"Sit here!" Queen Ethddndda barked sharply at Jenna, pointing to a small, uncomfortable gold chair. The chair had been set next to Queen Etheldredda's generously upholstered throne, which dominated the top table set up on the dais of the banquet hall. Queen Etheldredda was not a generous hostess and gave as few banquets as possible. She considered them a waste of both good food and precious time, but sometimes they had to be done.
The Queen had been taken by surprise at the speed at which the news of the Return of the drowned Princess had spread not only through the Palace, but also through the entire Castle. However, along with the news, a certain opinion put about by the Knight of the Day was gaining a worrying foothold. Many thought that the Queen was displeased to see her poor Returned daughter and had locked her away, and what was worse, from the look upon her face when she had first beheld her dear drowned one, anyone would have thought that she had wished her daughter dead. Or, and this was delivered in hushed tones after much looking over the shoulder to check for eavesdroppers, people whispered that the Queen had drowned the child herself. The imparting of this news was invariably accompanied by gasps of dismay and amazement followed by an overpowering wish to find someone else to tell it to and enjoy the dismay and amazement all over again.
The gossip had spread faster than a forest fire and by nightfall Queen Etheldredda knew she had to do something - fast. And so the Palace Scribes were set to work on writing the invitations to:
A Magnificent Banquet, being
A ThanksGiving for the Safe Return
Of our Beloved Daughter,
Princess Esmeralda.
Bring your own plates.
The hastily assembled throng gathered outside the great doors to the Ballroom - the largest room in the Palace where all banquets were held. Jenna nervously perched on the wobbly gold chair and surveyed all before her. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the bizarre feeling she had had ever since she had jumped through the Glass, that she was actually at home in her own Time and in the middle of one of Silas's extended practical jokes. Jenna still remembered fondly her sixth birthday when she had woken to find that she was on board a ship bound for, as Silas had put it, BirthdayIsland. The whole room had been made to look like the inside of an extremely untidy ship. Her brothers were dressed as pirates and Sarah as the ship's cook. When Simon had shouted out, "Land ahoy," everyone had climbed down a rope ladder hung precariously from the window to a real boat waiting for them below in the river, which had taken them to a small sand spit upriver, where Jenna discovered a treasure chest with her birthday present inside it.
However, Jenna thought ruefully as she stole a look at the Queen, she could not imagine the mother of poor Esmeralda and the little Princesses pretending to be a ship's cook for a day. It seemed to be almost too much for her to pretend to even like her supposed daughter. Jenna turned around and stole a quick glance at Sir Hereward. She felt better seeing the old ghost standing behind her, still on guard. He caught Jenna's eye and winked.
Jenna watched Queen Etheldredda take her place on the throne. The Queen sat down as if she was expecting a nasty surprise to have been left on the chair. Sitting bolt upright, as though someone had tied her to a plank, Etheldredda settled herself onto the throne: a lavishly gilded chair upholstered in deep red velvet and dripping with gemstones. The Aie-Aie scuttled under the throne and curled its tail around one of the carved legs, flicking its tooth in and out and staring at the tasty ankles passing by. Stonily the Queen's hooded violet eyes stared at the great doors at the end of the Ballroom, which were still firmly closed against the rising hubbub outside. Jenna stole a glance at the living Etheldredda. She thought that the Queen looked remarkably like her ghost: the same steely gray plaits were coiled tightly around her ears, and the same pointy nose sniffed the air in the familiar disapproving manner. The only difference was that the living Etheldredda smelled of old socks and camphor. Suddenly, the unforgettable voice drilled out, "Let the rabble in!"
Two little boys, Door Pages for the night and up well past their bedtime, ran and heaved on the golden door handles, pulling the doors open in unison as they had practiced under the stern eyes of the Royal DoorKeeper for the last four hours.
A most exotic and highly polished group of people began to file into the Ballroom, two by two, each one clutching a plate. As each pair came through the doors, their gaze turned immediately to the Returned Princess, and even though Jenna had become used to being stared at during her walks around the Castle in her own Time, she began to feel very self-conscious. She flushed bright pink and could not help but wonder if anyone was going to notice that she was not Esmeralda.
But no one did. A few people thought that Esmeralda appeared in much better health than she had been, and looked, not surprisingly, much happier for her time away from her mama. Gone was the drawn look to her face, the anxious frown that always hovered over her eyes. She had filled out a little too, and no longer looked in need of a good meal or two.
For having sent an invitation with such short notice, Queen Etheldredda had rustled up an impressive-looking group of guests. Everyone wore their very best set of clothes; most wore their wedding clothes, although the more scholarly ones, particularly the Ordinary Wizards and the Alchemists, wore their graduation gowns adorned with fur and richly colored silks. The Royal courtiers and officials, noses in the air, strutted importantly through the Ballroom doors in their ceremonial robes. These were made from dark gray velvet edged in red and were adorned with long gold ribbons that hung from the sleeves, the number and length of which depended upon the status of the officials. On the robes of important officials, the ribbons reached the floor, and on the robes of extremely important officials, the ribbons trailed along on the floor and were often - accidentally on purpose - stepped on. It was not unusual to see a long gold ribbon lying forlornly in the Palace corridors, and some officials had even taken to carrying spare ribbons with them, for the number of ribbons on one's sleeves was highly significant, and it would not do for a five-ribbon official to be seen with only four or, perish the thought, three.
Jenna watched the sumptuous stream of guests pour in and find their places at the three long tables that were set down the length of the Ballroom. After much fussing and treading on ribbons, all were finally seated. A small, nervous page was pushed onto the dais by the Steward; the boy ran to the middle, stood on his spot in front of the Queen and rang a small handbell. The tinkling sound immediately brought complete silence. Everyone stopped their chat in mid-sentence and looked expectantly at Queen Etheldredda.
"Welcome to this feast." Etheldredda's voice rang through the Ballroom like fingernails being dragged down a blackboard. Some people winced, others ran their fingernails across their front teeth to get rid of the nasty sensation. "Held in honor of the safe Return of my deare daughter, Princess Esmeralda, whom we all did think sadly drowned. Who was Much Mourned by her deare mama and who has been welcomed home with Most Great Rejoicing and Motherly Affection, for we have not been out of each other's sight since her Return, have we, my Darling One?" Queen Etheldredda gave Jenna a sharp kick on the shins under the table.
"Ouch!" gasped Jenna.
"Have we, my Darling One?" Etheldredda's eyes bored into Jenna and she hissed under her breath, "Answer No, Mama, you little fool - else it shall be the worse for thee."
With all eyes upon her, Jenna did not dare refuse. "No, Mama," she muttered sulkily.
"What was that, my most Precious One?" asked Queen Etheldredda silkily, with steel in her eyes. "What did you say?"
Jenna took a deep breath and said, "No, Mama. Indeed, the sight of you is ... haunting." and then immediately she wished she hadn't, for all eyes were now upon her at the sound of her strange accent and her odd way of speaking. But Queen Etheldredda, who had made a habit of never listening to a word that Princess Esmeralda said, appeared not to notice. Bored with having to think about the wretched Esmeralda for longer than she had ever had to before, the Queen stood up.
With much scraping of chairs, everyone in the Ballroom rose to their feet and turned their respectful gaze away from the odd Esmeralda to their more familiar Queen.