Crossing Over - Anna Kendall [42]
“Then you ears are full of candle wax.”
“The better for noises to slip inside!”
He laughed and gave me a mock kick, his boot just connecting with my ass. The other guard watched sourly. “Get away from me, fool. I have no liking for half-wits.”
“Ah, but I am but a quarter-wit, so you must like me! Shall I bring you breakfast from the kitchen?”
“I mean it, get away with you.”
I skipped out of his boot reach in mock fear, pantomimed extreme hunger, and scampered off.
Immediately I was lost in the intricate maze of the palace. I couldn’t remember the route by which Kit Beale had brought me, and I had not left the queen’s chambers in weeks. Now that I thought of it, neither had she. Did she never go beyond the palace, outside to the city or the countryside? Was that her mother’s doing?
By asking servants, I found my way to the kitchens. Now I knew where I was; the laundry was in this part of the palace, as was my old apprentices’ chamber. Dinner was long over and only a few kitchen maids remained, scrubbing pots or preparing for tomorrow. Among them, mixing loaves of bread to rise overnight for breakfast, was Maggie.
“Roger! ”
“Hello, Maggie.”
“You did indeed become the queen’s fool! I had heard that.” Her tone was not entirely approving. The other girls stared at us, and Maggie snapped at them, “Get back to work!” They did. Maggie was in charge here, just as she had once taken charge of me. Fed me, befriended me, laughed with me. It was good to see her, despite her disapproving look at my yellow face and bizarre clothing.
She pushed a lock of hair off her sweaty face. The kitchen was very warm. “What brings you here, Roger?”
I kept my voice low. “I need to go out of the door where the kitchen barges bring food from the farms.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“Is this queen’s business?” Her voice, too, was low, but she kept her face calm and her strong arms busy mixing bread.
“Yes, but I cannot say what. And you must not, either.”
A pause in mixing, soon over. “Oh, Roger, what have you got yourself involved in now?”
I didn’t answer. Let her think my errand was an important matter on behalf of the queen. Maggie would help me all the sooner. Cecilia’s sad face filled my mind.
She said, “It’s not connected with the navy, is it? Please say you are not involved in that mess!”
What mess? What about the navy? How could a kitchen maid know more than I about matters of state? But I already knew the answer to that. Queen Eleanor kept all military matters away from her daughter’s side of the palace. And lords and ladies did not gossip about weighty matters, lest they be overheard and misinterpreted. They could trust no one. Lower servants, however, could gossip about anything, as long as they did so in whispers, because no one in power cared what they said or thought. The palace servants—all except me—often knew everything.
I said, “It is not about the navy. But I must go soon, and I must change first and go unseen.”
She sighed. “Wait a short while. Sit there and eat, as if hunger alone had driven you here.” She went to the hearth and poured me a bowl of soup left over from the servants’ dinner. It had cooled and I was already full, but I ate it with a great show of famine.
When Maggie had dismissed the other girls, I went into the larder and changed into my old clothes. They were far too tight; I had filled out since becoming the queen’s fool. I put the piece of blanket over my face, my eyes and mouth at the crude holes. When I emerged from the larder, Maggie made a choking noise somewhere between a scream of laughter and a grunt of exasperation. I pulled my hood up over my head so that it hung over my forehead.
“This way,” she said, shaking her head. Another small courtyard open to the sky, this one stacked with empty crates and jars and smelling of old vegetables. After the warm kitchen, its coolness was welcome. Maggie unlocked a door set into the wall and the scent of the river rushed in. The water flowed lazily just a few feet away, and stone stairs led down to poles at which to tie up barges. No barges floated