In the beginning there was my Eldest brother Mordred my sister Dianna, myself and our baby brother Brice. He was born when I was only four. But also there was Mary.
"Mary?" The reporter said. "I don't recall there ever being five of you. And there's never any mention of a Mary."
"They never talked about her much." Said Hortense.
"Were they ashamed?" asked Joyce.
"No, my parents loved their children and my father died before my brother turned. No, Mary…she died…a long time ago."
"I sorry to here that." The reporter said making notes.
"So am I." Hortense said biting her bottom lip.
"Was it fowl play?" Asked Joyce.
"I'm the one telling the story, Baker." Hortense said and continued.
I sang that stupid rhyme that night. There seemed to be so many people. Sometimes at night in my cell I can hear the chatter. Inaudible conversations. Everyone clapped; they were only being nice of course.
Afterward while all the adults where engrossed in their own conversations. My brother would sneak off with Prince Jack. They always had so much fun together and ever curios me, had to be part of it…even when they didn't want me to.
" The real Prince Jack Benjamin?" Asked Joyce.
"No, the chocolate one."
Hortense's braids bounced as she ran up the halls as fast as her little legs could carry her. "Mordred wait for me!" She shouted after her brother who had no intensions of stopping. Mordred and Jack rounded the corner. Determined not to let them have fun without her Hortense sped around the corner too sharp lost her footing and slid across the floor.
Mordred stopped running and turned around to laugh at his little sister. "Baby." He said and stuck out his tongue. He stood over her and looked down his nose. "When I'm King, babies like you will be the first thing to go." Hortense looked up at her brother too hurt by his words to say anything.
"She's you baby sister." Jack said next to him. Mordred stopped laughing as if he had been literally slapped. His black eyes hardened like two stones. Nonetheless Jack reached out his hand to Hortense and helped her up. Mordred rolled his eyes. "Awww look at the wittle prince being chivalrous." He crooned.
He shoved Jack hard and the smaller prince hit the wall. Hortense waited for Jack to punch Mordred black and blue the way she would have done if she were bigger. Instead Jack shoved Mordred playfully and the two went back and forth and started racing up the halls again pretending to be planes.
Still out of breath, Hortense started after them again, but this time when she rounded the corner they were gone. She slowed her pace to a walk as she made her way up the hall.
About a yard apart on the walls were portrait paintings. Hortense stared up at the large works of art biting her thumb and looking into her eyes. When she came to a painting of a large man with hair the color of snow she froze.
"I think some one is outside the door." A voice said. Hortense's eyes widened and she stepped back from the pictures.
"Hello?" She said in a small voice barley even a whisper.
"Strange isn't it?" The voice came again louder than before. Hortense stumbled backwards unable to run. She backed into something and looked up. A face stared back at her. Hortense took her thumb from between her teeth no longer interested in it.
Turning around she looked at the man's feet than all the way up to his face again. Once she was sure he was a real person she smiled.
"I remember you." The man said kneeling down to her level. "You sang for us at dinner." Hortense nodded her head with pride.
"I'm a princess I have to sing, you should know that." She said.
"Well excuse me." The man said and started down the hall in the opposite direction Mordred and Jack had gone. Hortense looked up the hall then down it, then up then down it. Presently she started down the hall. When the man looked over his shoulder she stopped and waited for him to continue. When he started walking again so did she.
She ran up to his side and grabbed his hand. "My name's Hortense." She grinned. "That mean gardener." The man slowed down to her pace.
"You like flowers, Hortense?" The man asked sticking his free hand in his pocket. Hortense nodded her head dramatically.
"I like flowers and gardens and trees and stars. My brother says stars are nothing if they can't shine." She paused and for a four year old had a deep thought. "If a star can't shine can it still be a star?" She asked looking up at him and frowning. The man looked back down at her.
"If bells can't ring, can they still be called bells?" He held his hand out to her and reviled a silver bell with a green ribbon. Hortense stared at the shine, captivated by the luminosity of it. Slowly she took it for his opened hand held it to her ear and shook it gently.
She looked at the man in horror. "It doesn't make a sound!" She said in alarm. The man laughed at her expression. "It's so shiny but doesn't make a sound." She turned the bell over in her hand in disappointment.
"Does that answer your star question?" The man asked. Hortense nodded her head as she studied the bell. The loud chime of a grandfather clock echoed up the hallway. "Next time I see you little gardener, you have to answer my question about the bells." Hortense looked up wanting to ask more questions but he had already gotten far away.
She held the bell to her ear and shook it. Not a sound.
"William Cross, William Cross gave you a bell?" The reporter asked.
"Boy, don't you sound surprised." Hortense said, then her voice grew serious. "I spent years trying to find the answer to that question; just like he wanted me to."
The cell opened and a guard carried in a tray of food. "At last." Hortense exclaimed. The guard set the tray down in front of her and she looked down at the meal. "And so it is." She said to herself. "My father loved Gath, and evidently so did my sister Dianna, she would go out and party with the girls from that land, landing herself and all sorts of troubles.
"Perhaps that's why my father chose me to be the bride of the nation."
"Is that when you answered the bell question?" Joyce Baker asked.
Hortense shook her head. "No, I saw William Cross much sooner again than that. I was seven, and my father was making friends in all the wrong places. I guess that makes me his daughter."