Marcys: Lost Water

February 24,

What a day!

When we set sail I honestly questioned if we would make it. I could see us sinking at the hands of Osin in a great storm or running aground in unknown, shallow waters, but it looks as though simple thirst will be our death.

Earlier today, before the heat could descend upon us, most of the royal family was touring the small deck of our sea-bound home in an effort to get some exercise—during most of the day Oswyn keeps the women down in their tiny cabin—when a loud cry from below deck range out.

Ardythe, Haddock, and I raced to the nearest hatch and descended the steep steps. I could see Forlaith at the hatch opening, wanting to follow us. Instead she received a tongue-lashing from Oswyn for running. “A lady never moves fast enough to rustle her skirts!” Oswyn was saying as we followed the noises down to the very lowest level.

A few steps down the last ladder and we saw what had caused the outburst. The lowest level, used for storage, was filled with a few inches of water.

“Are we leaking?” demanded Haddock before he had reached the watery floor.

“No sor,” responded one of the lower-ranking sailors. “’tis fresh water. Our kegs have all sprung leaks!”

I must have been slower than the others, or just not used to sailing, because it took me a moment to realize what he meant. Ardythe and Haddock already looked sick when I suddenly realized the sailor meant our kegs of precious fresh water were leaking.

“Have you plugged the leak? Which keg was it?” asked Haddock.

“Moss of ‘em, sor,” said the sailor, gesturing toward the enormous pile of kegs.

“How much has been saved?” asked Ardythe.

“Oh, m’lord, I’d say ‘bout one thard.”

“One third?” I said, echoing his statement in my shock. How could we possibly make it to Mallawi on one third of our water supplies?

“Aye sor.”

I glanced around, noticing the water being soaked up by different sacks of flour, beans, and the like. “You there,” I said to the sailor poking his head down into the hatch to see what was going on. “Get the cook here, right away!”

The man darted away, the words barely out of my mouth.

In record time, the surprisingly small man—all sailing cooks are small so that they can fit into the tiny kitchen available to them without ending up in the fire pot—arrived to assess the damage. Without any consideration for rank or procedure, the cook began barking orders to remove the sacks of food that were being effected by the leaking water. At the same time, I began to order the original two sailors around. They did their best to save as much of the fresh water as they could in the few pails we could find in the ship, sadly most of the lost water was already soaked up by the sacks of food.

Once the work was well under way, with the cook and another sailor in charge, Ardythe, Haddock, and I went up to the cabin Haddock and I share. Haddock immediately went to the small space where he stores rolled up maps and pulled the one he wanted out. He spread it across the small table, each of us taking a corner to hold it in place.

“It’s been six days since we set sail. We could make it back, winds permitting, without having to decrease water rations too much,” explained Haddock as he guided our attention from one point on the map to another.

“No,” said Ardythe in his most commanding voice, one he used for erring soldiers and clinging whores.

“My lord,” I said, using my most deferential voice, which always followed. “We have to have water.”

“We continue on. There are islands that we can stop at to gather water and supplies.” He gestured to a tiny arpeggio of islands some distance from where we suspected we were at present.

“We have no guarantee that we can make it that far, my lord,” said Haddock. He copied my example and kept his voice low and submissive.  

“Well, you better find a way to speed us up.” With that final statement, Ardythe turned on his heels and left the cabin. I looked at Haddock, whose face likely matched my own. How were we to survive untold number of weeks on less than a third of our water supplies? Our rations would have to be cut to the bare minimum.

If we make it to Mallawi, these next few weeks will be the toughest of the long journey.

Marcys

Marcys: A Stowaway

 February 20

What an adventure we have had, and here we are only three days out from Bathum. Today we discovered a stowaway and not the normal kind. It not unusual for a ship to take on a stowaway, perhaps a young lad escaping from his master or a man hoping to find employment, but finding a young woman is quite unusual.

She was hidden in the one life boat that was placed on the main deck and covered with a canvas. It wasn’t until this morning that she ran out of food and was forced to emerge. No doubt she thought we were going someplace closer to home.

I’m sure you can imagine the shock of the crew when they suddenly noticed a woman, other than the princesses, standing amongst them as they hustled to complete their tasks. Though she tried to go unnoticed, heading in the direction of the galley where she likely hoped to acquire food and return to her hiding place, but even dressed in britches and with her hair pushed up under a hat it was easy to identify her as a woman.

            I heard the outcry from the crew as I stood on the forecastle and watched the fast ocean drift pass us. I reached the main deck about the same time as Haddock and the king. One of the crew had the woman by the arm and was dragging her towards us, the other sailors following and jeering at her.

            “Silence,” ordered Haddock. To my surprise, Ardythe tended to allow Haddock complete control over the sailors. “Who are you? How’d you get aboard my ship?”

            She stared defiantly up at Haddock. I suddenly liked her though I tried my best not to show it.

            “We found her stuff in the life boat,” announced one of the sailors. Haddock motioned for him to be silent.

            “My name is Dara. I believe you have my sister. I want her back,” announced the young woman, giving an obstinate toss of her head.

            I struggled not to laugh as she stared down the three most powerful men on this ship.

            “And your sister is?” asked Haddock. A tremor in his voice made me think he was also struggling not to laugh.

            “Lady Jocosa.”

            “I believe you mean her Royal Highness, Princess Jocosa,” I said before the sailors could question her statement. Most of them knew the others were not actual royalty, but some were starting to believe the lie in their own way. Sailors are strong men, but not always the brightest. We needed them to give in to the lie. “And she is no sister of yours. Captain, can I suggest we take her below for further questioning.”

            Haddock nodded and motioned for the sailor to hand her over to me. We remained silent until we reached the king’s cabin. He sat at his small desk while Haddock and I stood between the girl and the only door.

            “What do you mean princess?” she demanded.

            “Send for Jocosa,” ordered Ardythe. Haddock left to do so.

            “I have adopted your sister. Now why are you here?”

            “What do you mean adopted her?”

            “None of your business, now answer my questions.”

            Dara opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by the arrival of Jocosa. The princess stared at her sister, her eyes growing large.

            “Dara? What are you doing here? How did…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

            “You were taken. I came to get you!”

            “Taken? Ha! You fool! I’m sorry Father. I do not know…”

            “Father?” shrieked Dara. I admit I was almost as shocked at Jocosa’s casual use of the honorary title. The others were not settling into their new life as easily as the Bathum native. She seemed almost happy with the sudden change her life had taken.

            “Shut up!” snapped Jocosa. “I don’t know how she got on board. I had nothing to do with this!”

            Ardythe nodded slowly and said the words I had been dreading since she was first discovered. “No worries. We’ll just throw her overboard.”

            I felt my shoulders drop. I knew this was coming. Haddock, Jocosa, and Dara all gave a start. They did not know Ardythe as I did. I saw that Jocosa wanted to argue, but wasn’t willing to risk her own position for the sake of her sister. Haddock was equally loath to argue with his king. I knew better than to do so.

            We marched out of the cabin and up onto the main deck, Dara openly weeping and calling out for mercy. I glanced at Jocosa and saw her swallowing and blinking back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her beautiful brown eyes.

            I noticed the other royals had arrived on deck to see the commotion. Ardythe took hold of the stowaway and forcefully guided her to the railing. Half way there Dara began to fight violently, thrashing about and clawing at anyone within range. Ardythe received a rake across the cheek before two sailors came to his rescue and grabbed her by the arms. They dragged her towards the edge, two more sailors taking hold of her feet and lifting her up off the deck.

            “Wait!” a voice cried out just as they reached the railing. I turned to see Forlaith charging forward. She reached Ardythe’s side and bowed low. “Father, please. There must be some way that we can spare her life.”

            “She risks our mission,” said Ardythe in a soft voice that wouldn’t carry beyond the immediate few people.

            “Please!” whispered Forlaith.

            “What do you suggest?”

            “We could… we could make her a maidservant. It is strange that a princess would travel without one,” said Forlaith in an even softer voice as she stepped closer to the king. “Much less three princesses.”

            Ardythe stared at her. I was surprised to see the king actually considering her suggestion. It was a good one, I admit.

            “I leave her in your care, little Forlatih,” Ardythe said before bending down and whispering in her ear. I was just close enough to hear his threat. “But one slip, one mistake and I give her to the crew before throwing her over board.”

            I saw Forlaith’s eyes grow wide in fright and her lower lip begin to quiver.

            Slowly the king was destroying her faith in humanity. It broke my heart to watch it happen.

Marcys

Forlaith: Set Sail

February 18

I swear I have not truly woken up all day. Whatever Oswyn gave me yesterday after Aedan’s death has kept me groggy all day, but despite the haze I can’t stop crying. My head aches with it. How could Ardythe do such a thing? To kill, like that, in a sudden, thoughtless moment. I understand the need for a man to be able to kill. There are bandits and vagabonds within any nation. But killing to defend the weak is a far cry from what I saw yesterday.

I know my years are few and my experiences even fewer, but I never thought so much evil existed in this world, much less in one man. He has taken us from our homes and families for sole purpose of selling us for an army.

I do not deny the need to defend ourselves from Odrar, but must it be done this way? I think not.

Why must I sacrifice my entire existence so that he can have armies? Death would be an easy request to honor, but to give my body over to a strange, foreign man and actually live a life with him is a much harder burden.

I do not know if I cry for Aedan or for my own future.

Either way there is no escape now. We are already sailing away from Bathum. I will never see my family again. I suppose I should have known that, but some piece of me thought eventually I would return to the home of my youth. That dream is over.

Mallawi is such a great distance from the Island. The idea of Ardythe traveling there and returning to the Island in one lifetime is beyond belief. In fact, I cannot remember any stories from my father or grandfather of the Islanders having any business with the Mallawi.

Perhaps the gods will save me from this fate and sink our ship. I pray to Osim to take our ship and bury us in the depths of her grace.

But I don’t expect such mercy.

And if I did get what I want, what would be the results? The Island would fall to Odrar and all I know and love would be destroyed. My knowledge of history is enough to know that Odrar would enslave the Island as they had in the past—take all the beautiful women, force our men to fight their wars, and tax those few who remain into starvation.

I’m not sure if knowing my sacrifice is necessary makes it easier. I don’t think so.

But I have rambled enough. Perhaps it is the haze of the drink Oswyn gave me.

We set sail with the morning tide. I felt as though I was on parade as we journeyed down to the docks, the streets lined with workers, apprentices, and house wives who cheered us on. The docks were crowded with the city’s elite. We descended from the carriages, our feet lighting on a trail of rose petals. Small girls with their hair decked in wild flowers approached us and gave each woman, including Oswyn, an enormous bouquet of mixed flowers.

I don’t exactly see the point being that we cannot possibly keep them alive for more than a day on a ship, but that’s beside the point. Sadon took my arm and we followed the others. I saw Jocosa hesitate as Leofrick offered his arm to her, but she took it with as good of grace as she could manage. Kaplan escorted Rownet down the path of rose petals. Unsurprisingly the king did not offer his arm to Oswyn and she was forced to walk behind us with Marcys and the rest of the servants.

All of Ardythe’s “children” knew that Oswyn secretly hoped to attract the attentions of the king and, perhaps one day, wed him. But we know better. The king, despite being sixty-one years old, was vigorous and robust. He kept young women who could keep up with his energy. Oswyn napped two times a day.

On the ship the royal family waited on the deck where the crowds could see us while the seaman cast off the dock-lines. In case you are not a sailing person, whoever may be reading this, the dock-lines are the enormous ropes used to hold the ship to the dock in all types of weather.

Some may think sailing away from a dock is as easy as letting the tide take you out, or perhaps a few helpful blasts of wind. Sadly, it is a much slower process. Most of the crew was already stationed below. They were forced to row for many hours until we were clear of the large Bathum port and the other vessels coming and going. Bathum is a major trade depot and the busiest port on The Island.

It was midday before they raised the sails and allowed the great gods to push us on our way.

Finally, with the release of the sails we were permitted to go down to our cabins. By this time I was leaning on Rownet’s shoulder, barely able to stay awake. The three of us share a cabin with Owsyn while the three men share with first mate, Alek. Ardythe has his own of course, and Marcys shares with Haddock, the ship’s captain.

Despite being a large ship, we are very cramped in these quarters. Rownet and Oswyn took the two actual bunks, leaving Jocosa and I to survive in the hammocks hung from the ceiling and drawn up during the day so that we can walk in our small space. Against one wall, under a thick but small window sat a little bench with a table. Here I sit and write while the other’s prepare for bed. I best finish for they will soon want the lamp extinguished; besides, I find myself too sleepy to continue.

Forlaith