From Her Majesty Queen Catherine Foix of Navarre
On the 8th of January in the 1487th Year of Our Lord
To my beloved handmaiden and most trusted advisor, Laurentine of Dax
My dearest friend,
Of all the gifts I have received for this anniversary of my short reign, yours is by far both the most flattering and the most useful! But oh! how I must apologize for being so doubtful--you should have seen my face reading your note. “A shrinking potion? Little vials of liquid that could make one smaller than a fingernail?” But oh, my dearest Laurentine, I’ve surely heard the rumors around my court of your uncanny powers (my own court sorceress, they call you!), and in truth, though I’ve refrained from brooching the subject with you, I’ve always been terribly fascinated with the idea that these rumors hold some water, so I just couldn’t resist giving it a try!
Now, before you start worrying “Oh dear, the queen is going to expose me by these letters,” fear not! It took little effort to learn that the source of those nasty rumors about your ‘sorcery’ come from none other than Bishop Dorian, the skeevy wretch. Between spreading terrible slander about you, my friend, he made very few friends at court--and I could feel those beady eyes of his ravishing me at each eucharist--so I took the fancy to have his evening wine spiced with some of your gift. Oh, Laurentine, is that the rush you feel when you exercise such wonderful powers? I simply MUST tell you all about it:
The moment I received word the good bishop had his dinner, I hurried to his chambers to see what had become of him. Oh, I was revolted at the thought of what he’d have thought had your potion not worked-- “Ah, my queen, I see you’ve come for a ‘private confession,’ hrrm hrrm!” Ugh! I can’t tell you how my heart soared when I walked in to find naught but a pile of evening clothes at his table! I poked around through the old garment and there he was--small as a spider, and not half as threatening.
Laurentine, you’d be so proud of me, I was so delighted at the sight of his terrified little figure that I plucked him up before he had a chance to properly scream. And there he was, dangling by a leg between the fingers of the young lady whose coronation he’d attended just a few years ago! I couldn’t help but giggle at the little man. So proud with that bishopship before even starting to grey, and now the poor dear is between his queen’s fingers. I knew I should have scampered off with him then, but oh, why should his perfectly good food go cold, I thought?
He very nearly fainted when he saw me bringing him towards his soup! You MUST try watching someone splutter in broth, Laurentine, I laughed so much I must have nearly worried the servants. But I thought it wouldn’t be quite suiting to let him go like that. I fished him out and tossed him into his chicken. For such a flabby man, he runs rather spryly when chased with a fork! I let the little imbecile watch me eat his hiding spots for a while, but when I pushed the fork his way, he up and passed out from fright. What a bore!
And no, before you worry, I didn’t...well, you know. Your letter did mention that the unfortunate shrunken do not “come back” to their normal size, but, well, it still seems rather uncouth, no? He’d be terribly chewy, anyway.
Getting him back to my chambers was the interesting part. Leaving with him balled in my fist obviously wouldn’t do--it might work for smuggling a garish ring away from sight, but were anyone to catch me with THIS in my hand, well, that would be awfully hairy. My shoe was a promising choice, and I placed him inside to test it a little, but I’m afraid my slippers already hug my toes terribly tightly as it is. I didn’t want to have to explain the mess in getting the shoes replaced, either, should I make a misstep. In the end, nestling him up in my hair did the trick, and he was safely in one of my jewelry boxes before he started to come to.
Oooh, I do want to milk this “single queen” business for as long as I can! Mother is surely already set on some bachelor or another, but in the meantime, the privacy is simply delightful...and wonderfully convenient for times such as these! And anyway, who’s to say my suitors might not come to un-suitorly accidents on their way here? I could use more comely toys than the good bishop.
And of course, I have you to thank for the power to get these toys, dear Laurentine. As if disposing of a worrisome threat for you weren’t more than enough of a favor, I thought I’d provide you with some amusement for yourself (I’m not so selfish after all!)! I do hope you’re enjoying your dinner--you’ll find the good bishop himself stuffed inside the potato, awaiting your pleasure. He’s become a good deal more quiet since yesterday, but even if he decided to make a little noise, the food covering him should muffle any attempts he made at contacting the lovely curly-haired servant lass I sent to bring you this special dinner. He’s all yours, if you haven’t devoured it already.
My, that’s a rather exciting thought--is that strange?
Anyway, I have some business to tend to, but I do hope to hear from you soon, we must go walking to speak more about these delightful tricks! Do give the bishop my best wishes!
Lovingly yours,
Catherine
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From Her Majesty Queen Catherine Foix of Navarre
On the 14th of January in the 1487th Year of Our Lord
To my beloved handmaiden and most trusted advisor, Laurentine of Dax
My dearest friend,
I recall during our walk your saying that temperance is an asset when it comes to tampering with the powers you’ve shared with me. Well, my dear friend, it breaks my heart to inform you that I’ve let you down.
In my defense, even you must admit that the audacity of the hedge knights who presented themselves before the court was simply intolerable! An affront to Navarrese dignity! Oh, Laurentine, if only you had seen the brutes trudging before our gates in their ragged metal outfits, masterless vagabonds asking for shelter. Why, it wasn’t dusk before they’d taken to sparring with my loyal knights--one of them even wounded Sir Belasko!
Nevertheless, we are courteous here, so of course, I simply bade them stay the night and leave promptly in the morning. But I must admit, after your description of what you’d done to the poor bishop, I couldn’t resist having their parting breakfast laced in much the same way.
All four of the knights took their leave promptly afterwards, and within the hour, I rode after them on Toujours to find four untidy little piles of armor. I do wonder how I must have looked to them--a young lady they’d ravished with their eyes the night before, now approaching them mounted on a beast so many hundreds of times their height. As I dismounted, I wondered whether they could be crushed by their own armor. Such a shame that potion of yours doesn’t let them stay as tough as they were at full size! Oh, I would have such a time with them then…
But I’m straying off topic. Do you remember the stories they told us came from England, of the giants that lived there long ago? I do wonder if they had as much fun as I did! Once I was off, I stretched as high as I could reach, standing on my toes, and I can’t tell you how good it felt to feel so BIG, Laurentine. I didn’t know whether any of them had crept from their own clothing yet, but the thought of them seeing me there, taller than any tree they’d ever cut down and any mountain this side of Spain, it made me feel so wonderfully warm.
I made no show of pretending I didn’t know what had happened. I toyed with the thought of prodding their clothes with my foot, innocent as a handmaiden as they cowered from my feet, but it was an awfully hot day and I admit I wasn’t feeling my most patient.
So I stamped on one of the piles. For all I knew, he might have already been picked off by a bird long ago, but not knowing whether some poor idiot had just died under my new Parisian shoe was just so thrilling! I hadn’t felt that good since...well, you know, darling.
I gave my foot a twist before peering down, and I’m afraid there wasn’t much to see. But oh, how delighted I was when I saw something moving in the chainmail just an inch away… Oh Laurentine, he -saw- me, he saw me try to trample him, and I could almost hear his knees knocking from within. I giggled shamelessly and snatched him out from under there. Oh, I’m sure I said a few mocking words to the poor man, but it’s awfully embarrassing, so I won’t repeat them here.
I had a saddlebag especially for this trip, and I plopped him inside with the little bit of straw I’d set in as bedding. His comrades weren’t much trouble to find.
One of them was trapped inside his own helmet. I swirled him around inside it and laughed as the stout little man tumbled and swore. He said some rather nasty things to me, dear, so I tried the helmet on with him inside while I looked for the rest. Awfully heavy, those buckets, but my hair has always been thick, so I hope he wasn’t too badly off in there.
Another had gotten trapped in his own boot. I bit my lip in excitement, but I’d halfway gotten my shoe off to try the boot on when I thought of how filthy those clothes must be and decided to save it for later. I doffed my helmet (I think these exploits of mine have earned me a knightly name, we should think of one!) and added the boot-man to the mix.
I never found the fourth. Turned all of his clothes inside out, but the sneaky fellow must have run off into the grass.
As I’m writing this, the three remaining men tottering around inside my jewelry box, I’m getting that wonderfully warm, excited feeling thinking about all that might have befallen the fourth man. I might have trod on him dismounting my horse, the unhappy little knight escaping my games without my knowing! Or perhaps he’s still out there, making a tiny shelter out of pebbles and surviving on the melon rinds my handmaidens toss aside while out on their walks. Oh, I simply must encourage them to have picnics out there more often!
I’ve droned on too much already, though, and I have plans for my return-guests. One more thing, though--that servant girl I sent you with the food the other night, all brown curls and freckles and lovely green eyes, despite the rough hands and careless manners--she’s rather charming, isn’t she? In the way serving girls can be. But she works awfully hard, and when she comes to tend to my room, she’s just so thorough, don’t you think we ought to reward good service? I know, I know, I can hear you chiding me now, “too dangerous,” but if I can trust the poor illiterate girl to carry these messages, perhaps I ought to confide in her other ways, no? We’ll talk.
As always, my love,
Catherine
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From Her Majesty Queen Catherine Foix of Navarre
On the 20th of January in the 1487th Year of Our Lord
To my beloved handmaiden and most trusted advisor, Laurentine of Dax
My dearest friend,
This week has been just a delight! Oh Laurentine, I can’t tell you what wonderful pets you’ve invented by your little potion. Where to begin? First of all, keeping them fed is the simplicity itself. I never quite realized how very much people like you and I eat until I had them sit by my plate as I took a private breakfast the first morning. The precious idiots were a little rowdy at first, but showing that I could fit all three of them in one spoon shut that up fast.
I let them gather up the crumbs that fell from me as I tore into the bread. The sounds of my eating must have been unbearable, I do hope they recalled their own table manners when they’d been my guests. One of the three was huddled away from the others, refusing to take up my scraps, so I tore a little bowl out in the bread, turned it upside down, and set it atop him for the rest of breakfast. I do hope he ate at some of his bread-prison between my scooting it around the table, I’d like him to last a while. In any case, I grew bored after a while and stuck it with my fork. Oh, don’t worry, the prongs aren’t pointed, I don’t want to skewer my new friends.
In case the others got any ideas from him, I brought him and his little bread-trap up to my face and tore a piece off with my teeth. Now that we’ve both done it, what do you suppose it feels like, feeling the breath of a mouth many times your size washing over you? I kept eating at the little thing until I felt my lips brush against him. Despite my attempts to wash them, they have a certain smell that just doesn’t shake, so I sneered at the little pest for being so inappropriate towards his queen. Of course, he was quaking on the fork for dear life by now, so I shook him into the meat for being a good sport.
The others were quite petrified by now, so I shut them in their box again to let them cool off while I tended to the day’s duties. It must be rather uncomfortable in there, with all that metal, but it’s the only place the serving girl won’t check while cleaning--Bronwyn is her name, I learned, she’s a Breton girl.
I’ve told you how dull court is, and mother’s insistence that I learn from her while she is regent makes it all the duller. How she won’t stop going on about looking into suitors for me! But then again, my beloved friend, thanks to you, I may be able to take care of those problems as I please, should a handsome young man come calling for me. After all, if I am to take a king some day, wouldn’t it be prudent to ensure he knows his place under me? But enough of that.
For uncivilized hedge knights, they made the best entertainment after a hard day at court a girl could hope for! I decided to have some fun with them to unwind after returning to my chambers, so I brought my jewelry box over to my bed with a few sewing needles. It felt so very comfortable, slipping my shoes off and hopping into bed with my box of servants. I sat cross-legged and piled my sheets around me like a nest, and then I set my pillow on my lap like a platform. I then dumped the little men out before me on the pillow and let them come to their senses.
They really do settle down after a good talking-to, you know. Once they’d good and woken up, I gave two of them a needle and had them put on a little performance for me! Oh, Laurentine, it was just like the little puppet shows we watched as children, but how much more amusing to have the toys here in my lap, funny little naked men flailing at each other with dull sewing needles! The third, I held in my hands to watch. You know I tend to wring my hands idly when I lose focus, and I do confess that he gave a little cry of pain when I forgot about him once or twice, but I don’t think I hurt anything permanent.
The fight didn’t go much of anywhere, the two were too tired and too frightened to do much. One of them, though, the red-haired brute with the long mustache, gave me the nastiest scowl after it was all over! I’m still thinking over how to punish such an offense. After all, I have knights fight for my favor in tournaments regularly, how rude is it that they think there should be a difference here, all the closer to the one whose favor they should be fighting for? For now, I satisfied myself by draping my kerchief around his opponent.
He stumbled around like a dolt for a while under it, eventually tumbling off onto my foot. I laughed at the poor simpleton and had him kiss it before I let him off. We then had a fencing match of our own, but I’m afraid I was at something of an advantage. They’re all still quite alive, though.
I’m thinking of ordering a new jewelry box for them to sleep in. I wouldn’t want them to think I’m pampering them, though. Or perhaps I do? It would be a good deal easier to handle them if they weren’t always cowering from me. Then again, you know how I feel about letting them run from me.
I’m thinking of teaching them to dance with me. They’re rather stocky, and they could stand to learn a little nimbleness, and my feet haven’t gotten to dance in a terribly long time. After all, those boring fighting tournaments are all the rage now, it’s been ages since we’ve had a proper ball.
Come to think of it, that gives me a lovely idea for February. Why don’t you visit my chambers soon, Laurentine? One lady can’t dance with all three men on her own, and we’re overdue for a visit.
Until soon,
Catherine