Chapter 4
"Hurry! It's almost time!" "Where are the trumpeters! I can't find them!" "Ow! That was my foot!" "Sorry!" "Someone help me with this food!" "My leg!"
The head servant ran about giving orders rapidly amidst the roar of the hustling serving men and women. "People! People!" Everyone stopped to look at him. "We must be organized! The trumpeters are in the West Wing! The food goes to the dining hall! Whoever got hurt, go to the medical area! Let's move people!"
Now in order, the servants' work went much more smoothly. In no time, all was set for the Queen's arrival. Casaelus sat in the throne room, going over some last minute details with the head servant. Their conversation as interrupted as a trumpet blast echoed from outside.
"She's here!" the head servant declared.
"Let's make a good first impression." King Casaelus said more to himself than the head servant. "Everything must run smoothly here."
"Yes, M'lord." He jogged out of the throne room main doors and began giving orders. Casaelus readied himself for the Queen's coming. This was it.
Atlah's father (let's call him Ben, shall we?) crouched flat against a marble statue and held his breath as 2 patrolling guards marched by. This was getting too dangerous.
'There are more guards the closer I get to the stinking palace! I have to find a way inside quickly!'
The wall of the palace was still roughly 100 yards away, and the multitude of plants and statues made seeing any real distance at ground level was almost impossible. This was hopeless!
'There's gotta be SOMETHING I can-' he stopped as a wagon full of vegetables covered by a tarp coming up one of the trails paused and the driver began some friendly banter with the guards. 'There's my chance!' Moving as quickly but as quietly as possible, he jumped quickly under the tarp, and stayed perfectly still until the driver of the wagon started up again.
His vision suddenly blurred, and his nose stung. 'Agh! What is this…?' He looked down and finally realized what he was lying in. 'UGH! Onions! I HATE onions!'
Echo giggled and laughed as she ran about, chasing a butterfly that seemed rather intent on just barely eluding her grasp every time she reached for it. As she ran skipped about, she heard a familiar sound. The creak of an old cart's wheels as it rolled along on the marble paths. Only one cart ever took this route, and Echo knew immediately who it was.
She stepped out into the corridor that the marble road traveled through, and there was Mr. Grennal, the old onion farmer, with his old cart and his most reliable horse,
Gretchen.
"Hi, Mr. Grennal! Hi Gretchen! How are you!"
The old man stopped and squinted at her. "Wh-Who's there?"
Echo giggled. "It's me, Echo!"
"O-Oh! Hello there, Echo! How are ya today? Are you behaving?"
"Yes sir! I'm just playing."
The old man smiled. "There's a good girl." He reached into his cart, pulled out an onion, and handed it to her. "Enjoy!"
Echo smiled politely and thanked Grennal like she always did. It was important to always be nice to old people, as her Nanny had taught her. The old man flipped his reigns, and the old mare started toward the castle again.
Echo never really kept the onions he gave her. As she had done every time before, she waited until the oldster was facing away from her and then chucked into the back of the wagon.
"Ow!"
Echo stopped and stared at the back of the wagon. 'Did I hear a… No! I'm just imagining stuff.' Once more, the ever mischievous butterfly appeared, just out of reach.
"I've got you now!" Thanks to Echo's tiny childhood attention span, the incident was soon forgotten.