Marcys: A Fool

March 15

I believe being cooped up on this ship is starting to become too much for some of our young people. As I warned Ardythe, Jocosa and Alek’s past have proven a setback. Today, Oswyn found them together in the women’s cabin, during one of the few short periods that Rownet had managed to lure Forlaith up to the deck for some fresh air.

That poor child has not been the same since the attack. Rownet is with her constantly, and praise the gods, Oswyn is keeping her distance. Perhaps Oswyn sees Forlaith as spoiled or damaged. Well, whatever her twisted reasoning, the result is a good thing. Rownet reports to Ardythe and myself twice a day, but the reports are never promising. The day of the attack she informed us that the sailor, now dead, had not managed to actually rape her—another praise—and she received only a few bruises. Still, her heart is not so stout.

But I digress.

Naturally, I was called to witness their secret rendezvous, though they hadn’t actually been doing anything. They were caught sitting on the edge of a bunk, holding hands, and talking. While this is not allowable, considering the role Jocosa must play at Mallawi, it was hardly worth the fuss Oswyn made.

I tried to calm her down and insisted I would handle the situation, but she would have none of it. She called up for Adrythe and expounded on her findings until the children might as well have had sex. Finally, I ran out of patience with her and dismissed her from the room.

She left in a huff, taking Jocosa with her, who being the princess would receive no more than a slap on the wrist.

But Aleksandru?

How was I to save my own nephew? No doubt, Ardythe would want him thrown overboard like the would-be rapist. I couldn’t let that happen. I owed Haddock too much to let his son die because of one stupid mistake.

“He must be dealt with,” announced Ardythe without any preamble.

“I agree,” I said, hoping to show that I was not against punishing him.

“Throw him overboard.”

“My lord, while I agree Aleksandru has acted foolishly, nothing actually happened between them. Besides, if it wasn’t for Alek something very bad would have happened to Forlaith.”

“Are you suggesting because he acted the hero he can get away with anything?”

“By no means, my lord. But perhaps we could show leniency, just this once, as a thank you. Put him on bread and water for five days as punishment. I’m sure Alek has learned his lesson, and will go nowhere near the princess again,” I added, giving my nephew the steely gaze I learned from my wife, may the gods rest her soul.

“You are his uncle. How can I trust you to be impartial?”

“You can’t. I admit I do not want to see my nephew die because he was the fool. But that doesn’t change the fact he has acted in our best interests in the past, and the fact we need him. He has actually been to Mallawi. The same reasons we brought him on board, despite Jocosa, still exist.”

Slowly, after much grinding of his teeth, Ardythe nodded. “Seven days of bread and water.”

I’m not sure who felt more relieved, Alek or myself. I turned on him, my own anger able to take its proper place now that his life was safe. He backed away from me until he bumped into the closed door of the small cabin.

“I have put my neck out for you for the last time. Screw up again and it will be up to you to save your own life. Do you understand me?”

He nodded, wisely staying silent.

“Go near her again and I’ll throw you overboard myself,” I added for good measure before dismissing him.

The real problem is Jocosa. I don’t think Ardythe realizes it is likely not Alek who is seeking her company, but the other way around. I will have to warn her of the dangerous game she is playing.

Let us hope she listens.

Marcys

Forlaith: The Attack

March 13

I have waited hours to write this down in the hopes that my hands would stop shaking. It hasn’t happened yet. I just hope this is legible. Though it might not be such a bad thing if it isn’t legible.

I thought getting lost on the island was the worst that could happen to me—until I reach the mainland, of course.

I was very wrong.

Today I was in the narrow corridor that connects the necessary to the few small cabins on the ship. The others were up on deck, enjoying our first calm afternoon in days. I went to fetch a warmer shawl for Oswyn, and down in that corridor I discovered I wasn’t alone.

I have no idea what that sailor was doing near our cabins. In general, the sailors are not permitted in our part of the ship. His very presence put me on edge, but I did my best not to show it. I nodded to him, as politely as I could, and ducked into our cabins. I was just beginning to rummage through Oswyn’s trunk when I heard the door creak open. I jerked up, hitting my head on the top bunk.

Before I could turn around and confront the sailor for entering our private cabin, he was on me, pushing me over the edge of the lower bunk.

I’m sorry, I cannot write more of this. I will just say that, praise the gods, I was saved before he could ruin me. Aleksandru, the first mate of the ship, heard my screaming from his cabin and came to my rescue.

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the tumult that resulted. As much as I would have liked to keep the incident to ourselves, Alek insisted on calling Ardythe. This meant Ardythe, Marcys, Haddock, and all the women came rushing down to our tiny cabin, filling every space. I was curled up on the lower bunk, doing my best to not be seen.

Based on the pain in my cheek and arm, I knew I would have a new set of bruises from the attack. It seemed as though I couldn’t get a chance to heal from one incident before something else happened.

The large crowed clamored in, each one trying to speak over the other. I saw the sailor dragged out by Marcys and Haddock. I knew what would happen to him for assaulting me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. May the gods forgive me, I did nothing to save his life. Even from within our noisy cabin, I could hear his mighty scream as he was thrown overboard.

Ardythe, Marcys, and Haddock returned instantly and the noise in the cabin increased as Ardythe began barking orders which no one seemed to be obeying. Finally, when I thought I would scream, I heard a high pitch voice carry over the others.

“SILENCE,” the voice shouted. I turned my head to see Rownet standing on one of the trunks and glowering down at everyone.

In the silence that followed, I heard someone crying and belatedly realized it was me.

“This is the last thing Forlaith needs right now. Everyone, and I mean everyone,” here she glared at Oswyn, “out. I will report to you, father, once I’ve ascertained how she is, but I cannot do that with an audience.”

I rolled back, away from their probing stares and let the tears roll down my cheeks and onto Oswyn’s blankets. From where I lay, I listened to them silently march out of the room. Two thuds indicated Rownet had hopped down off the trunk.

“Forlaith, dear. Can you roll over?”

I obeyed, and without thinking about it, I threw myself into her arms.

I have been gravely mistaken about Rownet. I may not understand her reaction to our new circumstances, but she is a truly kind heart. She let me cry myself out, not saying a word or demanding I talk about it. When I was beginning to run out of tears and grow sleepy, she lowered me onto the pillows on Oswyn’s bed.

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s fine, but I need to know a few things.”

I nodded mutely.

“Did he succeed?”

I shook my head.

“Good. That’s good. Are you hurt anywhere? I see a bruise on your cheek.”

I pulled the sleeve of my dress up so that she could see the bruise on my arm where he had grabbed me.

“Anywhere else?”

I shook my head again.

“Okay. Sleep. Alek is standing guard in the hall. No one will come down here, except me, okay?”

I nodded one last time before drifting off to sleep.

True to her word, Rownet was the only one to enter our cabin until night fell and the women returned to sleep. Oswyn didn’t say a word about me being in her bed, and after a little shuffling, each person found a bed, leaving me where I was.

I cried myself back to sleep.

Forlaith

Marcys: Another Great Storm

March 1,

What a great respite it was to be on land again, even if it was only for a few days. I’m not sure Forlaith would agree, after being lost on the island. I have never seen Ardythe so panicked. He didn’t even act this way when his real son rode off into the night at the age of eight, having just had an impressive fight with his father.

Either Ardythe thinks Forlaith’s beauty will be the defining quality to help us gain the Mallawi’s aid, or he has grown to genuinely care for her. I am honestly not sure which is driving him.

When she was found safe and sound, I saw a great relief cross Ardythe’s face. After Oswyn declared her well enough, considering her ordeal, Ardythe grew extremely crotchety with the child. In fact, I found her often trying her hardest to avoid his company, because everything he said to her was waspish. It reminded me of the gruff way he acted around Fendrel, his son, when Fendrel would go missing or get hurt—as though the more brusque he was, the better he could hide his worry.

I hope, and pray to the gods, that he has grown attached to this young woman. Maybe she will be the savior of our nation, just not in the way any of us imagine. Maybe she will be our king’s savior, and therefore ours.

What we need most is a king who loves his people.

But I have wasted much of your time with my musings. I’m sure you have been wondering why it has been so long since I have written.

I’m sure you are aware, while on land, I had no time to myself. Then, when we boarded the ship and set sail from the islands, we endured many days of rough seas, some of the roughest we have yet endured, in fact.

There has been nothing to eat but the fruit we gathered on the island—thanks to Forlaith—and soggy jerked beef. Cook has been unable to keep a fire lit, what with great waves coming over the sides of the ship. The water has a pesky ability for finding any available path down into the bowls of the ship. Crews have been kept active around the clock bailing the water out. Thankfully, Haddock and Alek insist the storm is pushing us in the right directions, and at a much greater pace than mere sails could manage.

Of course, I think I’d prefer a slower and more comfortable journey than a fast, bumpy one. I’m pretty sure anyone on board who has received a bump or bruise from being thrown against the walls would agree—which is everyone, by the way.

Poor Jocosa even suffered from a blow to the head as she tried to journey to the necessary. After this, all the women tried to hold their bladders as long as possible.

Sadly, during this three-day storm, we lost a man over board. There are a few members of the crew who are greatly affected by his death, but for the most part, the crew did not know him well. Nonetheless, the crew is despondent. The death of one of their numbers always will have a profound effect on their morale.

But in this weather, there is little we can do to boost their morale.

To be honest, I think the best thing for all of us is to get to Mallawi. Maybe the rough ride will be worth it in the end. Maybe.

Marcys