The Prince

Tyset I: Chapter 2

Chapter 2





“Where is my son?”





Tyset glanced down, sadly.  It was the first thing he said whenever he came home.  Not, “Where is my daughter?” like he once had.  It was all about him now.  Pippin, the little brat.





A maid met them in the entrance hall.  Holding the baby in her arms she smiled at them.  “Here he is, my lord,” she said.





“Ah!  My son.”  Going to the maid Baron Meridian began to make soft, cooing sounds at the baby.  Left in the doorway, Tyset just stood there dumbly, unsure what to do.





“Tyset!”





Startled, she looked up to see her governess, the Lady Mavigna Maria, bearing down on her.  “Look at yourself, girl!  What have you been doing?  And…what is this?  Your dress, a complete shambles.”  Lifting Tyset’s ruined sleeve the woman shook her head.  “It’ll have to be taken in.  And such fine cloth too…  Do you know how much this will cost?  You are lucky to have a father with such good—”





“Lady Mavigna.”  The Baron’s voice was like the bark of an angry dog to Tyset’s ears.  She winced.  “Take my daughter to her rooms.”





“At once, my lord,” said her governess, turning as she did to curtsy to him.  Taking her roughly by the arm she dragged her across the hall in the direction of the grand stair and her rooms.





“She is being punished, Maria.”  They halted and Tyset looked back over her shoulder.  He hadn’t even looked up from her brother.  He had him in his arms now she noticed.  “See to her needs, but she is not to leave her rooms for the rest of the night.  Understand?”





There was a moment’s hesitation on Lady Mavigna’s part, Tyset thought.  Then what her father said struck her and she understood.  Her lower lip began to tremble then and tears came unbidden to her eyes.  To be banished to her rooms…for the entire night…  She would miss dinner!  She wouldn’t see the jugglers, or talk with the merchants daughters who were her friends.  She wouldn’t eat!





“Yes, Baron, I understand,” said Lady Mavigna.  Shocked, Tyset just stared at her father who, even now, would not look at her.  She felt more than saw her governess’ eyes as they fell on her.  Turning to her, she saw the woman’s stern face gazing back at her.  Then they were moving once more.  “Come along, Tyset,” the governess said over her shoulder.





“Father!  Don’t banish me!  Please, Father.  Don’t!  I’ll be good, I’ll be a good girl!  I promise I’ll be good!  I promise.  Just let me come to dinner.  Please, Father.  Please?”





Baron Meridian wasn’t listening.  He turned his back on her and between her cries she could hear him talking to her brother again.  Falling silent, she turned and yanked free of Lady Mavigna’s grasp, fleeing up the grand stair faster than the woman could follow.  Turning towards the east stair and her rooms at the landing, she stopped and spun to look down into the hall.  Her brother was laughing and waving his hands in the air.  Then her father was laughing too.  Unable to take anymore, and Lady Mavigna almost on top of her, Tyset turned once more and ran the rest of the way to her rooms.  Slamming the door to her bedchamber behind her, she flung herself across down-filled mattress of her four-poster bed.





“I hate him, I hate him,” she said through her tears.





“Tyset?  Tyset, you open this door right now young lady.”





“I hate him!”





There was silence, then Lady Mavigna’s stern voice came once again.  “Open the door, Tyset.  Or shall I go and have a talk with your father?  You have until to the count of three.  One…two…thre—ah, much better.  May I come in?”





“No.  Go away.”  Returning to the bed fell, face forward across it.  After a moment she felt someone sit beside her.  “I said go away.”





“Your father—”





“I hate my father.”





“Tyset!  Tyset, he is only doing…”  Her governess sighed and paused.  A hand touching her shoulder, the woman said, “He didn’t kill your mother, Tyset.”





She pushed herself up on her elbows.  Glaring at the woman she said, “No.  He did.”





“He?  Your brother?  Tyset.”





“He killed her!  He made her sick, made her cry.  And he made her bleed.  Bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed!  I was there.  I saw it.  I know what he did.  And I know what he is still doing.”





“Still doing?  Tyset, listen to me.”  She tried to lie down again but Lady Mavigna caught her arm and pulled her upright.  “No, no, come on now.  Listen to me, Tyset.  Your father did not kill your mother.  Your brother did not kill your mother.  No one, Tyset, killed your mother.  It was just her time.  Her time to go home to be with God.”





“Then I hate God.”





A hand caught her on the cheek.  “How…dare you.  Don’t you ever blaspheme like that again, you hear?”  A finger in her face, clear warning of what would happen should she be disobedient, Tyset just nodded.  No one had ever slapped her before.  Her cheek burning from it, Tyset was too surprised to do anything else.





“Oh, Tyset,” said her governess, gathering her into her arms.  Stroking her hair, Lady Mavigna rested her chin on Tyset’s head.  “My dear, dear Tyset.  I am so sorry for what has happened to you.  I don’t know what he was like before, but I know that your father could be—he should be, spending more time with you.”  Sniffing, Tyset raised a hand to wipe at the tear that was rolling down her cheek.  “See, you do love him.  Come, let’s get you out of those clothes.”





Helping her to stand, Lady Mavigna removed her cloak and coat.  “Get those boots off while I put these away.”  Sitting on the bed once more, Tyset undid the straps of her boots and was kicking them free just as her governess returned from the large, walk-in closet where all her dresses and coats and shoes were kept.  Seeing her stockings, sodden and all but dripping water now, she halted and raised a hand to stifle a gasp or surprise.  “What have you been doing?” she asked.





“Father dragged me out of the Parlor before I could get my boots on.  Or my coat and cloak.  That’s why my dress is…like it is.”  Tyset shrugged.





“You must be freezing!  Here, let me…”  Kneeling down, her governess pulled her stockings free.  Touching Tyset’s blue feet she said, “My, you are cold.  Merciful God, if you don’t have frostbite it’ll be a miracle.”





“Father…Father wouldn’t…”





“Hush, girl.  We’ll have you warm in no time,” said her governess, lifting her apron to dry Tyset’s feet.  Finishing, she directed Tyset to stick her feet under the bed’s thick furs.  “I am going to order you a hot bath.  When it gets here, I want you to get into it at once.  And while you do that I am going to go have a talk with your father.  I can’t allow him to do this to you.  Now, you just have a nice long soak and when I come back I’ll give you a good scrubbing, alright?”





Her teeth chattering now, the cold having spread out from her feet and no longer having her coat and cloak, Tyset barely managed to nod.  Smiling sadly, her governess took up another fur and wrapped it around her shoulders.  “There, now.”  Nodding, she went to the door.  “I’ll be back shortly.  Stay warm and get into the bath when it arrives.”





The bath arriving presently, her chamber maid helped her off with her clothes and into the bath’s hot, scented waters.  She winced as she put her foot in.  Bringing the other in as well she grimaced.  The maid was staring at her.  At her tattoos.  “Is there a problem?” she asked after a moment.





“Problem?”  The maid blinked.  “No, no.  There is no problem, my lady.  Would my lady like me to wash her back?”





“No.”





Only a few years older than she was, Tyset knew the maid had no tattoos herself.  Only the wealthy could afford such a thing as a tattoo, let alone several like she had.  The girl’s impetuousness, however, was just the last thing that she needed right now.





Lowering herself, Tyset winced as the water touched her thighs.  It was hot, so hot.  She felt like she was burning; her feet were ice and fire at the same time.  It made her wish she had that tattoo physicians used to remove their patients’ pain.  That would be nice.





Slowly, slowly she eased herself into the heat.  She gasped when it touched the tender area between her legs, and again when it rose to her belly.  The tattoo she had there was half underwater, the yellow ink the Artist had used looked even darker, more like bronze, under the water than that which was above its hot surface.  Covering her entire belly, she had received it for her birthday last summer.  The tattoo for Flame, it would wreathe her finger in a harmless flame by which she could then either light a candle or use as a candle itself.  Closing her eyes against the pain of the water’s temperature she forced herself to take several deep breaths.





She felt eyes on her again.  Opening her own she found the maid staring at her once more.  “You can go now,” she said.  The maid did not reply.  “Suzanne.”  The girl looked up, startled.  “You may go now Suzanne.”  Nodding, the maid curtsied and departed.





Smiling, Tyset closed her eyes, sat back, and sighed in contentment.  Suzanne was jealous.  And she would have been even more so, she knew, if her father had allowed her to get the tattoo that she had wanted to get today.





She was nice and warm by the time her governess returned.  A small room off her bedchamber, this was actually the third room of her three-room suite.  Primarily used for just this purpose, the floors were bear of the rugs and animal skins that lined those of her bedchamber and antechamber.  The walls did, however, contain two of her favorite tapestries.  A window in one wall, the hooks beside the door held a towel and a thick robe for her once she had finished.





Lady Mavigna stepping quietly into the room, she closed the door and said, “Did you have a nice bath, my lady?  Are you quite warm now?”





Tyset smiled.  “Yes, quite.”  Her governess helping her to wash, the woman poured hot water over her at the end and helped her to towel dry.  Then, placing her robe around her shoulders, Lady Mavigna had Tyset sit on her bed so she could brush out her long hair.





Silent since the older woman had returned Tyset only now spoke up again.  “How was your talk with Father?” she asked.





The brush paused.  Slowly, Lady Mavigna said, “It was…Tyset, you should apologize.”





Tyset scowled.  The bath had gone a long ways to making her feel better but, still, her father should not have done that.  Reneged on his promises, pulled her, thrown her out into the cold and snow without a cloak or even a coat to protect her.  Let everyone see her like that…  He had broken his promise.  And not just today’s promise of a tattoo.  But also the promise to take care of her, to look after her, the one he had made to her mother just before she had died.





Everything Tyset’s father had taught her, about keeping your word, about taking care of your own, about love and what it meant to be a family…it was all falling apart!  She didn’t know what to believe anymore.  What should she do, how should she behave?  What should she think?





Not voicing any of this to Lady Mavigna, Tyset crossed her arms, and fell silent again, keeping all her thoughts to herself.