That was not the agreement we’d made, but then I hadn’t had the opportunity to get an attorney to look over any such document. In fact, I almost chuckled over such a thought. As if a kidnappee could ask for an attorney to verify that queenly vows were valid.
The guard who was walking me to my chamber had large feet and big steps. I asked him to slow down, but either he didn’t hear me, or he refused to take orders from a lowly human. The good part was that I wasn’t tied in ropes or knotted up in iron chains. The bad part was that I was still a prisoner.
After a very long walk through dusty halls and cobwebs, we finally arrived at the dreaded door. Guess what. Yes, it was painted gray. Some of the doors we’d passed had been painted in cheerful colors: reds, greens, yellows . . . One even had a decorative sun painted in the center. But my gray door was plain and . . . gray, dingy gray, the exact hue you would never want to use on anything inside your house.
The guard pulled a large keychain from his belt buckle, not unfastening it, but stretching it out so that he could insert the key into the gray door’s lock. The inner works clicked, and the guard threw the door open. “Get inside,” the jerk said with a threatening look on his face that said if I wasn’t spry, he was going to toss me inside and slam the door on my rear end.
As the door was shut behind me and locked, I glanced about. No light. The place was dark as a cave. Touching the wall, then walking along it, I made my way to the shuttered window, and after a moment’s finger inspection, figured out how to open the wooden closure.
It wasn’t a full moon night, unfortunately, but there was a partial moon, when the moon resembled a crescent cookie set in the middle of a black night full of stars. It was rather a pretty night. Of course, I tried to escape through the window, but there was not only a set of iron grids that kept me from doing so, but when I looked out, I found that I was at a height that would keep me from trying to jump even if I could.
Thankfully, the moon’s light was enough to allow me to see what was inside my chamber: a full bed heaped with thick furs, a nightstand beside it with a small lamp, and on the floor, a very pretty rug with a tapestry picture of a unicorn with deer all about. The animals were doing their best to shorten the meadow grass. The rug was actually the best part of the room.
I made my way toward the lamp, hoping that the bulb inside it would give me better light. No such luck. No electricity, for one thing. I think the lamp was an oil lamp, but it held no liquid inside it, and even if it had, I think matches would have been required to ignite it.
By the moon’s light, I could see that the room was thankfully free from cobwebs and their busy occupants. The floor looked freshly swept, and the dust that covered the rest of the palace seemed to have left this room undisturbed.
In the corner I found a chamber pot. I gagged at that. No modern plumbing? No running water. No HOT water for a bath. Oh, my. I used the pot and did the best I could to finish the process without the advantages of good old toilet paper. (Alas.) But beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially the ones who’d been kidnapped. At least, there was a bowl of water sitting on an old, wobbly shelf. I was grateful for that as I washed my face and hands.