The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 28

Chapter 28 - Mary

Eight, she thought to herself, eyes closed in focus. Eight. Eight. Eight. She looked up at the window, through which she could see a little patch of brightening sky. One week and one day. Friday. Eight.

The days could easily fade into one, she knew, when there was nothing to do but watch people pass by above and wait for the food to be served. She had been given books, too, but she found it hard to focus on them. She read them sometimes in the night, when she could not fall asleep, but in the daytime, she liked to look through her window.

She had begun to recognize people. Charlie, a costermonger, had put his stand up to the right of her window. His bellowing voice had become soothingly familiar to her. It was soft and rich, and his peculiar choice of words humored her. There was also a woman who passed by every day, always stopping by the stand. From her conversations with Charlie, Mary had learned her name to be Edith. Her brother, John, was a baker and she had taken over his shop for him while he went to war. She and Charlie often spoke of “the good old days”, so Mary suspected they were old friends.

Then there was Mickey, or Michael, a boy who lived in the house on the opposite side of the street. Mary guessed he was rich from his pronunciation and because he lived so close to the castle. He would play on the street while his sister - judging from the way she chastised him and how he ignored her - spoke to Charlie. Her name was Laurel, and Mary was sure that Charlie admired her. He would sometimes give her a free apple while she kept an eye on her brother. One day, when Charlie had finally been able to buy more exotic fruits, he had split a pomegranate with her.

There was also an old lady, Jane, who always bought the same fruit. Her voice was cracked, like the paint on old canvases, but kind in the way only old men and women could be.

Mary let her eyes fall closed and listened as the morning woke up the street. Before long, she heard the familiar sound of Charlie’s cart running over the street. She listened as he set up the shop and began his salesman’s song.

Before long, Mary heard Edith’s familiar voice. Hers was slightly shrill, as though she always had a cold, but cheerful.

“Just some apples, if you please,” she said. “Six - no, no, I’ll be fine - yes, the oranges do look very good, but…”

Charlie let her go after a good while of bargaining. Customers came and went while Mary let her eyes fall closed, lulled by the sounds of people passing by, voices like the sound of waves in an ocean, while Charlie’s stood out clearer, like a seagull hovering just above the surface.

It was towards midday when Mickey came out - oh, yes, Mary thought with realization, he is called Michael by his sister and Mickey by Charlie - followed by Laurel.

“Mornin’, miss Laurel,” Charlie said. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m just keeping an eye on Michael,” she said.

“Well, I can’t keep you starvin’, can I? Oh, good mornin’, miss Jane. Who’s your gentleman friend?”

Jane’s laughter was soothing. “This is my husband, Henry.”

Mary’s eyes shot open and she rushed to her feet. If she stood on the tips of her toes and grabbed the bars for balance, she could get a better view of the street. She already knew Laurel’s ordinary, pretty looks and compassionate, brown eyes; Mickey’s black hair and round face; Charlie’s hollowed cheeks and ruffled brown hair, and the way his blue eyes observed the street keenly; Jane’s thin hands where you could clearly see the veins and her misty eyes. Mary was all too excited to get a face on her husband.