Princess cat. Natalie Yacobson

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      He does not think so! He is comfortable here too! Unlike the prisoner, he does not sleep in chains, but in a comfortable bed. Except that the vines have become restless. Perhaps the prisoner had such hallucinations too, which is why he is sitting here now.

      Again there was a bad suspicion that Rebecca deliberately put him in the tower, which is haunted, driving everyone who sleeps there crazy.

      «You didn’t happen to sleep in the tower before you got here?»

      «You’re out of your mind, boy!» The prisoner sounded like Brendan’s own thoughts. Their opinions about each other seemed to be mutual. Each suspected the other of losing his mind.

      «You have to get out of here and tell them it’s time to attack the castle, or they will attack Aluar.»

      «Who is it? There’s no one here but pampered women and a couple of servants, I suppose.

      «There are cats,» the prisoner whispered fearfully.

      «Only plaster and marble ones. I haven’t seen any real ones.»

      Brendan would have been more likely to believe that there were werewolves, clawing at the furniture, if the man had told him there were.

      «It is peaceful here,» he tried to reassure the poor creature, but he found the man was in a feeding frenzy, uttering one absurdity after another.

      «Cats leash people up in here,» he finally blurted out.

      «What is it? Are you serious?»

      «Get out of here!» It sounded like an order.

      «Okay, I’ll really go,» Brendan hurried toward the exit.

      «And get some help!»

      «Yes, yes… of course… don’t worry…»

      Where would one come from? The prisoner must be out of his mind. Two exquisite noblewomen live in the palace. Not even guards at the door, and no sentries in the towers. What’s there to worry about? Why hasn’t a physician been called to this madman? Perhaps the physician lives too far away. Even at the royal court, there’s only one physician.

      There’s a reasonable explanation for everything, if you think about it. Brendan returned to the tower and went back to sleep, forgetting all about the night walk into the dungeons. And in the morning he decided that he had only dreamed it all.

      Vines of grape

      Early in the morning Rebecca herself knocked on his door, but she did not bring the tray with the light breakfast (again, of only fruit). Somehow it had ended up on the bedside table. Who had put it there? Had not the living vines slipped the tray through the window?

      «Good morning to you!» Rebecca said hello, but she did not look friendly.

      Rebecca clearly didn’t want to get along with him. To hell with her! Let her be arrogant.

      Brendan quickly devoured his breakfast, which consisted only of orange and pineapple slices. They should have brought a ham sandwich or at least a cheese sandwich! Has the feudal estate become so impoverished that there is nothing but fruit from the garden to feed the guest?

      He could ask Rebecca about it directly, but she is so prickly that it is better not to annoy her with unnecessary questions, or else she will give an angry tirade. Brendan didn’t like confrontation. It was better to keep quiet so as not to argue.

      There must be no bread in the castle because of the evil creatures that occupied the fields and drove all the peasants somewhere. After all, to get bread, someone must work the land, sow, plow, and then take the harvest to the mill.

      «Where did all those things come from in the fields? Brendan couldn’t stand it any longer.

      Rebecca struck him again with a wave of icy contempt.

      «You are dreaming!» She muttered.

      Tonight she wore a beautiful light outfit with pink ruffles. She was crumpling a bowed hat in her hands.

      «Let’s go for a walk in the garden!» She commanded rather than suggested.

      «Am I not supposed to play for the princess?»

      «Her Highness does not wake so early,» replied Rebecca in a stern tone.

      How capricious princesses are! Does she sleep till afternoon or evening?

      «My uncle,» said Brendan, «always wakes up with the rooster.»

      «Is your uncle a prince or a king?» Brendan sarcastically snickered.

      «Actually…» Brendan realized he’d almost blurted out whose nephew he was. He’s traveling incognito.

      «Shut up!» Rebecca took his hesitation as a guilty pleasure at the awkward joke. «You don’t know the etiquette of nobles.»

      «What’s up, noble persons!» Brendan muttered to himself. «They are sleeping until dusk, like werewolves.»

      At just the right time he was reminded of the tortured man who had been chained up like a werewolf caught in the woods. What if…? Brendan was taken aback by his own hunch. Why were there so few people in the castle? He followed Rebecca through sumptuous enfilades of halls that were empty. There were no servants, not even the steward. Even if his attendants were confined to a discrete wing, the steward was sure to intrude.

      «Where is everyone?» Brendan asked Rebecca as she led him into the fragrant garden, with its many fountains and pergolas.

      «Who is everybody?» She made a puzzled expression.

      «Well… the other inhabitants of the castle.»

      «Am I not enough for you? Would you prefer the company of a noble lady to noisy drunken company?»

      «No. I’m sorry! I meant no offence.»

      «But you have!» Rebecca opened the fan with a bang, the slats of which again bore a scene of kittens playing with a ball. The sight of those kittens was somehow frightening. It looked like you were about to be in their claws instead of a ball of fur.

      Brendan was distracted by the beauty of the garden. There were such rare flowers blooming here that he didn’t know the names of them. But mostly roses dominated. Their wattles stretched across arbors, steps, columns, gazebo roofs, even the ground. Only the water they did not reach. The lily ponds seemed abandoned without ducks or drakes. Just wait for the webbed paw of a waterman to poke out of them.

      «Where’s the gardener?» It seemed to Brendan that the boxwood bushes had not been pruned in a long time. And the gladiolus bushes were neglected. Some black stems sprouted between the flowers, like weeds.

      «We don’t need it!» Rebecca whistled melodically, and the vine, suddenly detached from the arbor on which it twisted like a living snake. It put her arm around Rebecca’s waist and helped her climb up the rose-covered stairs that led to the large, round fountain.

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