Eden at Yuletide // Lindensea 4

II. The Protection of a Fickle God

"Father, it's too bad!" Eden said in distress. "We must get though that gate tonight."

"Don't upset yourself, Miss Eden," Nurse Melia said, an arm around her shoulder. "The gate won't be shut forever, and it's all one whether we get through tonight or tomorrow."

"Now, let us stay calm, please," Meriadoc said firmly. He tapped once on the ceiling of the carriage as a signal, and called out, "Walk on, driver. And knock up the gatekeeper, there's a good fellow."

The carriage began going over the wooden bridge; Eden could hear the wheels creaking against it. When they reached the other side, the driver took the carriage around in a half circle before the vast arched door, which loomed above them, lit by a lantern on either side.

Eden thought the driver was going to rap his knuckles against the iron grate, and couldn't imagine how anyone would hear him. But instead he took the handle of his carriage whip, and by dint of leaning over, struck it three times against a wooden door in the nearest tower – a normal, human-sized door.

After a couple of minutes, the gatekeeper appeared, looking out of sorts. He was bald, like Eden's father, but rather than being short and round like Meriadoc, had a tall, bony frame, dressed in a brown uniform. He carried a lantern on a heavy staff.

"Who knocks at my door?" he said crossly.

"Good evening, sir," said Meriadoc genially through the window. "We seem to have missed the gate by a few minutes, and I wonder if you could possibly advise us further."

"I'd advise you to turn around," the gatekeeper said, with a sardonic little twist of his mouth. "There's a village a few miles back where you can stay at an inn for the night. The gate opens again at dawn tomorrow."

"I'm travelling with my little girl, and her nurse," Meriadoc said. "You would not turn away a woman and child on a winter's night, surely, good sir?"

Eden almost protested she was not a child or a little girl – she was fourteen and a half, and had recently been moved up from a governess to a tutor! However, she was prudent enough to only purse her lips in silent disapproval.

"This here gate's closed for the night, by order of the king." There was an aggrieved note in the gatekeeper's voice now.

"Of course, very correct," Meriadoc agreed smoothly. "But you see, I'm here by order of King Bernard – or by his invitation, at least. My daughter is friends with the princess."

The gatekeeper peered in at the window to examine Eden, looking her up and down suspiciously. She felt like sticking her tongue out at him, but very wisely forbore this natural inclination.

"I don't know about no invitation," the gatekeeper said uncertainly.

"I have it here," Eden's father, producing it from his greatcoat. "I am King Meriadoc of Westmoreland, and this is Princess Eden."

The gatekeeper took ages reading the invitation, holding it some distance from his face, as if trying to raise it closer to the lantern light. When he handed it back, his manner was several degrees more deferential.

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," he said, with a clumsy attempt at a bow. "I do recollect now that I was to let you through, no matter what hour you arrived. If you had only mentioned who you was at the start!"

"I apologise for the inconvenience," Meriadoc smiled. "And I shall make sure King Bernard hears what a good, loyal, honest gatekeeper he has."

"There's a toll to pay for taking a carriage through," the gatekeeper warned. "Five ... seven silver coins, Your Majesty."