Mimus

Recipe

Excerpted from the first chapter:

Montfield

"But the sorceress avenged herself on the prince by imprisoning him in a stone tower without a roof. Deprived of shelter he was scorched by the sun and soaked by the rain and snow. And the sorceress commanded a raven to fly over the tower once a day and let fall a thimbleful of water and a morsel of food as black and bitter as wormwood..."

Tanko fell silent. The other boys sitting beside him on the tree trunk stared at him expectantly. Florin could feel the prince's parching thirst, the taste of wormwood on his tongue.

"What then?" Senna insisted. "What happened to the prince after that?"

Lost in thought, Tanko bent and picked up a round piece of moss from the forest floor. Stroking it as if it were a furry little animal, he went on:

"The prince groaned aloud in his distress, but all that answered him was the silence of the sky and the howling of the wind. And the sorceress, having considered how to increase his sufferings, commanded an eagle to -- "

The boys gave a jump, startled by a loud snapping of twigs in the undergrowth.

"What an impressive sight," said a familiar voice. The four youngsters sprang to their feet at the sound of it. "There they sit like a row of ringdoves, the future masters of Moltovia, shuddering at some old wives' tale. Why trouble to go to the exercise yard? Let old Count Ursio teach his straw dummies to fence!"

The bushes parted and a gray-haired man stepped into the clearing. Short and wiry, he was nimble and vigorous in his movements and had a face like tanned leather. Although Count Ursio was very old -- or so he seemed to hispupils -- he still wore the leather tunic and iron shin armor of a swordsman. He proceeded to examine the four youngsters like an officer inspecting his troops. Having looked daggers at each of them in turn, he came to a halt in front of Tanko.

"Why not finish your story?" he demanded, rocking belligerently on his heels.

Tanko stared at the tips of his toes in sheepish silence.

Count Ursio drew a deep breath. "Teller of fairy tales!" He spat out the words like the coarsest of insults. "You're nothing but a dreamer!" he barked like a furious mastiff. "Go take your tales and sit with the washerwomen! It's no wonder any farmer's lad can unhorse you! You aim to be one of the king's knights? A fairground huckster -- that's all you're fit for! I'll give you a handbell, then you can join the clowns and fire-eaters and entertain the rabble in the streets!"

Radbod, who was standing beside Tanko, tittered despite himself. He would have done better not to, because Count Ursio promptly rounded on him.

"And what of you, my boy?" He pressed Radbod's head back with two fingers under his chin to force the youth to look him in the eye. "What will your noble father say if I send you home to your fine castle? What if I advise him to tie you to your nursemaid's apron strings for another few years before he sends you back to the royal school of knighthood?"

Although nearly thirteen, Radbod was -- much to his sorrow -- short for his age and slender. He swallowed this insult with his lips pressed tightly together.

"But here's the biggest buffoon of all!" The old count left Radbod and drew himself up in front of Senna, who was almost a head taller. "You think you're the best of this wretched bunch? You hope to succeed Sturmius as the prince's bodyguard?" The louder his voice became, the more Senna seemed to shrink. "Tell me something: What would you have done if a horde of vile Vinlanders had burst in on Tanko's fairy tale? Uttered a spell and turned them into toads?"

Senna tried to speak. "But Count Ursio, there aren't any Vinlanders so close to Montfield Castle, you know that full well."

"Look over there!" barked the old fencing master, With outstretched arm, he indicated a tall youth leaning on his sword at the edge of the clearing. "Is Sturmius sitting down with you fools? No, he's keeping watch as befits the prince's bodyguard. He's a dependable fellow!"

Sturmius gripped the hilt of his sword, trying not to look too proud of himself.

The old count walked past them all again. "A washerwoman..." he growled contemptuously, "a babe in arms... a buffoon..." He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. "Holy St, George, noblest of warriors, assist me! See to it that these youngsters grow up at last!"

Florin bit his lip to suppress a grin. "You've forgotten me, Count Ursio," he said politely.

The count gave a little bow. "It does not behoove me to rebuke you, Your Highness," he said. "You must always set your companions a good example -- no one knows that better than you."

He took an hourglass from the pocket of his tunic and set it down on a tree stump. "You'll all be at the exercise yard before the glass empties," he growled. "Complete with armor, swords and shields -- or you'll regret it. And don't take it into your heads to turn the clock back!" With a last menacing glare, he disappeared into the trees.

"Brrr!" Radbod shook himself like a wet dog after a rainstorm.

"Trust the old fox to steal up on us on foot!" said Senna. "We'd have heard his horse half a mile away."

"If he had his way, we'd never leave the castle," Tanko said plaintively, "and would go to bed armed to the teeth."

"Count Ursio sleeps in full armor every night," Florin added. "What on earth will he do if peace really comes?"

"He'll invent some new threat," Tanko predicted, "and bully us even more. To Count Ursio, sword drill and swordplay are as necessary as breathing."

"It looks as if we'll be fencing in the rain," Radbod said, with an appraising glance at the sky. "But who cares?" He mimicked Ursio's voice. "What will you do in battle, you milksops? Ask the vile Vinlanders to hold off until the weather improves?"

Tanko cast a worried glance at the sand in the hourglass, which had run nearly halfway through. "We'd better go."

"There's no hurry." Cool as a cucumber, Senna produced an ivory pin from his pocket. Having carefully dipped it in some pitch oozing from the tree trunk, he bent over Count Ursio's hourglass. "First I want to know if he survives.

"If who survives?" Tanko stared at him.

"The prince in the tower, of course," Senna replied as he neatly thrust the pin through the hourglass's leather case. The pitch clogged the trickle of sand, which stopped abruptly. "Just imagine, a thimbleful of water and a morsel of wormwood a day! Our prince grumbles if ten of his favorite dishes fail to appear on the table at once." He nudged Florin in the ribs. "It's a miracle you remain so thin, Your Highness."

"Food certainly sticks to your ribs," Florin retorted. "Three years at Montfield Castle have doubled your girth as well as your height!"

"Don't be envious!" Senna withdrew the pin with a jerk. "Well, friends," he said contentedly, "now we've solved that problem. what would you say to making a little detour on the way to the exercise yard?"

"The hideaway!" Florin and Radbod exclaimed together.

The hideaway was an abandoned hermit's hut that stood not far from Montfield Castle, concealed by a thicket of fir saplings and bramble bushes. The boys had stumbled across it by chance while hunting deer -- a meeting place during the winter days to come.

"But we can't!" Tanko eyed the useless hourglass apprehensively.

"No one touched it," said Senna. "It simply stopped. Count Ursio should fill his hourglass with finer sand."

"He'll flay us alive!"

Senna sighed impatiently. "How can anyone who thinks up such exciting stories be such a coward himself?"

It was true, Florin reflected. Tanko's storytelling seemed to use up all his courage, wit and spirit of adventure.

"To the hideaway," Senna said firmly. "And you, my prince," he added, bowing with a flourish, "will take the lead. You know you must always be foremost in setting your companions a good example."

Halfway there, the heavens opened and the rain came down in sheets. The boys raced off followed by Sturmius, Florin's bodyguard, who was hampered by the sword at his belt. They reached the hideaway laughing and soaked to the skin. With a little bow, Senna and Radbod opened the rickety wooden door for Florin as a matter of course, only to slam it in his bodyguard's face a moment later.

"An excellent idea of yours, Sturmius, to stand guard outside!" Radbod shouted through the door. "You're a dependable fellow!"

"Poor Sturmius," Senna said pensively. "Fancy having to stand guard in the rain... Being the prince's bodyguard is a dull job. I shall have to think twice about it."

"You do that," said Florin, well aware that Senna was itching to assume the post. He looked round the hut. Two weeks ago he had talked one of the royal foresters into secretly making the place more comfortable for them. It was now clean and snug, with fresh rushes on the floor and sacks of straw to sit on. Dry logs were stacked beside the brick-lined hearth.

"Wait." Radbod produced a tinderbox from his pocket. "We'll soon have a fire."

Before long, flames were leaping up the chimney. The boys pulled the sacks nearer to the fire and spread their sodden cloaks to dry.

"My father has a mind to replace Count Ursio," Florin confided. "When he returns from Frankenland, Duke Bonizo may become our instructor in the arts of war.

"Truly?" The youngsters' eyes lit up. Duke Bonizo's renown as a warrior was legendary.

"Then they'll have to enlarge the school at last," said Radbod. "Our dormitory is already bursting at the seams.

The royal school of knighthood numbered twenty pupils. King Philip had founded it so that his only son, the future king of Moltovia, should not grow up in isolation. The teachers were learned monks and experienced soldiers whom he had summoned to the royal court from all over the country, and every noble family in Moltovia yearned to have at least one son educated in the prince's company.

"Duke Bonizo must be commanding your father's bodyguard now," Senna said enviously. "If only we had some news from them. A fast-riding horseman could have been here long ago."

"Except that he would have had to set off as soon as they got to Frankenland," Radbod objected. "Why would King Philip send a courier if there's nothing to report?"

"Well said," Tanko remarked, warming his hands at the fire. "You'll see, a courier will arrive in the next few days. And, to prevent you from bursting with curiosity, I'll tell you what news he'll bring."

Florin smiled at his friend. "Are you a soothsayer now, as well as a storyteller?"

"Who knows?" Tanko replied with an air of mystery. "At all events, the beginning of my story is the plain truth. So listen." He settled himself more comfortably on his sack. "Once upon a time there were two kingdoms, Vinland and Moltovia..."

"Forget about Vinland," Senna growled. "Vinland can go to the devil for all I care, but Moltovia will exist forever!"

"Don't interrupt!" Tanko scowled at him. "The two kingdoms were at war a war so old that its beginnings were shrouded in obscurity..."

"As old as I am," Senna said dryly. "Fourteen."

"Yes, and every babe in arms knows why it started," Radbod chimed in. "Theodo of Vinland had fastened his greedy gaze on our silver mines, that's why."

Tanko folded his arms. "I've had enough!" he said firmly.

"No, go on," Florin pleaded. Listening to the facts of their own story told like a legend was mesmerizing. "For my sake."

"Very well," Tanko said graciously, "but only for your sake."

"It was an endless, merciless war -- merciless for the most part because neither kingdom could defeat the other There were spells of deceptive calm during which the warriors licked their wounds and the harassed inhabitants breathed again. Thereafter the warring armies clashed with redoubled ferocity, plundering towns and villages, burning homes and churches, and ravaging the fields. As in Moltovia, so in Vinland."

"That's true," Florin said quietly. Even though the war had never come within a hundred miles of Montfield Castle, thanks to an ingenious ring of fortifications, he had heard enough about its horrors from his father's generals.

"Things continued in this manner, year after year," Tanko went on, "until one spring, when King Theodo of Vinland -- "

"This spring," Radbod amended.

"... one spring," Tanko repeated, glaring at him, "when King Theodo quite unexpectedly sued for peace. Moltovia's royal court greeted this approach with deep suspicion..."

That was putting it mildly. The first envoys from Vinland to reach Montfield Castle were thrown into a dungeon before they had a chance to pass on a single word of Theodo's proposal, and were only released at King Philip's express command.

"...but Theodo continued to send Philip envoys day after day, and they never tired of conveying the same message: the King of Vinland wishes to make peace with Moltovia."

Until the day came when we simply had to believe it, thought Florin.

"Early that summer, negotiators from the two kingdoms met at the Relling, the river that marks the frontier between them. The Vinlanders pitched camp on the west bank, the Moltovians on the east, and the loudest -- voiced among them bellowed their conditions across the water..."

"That would have been a job for me!" Senna said exuberantly.

"By the time they were hoarse; it had been agreed that the warring kings should meet in person. Not in Vinland or Moltovia, but on neutral territory: in Frankenland, at the court of King Ludvik..."

"Where they dine on snails and frogs' legs," Radbod put in with a shudder. "Let's hope our people take a good look at the fare that's set before them!"

"The sun was beating down when King Philip, escorted by a magnificent retinue set off for Frankenland..."

That had been six weeks ago. Since then, Montfield Castle had seemed deserted. Over three hundred men, including the whole of the privy council, had accompanied King Philip on horseback.

"And two weeks later they reached the capital of Frankenland safe and sound."

"Now you're playing the soothsayer," Senna objected.

"But that's what the couriers will say," said Tanko. "They'll report that the King of Vinland was awaiting King Philip with impatience." The corners of his mouth twitched. "They'll report that he's a fat, bald, toothless, evil-smelling fellow with flat feet."

The other boys giggled. "Come, come, Tanko," said Florin, "you've no idea what Theodo looks like."

Tanko closed his eyes. "To hymns of praise and the ringing of church bells," he went on solemnly, "the two kings exchanged the kiss of peace and pledged eternal friendship. The elaborate festivities held to celebrate their pact continued for a whole year. But the finest festivity of all was the marriage of Moltovia's crown prince to the princess of Vinland."

Radbod and Senna burst out laughing. "It's lucky you aren't a genuine soothsayer," Senna exclaimed.

After glancing at Florin's face, Tanko said hesitantly: "At all events... peace had been restored and they all lived happily ever after."

"God grant it may be so," Florin said earnestly.

"Sounds almost too good to be true," Senna said gruffly. "And now, Tanko, tell us what the eagle did to the prince in the tower."