So Marigold and Christian sat in the thrones and waited.
Swithbert regarded them thoughtfully, and then spoke. "I've watched how you rule together and I've been impressed with your wisdom, your fairness, your prudence, and your real nobility. Nobility can sometimes be only a title, as it was with Olympia, and not a true condition of the heart and mind, as it is with both of you."
Marigold felt horribly guilty about even thinking of getting even with Olympia—and about what she'd suggested for Fenleigh. And grateful that her father saw her, as Olympia never had, in such a kindly way, overlooking her flaws.
"I think you are excellent rulers for Zandelphia. Beaurivage also needs excellent ruling, but I'm old and tired and I want to retire. We've talked about combining our two kingdoms before, and now I'd like to do it. Marigold would have been my natural successor if she'd remained Princess of Beaurivage, and if we make Beaurivage and Zandelphia one kingdom, she would still be the rightful queen of both parts of it. So what do you say?"
"Papa! You're not old and tired! I've seen you playing with the dogs. And sitting for hours at the snipsnapsnorum table with Ed. You still have lots of energy."
"Maybe so, precious. But now I want to spend it all on games with the dogs—and with Ed, too—and not on affairs of government. Besides, as I'm sure you've noticed, I'm not the best king. I've been too lax with my subjects and with Olympia. It's a wonder there hasn't been a revolution before now. One that aimed to depose me."
"Oh, sir," Christian said. "Your subjects love you. They would never do that."
Swithbert sighed. "They love me because they know they have nothing to fear from me. They know I'd never do anything to make things difficult for them, even if it would be for their own good. But they don't respect me." He hung his head.
Marigold and Christian were silent for a moment, recognizing the truth of what he'd said, but not wanting to agree.
Swithbert looked up. "I know many of them really disliked Olympia, but they may also have respected her because she was so strong in her point of view. They knew what to expect from her, even if it was nothing good. Does that make sense?"
"No, Papa," Marigold said. "It doesn't make sense. Look how your subjects rallied to you just today. No—" She held up her hand when he started to speak. "It wasn't just that they wanted Olympia gone. They want you."
"You're very kind to your old papa, precious. Really, I've had enough of the king business. I want to relax, and to sleep without worrying about my kingdom, and to have time to play with my grandchildren."
Marigold presumed he was referring to her sisters' children, but still, she looked at Christian and blushed.
"So, can you give me an answer? Soon?" Swithbert asked.
Christian reached between the two thrones to take Marigold's hand and said, "Yes, of course. Now maybe we should all go see about those supporters of Olympia's that Rollo has in the dungeon. We need to decide what to do with them."
"Quite so," Swithbert said, admiring Chris's decisiveness, and thinking that he was already a better king than he himself had been on his best day. "But can't we get Ed and Magnus and have some hoofen-poofer goulash first? All the uproar took my appetite for a while, but now I'm ravenous. And I know you all must be, too."
"You're right, Papa," Marigold said. "I'll race you to the kitchen."
36
Mr. Lucasa walked Lazy Susan back down to the scullery once it became clear that nothing would be happening soon with the ex-queen.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked him. "Since the rebellion wasn't a yabu hebi ni naru."
"You remembered that Japanese phrase for something backfiring!" he said, amazed. "Maybe you have a gift for languages, too. Well, since I'm not going to taghairm, I'll have to make my own decision." Seeing her eyebrows raised in question, he said, "The Scottish highlanders wrapped a man in a freshly butchered bullock's skin and took him to some wild and deserted place where the answer to his problem was supposed to be given to him by the spirits who live in such places. That's taghairm."
"Nice little word for a big idea," she said, thinking that maybe she did have a gift for languages. Maybe some taghairm would help her figure out what to do with it. But that part about the freshly butchered bullock's skin—she shuddered.
"I've been thinking about what I love most," Mr. Lucasa said. "I like to cook for people to the point of slappare—that's Italian for eating everything, right up to licking the plate—and I like to work hard making things more for the pleasure of it than the lechuga— Caribbean Spanish for dollars. I want to be tubli. That's Estonian for being orderly, and productive, and hardworking, and behaving properly. Being a good example."
"You want to do all that here?"
"I think I'd rather be self-employed than work for someone else. So I'll probably have to go somewhere else. And not back to my cottage. It feels too isolated after my time here among other people."
"Well, be careful what you call your new business. I heard about Wendolyn, this troll maiden who is Edric's girlfriend, who started her own travel service. She went out of business before long because, well, for one thing, nobody around here really travels for pleasure, and for another, she called her business Go Away. It makes sense, but it doesn't. Do you know what I mean?"
He chuckled and nodded.
"You have a nice laugh," she said. "You should laugh more often."
"Maybe I will. When I get my business started."
She looked down at her hands. "I'll miss you. You were part of my transformation, and I'll never forget that."
"Are you going to stay here? Working in the scullery?"
"I don't know. I've gotten so I don't mind working. In fact, I kind of like it. I've even decided I want to be called just Susan, without the 'lazy.' The name you've always called me. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life scrubbing pots. I'd like to do something more fun."
"Maybe you'd like to work for me. I have in mind what I want to do, but I'm going to need a lot of help."
"What? What are you going to do?"
So they sat down on a bench outside the kitchen door, and he took a long time telling her. When he finished, she said, "I can't think of anything I'd rather do more."
37
Once the occupants of the dungeon had been questioned, it seemed that most of them merely had misplaced loyalties and were easily convinced to abandon them, knowing that they would be under close scrutiny by Rollo for quite a while to make sure that they really had.
But there are always a few really bad apples who can influence others in an unfortunate direction. These have to be kept where they can do no further harm until it's known if they are willing to change their wicked ways and become productive members of society. Dungeons are a good place for them. But Marigold insisted to her father that they should eat something better than gruel. Making people eat gruel is not a good way to convince them to be nicer.
In the end only ten inmates remained in the dungeon. Christian, having had a lot of recent experience with how to get in and out, made sure all the escape routes were secured, and that the guards were changed on regular shifts. Thanks to Finbar, he knew the dangers of leaving one guard alone with prisoners for days on end.
As he was coming up the steps from the dungeon with Marigold and Swithbert, they became aware of a commotion.
"Not again," Swithbert said. "I've had enough commotions to last me the rest of my life." As he was saying this, he realized that he heard his own name amid the noise. He turned a frightened face to Chris and Marigold. "Do you think they're coming after me? For being such a bad king? They're saying, 'Where's Swithbert?' "
"Stay here," Chris said. "I'll go look. We can always get you out through the disposal tunnel if we have to." And he ran the rest of the way up the stairs. Within a minute he was back. "The doctor is looking for you. Olympia's awake."
Swithbert looked stunned. "I don't know why, but I thought it would take her a lot longer to wake up. I should have known better.
When it comes to Olympia, she does what she wants, when she wants." He squared his shoulders. "Well, let's go see her. She's not going to like hearing that the revolt is over and that she's out of a job."
As they appeared at the top of the dungeon stairs, someone spotted them and called, "There he is! The king!"
"Yes, yes," Swithbert said wearily. "Here I am."
The doctor met them outside Olympia's bedroom. "I can't explain what's happened," he said. "She's awake, but she's behaving strangely. Come on in. You'll see for yourself." He opened the door and ushered them in.
Olympia sat up in bed, the covers pulled to her chin, her eyes wide. Fenleigh still crouched on her pillow, and she cringed away from him, whimpering in what really did sound like fright.
"Olympia?" Swithbert said. "What's the matter? Are you in pain?"
"My head hurts," she moaned. "Can you take that animal away? He keeps trying to jump on me." Her voice ended in a wail of distress.
"Fenleigh? You don't want Fenleigh?"
"You know his name?"
Swithbert scratched his head. "Well, sure. He's been yours since he was a pup. Or whatever baby weasels are called."
"Ferret, Papa," Marigold said. "Fenleigh's a ferret."
"Whatever," he said absently. "Anyway, you've never been afraid of him. And he's harmless—at least, as far as you're concerned. The rest of us are justified in being afraid of him. Look at those teeth."
"Just take him away. Please," Olympia wailed.
Gingerly, Christian picked up the squirming ferret while Marigold pulled the pillow slip from one of the many pillows on Olympia's bed. Together, they managed to get Fenleigh inside the pillow slip and to tie a knot at the top.
"There," Swithbert said. "All taken care of. What can we do for you now?" He expected her to say, "Give me the kingdom back." But what she said was, "You can tell me who you all are, and where I am, and what I'm doing here."
Christian, Marigold, and Swithbert looked at one another, and then back to her. "Why, Olympia," Swithbert said. "What do you mean?"
"Olympia?" she said. "Why are you calling me that? My name is Angelica. I live in Granolah. Is this Granolah?"
"Why, no." Swithbert looked over at Marigold and Christian, putting his finger to his lips and then making a twirling motion next to his ear. "You're in Beaurivage. And I'm Swithbert, monarch of Beaurivage. This is my daughter Marigold, and her husband, Christian. Do you know any of us?"
She shook her head. "Ow! That makes my head hurt more. How did I get here? What happened to me?"
"Apparently you've hit your head. You should lie back and rest now. I think you have a friend here who can help explain things to you. Do you remember someone named Lazy Susan?"
"Of course. She's my best friend. But I prefer to call her just Susan. That word 'lazy' has such a negative connotation, you know. She's here? Oh, I would love to see her. May I?"
No one had ever before heard Olympia ask permission for anything. Neither had they ever witnessed her trying to avoid hurting someone's feelings.
"We'll send someone for her right away," Swithbert said. "We're going to leave you to rest now while we fetch her." He tiptoed out of the room, followed by Marigold and Christian, who held the squirming pillow slip.
Once they were in the sitting room, Chris handed the pillow slip to Denby. "Find somebody to figure out what to do with this ferret, will you please?"
"I think I'll just hang on to him for a while," Denby said. He had already heard from Miranda, Olympia's maid, about her change of personality and name. "It seems cruel to separate him from—" He paused, not knowing how to refer to Olympia anymore. "From someone he's familiar with. I'm sure we can bring them together again."
"Good man, Denby," Chris said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Very compassionate."
Swithbert could hardly contain himself. He put his hands over his mouth to keep from crowing, but he was jumping up and down with excitement. When he was calmer, he said in a loud whisper, "Her amnesia is back! She's not Olympia anymore!"
"We gathered that, Papa," Marigold said. "And Angelica seems just the way Lazy Susan—I mean, Susan—described her, so I don't think she's faking. But what are we going to do with her? What if she loses her amnesia like she did before? She's still a problem."
"Marigold! She thinks she lives in Granolah. We can send her back there with La—I mean, with Susan. She was happy there. Maybe that's where she's meant to live."
Marigold threw a desperate look at Chris. "Talk to him, Chris," she implored. "We can't just make her somebody else's problem. We have to solve her."
"She's right, Swithbert," Chris said. "We have to find a real solution. It's tempting, I know, to palm her off on someone else, but she's ours. Like it or not."
Just then, Sedgewick, the head butler, came in with Lazy Susan and Mr. Lucasa, both of whom looked apprehensive. Susan gave Marigold, still in her filthy dress, an odd look.
"Swithbert said there was news about Olympia," Susan said. "What does he mean? Oh." She curtsied to Swithbert. "Your Highness. Sire."
"Apparently that bump on the head from being dropped by Hannibal made her lose her memory again," Swithbert told her. "The way she did when she showed up in Granolah. Maybe she hit her head on a rock while she was in the river that time."
"Very possible," Susan said. "Are you saying she's changed from Olympia to Angelica again? Can you tell the difference?"
"Can I?" Swithbert said. "She's a completely different person. A nicer one. Is that how Angelica was in Granolah?"
"Oh, yes. Angie was lovely. Gentle and funny and sweet."
"Hard to believe," Swithbert muttered.
"I know," Susan said. "When she turned back into Olympia, I thought she was playing some kind of joke. Not a very funny one, either." She gave Marigold another odd look.
"Hi," Marigold said. "I know you think my name is Mary and that I'm a maid, but my real name is Marigold. From Zandelphia. I'm the queen there. Thanks for your help with the rebellion."
Susan took a step back and put her hand on Mr. Lucasa's arm for support.
"I know, I know," Marigold said, indicating her dress. "This is a disguise. I apologize for not telling you when we were in the scullery together—no, no, please don't curtsy. When you've scrubbed kettles with someone that seems rather silly. Anyway, in the scullery I had to protect our plan for the uprising, and I didn't know yet who I could trust. So please forgive me. Now, about Olympia. The fact that Angie's shown up—and she's just the way you said she was—don't you think this means that she had a nice person in her all the time, but just hidden?"
"I don't know what it means," Susan said. "Your Highness. Ma'am." She'd thought it was strange the way Mary—Marigold—had taken charge of calming the crowd at the rebellion, but she'd figured people did unexpected things in a crisis. "It's like she's two separate people stuck together. Not like she's two kinds of people mixed together. There's nothing of Olympia in Angelica, and vice versa."
"So, the one we want to keep is Angelica," Marigold said. "We just have to make sure Olympia never comes back."
"Do you know how to do that, Your Highness?" Mr. Lucasa put in. "Because it's the only solution. I've never known her as Angelica, only as Queen Olympia, and only for a short time, but already she's made me mukamuka."
"I'm sorry?" Marigold said. "Did you say mukamuka?"
"Yes, Your Highness. It's Japanese. It means feeling so angry you want to throw up."
"What a great word!" Marigold exclaimed. "I wish I'd known it when I was growing up. She made me feel like that almost every day. Excuse me, but I don't know who you are."
He bowed, doffing the chef's toque he was wearing. "Stan Lucasa, Your Highness. Queen Olympia stopped at my house for food on the way to Beauri-vage and brought me along with her, to be her chef and her dressmaker."
"Interesting combination," Marigold said.
"I like creating things. And I like helping people, and making them happy. But I have to say, the que
en was a hard woman to please. Or—excuse me for saying so—to like. Especially after she told me how much she enjoyed fox hunting."
"You're telling me. I hate even the idea of fox hunting." Marigold turned to Susan. "She's pretty upset now. I mean, Angelica is. And she really wants to see you."
"All right." Susan sounded apprehensive.
Swithbert opened the bedroom door. Angelica held out her arms to Susan and burst into tears. Susan rushed into the room and Swithbert closed the door behind her.
"If you'll pardon me, Your Highnesses," Mr. Lucasa said to Swithbert, Chris, and Marigold, "I might have some help for your situation."
"Please go on," Swithbert said. "We'll listen to any suggestion, no matter how bizarre."
"It's not too bizarre," Mr. Lucasa said.
Swithbert motioned them all to chairs in the sitting room. Mr. Lucasa waited for the monarchs to sit before he did.
"I've been talking to Wendell, the wizard who owns that magnificent elephant. And, by the way, I don't think the elephant is a threat to anyone besides Olympia. He has a finely developed sense of justice, and he dispenses it as he sees fit. I was admiring him while Wendell calmed him down after the ... the incident. I must say, I do have high regard for a man with an impressive means of transportation. And I discussed something interesting with Wendell that might be of help to us. About getting rid of Olympia."
Marigold interrupted. "I've already spoken to him about that. He can only do immobilizations, vaporizations, and explosions. And vaporizations of evil people—as I believe Olympia is—leave behind bad energy that keeps working. The only way to cure evil people is by rearranging their heads and hearts, and nobody knows how to do that."
"I think Hannibal does," Mr. Lucasa said. "I think that's what he was trying to do when he shook her, and then dropped her. And maybe it worked. At least partially. To finish the job, I believe Wendell and I can do a vaporization spell on only the part that's Olympia. And I don't think it will harm the part that's Angelica because they're completely separate people."