Part 7
735 Words
SEVEN
Despite Melitta's best efforts, tales of her fly-killing achievements reached every corner of the castle within a day. She could not set foot outside her mother's apartments without someone mentioning a dozen with one blow, before they dissolved into laughter. So she shut herself in with her sewing.
"Ooh, is that a new gown for the queen?" an excited voice asked.
Melitta glanced up to find Inga, one of the maids, staring avidly at her. Given she was working on blue silk, which only the queen wore, on any normal occasion, the question would have been quite a silly one. However, under the circumstances...
"No," Melitta replied. "This is the princess's betrothal gown. The king wants her to wear white, but the queen insists the gown be blue. Mother had some blue silk so pale it almost looks white, which met with Queen Margareta's approval, so I get to make it while Mother makes the queen's gown."
Inga nodded. "Lady Penelope makes the most beautiful gowns."
Melitta couldn't disagree. Her mother could take cloth and thread and turn it into something magical. Moreover, Mother seemed to actually enjoy creating clothing.
She'd once travelled the world with her husband, Sir Godfrey, until Melitta's father had nobly sacrificed his life to save a convent from a bunch of barbarians, or so Mother said when she told the tale. He'd earned himself sainthood as a result, for thanks to his sacrifice, none of the novices were harmed by the barbarians, when a miracle turned them into birds and they flew away.
It was such a far-fetched tale, Melitta wouldn't have believed it, if the nuns in the convent where she'd spent her earliest years hadn't sworn to its veracity. Some had even been witnesses to the events of that day, and Melitta had seen it in their thoughts. Not that she was the sort of witch who could turn men into birds – oh, no. Mind reading was the questionable gift she had inherited from her mother, though she rarely used it.
Without Melitta having to tell her, Queen Margareta heard the tale of Sir Faris' remarks on the training ground, and her response was everything Melitta could have hoped for.
Though the queen never so much as touched a sword, it was well known that she was as deadly as the king. She had summoned Sir Faris to the throne room to answer why he had not allowed a girl to enter the practice fields. She'd insisted that in ancient times, women had trained just as rigorously as men, for women were as likely to die at the point of a blade as any man, so they had a right to learn to use any weapon they could handle. When he began to protest that having women present would distract the men, an excuse quickly picked up and seconded by some of the other noblemen present, she'd shaken her head that her king's troops were so weak. Why, all an enemy army had to do was bring a woman with them and they would be undone, which simply would not do.
Then she'd sweetly offered to stand on the training ground herself until men learned not to be distracted. And she'd do it n***d.
Silence had descended on the court for a long moment. Melitta didn't need to read the men's minds to see the l**t burning in their eyes. The queen's beauty was enough to halt an army in its tracks, even without taking into account her magical powers.
At that point, King Erik had waded into the fray in her support. Most said it was to protect the queen's modesty, or some such noble thought, but Mother had muttered that it was more about keeping his men alive. Men lost their minds over the queen in ways they never would for Melitta.
So Melitta spent her mornings in the practice yard, ignoring the laughter as she learned how to hold a sword without dropping it. By the end of a week, she considered herself a passable swordswoman who could manage an occasional bout against one of the young squires without falling on her backside. She'd even won a few, amid grumbling from the boys.
Sure, she might not be a hero yet, but she intended to do everything in her power to be ready when the opportunity came. She would not spend a lifetime sewing clothes for a court who didn't care a jot about her. At least, not until she'd had her fair share of adventure, like her mother had.
- Writer
