“Poor rats,” said Jenna.
“It's not rats that are spreading the Sickenesse anyway,” said Sarah. “I was helping at the Infirmary yesterday and the bites are definitely not rat bites. Rats have more than one tooth. Oh, look, they're off up the road to the servants' quarters. Oh, dear me.”
At that, the Supper Servant sprang into action. She scooped up the plates, wrestled Silas's last piece of apple pie from his grasp and rushed out of the room. There was a crash as she dropped the plates down the garbage chute to the kitchens below. Then she fled back to her quarters to check on Percy, her pet rat.
Supper didn't last long after that. Sarah and Silas went off to Sarah's small sitting room at the back of the Palace, where Sarah had a book to finish and Silas was busy writing a pamphlet entitled Top Ten Counter-Feet Tips, for which he had high hopes.
Jenna decided to go to her room and read. Jenna liked her own company and she loved wandering around the Palace, especially at night when candles cast great shadows across the corridors and many of the Ancient ghosts woke up. At night the Palace lost the rather empty feeling that it had during the day and became a busy, purposeful place once again. Most of the Ancients chose to Appear to Jenna and relished the chance to talk to the Princess, even if many could not remember which Princess she actually was. Jenna enjoyed her chats, even though she had soon discovered that each ghost tended to say the same thing every night, and she soon knew most conversations by heart.
Jenna wandered up the wide sweeping stairs to the gallery that ran above the hall, and stopped to talk to the ghost of an old governess of a pair of young Princesses who spent most nights wandering the passageways looking for her charges.
“Good eventide, Princess Esmeralda,” said the governess, who wore a permanently worried expression.
“Good evening, Mary,” replied Jenna, who had long since stopped telling Mary that she was actually called Jenna, as it had no effect whatsoever.
“I am glad to see you are still safe and well,” said the governess.
“Thank you, Mary,” said Jenna.
“Be careful, my dear,” said the governess as she always did.
“I will,” Jenna replied as ever, and went on her way. Soon she turned off from the gallery into a wide candlelit corridor at the end of which were the tall double doors that led to her room.
“Good evening, Sir Hereward,” Jenna greeted the Ancient Guard of the Royal Bedchamber, a disheveled and very faded ghost who had been at his post for some eight hundred years or more and had no intention of retiring. Sir Hereward was missing an arm and a good deal of his armor, as his entry into ghosthood had been the result of one of the last land battles between the Castle and the Port. He was one of Jenna's favorites and she felt safe with him on guard; the old knight had a jovial manner and a liking for jokes and, unusual for an Ancient, generally managed not to repeat himself too often.
“Good evening, fair Princess. Here's a good one: What is the difference between an elephant and a banana?”
“I don't know.” Jenna smiled. “What is the difference between an elephant and a banana?”
“Well, I won't send you out to do my shopping then. Hurr hurr!”
“Oh ... very funny. Ha-ha!”
“Glad you liked it. Thought you might. Good night, Princess.” Sir Hereward briefly bowed his head and stood to attention, pleased to be back on duty.
“Good night, Sir Hereward.” Jenna pushed open the doors and slipped into her room.
It had taken some time for Jenna to get used to her huge Palace bedroom, having slept in a cupboard for ten years, but now she loved it, especially in the evenings. It was a large, long room with four tall windows that overlooked the Palace gardens, and caught the evening sun. But now, in the cold autumn night, Jenna drew the heavy red velvet curtains across the windows, and the room was suddenly filled with deep shadows. She went over to the great stone fireplace beside her four-poster bed and lit the pile of logs in the grate, using the FireLighter Spell that Septimus had given her for her last birthday. As the warm light from the dancing flames filled her room, Jenna sat on her bed, wrapped her feather quilt around her and picked up her favorite history book, Our Castle Story.
Engrossed in her book, Jenna did not notice a tall, thin ghostly figure emerge from behind the thick curtains that hung around her bed. The figure stood very still, staring at Jenna with a disapproving expression in her bright beady eyes. Jenna shivered in the sudden chill cast by the ghost and pulled her quilt closer, but she did not look up.
“I wouldn't bother reading all that rubbish about the Hanseatic League,” a high-pitched voice drilled into the air behind Jenna's left shoulder. Jenna leaped up like a scalded cat, dropped her book and was about to yell for Sir Hereward when an ice-cold hand was placed across her mouth. The ghost's touch sent freezing air down into her lungs and Jenna subsided into a fit of coughing. The ghost seemed unperturbed. She picked up Jenna's book and placed it on the bed next to where Jenna sat, trying to catch her breath.
“Turn to Chapter Thirteen, Granddaughter,” the ghost instructed. “There is no need to waste your time reading about common traders. The only history worth bothering about is the history of Kings and Queens—preferably the history of Queens. You will find me there on page two hundred and twenty. Generally a good account of my reign although there are one or two, er, misunderstandings, but it was written by a commoner, so what can one expect?”
Jenna finally stopped coughing enough to take a good look at her uninvited visitor.
She was indeed the ghost of a Queen, and an ancient one too, which Jenna could tell by the old-fashioned look of her tunic and the starched ruff that she wore around her neck. The ghost, who looked surprisingly substantial for one so ancient, stood straight and erect. Her iron-gray hair was scraped back into two coiled plaits that were fastened behind her rather pointed ears, and she wore a simple, severe gold crown. Her dark violet eyes fixed Jenna with a disapproving stare that immediately made Jenna feel she had done something wrong.
“Wh-who are you?” stammered Jenna.
The Queen tapped her foot impatiently. “Chapter Thirteen, Granddaughter. Look in Chapter Thirteen. I have told you before. You must learn to listen. All Queens must learn to listen.”
Jenna could not imagine this Queen listening to anyone, but she said nothing. What bothered her was why the ghost had called her granddaughter. It was the second time she had used that word. Surely this horrible ghost could not possibly be her grandmother? “But ... why do you keep calling me Granddaughter?” asked Jenna, hoping that she might have misheard.