The Secret of London Tower

Chapter Four: King Leobald's Feast

Chapter Four: King Leobald’s Feast

I sat in my room and clawed around a bit and sobbed pathetically, feeling extraordinarily sorry for myself. Eventually, when my face felt hot and puffy and damp from tears and my eyes ached, a maid came in. She brought a cloth and wiped my face and put some food next to the grand bed, patted my head, and made for the door. She turned and said,

“M’lady, would you like Sir Siegfried to come in?”

I just moaned, and I hoped that meant ‘no’ for her, but soon I felt someone sink onto the end of the bed.

“There’s no use moping like this,” he said. “You would have been found anyway.”

I wanted to jump up and punch him and kick him and scream about how it was entirely his fault. But what he said was so dully true that my body ached right down to my toes.

He got up and sat nearer to my head. I rolled over to the other side of the bed, and he started to eat the bread that sat on the table where the servant had put it.

I snuck a peek at him when he wasn’t looking. Did he seem a little guilty behind that mouthful of crust?

“I know you’re looking,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mimi. But it would have turned out like this anyway.”

I sobbed once, quietly, and my whole torso shook. “I hate you,” I said in a horrible raspy voice.

Yes, he did look ashamed. “I can’t do anything, you know that,” Siegfried said calmly. “Anyway, I thought you wouldn’t mope like this. You seemed more capable than that.”

I couldn’t bear to listen to his voice anymore. I leapt off my bed and went the door, swinging it open. “Out!” I said as fiercely as I could muster, but it came out more pathetic.

“Your face,” Siegfried said, surprised, “it’s all—”

“Red,” I choked. “I know. Now get—away—” I put my face into my arm so he wouldn’t see my lower lip tremble and my face contort like it does when I cry.

He walked across the room and paused at the door. “Well, see you,” he said, and I was pleased to see he had real unhappiness on his face. Then he stepped out and I slammed the door behind him.

Feeling very tired from all the crying, and sank into the luxurious bed and went to sleep.

A different maid woke me up when the sun was setting outside. She was small and had mousy brown hair and brown eyes. She said her name was Clara and she was fifteen. I told her grudgingly that I was Mimi, and I was thirteen. She said she knew. She said everyone knew. She brought a basin of warm water and started washing my face.

“Where am I going?” I asked her.

“To dinner, of course,” she said. “A celebratory feast! You’ll have all the food the kingdom has to offer. Except oranges, of course,” she said sadly. “They come from King Further’s kingdom. I’ve only had an orange once, you know. It was delicious. For my tenth birthday. I’ll never forget it.” She started to brush my hair. “Are you excited for the feast?”

“No,” I said sulkily.

“It’s all right, love. You’ll get used to it soon enough. See, you’re needed for the war! Maybe you can end it. It’s been going on for long enough. They drafted my sweetheart,” she said sadly. Regaining her usual cheerfulness, she said, “But of course, you were lucky. Nice handsome lad like Sir Siegfried brought you here!”

I stayed silent.

“You don’t think so?” she asked. “Ah, I see. Well, I suppose I would hate him too—but see, dear—see, it wasn’t his fault. You don’t want to see him get tortured or killed by King Leobald, do you? That would have certainly been his fate. And it’s not all bad here. It’s quite nice, actually.”