Forlaith: More Unwanted Change

February 6

Two days after arriving in Bathum we received an unexpected, and if I'm honest unwanted surprise. A short time before dinner we were called down to the great hall where Ardythe, Marcys and a strange woman waited.
“This is Oswyn,” stated Ardythe. “She will be the ladies' governess...”
A delicate cough interrupted his introductions. We all turned to see Oswyn's thin lips pressed into a distasteful grimace.
“Oh right.” Ardythe cleared his throat. “She will be a companion for the ladies. And will be assisting all of you with your transformation into royalty. After all, the expectations for a prince or princess is quite different than what you're, uh, used to. Oswyn will be here, when I cannot, to help you understand your new life.”
I glanced at the older woman. Her lips were still pursed, but the corners were tweaked up into an almost smile. Her hair was hidden by a beaded headdress that made her look more like an owl than a woman. Her eyes bulged out of her skull as they flicked here and there, making sure she missed nothing. She had a thin nose that made her eyes look even larger and her cheeks appear puffy.
I spotted Jocosa and Rownet giving our new governess companion a look of pure loathing. Being older than me, I realized the idea of a governess, or whatever she is, would be quite offensive to them. I had still had minor dealings with the governess back home so it was easier for me to swallow.
“Shall we eat?” asked the woman in a voice that grated my nerves. I started to wonder if I would begin to loath her like the others. She waited only for the king to move before she led the way to the large table set for our meal. The other tables, often filled with other castle inhabitants, were left empty. Evidently Ardythe was keeping our contact with other people to a minimum until he felt we were ready to act like royalty.
“Now ladies, as per the king's request, I have arranged for a seamstress to meet us today and begin preparations to supplement your current wardrobe. Of course I will need to see what you brought first to know how much needs to be added.”
I watched her closely as she spoke. Somehow she managed to eat and talk all at the same time while maintaining complete delicacy of manner. The food just seemed to vanish while she talked. I suddenly felt very inadequate to represent our nation as a princess, and therefore I kept my head down and my thoughts to myself as I made quick work of the meal.
When it was finished, Oswyn lead us away from the men and up to our rooms. We started with Rownet's room and worked our way through each woman's wardrobe. I tried to figure out what standards were for an acceptable gown, but Oswyn seemed to have her own, personal notion of what was necessary to look like a daughter of a king. Whatever those standards were, only one of my gowns passed muster while nearly all of Jocosa's dresses were deemed sufficient.
This entire experience made me feel extremely self-conscious, and if I'm honest, rather resentful. The dresses she rejected with a tiny flip of her had been made by the ladies of my home, the more delicate work done my mother herself, but to Oswyn they might as well have been rags. Ironically, the one dress she did permit to be “just pretty enough” was one my mother had made entirely by herself for my brother's wedding.
Maybe I could pack a few of the other dresses at the bottom of my trunk, but don't tell Oswyn. I have a feeling hidden beneath her careful mask of refinement lurked an enraged monster.
Finally, when I was on the point of tears, she sent for the seamstress, who was a plump woman, clothed in brightly colored fabric. Her plump cheeks red from the winter wind and her thin blond hair puffed out from her head in disarray. The woman waddled in, followed by three younger women, also decked in oddly bright clothing, as if they could advertise just what a dress could look like—not that anyone with sense would want to wear that color!
The plump woman bustled around, measuring us each in our turn, while her assistants organized swatches of fabric, lace and various trim across my bed.
Jocosa quickly discovered it wasn't such a great thing to have all her dresses accepted, or at least that's how she acted. Due to her mostly satisfactory wardrobe, the seamstress spent most of her time focusing on Rownet and myself. I would have gladly traded places with her.
“Well can't I have just one more dress?” whined Jocosa as the seamstresses were packing up their supplies and hurrying out the door.
“I don't not like that tone, Jocosa. A woman must sound pleasing to men, at all time.”
“Like you'd know!” snapped Jocosa.
Oswyn turned a surprising shade of pink while her lips pursed into an ugly pucker. I was beginning to recognize the lip movement as her at her angriest.
“Try and be a lady,” suggested Oswyn through gritted teeth.
“A lady? When has being a lady ever got us anything. Men don't want ladies!”
“Common men like that second mate of yours may not like a lady, the princes you are to mary will prefer a lady.”
“That second mate, as you call him, taught me a lot more about men and their wants than you can ever teach us!”
Oswyn's rounded cheeks went from a fading pink to a red so dark I thought her head might explode. She ground her teeth together and stomped a foot before storming out of the room.
“What do you mean, Jocosa?” I asked. “Who was she speaking of?”
Jocosa let out a big huff of breath as she forced herself to calm down. “Don't worry about it little Forlaith. It's nothing you need to concern yourself.”
I glanced at Rownet, hoping she'd fill me in. She looked relieved, as though she had feared Jocosa would be candid with me. Whatever Oswyn had eluded, neither of them wanted me to know about it, which of course made me all the more curious.
Sometimes I don't like being the youngest in our make-believe-family!
Forlaith