Part I, Chapter 6: The Gardens

714 36 5
                                    

Summer seemed to roll on by, as May turned so soon from June to July. Of course, the days didn't disappear in a flash. They most certainly didn't for Cameron. He came to realize, though, that every day revolved around a schedule. Whether it was enforced and written down or merely a comfortable routine was unknown to him, and he didn't find it polite to pose to the Queen the question of why her life was so repetitive.

Thankfully, as much of a rut the young dog found himself in, he found it to be a rather pleasant one, to say the very least. These sixty-odd days were filled with wonder, as he found the intricacies and secrets that the castle and the family had to offer. They were also filled with food, good food, the likes of which the collie didn't even realize existed.  He even gained a little more experience in applying his tableside manners. Felix saw this, and was, of course, pleased. Practice was all anyone needed, after all.

There was a lot more to know about the castle than food, too, believe it or not. The people around were polite, as to be expected. There was the occasional vulpine noblewoman who came around to chat with the Queen about her family. There was a hare, Lorenzo, a Venetian duke who liked to visit Valentia during the summer months with his wife. And their children— plentiful children. For a few days, there seemed to be at least one rabbit kid getting into trouble somewhere in the castle. However, the musician found his use. He sang for these spoiled children the same short things at least a hundred times over before they finally left.

How little the dog knew that Felix was outside the door, listening in. He found Cameron's voice pleasing, and took this rare opportunity to listen, even if it was so simple of a song.

These people came and went, though, and his company was mainly the King and Queen themselves. The only other real friend he had was the one who actually stayed in the castle, instead of coming and going at their whim. Marco was getting to be this much closer of a friend. They often had visits to each others' rooms, conversing about what kind of songs the royals found pleasing, and which ones were less desirable. They talked about the books they read, and how well they managed to sneak them about. They talked of other things: What wasn't there to talk about? Food was a second-favorite subject between the two.

Cameron looked forward to, above all else, the arrival of a bovine bookmaker from the western shore of Aquitania, who had a few of his highest-quality selections available to the royalty, and whoever may be able to borrow it. What fine French printing he brought whenever he came once every month, and simply decided to add a few books to the shelves, after being payed indirectly. This certain July day, the dog snuck into the library, certain a delivery had just arrived. There, on the frontmost display shelf of the room, were three new-looking novels.

He'd finished the ones he borrowed his first time around, as well as a more than a few afterwards, and made sure to return them. Especially for having only sixty-something days' time to master his reading skills, it was a quick reading rate. He'd read may things, now: a few plays, some ancient works, some holy histories and mythical verses, a summary of the royal lineage, and even some techniques for the bow. He found interest in all of these, but needed a good piece of fiction to dig into right about now. He looked around, and made sure nobody was watching. A large, thick-armored ursine guard passed through the hall, but he came and went with a little patience. Now was his chance! He scurried into the library, and took the most intriguing of the new books, then hurried off.

Ophelia's call to meet in the garden was so routine of a request that the young dog had its usual time memorized. He had a feel for it.

"There you are," the Queen greeted, patting the spot next to her.

"Yes, here I am," Cameron sighed, starting to pluck away a melody.

The King's CollieWhere stories live. Discover now