Chapter 66

"Good afternoon sir." Brigitte spoke in her native Waxingville accent.

The blacksmith looked up, his tanned skin sweating from the work. He looked to be in his fortieth year with his dark brown hair only lightly dusted with few silver strands.

He rested his hammer on the anvil and picked up a dirty rag.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." He said patting his neck dry, "What can I do for you?"

Brigitte swallowed, focusing on keeping her voice steady as she talked to the man, "Me and my sister have recently come into possession of some bum stallions and are looking to clean and fix them up, we are." She said her voice turning into a whisper on the 'are'.

The blacksmith glanced at where the Queen stood, her hand petting one of the horses.

"I see, well bring them to one of the stalls and I'll send one of the boys to give you a hand." He said setting his rag down and picking up his hammer.

"No, there's no need, sir." She said hastily.

He looked up, one of his dark eyebrows lifting, "No need, are you telling me that you're going to clean and shoe those horses yourself?"

She looked at her hands feeling small under the man's judging scrutiny.

"I will send one of the boys to help you." He said and she had no choice but to comply.

Walking back to where the Queen stood waiting Brigitte told her of the fruits of her conversation with the blacksmith and the Queen nodded, shrugging she said, "Very well then. Let's find them each a stall."

They walked the horses to the stalls and began to brush out their filthy coats.

"We'll have to name them now I suppose." The Queen called over the barrier in the stall.

Brigitte smiled, "Indeed?"

"Yes, I think I shall name mine Oak, old Oak. I think it suits him." She said happily.

Brigitte smiled again at her Queen's affinity for naming.

"I think I shall name mine…" She paused in her movements of brushing and thought, "Aspen."

"Hmm, I had a brother by that name." The Queen said.

"Really? I didn't know." She replied, she could've sworn that she'd heard all of the Queen's sibling's names.

"Yes, I never knew him but I buried him." The two stalls went silent as Brigitte absorbed the new information and the Queen solemnly recalled the day.

"My mother had given birth to him, stillborn, he never saw the light of day. My mother named him Aspen but I don't think it was because of the tree's meaning."

The stalls became silent once more save for the scraping sound of the combs.

"What is the tree's meaning?" She asked finally.

The Queen was quiet a long time before she answered, "It symbolizes a person who can enter death but return from it. It also means shield and defender."

They spoke no more on the subject and soon the blacksmith's help was there and he helped to shoe the horses.

Upon exiting the stables they searched for a place to buy saddles, asking the blacksmith he replied that he had two older ones that was willing to give.

Both women accepted the gift graciously and left the stables.

Coming back to where the tailor shop was they surveyed the area for the Sovereign.

"Maybe he got detained?" Brigitte suggested unsure.

The Queen nodded, "Yeah, he's probably… flirting somewhere or other."

Brigitte nodded, her own self worried.

When it reached dusk they began to fear the worst.

"Where could he be? He only said that he would search for information." The Queen said pacing her voice shrill.

Brigitte knew that her Queen did not want to admit it but she was afraid for her husband.

Thinking back to what the other woman had said previously, she replied, "My father always said the best place for information was at the local tavern."

The Queen stopped in her pacing and faced Brigitte, her eyes wide, "No." she growled.

Brigitte nodded, she recalled hearing stories of the Sovereign's love for drink and was surprised she'd never seen signs of it before.

Both women drove the coach, and after asking a man they'd seen who smelled like he'd previously been to the tavern, they were soon parked at the end of an alleyway.

"Stay with the horses." The Queen ordered her and she nodded, she did not want to enter 'The Griffin's Perch' the mythological name of the tavern.

Seeing her Queen enter the tavern she sat upright, her body tense in worry.

Hydrangea entered the tavern and was welcomed by the sound of drunken laughter and the wretched stench of alcohol and smoke.

Covering her nose for a few moments she gathered her courage and searched for the foolish Sovereign.

Hearing a voice that she recognized her feet headed in that direction.

"Tell us again, you slew how many?" A rough voice asked.

"Over one hundred Mathubans." The Sovereign's voice replied and she felt her heart clench in fear, 'What had he been telling these people?'

Walking up behind him on his chair the other three men turned their drunken gaze to her. The Sovereign, realizing that there was someone standing behind him, awkwardly shifted in his seat.

"Oh!" He exclaimed loudly and she grimaced, "This, my good men," He said slurring, "Is my decrepit wife." He said proudly pulling her onto his lap.

Hydrangea pushed against his chest as he leaned down as though to kiss her, he reeked of mead and wine and many other substances, "I am not decrepit! You're more decrepit than any of us." She said fighting his superior strength.

"Hah! You hear that, my good men, she says I'm the ones that's decrepit."

The other three men raised their glasses, "Hear, hear."

Her mouth dropped open, 'Do they think he's wise?'

Sitting up straight on his lap she righted herself and reaching her hand behind his head she felt the soft, wavy hair and yanked it.

"If you don't get out of this tavern now I will kill you myself." She whispered into his ear, her hand finding one of his knives.

His eyes looked to register that she was serious and he got up hastily, she clung to his coat for a support and quickly let go.

"It was a pleasure, my good men."

"Hear, hear." Came the 'good men's' reply.

Hydrangea rolled her eyes and grabbed the Sovereign's arm pulling him out of the tavern.

Once they were out she turned on her heel ready to slap him senseless but the look on his smudged face stopped her.

Looking behind her she saw nothing out of the ordinary but his eyes were still trained there.

He raised his arm and pointed, "Did you see, big dark man? Black, black skin and blue eyes? Hold up." He suddenly staggered back and nearly fell over if she had not caught him.

"It's him. Why is he here?" He continued muttering that it was 'him' whoever that was.

With the help of Brigitte they both got him inside the coach in a sitting position. He soon passed out and would no longer remain in a sitting position.

"Would you like to…?" Hydrangea asked.

"Drive? Your majesty? If it's not a problem?" Brigitte asked, she did but want to be stuck in the coach with a drunk man whom was not her husband.

Hydrangea clenched her fists out of nervousness and nodded, "Alright." Climbing in Brigitte climbed aboard and drove the horses in the direction of the main road they'd originally come by.