Chapter Six: A New Princess

“She doesn’t need to look exactly like me,” the princess said as they made their way back to Portsmith. “Just roughly my age. Maybe the same hair color.” Throp didn't think finding a match for the princess’s dark auburn hair would be an easy task.

“She should be smart,” the princess went on. “But not too smart. Not too independent. Definitely pretty.”

“But not too pretty?” Throp ventured.

“A princess can never be too pretty,” the princess said. “I’ll only have four days to prepare her so the prettier the better.” Throp didn’t think finding a common girl as pretty as the princess would be an easy task, either.

“Where do we start looking?” Throp asked as they entered the city.

The princess paused, chuffed and looked around.

“Not sure,” she said. “Just keep your eyes open.”

They wandered through the town, the princess leading while Throp trailed behind, carrying her chest. The princess had been surprised he dragged it along as he chased after her.

“How about her?” Throp said. He pointed to a girl carrying a bucket, a pair of small children walking behind her.

“Mmm.” The princess shook her head. “No. Those are probably her siblings. She may not want to leave them.”

“She’s pretty,” Throp said and nodded towards a buxom woman standing outside of a tavern.

“Nope,” the princess said simply.

None of the girls Throp pointed out met the princess’s standards. He finally gave up and followed her in silence as she weaved through the town, her eyes darting around. Time was running short.

“There!” The princess pointed across the road to a bakery. Outside, a slim, dark haired girl was kneeling on the ground, trying to gather bread rolls that had spilled from her tray. A plump woman in an apron came outside and began yelling at the girl. They were too far away for Throp to hear what was being said, but the plump woman was gesturing angrily. She then went back inside, leaving the girl looking dejected.

“Perfect,” the princess said. She headed towards the bakery and Throp began to follow, but she stopped and put a small hand on his chest.

“I should go alone,” she said. Throp shook his head.

“No way,” he said.

“I made a promise,” the princess said. The patted his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She bounded off across the road. Throp watched as she knelt to help the girl gather the bread rolls. Throp tried to interpret the girl’s facial expression. She looked confused, then angry, then confused again. Finally she smiled, cast a quick look back to the bakery, and nodded to the princess.

“Throp, meet Agnes,” the princess said when they approached. “But you may call her Princess Nicolette.” Agnes giggled. Up close he could see Agnes was quite a bit taller than the princess. Her hair was darker, without the red tint. They didn’t look much alike at all.

“Is this the prince?” Agnes asked. The princess shook her head.

“No,” she said. “The prince isn’t here. You won’t meet him for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” Agnes said. “That’s too bad.” She looked Throp up and down and he cleared his throat.

“Uh, should we…?” He gestured toward the pier.

“Not yet,” the princess said. “She can’t go looking like that.”

In an empty alley, hidden behind a stack of crates, the princess and Agnes changed clothes while Throp stood guard.

“No peeking!” the princess said and Throp reddened and was thankful she couldn’t see his face. Meanwhile, Agnes talked and Throp got the condensed version of her life story.

She was sixteen, just a year younger than the princess, orphaned at birth and taken in as a child by Eleanor, the woman they had seen outside the bakery. Eleanor was neither happy nor kind and although she gave Agnes enough food to eat and a roof over her head, she expected a lot from the girl in return. Agnes worked all day in the bakery and kept house for Eleanor in the evening. At night she slept in the cowshed.

“I always had this idea that something incredible would happen to me,” Agnes said. “That someone would swoop in and rescue me, just like in a fairy tale. I assumed it would be a man but I suppose one can’t be choosy! Oof! This dress is quite binding, isn’t it?” She spoke quickly and breathlessly, as though she had a lifetime of thoughts and wanted to get them out now that someone was finally listening.

“I only wish I could see Ellie’s face when she discovers I’m gone! Oh, and I wish she could see me!” Agnes stepped out from behind the crate.

“What do you think?” she asked Throp. “Do I look like a princess?” She spun and the purple dress she now wore swirled around her. Her face had been washed and her hair had been brushed and pulled back into a tight braid. Throp nodded.

“Very princessy,” he said. Although she looked nice, she didn’t carry herself the same way the princess did, but hopefully that would come in time. And anyway, in a few hours it wouldn’t be his problem.

Agnes spun again, admiring her new outfit.

“It’s a bit short on me,” she said. “But she says there will be more after I arrive. Special-made, just for me, can you imagine? I’ve been wearing the same clothes for years and now I’ll have a different dress every day! And there are rings inside the chest and a crown! But she says I’m not to wear them until we arrive in Berabeth.”

The princess stepped out from behind the crate. She still wore her hair loose around her shoulders but she had changed into a simple blue dress, tied at the waist with  a thin cord belt.

“If she’s the princess,” Throp asked. “Then who are you?”

“Handmaiden to the princess, if you please,” she said and curtsied. Throp looked at them both and nodded his approval.

“Great,” he said. “Does this mean we can go to the ship?” Agnes bounced on her toes in anticipation and the princess smiled.

“Yep,” she said. “All aboard.”

They made their way to the pier, the smell of salt and fish hitting Throp hard as they approached.

“Glad I don’t have to live with that every day,” he said.

“I’m sure you get used to it,” the princess said. “Look at her.” She nodded to Agnes, who walked just ahead of them, holding her shoulders back and her head high in a forced attempt to look regal.

“She looks so happy,” the princess went on. “I think in the end this was the best choice for everyone.”

“Do you think abandoning your obligation is any less selfish just because it makes another person happy?” Throp asked. The princess wrinkled her nose.

“Yes,” she said. Throp thought to argue, but they had reached the pier and after speaking with several impatient merchants, finally found the Trident.

“Wow,” the princess said. Throp had never seen a ship before in his life, but even he could tell the Trident was something special. It was huge, nearly a hundred feet long and made of smooth, darkly painted wood. Huge sails hung from a pair of masts as thick as oak trees. At the front of the ship was a life-sized statue of a merman. Wood-carved waves splashed up around him and he held a trident in his hand. Throp and the princess both stared up in awe. Only Agnes, used to such ships, seemed unimpressed.

“That would be the captain,” Agnes said, pointing to a man standing at the bottom of the gangway. He wore a red tunic and a black hat, the wide brim turned up on the sides. Throp was nervous as they approached, thinking the captain would take one look at them and know something wasn’t right. The princess took the lead on making introductions. She had instructed Throp and Agnes to say as little as possible. Throp agreed.

The captain held out a hand and Throp shook it, embarrassed by how sweaty it was. The princess gave him a subtle shove in the ribs with her elbow.

“He wants the letter,” she said out of the side of her mouth.

“Uh, right,” Throp said. He dug into his pockets and retrieved the letter from the Chancellor. The captain peeled off the seal and skimmed it, then looked to the Throp.

“Doesn’t say anything about two passengers,” he said gruffly. The princess stepped up immediately.

“Please sir, it was a last minute decision,” she said. “I’ve served milady since she was a girl. She is still so young and has far to go. It was agreed that a bit of the familiar would ease her fears.” She looked at Agnes as if she was a dear friend she had known all her life.

“And of course, you will be compensated for your generous understanding.” She glanced over at the chest in Throp’s hands and smiled. The captain thought it over for only a moment before nodding. Throp was impressed. He had never seen someone so easily adapt to new situations and was grateful he didn’t have to come up with a story on his own.

The captain pulled a small envelope from his pocket and handed it to Throp, then waved a hand. A pair of crewmen appeared. One took the chest from Throp and the other ushered the girls up the gangway.

“This way, misses, and I’ll show you to your quarters,” he said. Agnes followed him eagerly and the princess turned and cast Throp one last small smile before disappearing onto the deck.

Throp out a relieved breath. Nothing had gone the way he expected and he would definitely be arriving home after dark, even if he left immediately. He was exhausted and thought briefly of just staying overnight in Portsmith, but decided he was too anxious. His mother had probably spent the entire day worrying. He started away from the pier, hoping he would be able to easily find the stabler, when a thought struck him.

Nib! Nib wasn’t with him. Throp put a hand to his neck and felt the chain that held the princess’s medallion. They had forgotten to exchange.

He pushed passed an annoyed sailor and made his way up the gangway, trying not to look down at the water sloshing below him. He scanned the deck, searching for the princess and Agnes among the crowd of sailors. He didn’t see them, didn’t even see the captain, but finally he spotted the crewman who had taken the chest from him.

“I’m, uh, looking for…” Throp said. “The two ladies.” The crewman jerked his head toward a set of stairs and Throp flew down them into the lower deck.

“Princs-, uh, Agne… hey!” he called down the narrow corridor. Agnes’s head appeared from a doorway.

“I thought you weren’t coming with us,” she said. The princess then looked out, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Throp? What are you doing here?”

“Nib,” he said, slightly out of breath. “And your necklace.” The princess’s eyes widened.

“I can’t believe I forgot! Come inside.” He stepped into of the small compartment which was just large enough for the two cots inside of it and a sliver of walkway between them. Throp bumped his head on the ceiling when he entered.

“Not the best accommodations,” Agnes said. “But it’s certainly better than the cowshed.”

“It is a merchant ship after all,” the princess said. “Trust me, once you’re in Berabeth you’ll have more room than you know what to do with.” Agnes grinned at this idea and the princess knelt in front of the cot and tugged the chest out from underneath.

“Nib climbed in when we were changing,” she said. “And I guess I forgot he was in there.” She flipped open the lid of the chest and Nib darted out. Agnes shrieked and jumped on top of the cot, banging her head on the short ceiling in the process. The princess grabbed for Nib but his tail slipped through her fingers and he dashed between Throp’s legs and out into the hallway. Throp and the princess crashed into each other trying to get through the narrow door. Throp got out first and they both followed Nib as he bounded through the tiny corridor and up the steps to the upper deck. He took the steps two at a time and caught up to Nib just as he reached the top. Throp didn’t know how a bunch of sailors would react to a ferret on their deck and he worried Nib would be stepped on or worse. Throp hurled himself from the top step and onto the deck floor, managing to wrap his hands around Nib as he landed hard on his chest.

“Ow,” he said as he stood up, holding Nib by the scruff so the ferret would relax. He looked out over the deck and realized something was very wrong. The pier was smaller than he’d remembered it.

“Oh, no,” he heard the princess say from behind him.

The Trident had set sail.