The palace grounds stretch for some hundred crooked acres around the palace itself. Close to the palace are the formal gardens and terraced lawns. To one side of the palace, a wilderness of foreign plants and winding paths invites exploration. To the other lie woodlets and stretches of lawn. Behind the palace is an artificial lake encircled by tall pines. Small buildings lie scattered about the grounds: grain stores, servant quarters, stables, and the like. In one corner of the grounds is a small farm where the court priest lives. Here, too, resides Eleonora, the goat who interrupted our wedding.

My favourite walks are around the lake or through the ornamental wilderness. The morning after Thursday dinner, I am clearing my spirit-addled head by tracing the path around the lake with Henryka and Zofia in tow when we hear a scream from beyond a curve in the path.

Zofia and Henryka hurry to see what is the matter. I follow more slowly behind, not wanting to aggravate the pounding in my head.

Around the curve of trees, I see two little boys and a maid watching them. It the smaller of the two boys who is screaming, Dominik, Mariusz's younger brother. His cheeks are flooded with tears as he jumps and swipes at something the other boy holds high above his head.

The other boy laughs maliciously. The maid quietly begs something of him, but he pays her no heed.

"Who is this?" I ask Henryka.

"Florian." Her upper lip curls. "My cousin Konrad's son."

He has none of his father's elegance. He is big more than tall for his age, stockily limbed and square-chested. His nose is too short to compete with his low brow, lending an odd intensity to his expression. The hand with which he pushes Dominik back is short-fingered but powerful.

Dominik stumbles and lands on his bottom. Florian turns and throws the thing he is holding into the lake. It lands with a faint splash among some reeds.

Dominik screams again and begins to sob. Zofia kneels down to hug and comfort him.

"What happened?" I ask Henryka. "What did he throw in the lake?"

She refers the question to Dominik, who answers through breathy sobs.

"It's a dormouse," she says. "Dominik found it in the trees, and Florian took it from him. Dominik says it will drown."

There is a look of violent triumph on Florian's too-short face. Behind him, the maid wrings her hands. I am too familiar with the expression on her face — the expression of a servant who is afraid of being reprimanded. No wonder she could not stop Florian.

"Get a stick and fetch the mouse out," I say. "Henryka, tell her to—"

But the maid has understood. She darts into the trees to hunt for a stick. Florian leers at me.

"It is just a mouse," he says in perfect French. "Why does he care so much for vermin? Pleurnichard."

The last word escapes my understanding, but the contempt with which it is delivered does not.

I reach out and pinch Florian's ear tightly. He squawks, but cannot escape my grip. "You think it is funny to hurt a mouse? I will put you in the lake. I will see you cry. Come on. Get in."

I pull him towards the lake edge.

"Stop it!" he squawks. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

"Pleurnichard!" I say contemptuously. "What I do care for vermin?"

Henryka watches me, her mouth open in horror, or perhaps only surprise. She makes no move to stop me. The maid returns with a stick and stops when she sees me, but she, too, seems too frozen to intervene.

"Go fetch the mouse," I say to her. "Go on. Fetch it out."

She scurries to the reeds and presses the stick amongst them.

"It is not dead," she says in heavily-accented French. "It swims. Come here, come here."

Dominik looks up from Zofia's shoulder, hope breaking through his tears. Even if the maid manages to get the mouse out, it will be dying from cold or fright anyway. I twist Florian's ear tighter.

"Can you swim?" I ask. "Can you swim better than a mouse?"

"Don't!" he screams. "Stop!"

"Princess Alexandra," Henryka says uncertainly. "Your highness."

I pull Florian towards the lake edge. He tries to resist, hunching over, boots tearing clumps out of the muddy grass.

"What do you think?" I ask him. "Is it funny? Ah, look, none of them try to rescue you. Dominik tried to rescue the mouse, but no one tries to rescue you. Can you swim? The water is very cold today."

We are right at the edge of the lake now, our feet slipping on the stones bordering it. Florian starts to cry, fat tears and snot pouring down his face, almost too afraid to try to pull away.

"Don't," he begs. "Don't do it." The begging continues in Selician, and I have the pleasure of understanding a few of the words he says. "Please. No. Please, please. No."

Behind him, the maid has just succeeded in getting the mouse onto the stick.

"Ah, look. She has the mouse on the stick. She has rescued it. It is climbing the stick. She has it in her hands." I release my grip on Florian's ear. "Go away now."

He stumbles back, slips on the wet grass, skids around, and runs off towards the palace. The maid passes the mouse delicately to Dominik, who cradles it in his hands. It sits there, motionless but for the full body tremble that will not stop, eyes dull and half-closed. I know it is dying.

"You put it back in the trees," I say. "It is best for it to go home."

Dominik says something in Selician. I catch the word help.

"He wants to look after it," Zofia says. "Give it food and warmth."

"It is safest at home with its parents," I say. "They will miss it if Dominik takes it. They will feed it, and keep it warm. Put it back, Dominik."

Shoulders slumped, the boy walks off into the trees and sets the mouse down on the ground. There is a faint movement among the leaves. It has hidden itself.

He walks away down the path, wiping his face. The maid casts us an anxious glance, then trots after him.

Zofia and Henryka look at me. They seem uncertain, perhaps a little afraid.

"I'm not going to push you in."

"Would you really have pushed him in?" Henryka asks.

I shrug. "If I would have, I would have."

"Florian will complain," Zofia says. "He always complains."

"Let him complain. I doubt Mariusz cares to listen."

__

2024-07-14: Hm hm.