Twice Upon a Marigold Read online

  "No!" Lazy Susan screamed at them. "You know those aren't for you! And you know we have something even better waiting for you after this is over!"

  Marigold and Lazy Susan darted through the crowd reassuring the spectators and the undecided that this uproar could be resolved if they would just stay calm and out of the way. In any other revolt, people would all probably have been scattering for the frontier, but they stayed put. For one thing, Lazy Susan and Marigold were so convincing and, for another, the spectators couldn't take their eyes off the great white elephant. Hannibal plowed through the crowd with Christian and Wendell on his back, Chris waving his little trebuchet encouragingly over the rioters' heads. Rollo stood before the queen, dodging vegetables, his sword pointed at the biggest diamond brooch on her bodice, while she screamed, "I'm the queen! Put that sword down!"

  Rollo, who had straightened out the bent tip of his sword, used it to snip one of the diamond buttons from the front of Olympia's dress. It rolled off the platform and into the crowd.

  "Are you insane?" Olympia screamed, trying to lunge for the button, but prevented by Rollo's sword point.

  "Get back where you were," he told her, "or I'll cut them all off."

  She had no choice, but she sure didn't like it.

  "And I'm one of the rebels," he said. "So I'm definitely not putting my sword down."

  "What are you talking about? I saw you escort those traitors to the gallows."

  "I would never have let those nooses be put around their necks. I was prepared to slay three executioners if I'd had to. I was just going along, waiting for the revolution to begin."

  For once in her life, Olympia was speechless—but enraged nevertheless. Her face grew red and her mouth opened and closed, though only choked croaks and gasps came out.

  When things seemed at a momentary lull—the traitors rescued, the queen and her supporters contained, and the rest of the populace munching cookies and watching the goings-on as if they were at a circus—Christian stood up on Hannibal's back and raised his arms. Once the din diminished, Christian spoke. "Everybody who wants to see a change in the rulership of Beaurivage is invited to join us in helping Olympia find another line of work. All of you, come over on this side, behind Rollo and his troops. Those of you who are satisfied with how your kingdom is being run under the current queen, or who remember what it was like before she went away, and want more of that, line up over there." He pointed to the other side of the courtyard. "Or we can fight and then you'll have to take what comes with whoever wins."

  This is a dangerous moment in any revolt since the size of the divisions is unknown, as is the taste for violence. But fortune often favors the brave.

  There was a period of uncertainty as the populace muttered among themselves about their loyalties, weighing the punishments for a failed revolt against those associated with plain old living under Olympia's rule. Some just wanted to be on the side of the good cookies. Then the people began shuffling around, choosing their alliances.

  Christian was relieved that no one immediately chose more fighting. He'd taken seriously his promise to Marigold to limit the bloodshed.

  When the shuffling stopped, there was a huge crowd behind Rollo and his guards, and a sparser but much more pugnacious-looking group on the other side of the bailey. As the groups stood glaring at each other a couple of peasants from the smaller group detached themselves and scuttled somewhat sheepishly over to join the larger group.

  Chris pointed to the big crowd and addressed Olympia. "Your subjects have spoken. Are you ready to accept reality and go quietly?"

  Her voice had returned and her outrage remained. "You're out of your mind. And will soon be back in the dungeon where you belong. Along with the rest of these—these—misguided citizens."

  Marigold was sure she'd seen the word "bone-heads" form on Olympia's lips before she said "misguided citizens."

  There was some anxious murmuring in the big crowd. Even though they outnumbered Olympia substantially, her wrath was enough to make them feel their opposition was flimsy and unreliable.

  Olympia, not one to miss any waffling, jumped right on their indecision. "I know none of you wants to make a stupid decision based on inadequate information," she said kindly. "So I'm going to give you this one chance to change your minds. For the next five minutes there will be amnesty, if you think you've made the wrong choice. No dungeons, no punishments. Anyone can make a mistake. What do you say?"

  There was more anxious shuffling—made worse by the fact that the misguided citizens had no idea how long five minutes was. Wristwatches hadn't been invented yet, and sundials are better for hours than minutes. And then, only on a sunny day. Was five minutes a long time, or a short time? How long did they have to worry?

  And whether they could trust Olympia to abide by her word was the bigger question. She had never received any medals for compassion. Could they believe her?

  Marigold had run to Hannibal's side and called up to Chris, "Shouldn't you sit down? This elephant is very tall."

  He grinned down at her. "Not yet. Presentation is important now. Olympia needs to see this revolt isn't just my idea, or yours, or even Swithbert's. The people need to show her how they feel and what they want. Come on up here with Wendell and me. You'll be safer. There's plenty of room and the view is great."

  "But how—," Marigold began, just as Hannibal came down on his front knees, almost pitching Chris and Wendell off his back. "Oh," she said, climbing up onto one elephant knee and pulling herself the rest of the way with Hannibal's ear until Chris could drag her up.

  "I wish he'd warn me before he does that," Wendell grumbled. "I don't always have time to grab onto the harness, and falling off him is a long way down."

  Marigold clung to Chris. "A very long way down. That's what I was saying."

  Sometimes—though not often—hesitation can be one's best friend. The five minutes passed while the dithering continued, and before the crowd knew the time was up, Olympia was bellowing at them again.

  "I see! Well, never say I didn't give you a chance. You have only yourselves to blame for what's going to happen to you now." She turned her attention to the smaller group. "You, there! My loyal supporters who will be richly rewarded for your allegiance! Come to me!" And she beckoned with both bejeweled hands, the giant stones in her rings flashing in the sunlight.

  The group, glancing suspiciously around, made its way as close to the platform as it could get, considering the ring of opposing guards around it. They stopped, gazing up at Olympia and the broken throne.

  "Now," she said. "Attack them!" She pointed to the bigger crowd. "Drive them out of the castle."

  The smaller group shifted uneasily until one of them spoke up. "Um, Queen Olympia, we have no weapons. We were here for Market Day, not expecting a rebellion. And besides, they outnumber us ten to one or something like that. And they are armed. What do you suggest?"

  "I suggest you attack!"

  They simply stared back at her.

  The bigger crowd looked on, caught between pity for the smaller group, astonishment and outrage at Olympia's continued imperiousness, and relief and amazement that, after so much anxious anticipation, it appeared the revolt could be accomplished fairly swiftly, and without bodily harm. It certainly helped to have been on the side with all the weapons.

  But before anything else transpired, Hannibal stepped forward and reached out with his long trunk. He curled it around Olympia's waist and lifted her off her platform, appearing immune to her shrieks. Fenleigh, too, was making sounds no one had ever heard from him before.

  "Hannibal! Stop!" Christian yelled.

  "Stop, Hannibal!" Wendell repeated.

  In fact, just about everybody (aside from a few supremely disgruntled subjects who were waiting eagerly to see just what Hannibal had in mind) was yelling to Hannibal to stop. But Hannibal apparently had his own plan.

  He shook Olympia up and down so hard that her crown fell off, as did Fenleigh, who then scampered awa
y through the crowd.

  "Hannibal!" Wendell yelled. "Shaking won't work! She's really evil, not just unpleasant!"

  "What are you talking about?" Chris asked, hanging on to both Marigold and Hannibal's harness, raising his voice over Olympia's screams.

  "Hannibal thinks he can change people by shaking them. He thinks it rearranges what's inside their heads. But that only works for disagreeableness, not for true evil. In that case, the heart has to be rearranged, as well as the head. And nobody knows how to do that."

  The crowd had retreated, away from the spectacle of Hannibal and Olympia, mesmerized and horrified at the same time.

  Hannibal finally quit shaking the queen, but didn't let her go. She dangled from the grasp of his trunk, panting, wheezing, and still giving orders. "Put me down, you great stupid animal!"

  Hannibal ignored her, as well as commands from Chris and Wendell, who were saying the same thing as Olympia, but in much politer language. He seemed to be thinking.

  Suddenly he lifted Olympia as high over his head as he could, and then let her go. She plummeted to the ground, her head hitting the cobblestones so hard the sound (the same sort of thunky splat a pumpkin might make) echoed off the castle walls. She lay still.

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  The crowd gasped, and then went completely silent, watching the queen, waiting for her to move.

  She didn't.

  Fenleigh came tearing out of the mob. He raced to Olympia and licked her face, making panicky whimpering noises. But still she didn't move.

  "Where's the doctor?" Christian called from atop Hannibal. "Get him here. Have the queen taken to her bedroom." Then he realized that he shouldn't be the one giving directions now. This was not his kingdom. He motioned to Swithbert, who instantly understood.

  King Swithbert rose, squared his shoulders, and quickly mounted the platform to stand in front of the ruin that had been his own throne. "The revolt is over," he told the crowd. "Queen Olympia is no longer in charge. The throne has been returned to its rightful monarch, and the constitution will be returned to its original state. Anyone who doesn't like that can register a protest on a form you can get at the guard office. Be sure to fill out the front and the back. Rollo, take the queen's supporters off to the dungeon for questioning."

  While he was speaking, the court doctor and two helpers collected Olympia onto a stretcher and carried her away. The crowd gradually came out of its shock and the subjects began talking among themselves about the extraordinary things they had just witnessed. They kept a wide margin around Hannibal, even though he now seemed quite placid and relaxed.

  Swithbert continued. "Now, please go on with your Market Day business while the quee—while Olympia is tended to. And somebody, bring this throne back into the throne room."

  Slowly, the farmers and other vendors began picking up their knocked-over stands and gathering up their scattered goods, and the public began selecting items again. But it was definitely a Market Day they would not soon be forgetting.

  Ed, Magnus, Lazy Susan, and Mr. Lucasa came to stand beside Hannibal. Rollo and his guards rounded up the few of Olympia's supporters who had not melted off into the crowd, and who presumably wished that they had kept their loyalty to themselves—or perhaps not held it at all.

  "Chris, how soon can we get down off this animal?" Marigold asked nervously.

  "Can't get down off it," Ed called up to her, a twinkle in his eyes. "Down comes from ducks."

  Marigold giggled, something she'd wondered this morning if she'd ever feel like doing again.

  Christian looked at her fondly. When she was happy, so was he.

  Wendell spoke a command to Hannibal, who knelt and allowed Chris and Marigold to slide off his back. Chris gave the elephant an affectionate pat.

  "No," Marigold said to him.

  "No? But I didn't say anything."

  "I know that look on your face. And the answer is no. We do not need an elephant."

  "Oh." He cast a wistful glance back at Hannibal. "I guess not. But he's lovely, isn't he?"

  "I don't think I'd call him lovely. But he certainly came in handy."

  "I guess we should go see how Olympia is, shouldn't we?" Chris asked. "I had no idea Hannibal was going to do anything other than shake her. Wendell says he's never before done what he did to her."

  "Maybe it's just what she needed, and Hannibal knew it," Marigold answered. "He might have more powers than Wendell. I hope it's taught her a lesson."

  "But ... I mean ... she hit that ground pretty hard. I'm not sure she's still ... I mean ..."

  Marigold waved a hand airily. "Don't worry. It'll take more than that to kill Olympia. She survived an underwater trip to Granolah on our wedding day, didn't she?"

  "But ... what if ..."

  "Who do you think will miss her if your what if is true?"

  "Fenleigh?" Chris said. "Swithbert?"

  "Papa didn't seem to miss her during the year she was gone. And I surely didn't. As for Fenleigh—maybe we could let him play with the dogs."

  "The dogs? Our dogs? They hate Fenleigh. He used to chase them and nip at them and—"

  "Oh, I know. But maybe it's their turn to—"

  "Marigold! No! If we have to we'll find him another home. You wouldn't really turn him over to the dogs, would you?"

  By this time they were on the staircase leading to Olympia's suite. "Oh, I guess not," she said. "But it's tempting, isn't it, to give somebody like Olympia or Fenleigh a taste of their own medicine? To get even?"

  "I agree it's tempting. Really tempting. But it doesn't solve anything. It just perpetuates the problem by making us as bad as them. And we don't need any more of them, do we?"

  Marigold pouted. "Oh, I know you're right. I just had a weak moment. You have to help me not do anything at all the way Olympia would."

  "You could never be anything like Olympia. Don't worry. I know that no matter how many revenge thoughts you might have, you'd never act on them."

  They entered Olympia's suite. Quite a few people were there already, including Mrs. Clover and Denby, milling around in the sitting room. They all stopped talking and turned when Marigold and Christian came in, followed by Ed and Magnus, who had come from Ed's suite, where they had gone to wash off their dungeon grime.

  "How is she?" Marigold asked.

  "The doctor's still in there," Denby said, "so we don't know yet. But you can go in. Seeing as who you are, I mean."

  Much as she loved Zandelphia, sometimes Marigold forgot she was its queen and had the extra privileges that went with that. And sometimes, even when she did remember, she was reluctant to take advantage of her position. It just seemed unfair. But Christian was always ready to remind her that her position gave her heavy responsibilities as well, and that she had the power to do a lot of good, so she deserved a few treats.

  "Right," Marigold said, and went to the bedroom door, pulling Chris along with her. She hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door, closing it behind them.

  "Who is she?" Mrs. Clover whispered. "That filthy girl with King Christian?"

  "Why, it's Queen Marigold," Denby said. "I don't know why she's so dirty unless it has something to do with the long-overdue rebellion."

  "Oh, my," Mrs. Clover said, sitting down suddenly. "I didn't even recognize her. Wait until you hear what I did."

  THE DOCTOR STOOD next to the bed, holding Olympia's wrist in one hand. He dropped it when he saw Christian, and bowed. "Your Highness," he said.

  "She's a Highness, too," Chris said, indicating Marigold, "though hard to recognize right now. It's Queen Marigold."

  The doctor's mouth fell open. "Oh" was all he could say.

  "How is she?" Marigold asked.

  "Well, she's alive," he said, recovering from his surprise, "but she's got a pretty big goose egg on the back of her head. And she hasn't woken up yet."

  "But she will, won't she?"

  The doctor shrugged. "I can't say. I've put leeches on her to bleed her, and we're washing her w
ith cloths soaked in vinegar and honey—all the latest, most cutting-edge medical techniques. There's nothing more to be done. We just have to wait and see."

  Marigold went to the bed where Olympia lay with her eyes closed, her hair disheveled, a bruise on her cheek, and Fenleigh crouched on the pillow. Marigold had expected, and even hoped, to feel a spasm of heart-deep pain for her. But all she experienced was the kind of human pity she would feel for any unfortunate person, underlain with the sense that Olympia had gotten what she deserved. As Ed would have said, what goes around, comes down like a ton of bricks.

  "Well, keep us informed," she said to the doctor.

  As she and Christian went down the corridor together, Chris said, "I know leeches are the standard treatment for just about everything, but it's such an odd idea, don't you think? How could it work?"

  "Don't ask me. I'm not a doctor. But you're the inventor. Why don't you think up something better? Something a sick person could drink, or have put into them some other way if they're too sick, or too unconscious to swallow."

  "That's a great idea! It makes much more sense to put something helpful in than to take something essential out. I'll work on it."

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  They found Swithbert in the throne room supervising the reinstallation of his throne, and consulting with the court carpenter about fixing the part the trebuchet had damaged.

  "How is she?" he asked. Christian and Marigold told him what they knew, and then he dismissed the workmen. "Have a seat." He indicated the two side-by-side thrones that he and Olympia had once occupied. "I want to talk to you."

  "There?" Chris asked, pointing to the damaged one. "That's your seat."

  "I'll stand for a while," Swithbert said. "I've gotten over my light-headedness. Go ahead. Sit."