not remember him well, only his features and his broad grin. Her second marriage was to a blacksmith: Claude Beauchamp. He was a well enough stepfather and husband to Mother. He did not fail to provide for us, and we lived comfortably. His only fault was one that countless men have acquired, and that was drink. My mother hated it. She called it the “Devil’s Poison”. Neither of them cared much what I did during the day, as long as I was home by nightfall. Learning was a luxury only the wealthy children could afford, so school was a place I never attended. When I was small spent my time wandering around with my friend Dominique. When I finally got around to growing breasts and noticing men, I began spending less time with Dominique and more of my time pining for the prince. Dominique was a male, of course, but I looked upon him as a mere boy; a past playmate. I forgot about him as I grew, and whenever I saw him I began to avoid going in his direction. I never did have many female friends. The only one that really counted was Esther. I remained close with her throughout the years, but that was only because she would join me in my quest for the prince. She wanted him almost as much as I did. It might have driven us apart, but Esther was not a competitive girl. She was quite my opposite. She was meek, mousy, and soft-spoken. Much of the time I secretly despised her for her weakness. I never had any success in catching Philip’s attention. The one time we crossed paths, he brushed by me and curtly ordered the stable boy to saddle a horse. It so discouraged me that I considered giving up. What kept me going was the afternoon Mother remarked to me about what a handsome man Dominique was becoming. There was obvious hinting in her words, and I panicked. I once again went to the stables, reinserting my dream of the prince seeing, speaking, and falling in love with me and taking me up to the castle where I would become his wife. I would want for nothing and not have to worry about Mother pushing me towards Dominique. I always had much higher prospects as a girl. Finally, one day, my prince took notice of me. It was on a hot Tuesday, at the market, and I wasn’t even aware of his scrutiny. Mother grew herbs and flowers in the tiny yard behind our house. We sold them in a stall once every month for a small profit. It was on one of these days when he passed by us. I’d just dropped a basket of rosemary and was bending over to pick it up. When I straightened he was there, staring at me with those clear blue eyes of his. I sucked in a whoosh of air at his perfection. I immediately blushed when I realized that he heard the intake of breath. This amused him. I could tell by his impish grin and the twinkling in his eye. My mother, organizing baskets behind me, seemed to sense a change in the air, and she looked up sharply. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the prince. I was the first to speak, and I was proud that my voice did not shake. “May I help you with something, Sire?” I felt Mother’s gaze boring into my back, threatening and stern. She’d always warned me to keep my distance from him, and not to give men any indication that I am an easy woman to sway. Philip folded his hands behind his back and amiably walked towards our stand. He bent over to study the selection. “What kind of plant is this, mademoiselle?” he asked me in all seriousness. I fought a smile. “That is basil, your highness,” I answered. “It aids digestion, and can be used for many things while cooking.” “Ah,” he said, his tone light with interest. “I believe this could come of great use in the castle. How much of this do you have?” I did not know. I glanced at my mother, and she came forward. “We have many of this herb, your highness,” she said in a tight voice. “How much do you think you will be requiring?” He smiled at her charmingly. “As many as you have, madam. I also believe that we may have a position available for your daughter at my home, if you are interested?” Her face a thundercloud, my mother opened her mouth to respond, but the smooth prince went on. “Don’t answer now. Have this pretty mademoiselle bring my basil to me tomorrow, and she can give me your answer then. A bien tot .” With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, not giving me a backward glance. My heart was pounding and my mouth suddenly felt dry. I went on with my work, trying to ignore the fury rolling off of my mother. She grabbed my shoulder roughly, and forced me to face her. “He is no good, Colette. Do not hope that I will allow this to happen. I would not be doing my duty as your mother if I did.” She let go of me, lips pursed in strong disapproval. Her words rolled off of me like rain on a leaf. I simply nodded and bent my head, pretending to be absorbed by the herbs before me. I had every intention of going to the castle and accepting the prince’s offer of taking a position there. I told myself that Mother would be able to do nothing about it after I had; it would be insulting the prince’s generosity and making herself appear ungrateful and foolish. She would be angry at first, I knew, but once I began to make money she would see the error of her ways. The next day my mother sent me off with two very full baskets of basil. But before I escaped through the door she seized my arm. I looked at her impatiently. “Think before you act rashly,” she advised me in a low voice. “Do not do something that seems right at the time. I know what is best, and if you trust me, you will find that you are glad you obeyed me.” I swallowed an exasperated sigh. “Yes, mother, I will,” I said quickly. “I’m just going to deliver this, and then come right back home.” I did not lie; I had every intention of going home—right after I accepted Philip’s offer. I pulled free of her hold, and hurried away. She let me go, but I felt her watching me until I disappeared around the corner farther up the road. Once I was out of her sight I breathed easier. My mother frightened me with her intensity at times—when she looked at me, I sometimes felt as if she knew everything that ran through my head. The castle where the Philip and the king and queen reside lay at the west side of the city. It was a long walk. My arms grew tired from carrying my burden. I passed my favorite bread shop, Chalet Marguerite, but I resisted its tempting smells wafting to my nose. I was intent upon my goal: to see the prince. “Colette!” I picked up my pace. My name was called a second time, but again I ignored it. I knew whose voice it was. But I was not fast enough. “Colette!” Dominique ran up to me, his tousled curls wild in his eyes. “Can’t you hear me calling you? Why don’t you stop?” He smiled at me in boyish delight. I grimaced. “What is it? Do you need something? Mother is at home today—” He frowns at me unhappily, his green eyes darkening. “It’s you I want to see. You know that. Why have you been avoiding me?” “I’ve been very busy, as you know, Dominique. In fact, I’m on an errand at this moment. I need to hurry.” I sidestepped him and continued on my way, hoping it would end at that. He followed me, panting at my heels like a puppy. “May I assist you?” he asked me earnestly. I gritted my teeth. “No. This is something that I want to do alone,” I said bluntly. My coldness did not deter him. “Well, perhaps I can carry one of those baskets for you. Here, give me one!” He snatched the handle from me before I could protest. “Give me that!” I snapped, trying to take it back. He easily kept it from me by holding it above his head, and I stopped completely, reaching my arms up to attempt to get it. He laughed, which only infuriated me further. “Pig!” I growled. “If you don’t give it back to me I’ll… I’ll…” “You’ll what?” He raised his eyebrows, looking truly captivated with my answer. I resisted the urge to slap him. “I’ll tell the prince you were bothering me, and he’ll put you in the dungeon!” I declared. Dominique frowned. “The prince? Have you spoken to him?” I clamped my mouth shut, already regretting the hasty words. “I… I’m to deliver these herbs to the castle, is all. I supposed he would be there, it being his home and everything. Now give it back, please.” I reached for it but he still withheld it from me. “So you must be the new one the others are talking about,” he said thoughtfully. “What do you mean?” I asked testily. He looked at me. “The others I work with in the kitchen at the castle. The prince’s manservant said that Philip found a new one today.” My mood lightened. “Really? Was my name mentioned?” I inquired eagerly. Dominique’s frown deepened. “No. But I hope it is not you he means, Colette. Being noticed by His Highness is one of the worst things that can happen to a girl.” “A girl?” I sniffed. “I’ll have you know I’ve been a woman for over six months now.” I was satisfied to see Dominique blush. “You shouldn’t speak of such things,” he muttered. I shrugged airily. “I will continue if you don’t give me the basket.” He hesitated. I opened my mouth. “Women—” “Here!” he shoved it at me. I took it smugly. “Good day, Dominique,” I said, and turned my back. I did not look to see whether he watched me walk away—I could feel his gaze. * * * * * “Why are you here?” The man guarding the gate asked me. I lifted one of the baskets. “Delivering herbs, monsieur.” He peered at me from beneath his metal helmet. His eyes registered recognition of some kind. “Go on,” he waved me through. “Enter by the side door. Berthe will take care of you.” Hiding my excitement, I left the gates behind and walked into an extremely busy courtyard. I gazed up in awe at the towering castle before me. I’d never been to the palace in all my sixteen years. It was the grandest place I’d ever seen. I couldn’t imagine cleaning it—much less living in it. No one took notice of me in the courtyard as I passed with my baskets of herbs. An average-looking girl dressed in a worn brown dress and carrying plants was nothing to gawk at. The servants rushing by did not take care not to knock me over, and the stable boys continued their business. But I soon would be someone worth taking notice of if I had my way. My clothes would be magnificent, and I would be able to stroll by anyone on the prince’s arm. The king and queen would be my new parents. I would be royalty. I lost myself in my fancies as I made my way to the side door. It was not hard to find. Not sure whether to knock or not, I timidly tapped on the door. There was no response. I knocked again, harder this time. Nothing. Deciding, I opened the door. It was chaos. More servants were darting about to and fro, some carrying dishes, some linen, some cleaning supplies, and some nothing at all in their arms. There were great noises coming from the oven, shouting from the cooks, and plates and cups were being thrown into a large washing barrel. I heard someone yelling, and my head instinctively swiveled in the direction it came from. A rotund woman was strongly lecturing a servant girl. Tears ran down the girl’s pale cheeks, and the other woman slapped her. I stared, despite my having seen much worse in the streets. Men fought all the time, whether it was over drink, cards, or a prostitute. But somehow this tiny girl being belittled by the huge woman seemed worse. The woman finished her tirade and sent the girl away with another slap. The young servant rushed away, sniffling. “Berthe!” A cook called. “The hors d'oeuvers are slow today. Have Pierre give them the soup first.” The woman—Berthe, I now knew—scowled at him. “Weren’t you supposed to make them earlier today?” she demanded. The man hesitated. “Well, yes I was. But my wife went into labor, and I didn’t have time...” “I don’t care about your wife!” Berthe snapped. “She is not royalty! She does not require a proper meal right now!” The cook pursed his lips. “I will do as you say next time.” “There will not be a next time, monsieur. I am speaking to the king today.” The man’s eyes widened. “Berthe—” “Pierre!” Berthe cut him off. “Bring them the soup! The appetizers are not yet ready!” A small boy darted around her to get to the platter of soup on a table, moving so he avoided her vicious kick. The cook shut his mouth, seeming to decide it was of no use to argue, and went back to his work. His shoulders were slumped and his head bent dejectedly. Curiously, I felt a stirring of pity for him, and fear for myself, seeing as to how I needed to speak to this woman in order to get to the prince. Berthe brushed by the cook and began in the direction of an open doorway on the opposite side of the large kitchen. But she paused, tilted her head, and suddenly swung around to face me, still stupidly standing in the outside doorway. “You, girl!” she snarled. “What are you about?” I swallowed. “I am here to deliver herbs, mademoiselle. The prince—” “Yes, yes, I remember. The prince asked me to bring you to him if he was available. Unfortunately, he is eating supper with the family. Leave those on the table next to the door and be on your way. Here,” she pressed coin into my hand. “Now go.” She turned away once more, and I stared, unmoving. “But—” “I said, be on your way!” she growled, and swept out of the room. I bit my lip, and set the baskets on the table as I was ordered. Words could not describe my immense disappointment. I’d anticipated the moment the prince and I would meet for years. But I merely swallowed back my tears and walked out again. I needed something to do with my hands, so I twisted them in my skirt. I headed for home, having nowhere else to go. For a while I walked in a sort of vague state. But eventually my emotions returned, and I hated that woman with a cold fury. I vowed I would get revenge on her. No one would treat me that way. Little did I know I would soon have my chance, and I would meet the prince in a way that I never thought possible.

Lauren

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Points 890

Reviews 158

Sat May 31, 2008 1:57 pm

Lauren says... · Sat May 31, 2008 1:57 pm

Sorry, I'm new here: are you allowed to quote a critiquer?

Obviously – being American – you have spelt colour wrong.

Is it wrong? Surely it's just a variation? Hmm - HMM?

My apologies for sticking my nose in, hehe.

Quote

Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.
— Enid Bagnold

Garden of Hideous - Chap. 1

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