VI
GRACE
When Will My Life Begin – Mandy Moore
When she opened her eyes the next morning, Grace had expected to see her ocean blue quilt and a handful of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, When instead, Grace saw the blank roof of her guest room, she gave a frustrated exhale.
I just want to go home, she thought tiredly, yawning and scratching at her face with her fingertips.
Three sharp knocks on wood startled her awake, it sounded familiar, like it was the second time someone had knocked on her door this… morning? She sat up and looked to one of the windows beside of the bed. The first cracks of sunlight had begun to peek through and were shining into the room cheerfully. Someone had come to speak to her at the crack of dawn.
At the crack of dawn. For heaven's sake.
Another persistent knock joined the conversation in her mind. Grace sighed, whoever this was, they were not patient.
"I'm coming." She called, her voice still cracking with the whispers of sleep.
If the person on the other side heard her, they did not acknowledge it. Grace pulled herself from the sheets groggily and trudged towards the ornately carved door.
Another knock began as Grace reached the door, and she pulled it open mid rap, an annoyed expression on her face. "Yes?" She asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Whomever it was, they still did not speak. Although Grace did hear a brief gruff of disapproval.
Grace's face crumpled in displeasure, "If you're going to wake me up this early, you better have a good-" But she stopped, unable to finish the sentence when her eyes fastened to the being in front of her.
The Centaur stared at her evenly, unphased but still holding an ever-present aura of disapproval. "You are Grace?" He asked in a deep tone which vibrated so soundly in Grace's chest that she thought she'd spoken the words herself.
"Yes." Grace whispered, slightly in awe. She had seen many creatures in her short time in Narnia. Lucy had called them fauns, talking animals and minotaurs. However, she'd not yet seen a centaur and thus was unprepared at the sheer size of one.
The Centaur towered over her; his strong shadow nearly doubled in size against hers. His features were sharply angled and every muscle on his body appeared to be toned.
Had he come to take her away to some dungeon? Grace shuddered at the thought, when she was caught trying to flee, she feared this might be the outcome.
The Centaur bowed his head slightly and introduced himself, "I am Casys."
Grace tried to smile friendlily, "It's lovely to meet you."
Casys did not return the smile but Grace noted his muscles relax. A moment passed where the two shared a slow stare. Eventually when Grace's curiosity got the better of her she asked why he had come.
"I am your assigned guard," Casys explained.
Ah, my babysitter, Grace thought. She opened the door wider and motioned for Casys to enter.
The Centaur shook his head, "No. The hallway is enclosed enough for me," he glanced at the roof with a sliver of nervousness before continuing, "I have come to collect you for your kitchen duties."
"Oh!" Grace exclaimed, "So early?"
"His majesty, King Edmund has instructed me to take you down to the Kitchens each day at dawn," Casys confirmed gruffly.
Grace nodded, already feeling lighter and with a sense of purpose as she stepped through the doorway, "Then let's go, I can't spend a moment longer in that room."
She had taken a few steps down the hallway before Casys stopped her. His hooves stamping against the marble stone as he caught up, "Before we do, I believe you may wish to dress yourself."
Grace, stunned with his direct speech took a moment to realise that she was still in only her shift. She yelped and scurried back to her room, ignoring the humorous look in the Centaur's eyes.
Casys had led her down to the Kitchens at a steady pace. He didn't say much to her, except to answer her enquiries about things they saw or overheard.
Dawn had barely broken and yet, the Cair was already abuzz with movement. She and Casys were caught in the waves of staff moving about their duties for the day. It was dizzying, the amount of creatures that moved about in the cascading hallways. Grace, who had never thought such beings could be real before, wanted to sit still in her wonder and watch them move about their days.
But there was no time to observe the creatures in their work, Casys had informed her that she was already late and Grace hurried behind him as he cleared their path.
The kitchens were revealed to be quite close to her quarters and Grace was relieved that she would not have to traipse the length of the Cair to get to work each day. She left Casys at the doorway who bowed his head solemnly and wished her luck, making excuses of small areas not suiting centaurs.
When Grace entered the room, she found she had to agree. The sheer heat that radiated against her skin when she entered the room was suffocating. The ovens – plural, as there were at least three of them – ran along the far side of the room. They blazed infernos that thickened the air with sweltering heat and in front of them, all manner of beings scurried about performing menial tasks such as; cutting, kneading, tossing and cooking.
Grace watched them, entranced at their synchronicity. They ducked and swerved between each other without so much as a word spoken.
A large hare caught her eye as it tossed dough between its paws. It's eyes tensed in focus and its tongue poking out between its lips. When the dough crumbled to the countertop with a thunk, it let out a loud groan which interrupted the smooth sounds of sizzling, chopping and fur sliding atop the marble floor.
"Argh!" The hare exclaimed, shaking the mixture from its paws and wiping them on a cloth, "I shall never get this mixture right."
A Badger looked up from one of the ovens, the hair on its head mussed about like it had been pawing at it, "Well don't give up," It cried, "Breakfast is in less than an hour and the Kings and Queens can't go without toast."
"I don't know what else I can do!" The hare cried in response, shovelling the mixture into a basket, "I've looked over Mrs Beavers recipe a hundred times at least and it's not coming together like it should."
Grace could clearly see the problem just by looking at the dried dough, the hare hadn't added enough water. "Excuse me," She interjected politely, hoping to catch the hare before it threw the mixture away.
The Badger looked up at her startled before barely taking in her features before dipping into a low bow, "Your Majesty."
Several other animals in the kitchen froze as if they had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar.
The hare looked between the two of them oddly and after a beat of appraisal towards Grace it murmured, "She's not a queen, you dolt."
The Badger looked up and squinted at Grace with their small eyes, "Isn't she? I can't see her from here. I'm sorry, dear, I saw the shape of a human and assumed."
Grace smiled sheepishly and waved the Badger off, mildly uncomfortable with the amount of eyes staring at her. She pointed to the woven basket sitting in the hare's arms and suggested, "The mixture is fine, you just need to add a bit more water to make it cohesive."
The hare simply stared at her and Grace thought she could almost see the puzzle piece fit in the creatures eyes. "More water," It stated dumbly, "But the recipe doesn't call for more water!"
Grace followed its eyesight to the torn paper on the table and read over the contents. Ah, there it was, a slight smudge on the number next to the water measurements. Grace pointed it out to the hare, picking up the page and pointing out the wear on its edges.
"Oh thank you, thank you!" The hare cried, joyous that it did not need to start again. It flipped the basket over onto the table and began kneading again, this time adding water to the mixture.
The Badger, who had been watching the transaction with the utmost curiosity, waddled closer to the two and inspected the – now cohesive – mass of dough. "It's almost perfect," They squeaked before squinting up at Grace, "How did you know that was what it needed?"
"The recipe," Grace replied, holding up the worn sheet.
"No, no," The Badger pressed, "You knew before you looked at it."
Grace felt her cheeks flush, "I have some experience with bread," she admitted.
"Oh," Recognition lit their small eyes, "You're my new bread maker!"
"That's me," Grace said awkwardly, still a little uncomfortable with the number of eyes upon her. The kitchen staff still had not moved from their statuesque positions, however, they seemed to thaw a little when they realised she was not royalty.
The Badger waddled slightly as she moved around the table to greet Grace properly. They took her hand, shaking it enthusiastically and saying, "Oh, thank Aslan! We were beginning to worry you wouldn't show."
"I'm so sorry, there was a little trouble with my clothes," Grace said in a small voice. She really hated being late. Really, she hated being in the wrong for anything. It gave her this thick, gooey, unpleasant feeling in her stomach that only abided with time. How long the feeling remained was up to the severity of her actions.
The Badger waved off her apology with a smile, "No matter, no matter. You're here now and you clearly know what you're talking about," They motioned to the table, "You can pick up where Kit has left off."
The Badger waved the hare – Kit – away from the table and signalled for her to begin.
Fuelled by the sick oozy feeling and the need to put her hands to work, Grace did not hesitate and immediately began kneading. The Badger watched through narrowed eyes, murmuring small ooh's and ah's as she worked.
Grace felt a little put off by the constant attention but allowed it without comment. If anything, it was to wash a little of the guilt away. When she had looked at the Badger for the third time, however, the creature seemed to catch on.
"Oh don't mind me, dear," They said, patting Grace's arm, "I'm only admiring your work."
Grace startled, "I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't-"
"No, no. Don't worry. I'm only squinting at you like this because I've forgotten my glasses today."
Glasses? What would a badger need with glasses?
"We don't have amazing sight, us badgers," They tapped a claw to the corner of their eye, "These are made for foraging at night, not managing an entire kitchen," In an exaggerated movement, their hands widened to gesture to the room.
Grace smiled, slightly comforted at the Badgers words, "If you don't mind me asking, how did you land the job of kitchen manager?"
The Badger waddled towards the ovens, apparently done watching Grace, "I took the job as a favour to my friend, Mrs Beaver. She had been boiling down here in these palace kitchens for near on ten years since the Great Peace began. Had many singed hairs to show for it, too."
"She said to me, 'Mrs Badger, I have worked and lived in and loved these kitchens for nearly ten years, but I think now I would like a few years of peace. Will you take up my mantle?'"
Mrs Badger barely paused for breath, "Now, I could hardly say no to her. Not my dearest friend! So I packed up my things, kissed Mr Badger goodbye and now I am here. Cooking for the Kings and Queens!"
Grace only smiled and attempted to focus on transferring the dough to an iron sheet. Her fingers caught uncomfortably in the sticky mixture and Grace had to pry the them away. When she had finished shaping the dough into a ball and cleared as much of it from her hands as possible, she covered the ball with a damp cloth.
Mrs Badger had stopped paying attention to her. Focusing instead on a large pot which she was stirring slowly.
Grace, curious at the contents of the pot, creeped closer to Mrs Badger. Upon eyeing its contents, it was a mixture of various vegetables and meat amongst some kind of stock.
"Is that for breakfast?" Grace asked.
"Hmm?" Mrs Badger looked as though she'd been interrupted mid thought, "No, this is for supper. The meat and vegetables will stew over the day and it will be ready to serve tonight."
Grace's nose wrinkled slightly; she had always hated the taste of stew. She wasn't sure why, she only recalled eating copious amounts of it as a child. The earthy flavour and the texture of the too-soft vegetables were vivid in memory.
"Do the Kings and Queens regularly eat such things?" Grace asked with an attempted nonchalance.
Mrs Badger pondered the question for a moment, "They have quite simple tastes when it comes to food. For breakfast, they'll usually have toast, eggs, sausages and beans. Lunch is usually sandwiches and fruit. Then dinner offers a few different options, stew being a favorite amongst them."
"Do other Narnians eat like this?"
"Oh yes, we're all for simplicity here. You'll find none of those complex dishes they have down south. Although, one time an ambassador from Archenland ordered a dish of pie filled with leeks, potatoes and sausages which has become well liked here."
The hare, Kit, appeared then; a tray of the afore mentioned breakfast items in hand. With all the food lined together on the tray, Grace was reminded of a breakfast dish she'd once had. She couldn't for the life of her remember what it was called.
Mrs Badger set her spoon aside and looked over the food, "Don't forget the blood pudding this time," She reminded Kit. Then she turned to Grace and prompted her in a gentle yet firm voice that one could only associate with a boss, "How's that bread coming along?"
Graces eyes grew wide and she returned to her station hastily, mumbling apologies as she went.
When she had rolled, proofed and scored enough bread to last the day and eaten her breakfast of porridge and bacon, Grace returned to the company of Casys in the hallway. He was shifting from hoof to hoof and gazing at the roof warily.
Grace wondered at the choice of her companion. Clearly the Centaur was not completely comfortable in enclosed spaces, wouldn't a different guard have been more prudent?
She didn't let the thought linger, approaching Casys with an easy smile and saying, "I have some free time."
Casys only stared at her from under his strong brow, either unimpressed with her accomplishment or waiting for her to explain her statement.
Grace's smile faltered, when she and Lucy had discussed work they clearly hadn't thought this far. Bread was a slow process; two separate hours were needed for proofing – once after the batch is first made and another when the scored loaf was placed in the baking tray. Another half an hour was required for baking.
In the hot kitchen, Grace found that the mixture had proofed a lot quicker than expected which meant that she could begin folding them into loaves and loading the trays. Mrs Badger had offered to tend to baking the loaves once the ovens were empty. This left Grace free for the rest of the day.
What on earth was she going to do with a whole day? What did women do in a time like this? Embroidery? She didn't have the patience. Dancing? That was only fun if you had a partner. Sword fighting? She wished, but there was no way Casys would let her near a sword, yet.
While Grace mused, Casys had returned to glaring at the ceiling with his foot scraping against the floor. Grace studied him, his tensed muscles and furrowed face reminded her of King Edmund's look the day before. He had said he was uncomfortable in small spaces which meant any of the ideas that Grace had would cause him discomfort. Since Casys would be this irritable as long as he was inside, there was nothing else for it.
"What do you normally do during the day, Casys?" Grace asked.
For the first time since she had met him, Casys smiled.
Surely, there had never been sunlight like this on Earth. Grace thought she may be content to sit in it forever. It's soft rays tickled her skin in warmth, not too hot to burn her, although she was sure that if she stayed out for too long she would turn as red as the poppies she laid in.
Casys was circling her in large gallops, pleased to be out of the castle at last. If it bothered him so much, Grace wondered how he would handle the remainder of his post as her guard. Surely if she spoke to King Edmund, something could be arranged. Either that or she would have to obtain some sunscreen and a book.
Casys eventually slowed and joined her on the grass. Grace tried not to stare at the Centaur but she had found it difficult. He knelt similarly to a horse; a manoeuvre she hadn't expected. Then again, what should she have expected? Her thoughts paused when she saw his face, or more importantly his gaze which was fixed firmly into the distance.
Grace turned to look at the offending direction but saw nothing out of the ordinary; some hills, a road of dirt draped over them. There was nothing to cause alarm.
"Is something wrong?" She asked him.
Casys didn't move or speak and continued to stare stubbornly over the road.
They both sat staring over the hill for a minute. The soft breeze grazing amongst their ears in long whispers. Until finally, she heard it too.
The rolling crunch of carriage wheels was faint but became progressively louder until Grace sighted the top of a Narnian carriage, not unlike the one that had transported her from the ship to Cair Paravel.
Unlike the first time she saw it, Grace was not worn by exhaustion and could now appreciate the magnificent craftmanship rolling atop the hillside. The fine wood was a rich lacquered brown adorned with gold embellishments that gleamed in the sun. The design was simple, yet beautiful with curved edges flicking off the main lines like twisted vines. When Grace had imagined a pumpkin turning into a carriage as a child, this was the picture she had conjured.
When the carriage came within walking distance, Casys launched to his hoofs and pulled Grace behind him.
A dizzying moment passed while Grace gathered her bearings, then another when the carriage continued to pass by them. All the while Casys kept a firm grip on her arm, his constant pull keeping her concealed in his silhouette.
She couldn't understand his actions but gathered that silence was imperative by the severe look on the Centaur's face. Grace held her tongue until she could no longer hear the roar of carriage wheels.
"Why did you do that?" She asked, voice cracking in the silence.
If Casys had an answer, he did not provide one. Instead he turned and began to follow the carriages path.
Grace grumbled indignantly and stood stubbornly still until Casys noticed she was not following him.
He gestured to her to follow but she refused. Simply, she chose to return his gesture. They both could be stubborn and unobliging and see where that got them.
The contest continued. Their eyes of blue and grey bore into each other and ground like stones against a siege wall. Surprisingly Casys was the first to give way.
He exhaled in annoyance and stared firmly over her shoulder. It was the same spot he had stared in before. It made Grace wonder if there were more carriages coming?
"It is not safe, I should not have brought you this far from the Cair," Casys explained, attempting to resume their journey.
Grace's eyes widened and she did not move, "What harm am I going to do to the Narnians out here?"
Casys stopped again and turned to her. His head cocked slightly to the left and brow furrowed deeply as he surveyed her. When the silence dragged and he refused to respond, Grace released a noise of displeasure. It was an immature noise and Grace wasn't sure but she may have stamped her foot.
But Grace was too upset to care and continued to plead, "Could you just answer me?"
He didn't move.
"Please," She implored.
Then, finally the Centaur trotted towards her, hand fast in a satchel at his waist. He pulled out a scroll of paper, sealed in a wax image of a lion.
He held it out to her, "You did read this parchment, correct?"
Grace gingerly took the scroll from his fingers; the seal had already been broken and it weighed so heavily that when she took the scroll at its middle the paper unfurled of its own accord. She decided that she had not seen the paper before, however, the handwriting was eerily familiar.
It seemed that King Edmund had rewritten their previously discussed orders for her babysitter with a few minor adjustments.
I, Edmund, by the gift of Aslan, by election and by conquest, King of Narnia, Duke of the Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table hereby decree that for the safety of herself and others; Grace, formerly of the land of Spare Oom, be placed under watch from sunrise to sundown each day.
To serve as her protector, jailer and if need be, executor, I place Sir Casys, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table. In all matters pertaining to Grace, Sir Casys's instructions must be followed. Those who disobey will suffer penalties based on severity as decided by the Crown.
This decree will remain absolute until such time as the Crown sees fit to remove it.
The scroll had been signed in flowing ink, 'ER' it read. The penmanship would have been beautiful if it weren't for the meaning of the words.
"For the safety of herself and others?" Grace asked Casys.
Her eyes remained transfixed on the ink but she saw his nod in her peripheral vision.
"I don't understand, Casys."
"It is not for you to understand, Grace," Casys replied, "You need only know to follow my lead."
Grace rewound the scroll and pointed it back in his direction, "And your lead was to hide me from a carriage?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"There are many dangerous things that lurk within the wild of Narnia, things that you could not defend yourself from."
Grace raised an eyebrow, "And one of those things resided in a royal carriage? One that was clearly sent by your Kings and Queens?"
"That carriage was carrying an ambassador from a neighbour of Narnia-"
"Ah, so the ambassador was the threat," Grace interjected.
"Peace," Casys huffed, growing frustrated with Grace's interruptions.
Grace stilled in that moment, for the Centaur was frighteningly serious. His hands had balled into fists and his right hoof was pawing at the dirt. At once she felt regret for her actions, she hadn't meant to make Casys this upset.
He calmed slowly; taking deep breaths and repeatedly stretching and clenching his hands to self soothe. Grace didn't rush him this time; she was becoming increasingly aware that he was twice her size and could probably kill her. She was reminded of her first conversation with King Edmund when he grasped his sword so firmly his knuckles had turned white. If she was going to survive, she needed to learn to control her temper and watch her tongue.
"The neighbour, Calormen, is not yet a friend of Narnia," Casys explained, "The land to the south is harsh which in turn creates harsh people. They follow customs which would not even be thought of here and there is no telling what they would do if they found a Daughter of Eve on the side of the road."
Grace shuddered involuntarily, she had seen and read enough of medieval history to understand what those customs may be. She nodded to Casys in gratitude, "Thank you."
His face relaxed minimally and he held the scroll aloft like a trophy, "It is my duty."
An involuntary laugh bubbled past Grace's lips, "I suppose so."
Casys's eyes met hers, they were filled with mirth which did not touch the other features of his face. Then his gazed flickered over her head to the dirt road from which the carriage had come, "There are more on their way."
"More?" Grace asked, following his gaze, "How many ambassadors are there?"
"Only one by my knowledge but we should not take any chances." Casys replied. He knelt into the grass and held out a hand in her direction, "If we hurry, we can reach the safe confines of Cair Paravel before the Ambassador arrives."
Grace stared at him, unblinkingly, "I don't think I can run that quickly."
Casys didn't move, "You won't be running."
Grace balked when she comprehended what he was getting at, "That's very kind, but no thank you."
Casys looked at her scathingly, "It is not often that anyone is given this privilege and I assure you it is only in this dire hour of need that I offer this to you."
"How is it a dire hour of need? Surely we can find some trees to hide in until all the people have passed."
"We cannot assume the forests are safe. All reinforcements and watches have been redirected to the Cair to oversee the Ambassador of Calormen's arrival."
"But-"
"Climb on my back, Grace," He said firmly, "Or I will pick you up and take you anyway."
She hesitated, torn between her morals and the necessity that Casys portrayed. Surely it was wrong to ride on the back of a conscious being, even if he was offering.
It wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter, he was far larger and quicker than her. Any attempts at running or stubborn refusal would end with her carried in some humiliating way back to Cair Paravel. After the interactions she had already had with some of the Kings and Queens, she didn't want to add another uncomfortable moment to the list.
With a heavy sigh of acquiescence, Grace took the offered hand and slid smoothly onto Casys's back.