Chapter 7
The horse was magnificent. Too magnificent.
Devoid of markings or not, there was nothing plain about Nocturne.
Short, stocky, thickly maned and athletically muscular, Bella knew this specimen to be no other breed than the one called the Prince of Horses, the Mérens.
She immediately had stronger suspicions as to Albert’s true identity, but if he was not comfortable sharing details of his life, she elected to allow him to keep his silence.
For now.
“Nocturne, you are the most handsome of stallions.”
Smart beast that he was, the horse nickered agreement. Bella took the water bucket she’d purchased and looped it over the embossed saddle horn, then set Albert and his smelly wineskin carefully inside it.
“How is that?” she whispered.
He nodded.
Commotion in the back of the stable had a few lads crowding around a stall.
“What’s going on?”
“Downed horse,” one tearful youth said.
“That’s so sad.” Bella patted Nocturne’s neck and slipped closer to the gathering. “Poor thing. What’s to be done with him?”
The ostler sent Bella a dark look. “None ‘a yer concern, miss.”
She bristled at the dismissal. “A noble steed deserves a noble sendoff after a lifetime of loyal service.”
He scoffed. “We dump ‘im in da pond.”
“The pond?” Her eyes drifted to Albert, then over to the youth who had first spoken to her. That boy’s eyes overflowed with tears. Clearly, he’d loved this horse. “That’s horrible. Bury him or cremate him. What was his name?”
“Dignité,” the lad answered, his voice wavering.
“A horse named Honor deserves a better end than rotting in a pond.” She glanced back at Nocturne. “I shall address my grievance to the king and queen about this.”
The ostler bristled. “Wench, ye’ll do no such thing!” And he raised a hand to smack her.
Albert flung himself out of the bucket and clamped down on the ostler’s nose. The man shrieked like a little girl and swatted at his face, trying to dislodge the amphibian.
Bella recovered from the almost-attack enough to relish the sight. “Looks like you’ve irritated an inhabitant of that pond.” She reached for Albert. “Hold still, and I’ll remove it. Frog, let go,” she said firmly as she wrapped her fingers around Albert’s girth and gave a gentle tug.
The frog complied, and Bella smiled down at her unwitting rescuer before taking a cold tone with the ostler.
“Now. Promise me you’ll bury that poor horse as is proper, or I’ll let this frog take a full piece of you.
” She shoved Albert menacingly at the man, and Albert’s tongue flicked out like he meant business.
The man’s face reddened with anger and a hint of disgust, but he pointed at his stable hands.
“Grab shovels. Start digging a hole where the other horses are buried, along the tree line behind the church. Go.” The boys scrambled for tools and raced out of the building, but not before the one lad delivered her the most grateful of looks.
The ostler pulled two horses into the aisle and fitted them with harnesses. He barked to another youth, “Bring the flat cart. We’ll haul Dignité onto it and then away.”
Bella watched until it was clear they were actually going to bury the poor horse, then she glanced down at Albert and untied Nocturne’s lead rope. She guided the horse out of the inn’s stable and onto the cobbled street and stopped.
“Thank you for that.” If Albert hadn’t intervened, she would likely have a purple eye by now.
“No one strikes a woman in my presence.”
“Just behind your back?” she asked drily.
He huffed. “I cannot prevent what vile men do to women, but I can certainly prevent it from happening in front of me.”
‘Twas rather noble, all things considered. In a low voice, she asked, “Where to next?”
She watched Albert scan their surroundings. “Turn right at the house with the chickens out front.”
Trusting the frog knew this village, Bella did as instructed, noting an interesting mix of homes interspersed with businesses.
A bit of nerves struck her in the aftermath of the altercation, causing her hands to shake. “Thank you, again, for defending me.”
“My pleasure, and I will do it again if needed. Never liked that man,” Albert said, wiping his mouth with his little hands. “Blech. Even his nose tastes terrible. Do people no longer bathe?”
She laughed but quickly sobered. “You have a horse graveyard. Your ostler is lazy.”
Albert paused for a moment. “Should I ever return to human form, I shall address this issue to the king and queen on your behalf.”
She nodded at his words. “All creatures deserve a proper farewell, especially those that served us faithfully in life. I could not stand the thought of Dignité being one more animal rotting in your pond. I did not technically save a life, but hopefully, I stopped additional waste coming into the water.”
“I appreciate that. More than you know.”
“I’m happy to help.”
Albert was silent for a moment. “He was a good horse. Great at fox hunting in his youth, which was many, many years ago.” Albert seemed remorseful, so Bella gave him another moment with his thoughts. “Where are we heading?”
He poked his head out and looked around. “Up there, on the left. As promised. Pick out whatever you’d like.”
Bella felt a moment of excitement as she approached the clothier’s shop. “Truly?”
“Spend no more than two shillings.”
She nodded, then tied the horse to the hitching post out front. She reached for the bucket to carry Albert inside, but he raised a foreleg to stop her. “Drop two of the coins in here so she will not be tempted to oversell you.”
“Oh.” This village must be more driven to part coins from their customers than her home was. “Is she likely to do that?” Bella did as bidden, watching the coins sink into the muck.
“I have heard she has been shunned, so business is likely slow for her. But please purchase whatever you’d like. As promised.”
Bella had never been one to part quickly with coin, but her dress did stink something fierce, and it was from carrying Albert’s wineskin, so she agreed, quietly deciding on something practical and hoping a mere two shillings would cover it.
She delivered the barest of farewell nods so as not to attract attention, patted the horse on the neck, then headed inside.
The smell of starched fabrics, fresh dyes, and satchels to mask it all greeted her in the doorway. Beautiful dresses hung on racks and from shelves holding bolts of fabric. The shop was clean, tidy, well-lit... and devoid of any other customers.
“Hello.” The seamstress walked up with a smile, then stopped and wrinkled her nose.
Bella whipped out her palms. “I know. I have had the most unfortunate accident with the pond outside the castle. I am in dire need of a fresh frock.”
The woman nodded and leaned forward. “I am most happy to help. How much pin money do you have to spare?”
“Two shillings.”
“Two? My dear, that will buy you far more than a frock. I will show you what I have.” But then the woman’s happy demeanor faltered when she saw all the mud on Bella’s clothes.
Bella completely understood. “Have you a washbasin I may use to at least clean my hands? I would never forgive myself should I soil or stain your gorgeous dresses.”
The request had the seamstress smiling. “Of course. ‘Tis in the backroom. Then, I think I can find the perfect trousseau for you.”
The seamstress, Henriette Leboux, insisted that Bella scrub herself from head to toe and stay in the changing chamber, where Henriette personally brought her armfuls of the most amazing items to try on, complete with the woman’s input on colors, styles, and fabrics.
“Henriette, I feel bad to monopolize you like this. If you need to attend other customers...”
“There are no other customers.” It was said with a bite to the words.
Bella stepped out from behind the curtain in a blue frock. “Oh? I am new here; is competition so fierce as that?”
Henriette focused on the fit of the dress, tugging the material around Bella’s shoulders and wrists, then adjusting the skirts around her hips. “No. My dyes do not fade, so there are some that call me witch.”
Bella gasped. “That is a horrible thing to accuse!”
Henriette met her eyes. “Thank you for that. My colors come from nature like everyone else’s: walnut hulls, onion skins, marigold, turmeric, and the like. But I add salt to my dye water, and my competitors do not. It is the single difference that fixes the color.”
“Sounds clever. How did you discover that?”
“By accident, actually. The well had run low last summer, and I needed to fill an entire vat, so I hauled water from the pond. It smelled terrible, and I had to let the sediment settle and scoop the water from the top, which took forever, and that was when I noticed the salt ring around the barrel. I used it anyway, since ladling out the water had taken forever, and I did not want to repeat the process. But what I noticed was that the colors attained in that batch were much brighter than ones I had dyed the day prior. And the true boon is that I do not have to dump the wastewater and start anew.” She indicated a stack holding bolts of periwinkle fabric.
“These are dyed months apart, yet the color remains steadfast.”
“The pond? The foul one outside the castle?”
She nodded. “I had to wash them in lemon juice afterward to remove the stench.”
Bella smiled. “Such a happy accident. I for one will be happy to direct people here.”
A bit of fear lit Henriette’s eyes. “Please do not share my secret. I do not know why I told you; that is unlike me.”
“Perhaps because you needed a friend?”
They locked eyes and smiled. “I do indeed. Would... you care to stop by for tea sometime?”
“I would love nothing more,” Bella gushed, feeling a happy connection. “I am unsure how long I will be here, though, as I journey for home.”
“Oh. Well, please stop by before you leave. You have been the brightest part of my week.”