Once Upon a Marigold Read online

  But the guests were also looking as bewildered as Christian felt. Where was Magnus? Who was this new bridegroom? And where was Olympia?

  Marigold and Christian stood before the bishop, hands clasped, eyes locked, knees weak, and heads reeling, repeating words they unequivocally meant with all their hearts.

  Just before they were asked the question best answered by "I do," there came a commotion at the arched doorway. The guests could be excused for flinching and ducking reflexively. They had already had a great deal more commotion than most of them were used to.

  "What's going on here? What are you doing behind my back?" Olympia came through the archway dressed in the most extravagant array—even for her—of silk, jewels, and furs that anyone had ever seen. "Stop the wedding!" she roared, rushing over with Fenleigh—freshly bathed and blown dry—clinging desperately to her shoulder. "This is the groom—" She dragged Magnus behind her. "Not him." She pointed at Christian. "We know nothing about him. He's an impostor, a ... a servant." She spat the word.

  There was total, stunned silence as she pulled Magnus down the aisle. He wouldn't look at anybody, just stumbled along after her, his head bowed.

  Bub and Cate, as disoriented by the day's events as everyone else, went into fierce protective mode as they saw the ferocious queen bearing down on Ed and Chris. Bub ran at her, barking his head off, and Cate circled her, jumping and yipping and having a grand, dramatic time. The three floor mops, not wanting to be left out of the fun with their new friends, and having their own reasons for wanting to have a go at Olympia, joined in—crowding her, yapping and bumping, jumping for Fenleigh, creating new definitions of chaos.

  The queen let go of Magnus, who hastily stepped back from the pandemonium. "Stop it!" Olympia said, flapping her hands at the animals and backing away. "Somebody get those monsters away from me!"

  No one moved. Perhaps they were pausing to figure out just exactly how to enter the fray. Or what would most effectively lure the dogs away. Or how best to extricate the queen. Or maybe they were thinking that it was high time Olympia got what she deserved. Whatever their thoughts were would remain a mystery.

  What happened was that Olympia backed against the terrace wall, the broken part that Christian, what with all that had been happening to him, had never finished repairing. And, with the dogs still after her, playing, or defending their loved ones, or just giving her a hard time—who can ever tell with dogs?—she tried to back up some more. The wall crumbled and gave way. Her feet went up, and she flipped backward over the side in a welter of gold lace, heavy brocade, thick furs, snapped necklaces that showered pearls across the terrace, and one frantic ferret.

  By the time anyone from the stunned assemblage reached the wall to grab for her, it was too late. All that could be seen, in the fast-running river water, swollen with mountain snowmelt, was a puff of brocade skirt and a single silvery shoe with a curved heel and a bow on the toe. And even as they watched, those disappeared around a bend.

  "Rollo!" the king ordered, in a voice of command that no one had heard from him in a very long time. "Go downriver and find her!" Rollo, with a sinking feeling that he already knew how they would find her, rushed off to assemble his troops.

  In the same strong voice, Swithbert said, "Continue with the ceremony. We've had enough interrupted weddings around here for one day. We're going to get one finished."

  Marigold and Christian were on their knees consoling the bewildered, whimpering dogs, who had the feeling that they'd done something seriously wrong but didn't know what.

  Magnus, still standing where Olympia had left him, stammered, "B ... b ... but, what about m ... m ... me? I was supposed to be the bridegroom."

  "Not anymore," Swithbert said. "Now sit down and keep quiet while we get Marigold and Chris hitched, and then you and I are going to have a chat. If things work out right, maybe we can find a spot for you to have your own little manor house."

  Magnus shut his mouth and sat down so suddenly it looked as if his knees had been hit from behind.

  Marigold and Christian finally got to say "I do." And when it came time to kiss the bride, Christian, who hadn't known what to do when Meg kissed him, somehow knew exactly what to do when the kissee was Marigold.

  Then the guests rushed off to the Great Hall to carry on with the feasting that had been interrupted by the interrupted wedding.

  Marigold and her sisters clustered around Swithbert. "Oh, Papa," they said, hugging him, "I'm sure Rollo will find Mother and bring her home."

  "I'm not," Swithbert said, dry-eyed. "And if he does, I'll have to send her straight to the dungeon."

  Well, the girls could hardly argue with him about that, but under the circumstances, they kept a tactful silence. Christian observed this and approved. It's exactly what the etiquette book would have advised: Refrain from bad-mouthing somebody when their situation looks particularly bleak.

  He was happy to see that what he'd learned from Ed's book applied to royal life as well as to forest life, since he might soon actually need to know how to address a duke or recognize an oyster fork.

  "You girls go down and mingle with the guests. I need to think. I'll join you later." So King Swithbert went off to his turret to think about what life might be like without Olympia, or maybe with an Olympia under better control than she'd been up to now. And what life would be like with Marigold gone off to Christian's kingdom.

  "I'll go with you, Bert," Ed said. "I've got some thinking to do, too."

  Swithbert wasn't used to people treating him like an ordinary person but decided he liked it, at least from Ed, so he said, "Come along, then." And off they went.

  "Do you think it looks right to go to a party when our mother is—well, who knows where?" Eve, the most proper triplet, asked.

  "To tell you the truth, I don't care how it looks," Marigold said. "This is my final wedding, and I'm going to enjoy it. When somebody is plotting to do you in, it's a little hard to feel sad when something bad happens to her." Her eyes filled for a moment, and she said softly, "I just wish I knew how she could even think of doing such a thing to her own daughter." Being one of the few royals practical enough to carry her own handkerchief, she wiped her eyes and turned to Christian. "Come along, my dearest heart," she said. "Let's go to our party." And they went off down the stairs, surrounded by dogs.

  Eventually the other sisters joined them, and they all ended up having a very good time in spite of the need to remind themselves to look somber from time to time, since there was no word about Olympia.

  By the time the festivities ended and everyone staggered off to bed, there was still no word.

  At breakfast time Swithbert announced that all Rollo and his men had been able to find was the single shoe with the bow on the toe, so they were calling off the search. Wherever Olympia was, she would have to get along with only one shoe.

  Just before dinner, when the last of the wedding guests had finally packed up and gone home, Swithbert called his family together in the library. He shut the doors and said, "Girls—and boys, too—I have some interesting news for you. Mrs. Clover came to me with a secret she's been keeping for years. One that she's kept until now only because Olympia threatened her with the iron maiden if she told. This will come as a shock to you girls, but I have to tell you that Olympia was not your real mother."

  "What?" eight voices said in unison.

  "That's right. She pretended to be expecting—she wanted to avoid the real thing because she thought it would be too hard on her figure—and she threatened Mrs. Clover into bringing babies to her in secret when the proper time came. Mrs. Clover says the babies were from decent village girls who had made mistakes and wanted good homes for their children. Mrs. Clover says she told the girls only that their babies would be going to noble families, so no one but Olympia and Mrs. Clover knew the whole truth."

  "But then, who are we?" the triplets asked, holding each other's hands.

  Swithbert scratched his head. "I don't know. The village
Mrs. Clover brought you all from was burned to the ground and the inhabitants scattered during the last Visigoth raids, when you were little girls. So I guess you'll just have to be who you've always been."

  "So you're not our papa?" Marigold asked, her lower lip trembling. Christian took her hand and stroked it.

  King Swithbert took the other one. "I think I am," he said. "I'm the one who loved you all from the first moment I laid eyes on you, and who walked the floor with you when you were sick and played games with you and taught you to ride and shoot and cheat at cards. What else makes somebody a father?"

  "You're right," Marigold said, and put the whole thing out of her mind, relieved to know that she was not related in any way to Olympia, who had done none of the things Swithbert had done for her. And further relieved to know why she had always felt as if she didn't quite fit into the life she had. Yet somehow, it seemed to fit better now that she knew all the parts of it. Secrets have a way of making themselves felt, even before you know there's a secret.

  Christian spoke up. "Then Ed's my father. He did all those things for me. Except ride. We never had a horse." He knew he had another father over in Zandelphia, but that didn't mean Ed wasn't the real thing, too. And because he'd learned how sick King Beaufort was, Ed might soon be the only one.

  "I'll teach you to ride," Marigold said.

  "Will that make you my father?" Christian asked, teasing.

  "SO I APOLOGIZE to every one of you," Swithbert said humbly, "for marrying this person who was so bad for us all."

  "But it was an arranged marriage, Papa," Marigold said. "You had no choice."

  "I could have resisted harder, the way you did, Marigold, when all those suitors came calling. Or I could have controlled her more. I could have been a better king." He put his head in his hands. "I failed all of us, and my whole kingdom, terribly. I feel just awful."

  "Start now," Ed said. "Be better now. If you could have done better before, you would have. But now that you have your act on the ball, you can do better. So start now." He was sounding parental, he knew it, but once a person had started with that job, it was a hard habit to break. Maybe breaking it was impossible. And didn't everybody need a little parenting from time to time, no matter how old or how royal they got? "All you have to do is keep your shoulder to the grindstone and your nose to the wheel."

  Swithbert lifted his head. "Thank you, Ed. That's good advice. I think. I owe you one now."

  "Okay," Ed said. "About Queen Mab..."

  * * *

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  People eager for the ribbon cutting thronged the riverside terrace of Swithbert's castle. As they milled around, they could talk about nothing but the changes of the past year—so many that it was hard to believe it had been only a year since they had gathered here for Marigold's weddings to Magnus and then to Christian.

  On this day every person in attendance was wearing one of Marigold's fragrances, now in full production by the ladies of both kingdoms of Zandelphia and Beaurivage. Once she'd been able to leave the castle and explore the forest, she had found many species of exotic flowers that made her scents much more complex and interesting. The demand for them was spreading throughout the known world—and adding revenues to both kingdoms' treasuries.

  "Hello, Sir Magnus," Lady Buffleton said. "How are you? Your new manor house is about finished, I see."

  "Yes, my lady," Magnus said. "I've been doing some of the work myself. I built a special room where I work on my maps—and some of them are pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself. I'm selling them to both Queen Mab and Tooth Troll Limited," he added proudly. "No one ever gets lost now." He handed her his card, designed with a little map of his estate. "I have p-mail, too," he said, pleased to be so modern.

  All the local kingdoms were linked now by a p-mail system established by Christian—with the aid of Walter and Carrie and their offspring—who, now that he was King of Zandelphia, wanted easy communication with Swithbert, Ed, Tatiana and Willie, and a bunch of new friends, too.

  "P-mail," Lady Buffleton mused, impressed by how relaxed and pleasant Sir Magnus was. Funny—she'd always thought of him as a nervous sort. Her unmarried daughter came to mind. Perhaps the two of them ... She was interrupted from her matchmaking thoughts by King Swithbert strolling by and greeting her. "Oh, Your Majesty," she said to him, "I must say, the new decorations to the castle are simply—well, they're absolutely, well..."

  "Oh, I know," Swithbert said. "Not everybody thinks baby teeth make good building material, but it is my castle, and I think they look splendid. We've been able to pave over almost all of the north turret with them since Ed opened up his Tooth Troll operation. Ed's eight brothers are helping him—nepotism is a troll tradition, you know. Same as royalty. And having Ed living here has really livened up the place. He's a fierce snipsnapsnorum player. I owe him a fortune, which is remarkable since we both cheat. Excuse me, I have to talk to Marigold."

  Marigold and her sisters had been admiring Calista's and Eve's newest Norfolk terrier puppies from their best litter yet. They thought its success had something to do with their improved states of mind since they found out that they didn't have to be queens of Zandelphia. The puppies were four fat furry bundles on silver leashes. They had rolled and tumbled and played so much that their leashes were tangled, and the sisters were down on their knees trying to unsnarl them.

  "Are you almost ready, Marigold?" Swithbert asked.

  "As soon as I get this pup freed," she said. "Ah, there." She stood, dusting off her skirt. "Is Christian ready?"

  "Waiting at the river." Swithbert signaled to the trumpeter, who blew a loud ta-ra ta-ra that silenced the throng.

  "Time for the ceremony to begin," Swithbert said. He led the way down the stairs, through the castle, out the front gates (where Rollo was back on duty again, quite chastened after a few months in the dungeon for misusing his authority against Christian and Ed, and then receiving a medal for helping recover the lost heir of Zandelphia), across the drawbridge, and around the side of the castle to the river's edge. There Christian stood waiting, admiring his creation.

  Marigold slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "It's beautiful," she whispered into his ear, the one in which he wore his diamond earring. "I'm so proud of you."

  "It does look good, doesn't it?" he said, putting his hand over hers. "And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have christen it."

  Across the river hung a splendid new bridge, which Christian had designed and helped build. He called it a suspension bridge, and its arc was so clean and graceful, it made you stop and stare and think of things that weren't bridges at all, like eagles and courage and love.

  As soon as all the people were assembled, Swithbert and Christian stood side by side and signaled for silence.

  "Welcome to the Zandelphia-Beaurivage Bridge, linking our two kingdoms in friendship and commerce," Christian said. He didn't mention the ingenious devices that, in the event of an invasion, could make the bridge collapse, rendering it useless to enemies—and then restore it to its proper shape when the danger had passed. Survival depends upon acknowledging reality—and on keeping the necessary secrets.

  Swithbert went on, "You're all invited to walk across the bridge to have a cool drink and sweetmeats at the cave-castle of King Christian and Queen Marigold of Zandelphia and then cross back over for feasting and entertainment at my castle in the beautiful, peaceful kingdom of Beaurivage. So, as soon as Marigold cuts the ribbon, let's go!"

  Before an excited crowd (which included the blacksmith, who had been knighted for the outstanding deed of leaving the pieces of his failed flying machine stored in the dungeon, and Queen Mab, who was looking rather pushed out of shape, though quite a bit better rested), Christian handed Marigold the sharp dirk he kept in his boot, and she severed the purple ribbon across the end of the bridge as neat as you please. Then she linked arms with her father on one side and her husband on the other, and they started across.
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br />   "This time last year," Swithbert said, "if anybody had told me that I'd be a widower having the time of my life, and that my precious Marigold would be queen of the kingdom next door—"

  "And that her castle would be a magical crystal cave that made her feel as if she were living inside the stars," Marigold added, "and that she'd be married to her best friend and the love of her life—"

  "And that he'd be a king," Christian continued, "and someone whose inventions were in great demand, and that he'd be married to the queen of his heart, and be the happiest person in the world—"

  "We'd have said that person was a lying lunatic!" they said in unison. Then they laughed all the way to the end of the bridge.

  Once they reached Zandelphia, Christian and Marigold looked into each other's eyes. She said, "As long as we're with each other—"

  "We know we're in exactly the right place," he finished.

  The entrance to the cave had been fancied up, as befits a king's alternate residence, and a riverside terrace to match Swithbert's had been constructed next to the waterfall from which Christian had first seen Marigold. Of course, all Ed's collections had been moved into Swithbert's dungeons, so the cave didn't look quite as it had a year before. It was now more magnificent than ever, comfortably furnished and glittering extravagantly in the summer sunshine. The royalty taking tours of this alternate castle began to wish that they, too, had thought of living in a cave.

  Marigold and Christian were already responsible for starting several other trends—such as watching the sunrise in their pj's (this one died out quickly as most royals didn't want to get up that early), eating vegetarian, wearing a single diamond earring, and using part of their residence as a home for unwanted children (this died out pretty fast, too, as most royals didn't really want to be bothered). Of course, for Christian and Marigold, these weren't trends at all—they were just the way the new king and queen of Zandelphia wanted to live their lives.