The final day of the Tournament dawned with a promise for a fine day. There was a deep blue sky and a light wind carried a few puffy clouds on their way. The air was filled with the mossy scent of red heath that grew abundantly on the fallow fields around the castle. Some forty brightly colored standards fluttered along the ramparts of the Chateau de la Tour Rouge, each representing a knight who battled for the honor of Eloise, Queen of the Tournament. The snapping of the banners filled out the dawn chorus of the birds and insects.
After three days of feasting far into the night, the castle woke late. The grooms stirred first, as the horses began to stomp and whinny for their food. Grumbling, with mussed hair and baggy eyes, they saw to their charges, urging the big animals to quiet down as they willed the headaches left from the previous night's celebration to depart. The dogs, also early risers, woke their handlers with impatient barking and baying.
The cooks and stewards were up next. The stewards reset the lists and supervised as drudges picked up debris left from the night's revelry. The cooks prepared breads and hot tea for all, with baskets of fresh berries for the High Table. After days of feasting, simple fare would be a welcome contrast.
The rest of the castle began to wake shortly after that. The blacksmiths called to their boys to bring fresh wood and light the forges so they could repair the weapons and armor that had been damaged in yesterday's exertions. The squires gathered in a loose cluster off to the side of the courtyard with saddle-soap and buckets of water, polishing their knights' tack to a lustrous shine. The young children who were not otherwise occupied with tending chickens or emptying chamber pots darted around underfoot, playing at fencing and jousting. Occasionally one would earn a gruff cuff as he got in the way, but mostly the adults tolerated their boisterous behavior with good humor.
Across all of this activity lay the long shadow of the Tripod. For three days it had stood witness, not moving or showing any sign of life, other than a brief flurry of motion in the hours before dawn on the day before last. By the time the castle had stirred, the Tripod was back at its post. Among the cluster of squires, several of the boys occasionally glanced up at the Tripod, but after a moment, they returned resolutely to their work.
From her window halfway up the Red Tower, Eloise watched the growing activity. She was again wearing the simple blue dress with white lace trim she had worn when she was elected queen of the tournament. As was customary, she had wound the blue turban around her head. She missed brushing her hair and she longed for the day when her hair would again be long enough to fall in soft waves to her shoulders, just for the sheer pleasure of brushing it out each morning.
Like the squires below, her gaze was occasionally drawn to the Tripod, but where the boys below glanced at it furtively, nervously, she looked at the giant with open adoration. Today she would go to serve it. She wondered what service she could possibly provide to such great creatures as the Masters.
At the tap on her door, she turned from the window. "Come in," she called.
Her mother pushed open the door. With an affectionate smile, Eloise took three steps across the simple room and took her mother's hands in her own.
Holding tight to her hands, the Countess leaned back, looking over her daughter. "Oh, Eloise," she said. "Look at you. A lady! All grown up. I am so proud of you."
Eloise squeezed her mother's hands, delight and excitement playing in her eyes.
Her mother continued, "I am going to miss you. It will be so quiet here."
"You will have Will. It won't be so quiet with him learning to be a knight."
"Guillaume, yes. You are right." Although her mother did not want to dampen the mood, it was hard to keep the doubt from creeping into her voice.
"He will be like a son, Mama. I am sure of it."
Her mother nodded, smiling. "Yes, yes, of course he will."
They were quiet for a moment as mother and daughter studied each other. They both knew there would not be many chances left for them to be together. As they looked their fill, the familiar call of an approaching Tripod rang out, followed by the answering call of the one standing watch over the castle.
Eloise squeezed her mother's hands, bouncing up on the balls of her toes. Her mother smiled again, this time with actual happiness as she was infected by Eloise's excitement. "That must be the Tripod for you, my daughter."
Suddenly uncertain, Eloise glanced out the window and then looked back at her mother, some of her radiance shaken. "Do you think I will be…?"
"Hush," her mother replied. "You will be splendid. You will please the Masters greatly."
Warmed by the praise, Eloise pulled her mother into an enthusiastic hug. "Oh, Mother! I am going to miss you so!"
The hours had flown by. The final rounds of jousting and melee were completed and a champion of the tournament was determined. All gathered around as the knight sunk to his knees before Eloise and she laid the flowered crown on his head. She raised him up and a forest of swords flashed in the afternoon sun, as a chorus of voices cried out, "Three cheers for the Chevalier de Trouillon! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah"
With quiet dignity, the knight bobbed his head in acknowledgment. A stillness fell on the crowd as he offered Eloise his arm.
He handed her down off the high dais from where she had watched the tournament with the Count and Countess and escorted her to the center of the courtyard. The quiet was broken only by the jangle of the knight's armor as everyone stood in respectful silence. When he reached the center, he stepped back and saluted her, his sword flashing in the afternoon sun.
His sword was the signal the crowd had been waiting for and they cried out, "Three cheers for Queen Eloise! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!" Her delighted smile competed with the sun in its radiance.
The cheers respectfully faded out as a Tripod moved in. Later, the other Tripod would take up the children who were to be Capped, but the Masters did the Queen a great honor by taking her separately from the children. The knight and the crowd stepped back, clearing a space for the giant legs. She was left alone, standing in the center of the courtyard.
Dwarfed beneath its great body, she looked up at the round capsule with awe. Six months before, she had stood in this very spot with three other children. When the tentacle had reached for her, she had been trembling. Her mother had assured her it would not hurt, but she was still frightened. Perhaps the Capping would fail and in a few days she would be wandering away, spouting nonsense. It happened, even among the great Houses. However, as the tentacle had wound gently around her middle and lifted her high into the air, the fear had vanished. She did not remember much of what happened after. Her next clear memory was from hours later as she and the other newly Capped were carried in the Tripod back to their home. Despite the strangeness, she had been filled with a sense of calm and a deep certainty of the compassion that the Masters had for the humans. She understood, with every fiber of her body, that the Masters were to be respected, obeyed, and honored.
Now, as the tentacle descended from the heights, she felt pride at her accomplishment and tremendously honored. This time, when the tentacle snaked around her and the ground fell away, she felt nothing but delight. And unlike the last time, when the Masters had protected her by putting her to sleep on the way up, this time she stayed alert and conscious.
She was placed on her feet inside the capsule and the opening that she had come through closed with a soft whoosh. For a moment, she stood looking around the room in astonishment. She did not remember a great deal from her Capping, but the inside of that Tripod had been a barren, unadorned room. This Tripod was different. There was a bed, not as grand as the bed she had left, but it looked comfortable enough, with a gay quilt spread across it. There was a small table with two attached benches and a lovely looking glass, large enough that Eloise realized she would be able to see from her feet all the way to the top of her head without moving. And the greatest marvel of all—a proper bathtub that looked big enough to submerge her whole family in.
On the either side of the room there were small round windows. As she walked over to one, the floor began to rock as the Tripod started moving away from the Chateau de la Tour Rouge. Looking out, she saw the other Tripod move into position, but by the time the tentacles descended to gather up the children, the Red Tower had disappeared into the distance. There was no sadness in leaving her home, only excitement in the great adventure before her.
Behind her, she heard another soft whoosh and she turned to see an old man emerge from a door she had not noticed before. The man was dressed oddly, in a plain white shift such as a serving girl would wear. Eloise studied the man, and with a soft gasp, she stepped back and put her hand to her mouth. That was no man! That was an old woman with her hair hacked short and sticking up in disarrayed spikes through the Cap. Though her face was deeply lined and she moved with a hunched uneven gait, her hair was dark brown without any sign of grey.
"My, but aren't you a pretty one," the woman said in French, though with a thick German accent. "The Master will be pleased with you!" Like her hair, her voice did not match her face. Weary, yes, but not cracked and old. She came up to Eloise and walked around her. "Tired, though, it looks like. You've had a big day. Did you sleep last night?"
Wordlessly, Eloise shook her head. She was finding it hard to understand the woman.
"Eat anything in the last day?"
Eloise shook her head again. She had known she was supposed to eat, but had been too excited.
"I am Anke, and I serve the Master who is the curator of the Pyramid of Beauty. I am to help prepare you."
Eloise frowned and then asked hesitantly in German, "Prepare me?"
Anke replied in French, "Master expects me to speak in your language, so you will be comfortable." She smiled. "I know my French is poor; please ask me to repeat if you need to. It is my job to prepare you for your service to the Masters. Don't worry! All will become clear. You will please them greatly."
"Oh," Eloise replied, torn between confusion and delight. "What will I…"
Anke held up her hand. "As I said, all will become clear. There is plenty of time for that. What is your name?"
Eloise told her.
"Are you high born, or …"
"My father is the Count of the Chateau de la Tour Rouge."
"Ah. Well, none of that matters anymore," Anke said. "You should eat. I am sure you are used to eating much finer than we do in the City, but it would please my Master if you were not quite so tired and wan when he examines you."
Eloise did not feel hungry, but she sat at the table. Anke put a basket of biscuits in front of her. They did not look like much, but the thought that it would please the Master if she ate was enough. She picked up one of the rock-hard biscuits and nibbled at it. Once she started eating, she realized how hungry she was.
"What about you?" Eloise asked.
"Food? I ate right before we brought you on."
Eloise shook her head as she chewed a mouthful of the biscuit.
Anke looked at Eloise, a smile twitching her face. "You mean, my parents? Oh, they were shepherds. I was a…how do you say it? Wildfang, a wild catch…ah, I remember. You say 'a missed boy'. I always ran with the boys." She grinned, and suddenly Eloise realized with a shock that Anke was maybe just two or three years older than she was. "Beat them too. The year after I was Capped, I entered the Games. Not like the Tournament you have, but rather a competition with races and tests of strength. The winners of each event were always taken to serve the Masters in their city. It is very rare for a girl to compete, and even rarer for one to win. So far as I …" Suddenly Anke stopped and looked away. "I…we do not talk about our lives before coming to the City."
Eloise nodded, although she was disappointed. "I understand. Just as we do not talk to children about the Capping."
"Something like that." Anke turned away. "You should finish your meal. I will draw a bath for you, and then you will get some sleep. We will be at the City tomorrow."
Eloise laughed nervously. "How can I possibly sleep?"
Anke just shook her head. "You'll sleep," she said softly. "My Master will help you."
Eloise did not quite know how it happened, but after the bath (which was just as amazing as she had thought it might be) and a massage that Anke had insisted on, she had crawled into the bed and slept soundly. Once, years ago, she had travelled with her parents and brothers to attend the wedding of her father's younger sister. Her aunt was marrying the Duke of Aquitaine, who had a lovely castle overlooking the sea. Eloise and her brothers had spent every minute they could playing in the waves. As she woke, she realized that the gentle rocking of the Tripod's motion had cause her to dream of those happiness-soaked days of her childhood.
Sitting up, she looked around the room. Anke was already awake. There were biscuits on the table, along with an array of brushes and combs and files and nail paint. Her gown was hanging, clean and beautiful, on the wall.
"Ah! Good morning, Eloise," Anke said.
Eloise nodded, her hand going to her head. No, there was no turban but…before she could react, she remembered the night before, when getting undressed for the bath, Anke had taken it from her. "A servant of the Masters wears her Cap proudly," Anke had gently chided. "I know that in your country you would hide your head for a few months more, but among the Masters, that is not permitted."
Feeling somewhat self-conscious with her bare head, Eloise swung her feet onto the floor. Like Anke, she was wearing just a simple shift to sleep in. The servant girls at home had seen her dressed so. There was nothing to be concerned about.
"Come, eat," Anke encouraged her. "Then we will do your hair and paint your nails and get you dressed before my Master comes in. Ready?"
Hours later, Eloise stood in front of the mirror admiring the result of their work. Her hair was arranged in soft curls around her face, appealing despite its shortness. Her fingernails had been painted and polished to a shine. She felt and looked radiant.
Anke came up behind her. Wrinkled, stooped, weary Anke. They made a striking contrast in the mirror. "I envy you," she said softly, looking at their twinned reflections in the glass. "And the service you will provide the Masters."
Eloise turned to look at her. "You mean, I won't…"
Anke laughed, "What, come to look like me? No."
"Then what will I …"
"The Masters," Anke replied softly, "greatly treasure beauty. You will serve them for a long time."
"It is a fine thing to serve them."
Anke nodded, turning away.
A moment later, the door whooshed open and both girls turned to look. For Eloise, the room suddenly felt much smaller, as the bulk of the Master emerged. Briefly she remembered the moment six months before when she had first seen a Master. It had wrapped her in its tentacles, pinning her arms firmly to her side as it had worked to fit the Cap to her head. Every spring, she had watched the cowhands as they castrated the young bulls, and the Master's firm, efficient manner had reminded her of that. However, that thought had been forgotten a moment later when the Master had finished and the Cap had activated. Strange, that she should remember such foolishness now.
Anke moved towards her Master and spoke to him in German "She is prepared, Master."
The Master raised a tentacle and gestured for Eloise to turn. Eloise did so. Then he rumbled in reply, "It is a very fine specimen, girl," and Anke flushed at the praise. "Come here," the Master said in French. Eloise took a step closer.
The Master reached out with his tentacle, caressing the side of her face, tilting her chin up to look at his three-eyes. Eloise felt herself fill with wonder. "You will serve us well," he said.
"I will do my best, Master," Eloise replied.
The Master's tentacle slipped around to the back of her skull and another wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly. The sensation, when it came, was remarkably pleasant. She found herself thinking of Will, and the delightful thrill that had run through her when she had leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, that one time when they had been punting on the river. She felt her body go limp, and the Master's strength supporting her was deeply comforting. And then, the darkness came.
Notes: The end of the story owes a lot to the end of Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler. A huge thank you to Bluedog and Carbonel for the fantastic beta reads.