Read The Autumn Palace Online

Authors: Ebony McKenna

The Autumn Palace (9 page)

The barn looked like it had been converted in a hurry. It had a portrait of the Duke on the wall, dusty windows, creaky floorboards and tables and chairs. Enough for a teacher and a dozen students aged between eleven and fifteen. One large, portable white board stood at the head of the room.

A woman who looked about the same age as Ondine's eldest sister Marguerite came up to her. ‘Good morning, you must be Ondine. The seneschal has told
me all about you. I'm Ms Kyryl. You can take a seat next to Hetty if you like. Let's begin.'

Ms Kyryl had dark hair pinned tightly at the back of her head. She wore conservative pleated blue trousers, flat black shoes and a buttoned-up white shirt under a v-neck jersey, which matched her trousers. On her hips she wore an intricately braided leather belt, with tassels at the ends and tiny brass bells that tinkled musically as she walked.

Ondine sat down next to the smiling Hetty. Hetty had ramrod-straight black hair, tied in pigtails either side of her head, which made her look about ten, although she was clearly Ondine's age. Hetty had the tiniest little button nose. When she smiled, her cheeks turned into round cushions and her scimitar
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eyes almost closed.

‘I shouldn't be glad about the storm, but I am,' Hetty said. ‘The thing is, I've always wanted a pony and now I've got one. Just looking after it, of course, until they rebuild the stables. But I've finally got a pony!'

‘A horse is a lot of extra work,' Ondine said. ‘Where do you keep it?'

‘In our lounge. We've moved all our furniture out and laid down straw and it's so wonderful.'

Ondine's jaw nearly hit the table.

‘Ha ha, got you! We're keeping it in our barn for the meantime. Sorry to tease you! I'm so glad to finally have a friend my age.' Hetty then fired off a series of questions: ‘Have you moved here with your parents? What jobs do they have? Are you staying permanently or is it a seasonal contract?'

‘I'm here with my great aunt . . .' Ondine started. She nearly added that she'd also come with Hamish, but she wasn't sure what to call him. She thought ‘my boyfriend who turns into a ferret at the most inconvenient times' was a bit of a mouthful. And hard to explain. She didn't know how to answer the rest of the questions because she didn't want to reveal Old Col's job description, nor how long they would be staying. Hopefully not for ages because she wanted to go home with Hamish and resume her normal life. Hetty looked so pleading, Ondine didn't want to dash her hopes by saying they wouldn't be here for long.

‘Good morning, class,' Ms Kyryl said.

‘Good morning, teacher,' the students said as one.

‘I was born here and the whole time there have only been two other children who were my age.' Hetty rolled her eyes as she added, ‘And they were both boys, who came and went.'

‘I've always gone to school here. Well, not here in the barn, back in the proper school house. My parents run the chicken farms. They supply the palechia and most of Bellreeve with poultry. My brothers and sisters were all born here too. I have two older brothers and one older sister. My sister does the accounts for a toy factory in Norange and my brothers are at Venzelemma University.'

Ms Kyryl interrupted them. ‘Hetty, I know you're excited, but it's class time now. Everyone, please stand for the national anthem.'

Scraping chair noises echoed around the room as they all stood, hands on heart as the teacher pressed a button on the portable CD player. The opening strains of
Oh Brugel, My Heart
rang out.
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Everyone sang, even Ms Kyryl (who sounded off-key). Despite the stirring words and rampant patriotism of a people whose spirit yearns to be free, whenever Ondine sang the words ‘my heart', she thought of Hamish rather than her country. When she sang about the ‘young and the strong' she also thought of Hamish. When she sang about ‘hallowed fields' and ‘wealth for toil' she had no idea what they meant, so she thought about Hamish for good measure.
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Once the anthem finished, they recited the
Pledge of Brugel
. Ondine ran the words together in a light drone: ‘I love God and Brugel. I honour the flag. I serve the Duke. I cheerfully obey my parents, teachers and the law.'

Ms Kyryl said, ‘Thank you, children. Once they fix the roof we'll move back to our old rooms, but this will
do for now. This is always a lovely time of year, because we have the Harvest Festival to look forward to. Once again the Duke has asked us to stage a pageant in the ballroom, to entertain the visiting dignitaries. The great and the good of Brugel will all be there, so I know you will do your very best on the night.'

Ms Kyryl handed out sheets of paper with a list of characters, including Farmer One, Farmer Two, Cabbage, Turnip, Apple, setting Sun and Harvest Moon.

Ms Kyryl continued, ‘It's traditional for the festival to follow the full moon, which this year will begin on Thursday the twenty-ninth of October. The Harvest Ball and pageant will be on the Saturday. Now, children, who would like to play the role of Harvest Moon?'

Ondine worked out the dates. The Saturday would fall on October the thirty-first, Halloween.
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Several hands shot up in the air. Ms Kyryl's eyes alighted on Hetty and she gave her the role. Hetty looked delighted and beamed with pride. Ondine felt a bit silly that she hadn't raised her hand fast enough.

Ms Kyryl cast more speaking roles. Each time, Ondine shot her hand up, only to miss out. Until it came to Cabbage. Nobody wanted to be Cabbage.
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Ondine sighed, raised her hand and felt the sting of defeat. ‘I'll be Cabbage if you like,' she said.

The boys giggled.

‘Hush, class. Thank you, Ondine, you are very gracious.'

They read through the play. Each time Ondine came to do her lines the boys sitting on the other side of the classroom made squelching noises with
their hands in their armpits.

Hetty murmured, ‘Don't let them get to you. They are just snotty boys.'

‘Thanks.' Ondine hadn't known Hetty for long, but already she began to feel she had an ally in this strange palace.

Miss Kyryl said, ‘Very good everyone. OK, put your scripts away and we'll have a history lesson.'

Ondine and Hetty took out their notebooks.

Ms Kyryl smiled to the class. ‘Now, children, who can tell me when Brugel was founded?'

Everyone's hands went up. Not to be overlooked, Ondine shot hers in the air too because she knew the answer.

The teacher's eyes alighted on Ondine and she answered with satisfaction, ‘Brugel was declared an independent state in twelve sixty-four.'
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Giggles rippled through the classroom.

What? How could the answer be wrong?

‘Not to worry,' Ms Kyryl said. ‘Who can tell us the real answer?'

Looking bright and perky, Hetty responded with, ‘Brugel was the first land found after the flood.'

‘Correct.'

WHAT!
Ondine felt her eyebrows nearly shoot off her forehead. Keeping her voice low, she murmured to Hetty, ‘There was a flood? When?'
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‘Who founded Brugel?' Ms Kyryl asked.

Ordinarily Ondine knew the answer, but she kept her hand down this time.

Another student said, ‘The four mountain tribes joined together to defeat the barbarians.'

Ms Kyryl said, ‘That's right. And the leader of the tribes?'

Another child this time: ‘Became the first Grand Duke.'

‘Very good. And how many Grand Dukes and
Dukes have we had?'

‘Two hundred and seven,' another child said.

‘And have we ever had a Duchess lead Brugel?'

This time the students kept their hands down, but after a bit of thought, Hetty raised her hand and answered, ‘Elmaree the First became Grand Duchess in seventeen forty.'

‘Very good,' Ms Kyryl said. ‘And during her reign the Russian empire annexed the Grand Duchy of Brugel. After Elmaree, what happened? Anyone?'

No hands went up, so the teacher supplied the information: ‘Her son Leopold led a rebellion to secure autonomy for Brugel. After that, Brugel lost its status and became a Duchy instead of a Grand Duchy, but it regained its independence. Have we had any more Duchesses?'

Some of the children shook their heads, not entirely sure.

The teacher supplied the answer. ‘In nineteen eighteen we had Duchess Yalene. During her reign, can anyone tell me what happened?'

Ondine's hand rose in the air, because she had
a fair idea of the answer. Not from the name of the ruler, but from the date. It was ingrained in Brugelish DNA.

‘Yes, Ondine?'

‘Brugel became part of the Soviet Union.'

‘Very good!'

Relief crashed through Ondine at finally getting something right.

‘We nearly had another Duchess more recently, can anyone tell me?'

All hands shot in the air.

‘The Infanta Anathea,' Hetty said.

‘Correct. She was heir presumptive and would have been Duchess . . . until what happened? Can anyone tell me?'

Just about every child recited, ‘Lord Pavla was born and Brugel rejoiced.'

‘That's right. Lord Pavla the Fourth is Duke of Brugel.'

‘And we've got our independence,' a boy across the room said. ‘And that is why Brugel is always better off with a Duke.'

Ondine blurted, ‘That's hardly fair.'

Ms Kyryl's eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘That's quite a statement, Andreas. Care to elaborate?'

Andreas looked smug and arrogant. He had to be at least two years younger than Ondine, but that precocious look on his pale, lean face told the world he knew everything. ‘The facts speak for themselves. The times Brugel had a Duchess, we lost our autonomy.'

‘But . . .' Heat roared through Ondine. ‘They just happened to be Duchesses during really difficult times.'

Andreas gave her a look of utter superiority and scratched the side of his nose. Ondine could have sworn he sneaked the edge of his thumb inside and had a pick as well. ‘We have had Grand Dukes and Dukes during very difficult times as well, but they didn't lose their country.'
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His smugness reminded Ondine so much of Lord Vincent that she couldn't help wondering if they
might be related. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she pushed it aside. She would not let Vincent unsettle her, she'd put all that behind her.

‘An interesting debate,' Ms Kyryl said, ‘but there were also times when Duchesses, although not ruling in their own right, acted as regents to their sons who became Grand Dukes. Brugel did not lose its autonomy then.'

‘Doesn't change the facts,' Andreas said with the self-satisfaction of someone who was too young to know anything but already knew everything.

Ondine thought about her encounter with the Infanta the previous night. Maybe some people thought Brugel was better off with the Duke at the helm, but she knew Anathea didn't see it that way.

 

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   Brugel had not yet turned the clocks back and was still in Summer Time. In spring, Bruglers turn their clocks forward two hours on the first Sunday in April, then have the Monday and Tuesday as public holidays, to help them get over the shock. In the autumn, they wind the clocks back one hour on the first Sunday of October, and another hour on the first Sunday of November, so they get two sleep-ins
.

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   Quickly discuss things, so that everyone knows what everyone else is up to. But not talk for so long that people get bored and fidgety
.

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   A nifty and terribly dangerous curved sword from the mystical east
.

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   Over the centuries Brugel has had several national anthems. During Soviet occupation they sang (through gritted teeth)
Sing to the Motherland, Home of the Free.
These days people sing
Oh, Brugel, My Heart
with gusto and pride. Except at the Olympics, because they have yet to win a gold medal in any event. They do have a chance if lift jumping ever becomes a recognised sport. Lift jumping involves cramming people into a lift. Everyone jumps just as the lift moves up or down. Last person standing wins
.

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   A great many national anthems contain confusingly ‘poetic' phrases that make little sense to the modern citizen. As Brugel is almost land-locked, it has been spared the ridiculous lyric ‘girt by sea'
.

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   The way Brugel celebrates Halloween is different to the rest of the world. There is no ‘trick or treat, give me lollies' palaver, and there are no pumpkins – because Brugel's Halloween pre-dates the arrival of pumpkins from the Americas by several hundred years. Bruglers hang wreaths of wheat in their windows and place apples on the sills for good luck. They eat copious amounts of turnips and cabbage, (fried, in soups, roasted, etc.) then venture outside in the full moon and gather around the village square for Bonfire Night. Bruglers write down their bad habits or regrets on notes, and cast them into the fire, as a way of saying goodbye to the past and cleansing their futures
.

It's considered tremendous bad luck to remain inside on Bonfire Night. Because of the mountain of turnip and cabbage consumed, and the lower-body explosions that ensue, staying outside is not just tradition, it's vital for good health
.

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   The word ‘cabbage' is Brugelish slang for ‘fart'
.

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   Ondine is not wrong per se, but the general area Brugel occupies on the map of Europe has been around in some form for centuries. The specific date to which Ondine refers is the signing of the Treaty of Venzelemma, the site of Brugel's capital city
.

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   Just about every culture has a backstory involving a flood. Floods are handy devices. You can pretty much make up any story of life ‘before the flood' because there's very little evidence around to prove you wrong. Geologists, palaeontologists and archaeologists would disagree, but that's their job
.

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