The Story of Rinette

By Z.A. Mayes and Ranlett

My life at the princess's court had become deadly dull. All the time I was in training, I had kept myself going by imagining the wonderful rescues I would perform, the great deeds I would do, winning admiration and renown. In real life, at the castle, nothing like that ever happened. When the novelty of being there wore off, what was left? An endless round of rising, eating, sitting around on duty in the throne room, eating, following the princess about from here to there, eating, and for variety, sleeping. And so on and so on, day after day.

I wished so much for a more exciting life, to go my own way and have adventures, as many as I pleased. I would show Gualthier how skilled I really was, and stop him from laughing at me!

But adventure came on its own, unbidden and unexpected. Skilled or unskilled, I would have to meet whatever life placed in my way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: May 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456626662

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Chapter 1

They may attack tonight. They would be wise to; it is dark of moon, and everyone is tired, and perhaps just a little, a tiny little bit drunk after celebrating the princess’s birthday, all day and into the night. They may attack. If so, we are prepared. There are extra guards on the castle walls, and three of our most alert hounds sleep on the princess’s balcony, should anyone try to climb up the outer wall.

There are more guards outside her door, though five will get you ten, they’re asleep. Still, they are there. I can think of nothing more to do, though all these precautions will avail us nothing if traitors have already let the enemy in, through the cellars, or the river gate. Some might have come in disguise to the party and been hidden away, behind the empty wine barrels, for instance, or even in them.

But all seems well, as yet. Walking through corridor after corridor, all is quiet, dark, settled, even the air, which earlier today swirled with laughter, pleasant talk, perfumes, music, and the myriad smells of a delicious banquet. Then the air danced, flirted, refreshed with breezes from windows and doors opened wide to welcome guests. Now doors and windows both are shut and barred, to keep out unwelcome enemies, and the air hangs heavy in the hallways, weighed down by age and custom, moveless, and so, my ally. I shall feel the first quiver, the first shock of response to cellar door opening, to trap door rising, to someone creeping out, stiff from hiding; there will be a breeze, a whisper, where there should be only an occasional snore, or sleepy murmur. The air will, as it were, tap me on the shoulder… What was that?

Aha! I said so. I said they would come — Ouf! There’s one intruder down at least, and no one the wiser. I can be quiet when I need to, whatever Gualthier says.

Perhaps there are more around that corner. If I hide right here, I can trip them as they pass, and knock them out… So! One, two, any more coming? Not yet — should I go farther down, or go up and check on the princess? Down that hallway, I hear voices, and the clash of arms, but whose? Ah, that is Gualthier, I’d know his bellow anywhere. No need to worry, if he’s at hand. I’ll go upstairs, instead.

And these are our so-called guards. I knew they couldn’t stay awake, even when guarding the princess’s door, of all doors the most important. Hey, Philippe! Gaston! You damned dormice! Is this how you serve? We’re being attacked! Up with you, and hold the hallway, while I check inside. Gualthier’s fending them off down below — there may be others. Zut! There go the hounds — be ready to follow me when I call.

Inside the princess’s chamber there is not much light — her ladies have awakened. They are milling about, asking:

What is it?

Who’s there?

What’s to do?

They want to know why their mistress’s slumbers are so rudely broken; me, I have no time to stop and tell them. Let them shriek, if they can’t be useful — would I be dashing through here like this for nothing?

The hounds bay more eagerly now; their quarry must be closer. There must be someone on the wall below this balcony. It is hard to see where, in this darkness. Wait! Something moved — yes, over there. A man, two men… but they are shouting. A message of defiance, no doubt. No, the idiots — it is a plea for help. They are stuck. So much for their invasion!

Rinette! The princess herself, awake and not happy about it.

Yes, highness?

Rinette! What is going on here?

Why, we are being attacked, invaded, don’t you see?

And who is attacking us?

What does that matter? We’ve countered them, we’ve foiled their plans. We can find out who they are when we question the hostages.

You’ve taken hostages?

Yes, of course, I said. I left two of them tied up in the corridor, unless they’ve managed to escape.

No, Rinette, they didn’t escape, said a gruff voice from behind me.

Oh, Gualthier, it’s you, I said. I knew none of them would get by you.

And did you also know that the men you took down were our own soldiers, Jean and Bertrand from the barracks?

Aha! A mutiny! They sided with the enemy, the traitors.

Rinette! said the princess, in a voice full of exasperation. We have no enemies! We have been at peace for over a hundred years! No one would attack us! This is one of your exercises, isn’t it?

Yes, highness. You see, the maxims say that…

I do not care to know what they say! I would like to go back to bed, and resume my rudely interrupted sleep!

But highness, we are all asleep, here. If we do not practice, if we don’t at least make mock surprises, how will we deal with real ones, when they come?

Rinette, that’s enough. Make those dogs shut up, for God’s sake. What are they howling for, anyway, Gualthier?

Two of the ‘invaders’ have gotten stuck halfway up the walls, highness. I wonder if they’ll be able to get down again before they lose their strength and fall. Good men, too — it’s a pity.

Never mind — I’ll get them down, said I.

You, Rinette, will get them down, all by yourself, sneered Gualthier.

Yes! I inspired this venture, so I’ll rescue them. It won’t be that hard.

And I did rescue them — they had only to crawl over to a window, after all, and we let them in, but the hounds howled the whole time, because no one thought to put them back in their kennels, so it was some time before anyone could sleep. Me, I think sleep is overvalued, and one need not make such a fuss to lose a little bit of it, eh? Everyone had to admit that I did well at rescuing the men, but as for my surprise, it was not very popular. The princess absolutely forbade me to do any such thing again.

So there I was once more, a bodyguard with nothing to do, for as the princess herself said, we had no enemies. What then was I to guard her from?

What, indeed? More than that, you may wonder, why is it that a woman, for I am a woman, as you might guess from my name, how is it that a woman should be a bodyguard? And the answer to that question is: two stories.

The first tale begins long, long ago, before there was an emperor who made everything safe, at a time when our little kingdom, Mirabol in the Middle, had many enemies who dearly coveted its fertile fields and pleasant climate. In those days the taking of hostages was a favorite bargaining ploy, so every member of the royal family was provided with a bodyguard to prevent such occurrences. They were chosen from among the younger sons of the nobility, and were required to be big, strong, and, for the prestige of the court, as good-looking as possible.

It so happened that the fourth king of Mirabol had only one child, a daughter; her bodyguard, a son of the Duc de Framboise, was also one of the handsomest men in the kingdom. Ladies had been known to swoon while watching him compete in the jousts, and many were the flowers thrown to him from balconies and windows as he passed through the streets, or so it is told.

Whether he was truly handsome or not, the princess fell in love with him, and he with her. They wished to marry, but since he was the duke’s fifth son, of no importance whatsoever, she feared her parents would object. Therefore, she persuaded him to elope. He had an old aunt in the country who doted on him, and was happy to provide sanctuary for the young lovers. The elopement, carried out in the greatest secrecy, went well. No one tried to stop them, no one pursued them, the priest was waiting, and just like that, they were married.

But no sooner were they alone, than the princess began to weep. Her new husband was dismayed, and said, What is wrong, dearest? Here, let me kiss those tears away. Please, my love, stop weeping. But she did not stop crying for three whole days, until her father came, and assured her that he and the queen forgave her, and indeed, approved her choice, though it would have been nice if they could have had a big wedding. The people would have appreciated the chance for a feast, but never mind, they could have one to celebrate her return. And so all was well.

Except: the poor bridegroom, who had suffered terribly during those three days of tears, made a resolution, and when he became king consort, he acted on it. He had a new law made, which said that from that time on, princesses could only have female bodyguards, for he did not want any other man to ever have to go through an experience like his. And from that time, in our kingdom, the princess’s personal bodyguards have been women, even to this day.

But how did I, Rinette, only daughter of the Comte de Momottin, become a bodyguard? That is the second story.

To make certain that the princesses had only the best associates, their bodyguards were chosen from the ranks of only the most noble families. Such a family was mine, although my mother always maintained that hers was nobler by far than my father’s. True, his had only been among the ranks of the highest for a mere two hundred years, whereas hers dated, to hear her tell it, at least from the time of Mirabol’s first king, if not from long before that, in the time of legends.

My father was the younger son of his family, and though he had inherited three estates comprising many acres of land, they were the worst of his family’s holdings, mostly rocky, infertile ground that was barely good for sheep. He was ambitious to better himself, beyond even his good fortune in gaining the hand of my mother. He wanted to stand well with the king, my princess’s father; when the queen died and it became clear that the king would not remarry, that the princess would be the king’s only child, my father decided that I, who was of the same age, should become her bodyguard.

Had I been like my mother in any noticeable way — ladylike, composed, elegant — she would never have permitted this. But I took after my father, dark haired, compact in build, energetic and quick to act. She favored my brothers, who were tall and slender as she was, and fair complected; she never thought I would amount to much, and sons meant more power in the world. So when my father announced his plans for me, she merely shrugged her slim shoulders, and went on with her embroidery.

I did not mind. I always liked riding and playing outdoors better than most of the things girls usually did — sewing, knitting, weaving, all those tasks where you had to sit still, and stay indoors for hours at a time. Anything that took me away from those most tedious occupations was fine with me.

Then, just at the time when my father was seriously considering this idea of making me the bodyguard, we happened to be traveling from our main estate in the valley to the summer estate, up in the hills, where it would be cooler. Along the way we passed through a small town (also part of my father’s domain); there in the town square the weekly market was being held. While we stopped to have the servants pick up some provisions, a fight broke out between some of the local men and another man, apparently a traveler just passing through.

Some townspeople recognized my father and appealed to him to stop the fight, but he always enjoyed such spectacles, and quickly became caught up in watching it. I also became interested, because the traveler was holding his own, in spite of being one against five, and they bigger and younger than he. More than once he sent an attacker flying through the air, to the detriment of nearby goods, and in the same movement turned to face and deal with yet another. He spun around so fast that he seemed more like a whirlwind than a man, and in the end, all of his opponents were defeated.

My father stood up in his stirrups and applauded. Bravo! Bravo! Let him be brought to me! I would speak with this champion! There were mutterings and protests from the bystanders, and cries of outrage from those whose stalls had been damaged by flying men. All damages will be paid for by me, within reason, asserted my father, glaring fiercely at any who looked like overvaluing their goods. I have seldom enjoyed a fight more. Where is the man?

Escorted by some of my father’s guards, a middle aged man, much smaller than I had realized, came to stand before us. (I was riding on my own pony rather than in the carriage with my mother; my father was already at his campaign to toughen me up.) The man bowed. I am mightily pleased at this chance meeting, said my father. What is your name, my good man? Where did you learn such skill in fighting?

Thank you, gracious sire. My name is Prosper. For many years I lived among tribesmen in the distant East, the land of silks. From them I learned their way of wrestling, but they are far more skilled than I.

Are you in anyone’s employ?

As it happens, gracious sire, at this moment I am not sworn to anyone.

Then ride with me, and I will propose an employment for you.

I would gladly do so, sire, but I have no horse.

Let one of the spare mounts be brought forward, and let us proceed.

While we waited for the extra horse, my father’s steward paid off the owners of damaged goods; under my father’s stern eye, no one dared to claim too much. They were happy to receive anything, for had he not been there, they would have had to bear the loss themselves. He did have some virtues, my father, at least as an overlord.

Once we were on the road again, he spent some minutes talking earnestly with this Prosper. I could not hear what was said, but I noticed the both of them turning to look at me every so often. Then evidently a deal was struck. They clasped hands on it, and my father motioned for me to ride up alongside them.

Here, Rinette, is your new tutor, Master Prosper. He will train you to become the princess’s guard. See that you work your hardest, and beat out all the others who will try. You may ride together and become acquainted.

We rode along in silence, this Master Prosper and I, having been thrown together so suddenly. I was only nine years old at that time, and had never had anyone called a tutor before. My brothers had those, and spent long, dreary hours cooped up with them indoors. I would not like that. But perhaps I could free myself from this fate. I would expose this tutor who, I felt, couldn’t possibly have fought off all those men on his own. Likely the other men had been his friends, or he had paid them to let him defeat them. I would find out what trick the man had used, and tell my father, who would not enjoy having been fooled, and then, no more tutor. But when I asked him, straight out, How did you do that trick? he said,

What do you mean, demoiselle?

One man couldn’t beat all those other men all by himself. You fooled us — how did you?

Ah, demoiselle, you are both right and wrong. Wrong, for that I did defeat all of those men by myself. Right, because it is true that there was trickery involved. My opponents were fooled. They fooled themselves, for they expected me to fight as they fought, and that helped me to triumph over them. Those who saw the fight were fooled, thinking that it was difficult for me to defeat so many opponents. But for me, who know what I know, it was almost easy. You don’t believe me? Your father has hired me to train you; if you are a smart girl, you can learn these same tricks, and see for yourself. But perhaps you cannot learn them — not everyone can.

I could not resist the bait, for it angered me to think that there was something I was unable to learn. You show me! I’ll learn them — you’ll see!

And so, in the end, my future was determined. Prosper and I contrived to get along well enough. He wanted me to succeed, for he was given a good wage, and promised a reward if I was chosen as the bodyguard. Several other families were rumored to be training their girls too; it was a prestigious position, bodyguard to the princess, and advantageous to any family to have a friend at court, so to speak.

There was no set way of training for the competition, nor even any way of knowing what the tests would be. You must be ready for anything, said Prosper. Practically, it meant day after day of strengthening exercises; running and riding long distances to build endurance; tumbling, which he had learned while traveling with a group of jongleurs in the days of his youth, and which he swore had saved his life in many a brawl. He also taught me the Eastern style of wrestling, which, if done properly, really did work, really did let someone, however small, triumph over a much larger or more numerous foe.

I cannot say that these skills came easily to me, but by practicing them every day, without fail, I gradually became able to do more and more. What came hardest was the desire to really fight, to attack someone with the aim of causing serious damage. Truly, I did not want to hurt anyone that much. But if I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t be a bodyguard. I had to find a way.

So at first I would imagine that my opponent was going to hurt someone or something I cared about. Then I could become angry, and with that anger came strength and power that I had not felt before. After some time I could fight without getting so angry, and Prosper said that was better, that I would be able to think more clearly, and defeat my enemies sooner if I were calm. I cultivated that, because I had become determined to be the princess’s guard. If I could only manage it, I thought, my family would at last be proud of me.

Or at least notice me. Once my training began, my mother left me to my father’s care; my father, for his part, seldom bothered to think of me, except to drop in on Prosper and me when we might least be expecting it. We were always working, practicing, training, so all he could say was, Ah! Very good! in an absent-minded way, and go back to his hounds (he was forever hunting) and his peasants (who were forever wanting something to be changed or repaired — they followed him about like puppies, waiting for a moment of his attention to fall their way, like a crumb from off the table). They got more attention from him than I ever did, but I was content to wait. Just let me be made the princess’s bodyguard — winning that position, and my father’s regard, perhaps even my mother’s, was my highest goal.

For six years, then, from the time I was nine until I was fifteen, I worked at becoming a bodyguard, without ever thinking whether or not I might like to be something else instead. While other girls my age were learning to dance, to curtsey and to adorn themselves with beautiful clothing, I was learning to dodge and duck and deliver a telling blow, and adorning myself with dust or mud, according to the season, all this while wearing my brothers’ cast off breeches and tunics, as was only practical.

Prosper, and even my father, seemed to think that such basic fighting skills were enough. If I asked Prosper, What do I do if an enemy attacks at night, or in the rain, or at a festival? he would just say, You will follow orders, of course. You will do what you are told to do. But I did not like that answer — who would order me? What if their order was wrong? What if there were no one but me to save the life of the princess? It seemed to me that I needed more knowledge than that, but where was I to find it? I did not know, but I kept this matter in my thoughts.

More than that, what kind of person was a bodyguard supposed to be? The only bodyguard I knew was my father’s, a man named Didier. But I would not wish to be like him; I did not like Didier. He was cruel and not very bright; it was easy to put him in a rage. His only virtue as a bodyguard, that I could see, was that he frightened people. I was not likely to do that, so his example was no use to me. And I did not see that he helped my father, being the way he was. If anything, Didier’s behavior made it more likely that someone would be angry enough at my father to want to attack and harm him. There must be a better way to be a bodyguard than that.

Sometime in my second year of training we had a visitor, an older relative of my father’s, the Chevalier de Sanpierre. This Chevalier had been in service with the Emperor for many years, and ruled over several large and prosperous estates in a neighboring principality. He had earned a reputation for fairness and good judgment throughout the Empire, and many were the difficult tasks entrusted to him. Now he had begun to retire from public life, and for the time being had left the running of his estates to his sons, while he traveled to visit old friends and seldom-seen relations.

Of course as a guest he was shown all over the estate, including the stable yard where Prosper and I usually trained. As it happened that we were done with the morning’s training, my father called me forward to be introduced to our distinguished relative, though I was covered with dirt, and the clothes I had on were faded and torn. But the Chevalier, gentleman that he was, made no show of noticing this, but greeted me as if I were no different from himself.

And so this is your daughter. Pleased to meet you, girl. Hear you’re training to be the bodyguard, is that so?

Yes, my lord.

And how do you like that? Think you’ll be a good one?

My father had been drawn away from this conversation by another guest. The Chevalier seemed like a kindly man, and had been spoken of as being a wise one, too. His interest seemed genuine, so I made bold to speak.

My lord, I want to be the best of bodyguards, but…

But? Come girl, speak up.

But what am I to do to keep things from happening? Prosper teaches me to be strong and to fight well, but how am I to know when to fight, or when something else would be better?

I see. Is that all?

Prosper says the king or the princess will give orders, and all I have to do is to obey, but what if they cannot? What shall I do if I am on my own?

Aha! You think ahead! That is well, and does you credit. You have a good head on your shoulders, indeed. Let me think what would be best. Can you read, girl?

I can. This was true, although I had not practiced that skill very much, being busy with training.

Good, then I believe I know what will help you. Can you be patient?

I can, my lord, indeed I must. Prosper says it is part of the job of being a bodyguard.

He is quite right. All who are sworn to protect others must learn patience, indeed. Good! Then, I will send to my estate for a little book I have there, which helped me when I was young and had difficult choices to make. I will make you a gift of it, for I believe it will help you also.

Th-thank you, my lord! I stammered. Gifts of any kind had been very scarce in my life, up till then.

Not at all. It’s just lying around gathering dust — my sons have shown no interest in it. I think you are one who can well profit from its advice.

Thank you! I said again, and that was the end of our exchange.

A few days later a servant came to find me, saying that the Chevalier wished to speak with me. I followed him to the main hall, where my father and his guests were engaged in talking over the latest news from the capital. The Chevalier saw me, and beckoned me over to his side of the table.

Here, girl, told you I’d get this for you. If it’s wisdom, and knowledge of how and when to act that you want, you’ll find it here, within these pages. It was a great help to me, early in my life, and I hope it will be the same to you.

Thank you, my lord. I will honor it always.

No need to be so solemn — take it away and see what you think of it, eh?

Thank you! I cried and ran away to a secret place I had on the battlements, and opened the wrapping of waxed linen that concealed his gift. Inside I found a little book, bound in faded red leather. A very small book — could it really have anything useful in it? The Maxims of Regulus was engraved on the front cover, in letters of gold; that would be the book’s title, no doubt. I had heard the word ‘maxims,’ but not often — it meant something like wise sayings, I thought. Well, let us see what wisdom could be found within.

I turned to the first page, and began to try to make out what it said. The script was old and more complicated than the simple letters I had learned up till then, but I could read it, if I went slowly. It said:

To the reader: I write down these things which I have learned through hard labor and much suffering, in the hope that those who come after me may benefit from them. Think of them as the sweet fruit borne by an old apple tree which has weathered many a storm. If you find aught that is helpful here, the wish of my old age will be fulfilled.

I did not know what to make of this — after all, sometimes the fruit of old apple trees was wormy, and not fit to eat — but if the Chevalier had recommended it... I went on to the next page, and the first maxim:

Everything changes.

Well, of course, thought I. It doesn’t take much wisdom to see that. The seasons change, day changes to night, eggs hatch and grow and become chickens — truly, everything does change. Why do I need a book to tell me that?

I read the second maxim:

Things are often not what they seem.

What? The sun is the sun, isn’t it? A dog is a dog — what else would it be? What does this Regulus mean by saying such a thing? (Remember that I was only ten years old at this time.) Well, I thought, but sometimes ice looks solid, and safe to walk on, when it isn’t. And sometimes (as I had learned from bitter experience) a tree branch looks strong when it’s rotten inside, so that is true. Maybe he is smart, after all. I turned the page, to the third maxim:

Care for your own things yourself, for your life may depend on that.

Now that I could see. I remembered a time when a new groom saddled my pony for me before we went out to ride with the hunt. He did not know Mistral, or that he would swell up with air in order to keep the girth looser. I always walked him and tightened it again before getting on, but this time I didn’t check. Fortunately it started to slip as I mounted, and I was able to save myself by clutching Mistral’s mane, while he, lazy thing that he was, stood calmly instead of bucking or rearing as a more high-bred animal might have done. Had the saddle slipped when we were running with the hounds, it might have been a quite different story. I made a note to always follow that maxim, and it has saved me from great trouble, more than once.

From then on I took time to read and learn by heart at least one of old Regulus’ maxims every day. I began to understand them better; I am still learning from them, even now. Some I still don’t see the sense of — perhaps they are remnants of another way of life, traditions that have been lost in time.

Others I adopted right away: Make sure to watch your back, for trouble most often begins at the rear.

Before you have a routine, change it.

Simple plans are more likely to succeed.

Always be at the ready, so you can act when a way opens.

These, and more became my secret weapon; using their wisdom, I felt I would surely beat out all the other candidates, and become the princess’s guard.

**************

At long last came the day of choosing, at the royal palace. There were perhaps thirty of us competing to be the princess’s guard, all about fifteen years old. I had new clothes, made especially for me, but they were still just breeches and a tunic. The others were similarly dressed — it was only sensible, after all — and most of them looked nervous, though determined.

The testing process surprised me, because the things they asked us to do were so easy. What was even more surprising was that many of the girls found the tests difficult. First, to test our strength, they had us lift some stones, each about the size of a baby’s head. Most of the girls there could barely lift one with two hands, let alone with one hand, as I was able to do; but to give credit where credit is due, there were ten or twelve others who could do the same. That test eliminated more than half of the contenders. Then the judges set us at a tug of war, one against one; that eliminated six more. They tried us with weapons, tested our riding skills, tried to scare us to death with loud noises and people jumping out at us suddenly. When these tests were at an end, only two were left: myself, and a big, tall redheaded girl from a family of upstart nobles.

The judges began to question us: What would you do if the castle should be attacked? What if someone tried to kidnap the princess while she was out riding? Or if someone snuck into the castle in the dead of night? To all these questions the redhead merely answered: Defend the princess with my life, whereas I was able to say specifically that I would do this or that; I showed them I could use my brains.

The final choice rested with the princess, who of course was meeting us for the first time on that day. She asked us three questions:

What do you love most?

What do you hate most?

What do you fear most?

The redheaded girl answered these questions easily. She said: I love most a ripe apple. I hate most rain on a cold morning. I fear nothing.

But I said, I love most to know of a good or noble deed. I hate most to know of wrong done to someone small or weak. I knew I could not tell out loud what my greatest fear was, of having spiders fall on me, or everyone would not only tease me about it, but also take every opportunity of scaring me with them, so I said, I fear most to be afraid.

The red-haired girl looked at me with such a smug, pitying smile, which infuriated me, as much as I deserved it for not being honest. For what I truly loved most, at that time, was my dog Clarion, who had followed me about and trained with me for years, and who was a most beautiful and noble hunting hound, all black and tan. And what I hated most, then, was