Chapter 17 #2
It was a few hours’ ride to the city of Caermont, which left plenty of time for an introduction to the city.
We all gathered within the same carriage—myself, Winnie, Nicolas, Quinn, Queen Adelaide and her silent lady-in-waiting, and the Duke of Greene, who fancied himself a connoisseur of sorts.
The man was well-versed in histories, literature, and theatre, and was personally acquainted with the playwright, but above all, he seemed most enchanted by Winnie’s presence.
The city might have sponsored Duke Minnick as a guide for all the information he provided.
Through him, I learned that Caermont predated Gallae itself.
It was constructed in a time of city-states and minor kingdoms locked in constant warfare.
Here the Montfort family first rose to power, conquering the surrounding lands until they forged a small nation of their own.
They gave rise to kings, all ruling from the castle in the city’s heart for hundreds of years.
A timber wall fortified Caermont, though beyond its protection sprawled countless homes and businesses.
Bathhouse inns, millers, and tanners dotted the roadside, while many visitors sleepily—and perhaps drunkenly—shuffled from the carriage’s path.
As we neared the wall, we crossed a drawbridge that creaked precariously over a mountain gorge.
Once inside, we were greeted by such a powerful stench that it seeped through the closed carriage windows.
Duke Minnick explained it as the inevitable smell of civilization, a trade-off for harboring so many people.
As we continued through another walled section of the city, the offensive smell faded. Now there were new aromas that entered the cabin: fresh-baked bread, beer, and fragrant herbs.
The carriage climbed steadily upward through winding cobblestone streets, passing stone houses with steep-pitched roofs and carved wooden shutters.
Merchants hawked their wares from colorful stalls while children darted between the wheels of carts laden with goods.
Castle Caermont was perched high atop the mountain’s peak like a crown of gray stone.
Its towers and battlements were carved directly into the mountain face, a testament to the Montforts’ enduring power.
At last, we arrived at the city’s heart, where the theatre stood in all its magnificence.
The building was a marvel of timber and stone construction, its white-plastered walls crisscrossed with dark wooden beams in intricate patterns.
Red banners fluttered from every available post, announcing the evening’s performance, and warm light spilled from the paned windows.
Despite the old bones of the building, there was something almost magical about it, as if centuries of oration and song had seeped into its walls.
The carriage passed a line of lords and ladies, all dressed spectacularly for the occasion, and halted near the theatre’s entrance. The queen was first to disembark, followed immediately by her mysterious attendant. Then, Nicolas extended a hand to me.
“I would have you by my side for the performance,” he said, guiding me down the carriage’s steps and catching up to his mother. “The subject of theatre has never particularly appealed to me, but I thought you might enjoy it.”
I truly had no idea what to make of the prince. At times like this, he was thoughtful, altruistic…but from experience, the man had many faces. Angel, lecher, and devil alike possessed him. Perhaps all I could do was reward the good and scorn the bad.
I squeezed his arm and settled into an approving smile.
We followed Queen Adelaide into the building, offering waves to the crowd of acknowledging nobility along the way.
Once inside, we ascended a carpeted flight of stairs to the second level, emerging through a set of painted doors onto a platform with a perfect view of the center stage.
Draped with red and gold banners and lavishly furnished, we were positioned so that the audience could view us as well as we could view the play.
A partial enclosure was all that stood between our party and the seating below.
I found my place beside the prince, looking over my shoulder for a glimpse at Winnie.
The lady-in-waiting sat next to a red-faced Duke Minnick, who occasionally dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.
Winnie met my gaze knowingly, evidently aware of the duke’s repressed feelings.
As I smiled back, I felt a presence brush past, a gust of bergamot announcing the viscount before he situated himself beside the duke, directly behind me and the prince.
The sun set in the theatre’s windows, coating the space in complete darkness.
All the chatter of the audience settled down.
Just as our eyes adjusted to the conditions, a bell rang out, and every lamp and candle within the building went aflame in sequential order, from the front edge of the stage to the braziers suspended from the timberwork overhead. I clutched the sides of my seat.
“Magic?” I whispered, overlapped by oohs and aahs from below.
The prince smiled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not.
It’s only science, though they often look similar.
” He leaned closer. “Beneath the stage, there’s a network of twine soaked in saltpeter.
As one end lights backstage, the flame travels.
Then, as they train the eye to the stage, cloaked men tend to the lights above. ”
Quinn leaned forward. “I thought you didn’t care for the theatre.”
“I don’t,” replied Nicolas. “There was an investigation on the matter when I was a child. The first time that inventive stagehand pulled his little trick, the viewers had such an outcry that they barely made it into the first act before he was taken prisoner.”
From his side, Queen Adelaide chortled. “I remember that. Your father punished the nobles of Caermont by sentencing them to reading assignments. He said if they wished to conduct themselves like superstitious villagers, they were welcome to vacate their manors and live in dirt huts.”
I arched my eyebrow. The late king certainly sounded interesting.
An actor walked onto the stage and the crowd fell quiet. As he launched into his opening monologue, I felt a set of fingers dance atop my hand. My gaze dropped and they went still, and Nicolas watched me with nervous invitation.
I flipped over my palm, grazing my fingertips along those digits, then intertwined our hands. He held on carefully, like he wasn’t sure this was allowed. Then his thumb traced an arc, a gentle up and down sweep, and inch-by-inch, I let my head fall on his shoulder.