Princess Variana sat on the heavily brocaded couch. Thick, warm sunlight filtered through the high castle windows. Outside, above the battlements, several hawks flew on the air currents. She watched as they dove and rose. Over and over. Variana envied them their freedom. Here she was, trapped in the castle by war and circumstance. Variana stood up and paced as she waited for her tutor.
Tutor Bradford was nearly always late. As she looked from the window around the room, she barely noticed the fine wall tapestries that hung throughout the room to keep it warm and comfortable in the winter. On the other couch sat her Nanny, knitting. Variana had never seen anyone knit as fast as Nan. Her needles flashed and sparkled like the tiny minnows in the brook that ran behind the southern wall of the castle. As she stared at the needles, Nanny looked up and smiled. "Princess, you should work on your tatting while you wait."
"I don't feel like it," said Variana as she flounced into her chair. Instead, Variana felt hot and stifled in her formal dress. The air was thick around her. She just wished she had news of the war. Her father, the King, certainly knew. Variana hated to ask him, he was so tired with all the burdens of his office. And now that he had taken sick as well, she disliked worrying him with her questions.
Nan smiled that thin smile that meant she wasn't pleased with Princess. "A lady never flounces or lounges, she keeps busy."
Princess Variana smiled at the saying. That particular saying was Nan's favorite. Although it changed to suit the circumstances, it always ended with the fact that a lady kept busy. Although Nan had told her that many times, it still didn't mean she liked to tat. As she lifted her linen to begin the dull work Nan requested, she heard a distant tapping.
TAP, tap,tap, TAP, tap,tap, came the sound. It was Tutor Bradford with his cane.
She could hear his hurried, uneven steps as came up the stairs. Down the hall, his feet and his cane tapped a frantic pace on the stone floor. Breathless, he rushed into her waiting room. His left arm full of books, papers, pens, and assorted other things, Bradford stopped in the middle of the room. He leaned on his cane and took several deep breaths. Variana could barely see him behind all the things he carried. Her tutor spun around, looking for her, the cane in his right hand flailed out as he spun almost hitting Variana in the head.
She stared at Bradford. His overlarge stomach pushed tightly against his tunic. Wrinkled and tattered, his sleeves were spattered with ink. A long, wispy beard poked out from among the books. It hung lower than his waist and was pure white. Her father had once told her that Tutor Bradford had been her Grandsire Kelvin's tutor as well. She remembered that day like it was yesterday.
"Variana, my dear. You are nearly eight. It is time to begin your studies. Your tutor is to be Bradford. He has been with us for as long as I remember," the king had said in a quite serious voice. "I want you to respect him. Don't tease him. It isn't befitting a Princess to tease her tutor." He looked at her sternly as he said this.
Variana had giggled then. "Father," she said, "I would never tease him."
"Of course," her father replied with a voice that belied his tone. He didn't believe her one bit, and Variana knew it. And then her father had laughed his deep laugh. "Variana, I love you. But if you tease Bradford, he may turn you into a frog."
She had gasped then. "He can't do that, can he?"
"He most certainly can," her father said. "And he will if you mock him."
She had shrieked with delight. "I'm going to tease him, just so he does. I want to be a frog," she told her father. "Please make him do it this instant."
Her father laughed again, this time until tears ran down his cheeks. Then he made his stern face. "Variana, I am serious. No teasing."
"Yes Father."
Variana shook her head at the memory. That had been six years ago. Back before her mother had died. Before her father had become sick.
Tutor Bradford stood in the middle of the room, looking for Variana. He wasn't wearing his glasses. If she sat quite still, he would never be able to find her. Without his glasses, he couldn't see anything clearly. But movement always caught his eyes.
As she sat as still as a stone, she thought that Bradford must be over a hundred years old and wondered briefly how that was even possible. When she could stand it no more, she giggled. Bradford spun and stared right at her. His dark brown eyes blinked slowly as he tried to focus on her. He bowed deeply. The pile of books he carried fell and tumbled across the floor. Variana giggled again.
"Your Highness," said Bradford. "It seems I have forgotten my spectacles. Again." As he said this, he growled. It was a peculiar habit of his, when frustrated he would growl. As with most things, it made Variana giggle.
"You needn't bow to me Bradford," she said. "I've told you that every time you have come to visit me for the past six years. You only need to bow to my father." She stood up from the couch and began to help her tutor pick up his books. "And you mustn't growl. I'm quite certain a gentleman never growls."
At this, Nan looked up from her knitting and scowled. Unsure if she was bing mocked, she shook her head and went back to her knitting.
Variana moved gracefully around the room, picking up books and stacking them in a neat pile on the heavy oak desk she used for her lessons. Her tutor tried to help. He was hopelessly clumsy. She reached out for his hand and led him to the oak chair.
As he sat, he gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, my dear. It becomes more and more difficult for these old legs to bend over and pick things up."
"Tutor Bradford, your glasses are right here in your pocket," said the princess as she reached into his pocket and grabbed his glasses. She handed them to him.
He put them on and it seemed his eyes grew to the size of a pair of tea plates. His eyes blinked twice as they adjusted. "Ahh, thank you my dear." He looked at the pile of books in front of him on the desk. "What shall we study today?" he asked.
This is Part 1 of a 3 Part Short Story
© 2017, Stone Golem Publishing
**All pictures used are labeled for reuse. They come from Pixabay
