Without Words

Chapter 22

Mirabel sat down on her bed and gave a yawn. It had been a long and largely uneventful day. Tomas had dragged her all over town, speaking to acquaintances of his from his previous visits to town. But conversation after conversation had led them nowhere.

One acquaintance - unable to read himself - had sent them  to yet another acquaintance who, to Mirabel’s great disappointment, was also unable to help. From there, they had traversed the entire marketplace and beyond with hardly any luck.

Mirabel’s feet were, again, sore from all the walking. They hadn’t sat down all  day except for to eat lunch. Having been in the marketplace most of the day, they had been constantly surrounded by food, the delicious smells wafting on the breeze and causing Mirabel’s stomach to protest.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the smells reached Tomas’s stomach as well. Mirabel had been determined to hold out as long as possible before complaining, but she couldn’t deny being glad when when Tomas suggested they stop for food.

She’d felt somewhat guilty seeing him pull out his quickly diminishing sack of coins to pay. She was a princess; she should be the one paying. She doubted Tomas could truly afford to be spending so much. While he and his family seemed happy, and always seemed to have plenty of food, she knew they were far from rich. She was also sure that the money he was spending was the same money he had earned just a few days previous when selling the goats’ milk in town.

But, unable to protest, or even to offer her own money, as she had none, she’d only been able to watch with a twisting feeling in her gut as Tomas handed over his coins in exchange for the food. She couldn’t help but think that they should have brought more food along so they wouldn’t have to buy as much. Twice so far they’d bought dinner, once breakfast, and once lunch. She hoped desperately that they would not need to buy so many meals the next day.  Perhaps they would get lucky and find someone to help them early the next morning.

Of course, she knew that wasn’t likely. They’d exhausted most of Tomas’s connections already. Where would they even begin the next day? Tomas had made an attempt at dinner to act upbeat, but he had no skill in lying. Mirabel could tell he was just as discouraged, if not more, than she was. She had few hopes for the next day. Goatherds were not the sort to have connections that could read. It was a rarer skill than she’d ever thought.

It set her wondering if it was as rare in Lucerne as it was in Pommern. Was the lack of education widespread across the kingdoms, or just something in Pommern? It was something she would have to look into when she returned home. She smiled; ‘when’ was a rather optimistic word in her situation, she thought to herself.

Setting aside her contemplations for the moment, she began to prepare herself for bed. As hard as the cot was in comparison to what she was used to, it seemed incredibly inviting at the moment. Her eyelids were already beginning to close of their own accord.

The flickering light of the candle flame in the small lantern beside her bed was the only source of illumination in the dim room. Through the small window beside her, she could see the stars twinkling brightly in the dark velvet sky. The moon was thin, a claw scratch amidst the pinpricks of light. The view was disappointing to her; it couldn’t compare to sitting out under the sky in the gardens back at the palace, gazing up at the wide expanse. The small patch of darkness in view could in no way compete with the nigh on majestic view she was accustomed to. Perhaps she was spoiled in a way, but she found herself unable to appreciate the view for what it was.

She thought of Tomas then, how he would probably see it as being just as majestic as what she was used to, even though to her it paled in comparison. He always seemed to be able to see the beauty in things. She supposed then that she was spoiled, and that it must mainly be due to the way she was raised. If she had been born to a goatherd, perhaps she would see things differently. Perhaps she would be able to look at the small patch of sky, somewhat obscured by the imperfections of the glass, and think it beautiful and majestic. Perhaps she would be a different person.