"Sweet little child,
Sleep tight,
Dream wide,
For the world smile
Down upon you.
As innocence
So sublime
That chaos cried
And dawn came,
Golden rays
And all beauty,
Dispelling uncertainties
As another day comes."
Alas! Their journey was nearly at an end as the village came into view on the horizon. Still in the midst of dreamland and comforted in Alessandra's arms, Princess Clothilde did not bother to flutter her lashes despite the delight of her nursemaid upon seeing their destination.
Blushing after what seemed to be hours of traversing through the forest's foliage, Alessandra gently rubbed the little princess's back and whispered, "Wake up, my dear. The village of Xemeheb is almost near!"
Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Princess Clothilde finally opened her eyes, showcasing her golden allure even more as the sunlight shone directly at her. The bright glares blurred the outline of the village, but as they drew closer and her vision adjusted, the vibrant hues enchanted her.
The roofs were of the colour umber, poetically lively like the living earth, while the houses and other structures were built strong, framed with wood but mostly with cream-coloured limestone. Though the palace was built for elegance, epitomising the heart of the kingdom, this quaint village never failed to charm the little princess—even enticing her with the sweet smell of freshly baked bread once they entered the village gates.
The atmosphere was filled with a loud, vigorous, and somewhat rumbunctious cacophony, characterising the busy village as a dwelling to numerous industrious individuals who were actively engaged in their daily lives. Carts laden with hay were positioned along the side, ready for export, while various livestock paraded by, greeting the pair. Princess Clothilde gestured towards the rows of large sheep, remarking to Alessandra that they resembled plump clouds strolling across the ground.
"They are so big, Alessandra!" The princess squealed, reaching her little arms towards the group of sheep as if she could snatch one and cuddle with it.
"Well, my darling, these sheep are to be taken to a woolshed where their fluffy clouds are to be shorn."
"No more fluffy clouds?" Princess Clothilde's bright eyes suddenly became forlorn, pouting, knowing those sheep would be bare.
"No more fluffy clouds, unfortunately," Alessandra confirmed, brushing the hanging tangles away from the princess's face while she leaned on her shoulder. "But never fret, my love, for their wools are going to grow back. It is like our hair. No need to frown about it."
Princess Clothilde nodded, even waving to the group of sheep as they continued with their journey.
As they head on, more wonders opened their arms to them. There were women with their pails full of water, who paused and greeted them. There was also the shepherd boy who never failed to smile and be polite. Many good people greeted them, and even those who knew Alessandra warmly welcomed her, especially the village baker's wife. She was a jolly woman. She was plump, with hair that was like flames, and her cheeks glowed as she giggled. Princess Clothilde even laughed as the baker's wife said something funny, and turned redder when she tickled her neck and gently pinched her cheek,
"Oh, what a darling little girl!" The charming baker's wife remarked, pinching the princess's other cheek.
"She is a friend's daughter. Her mother is one of the palace's kitchen servants and is currently learning more crafts, hence the little girl is with me." Alessandra explained, hoping her tall tale would convince the smiling woman before her.
"I see. Good to know that she is with you, here, Alessandra. At least, this little girl will have a good taste of one of my husband's sweet treats! Oh, why wait for tomorrow? Here is a loaf." Round, warm, and fresh, the baker's wife sweetly gave the nursemaid one of the loaves she had, wrapping it in a cloth to keep the heat in until the two reached their destination.
Alessandra wholeheartedly thanked her, kissing her cheeks and gallantly curtsying before the kind woman.
"No need for such a silly homage. Take it as a welcome gift from my husband and me." The two talked for a minute before they departed and went their separate ways.
Seeing more of the village—with its colours in its vibrancy, added with the raw smell of the foods and other produce, and even the noise of the people, Princess Clothilde found the place a wonderland where adventures hid from every corner.
"Is your house like this, Alessandra?" The princess raised her head towards her nursemaid, still being carried as they went along.
"Well, my darling Clowee, my house is very small, for I now live alone. Remember about my children? One is now a monk and the other a nun. They all now have wonderful lives serving our Lord. We are going to my brother's, and yes, it is like these houses but more humble."
The little princess became more excited with every step they took.
Now, within feet reach, their destination was upon them as the nursemaid drew a deep sigh of relief and curved a lovely smile across her face.
Staring at the house, the princess found it quaint, just like what Alessandra said, but there was life in it. A feeling of comfort emanated from its walls, while smoke rose from the chimney with the aroma of brewing stew dancing along.
"Zija?" A little boy, older than the princess, came running towards them with a bright grin.
"Is that my brave Bastjan?" Alessandra called while gently placing Princess Clothilde down.
"Welcome home, Zija!" The little boy exclaimed with such glee that his embrace was as tight as the lock of the palace gates.
Having him in her arms made Alessandra reminisce about her own son, Simuni, who was now a devout monk in Subiaco. The nursemaid closed her eyes and returned the warmth the little boy had blessed her with. "Oh, you have grown so much, my child! Look at you! I still remember you were so little and here you are…"
Red hues glowed on the boy's cheeks as her aunt, or zija, pinched them while complimenting him. "Thank you, Zija!" He laughed. "I did not know you were coming home. Papa never said anything."
"Because your papa never knows." She playfully winked. "Take this return of mine as a surprise. Ha, ha, ha! Well, it really is a surprise."
While talking to his aunt, the boy caught a glimpse of the little girl from the corner of his eye, patiently waiting to be introduced.
"Who is that?" He finally pointed at the girl.
"Oh, this is Sinjorina Clowee, Bastjan. She is the daughter of a friend of mine in the palace. Clowee, this is my nephew, Bastjan." Alessandra initiated, gesturing for the two to move a step closer.
"Pleased to meet you, good sir!" Princess Clothilde, or Clowee, gave a deep curtsy, which perplexed the little boy with such formality.
Bastjan had his tongue fumbling, unaccustomed to the way the little girl projected herself in an orderly fashion, too unusual for a palace servant's daughter. "Uh, pleased—an honour—well, nice to meet you too!" A half smile curved on one side, painting a definite question mark on his face.
Clowee giggled, unknowingly ignoring Bastjan's hand as he attempted to offer a gentleman's handshake. Upon careful observation, she now perceived a captivating distinction in the colour of his eyes, with the left eye having a brown hue reminiscent of the soil. While the right eye displayed a strikingly bright blue."Your eyes…" She mumbled under her breath, beguiled by his irises as their gazes locked.
"What?" He whispered back, raising a brow at her.
"Oh! Uh, I like your fur suit!" She beamed.
Bastjan looked down at his suit before he gazed back at her, still plastering a pondering facade. "Thank you? It—it is a, uh, it is copied from the fur of a Pomeranian dog."
"A doggie? Mine too! Alessandra told me this is fashioned from a Maltese pup! Am I right, Alessandra?"
Alessandra knelt between the two children, pleased to see how cordially they had approached each other. "That is correct, my dear." She said, brushing the fur on Clowee's face. "Now, you two be good fellows, and I hope to see you get along for the coming days."
The children stared at each other once more, observing every curve, every line, and every detail on each of their innocent faces. Clowee smiled again, glowing like the sunshine above them. But Bastjan had a change in spirit—with eyes narrowed, pupils dilated, and breathing constrained as his nostrils exhaled fumes of burbling anger, now considering the little girl before him as a rival. A newcomer bringing forth unwanted discord.
Inside, the house was more homey. Indeed, a fresh potato soup was brewing while hot bread was laid on the table. Along with this bounty were butter, cheese, a jar of milk, a jar of ale, and pomegranates in a bowl. Little Clowee was in awe, enthralled with the simple people's way of life.
Unlike in the palace, where everything was ornately decorated for the high heavens. Here in this quaint house, though it might be simpler, it was peaceful and felt even lighter.
So deeply entranced with everything she had just seen, Clowee ran around, observed more of the interior until she saw babies—twins, in fact—in a big wooden crate, mumbling and giggling as she approached them. "Good morning, babies!" She squealed, reaching her hands to them.
"What are you doing?" Bastjan came into the living room, haughty and never failed to show his disinterest towards his guest.
"Who are these babies?" Clowee asked, still cheerful and bright, ignoring his annoyed tone.
"They are my little brother and sister. They are twins." He plainly responded.
"Goodness me!" Alessandra cried out joyfully upon seeing the happy twin babies. "Are these Gakobb and Fawstina? Oh, the little darlings are growing!" She mindfully took one and then the other, placing them into her lap as she sat on a chair by the hearth while the babies cooed at her. "They are even beautiful, just like what my brother told me in his letters."
Clowee went closer to them, beaming sweetly at the babies as they responded with equal enthusiasm at her.
"Look, Clowee—the twins like you!" Alessandra told her, pointing at how the babies reached towards the little girl.
"They do?" Clowee giggled as she played with the babies' hands. "Greetings, babies! My name is Cloth—Clowee!"
Little Gakobb and little Fawstina cooed, displaying their best and widest gummy smiles, with their two little front teeth already visible.
Eyeing her, Bastjan let out a low grunt as he mumbled under his breath, "You are still a stranger."
Clowee's ears tingled, as if she could clearly decipher what Bastjan whispered, although she could only hear a slight change in the breeze's pace. Turning her head towards him, a faint smile on her lips—hoping to convince him to join them.
Yet, the little boy in the Pomeranian dog fur suit rolled his eyes and drowned himself in his growing pride, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with the little girl who came with his beloved aunt.
No sooner, a voice—hoarse but still a tone of warmth and endearment—boomed as it drew near towards the living room. "A visitor?" He wondered, tingling Alessandra's ears as she grinned.
"Pawlu!" The nursemaid called, feeling her soul soaring as she finally saw her dear little brother. "Oh, by God's grace, you look very well!"
"Trying to live and survive life, my dear sister. How are you?" He took her hand and kissed it.
"Good, good. I am all well."
"This is definitely a surprise. Some folks told me they saw you making your way here, so I came."
"Do pardon your sister for such short notice. The king bestowed a season of rest on me."
"A season?" Pawlu was bewildered by how uncanny the king's instruction was. "That is truly a gift, Alessandra."
"Well, he said it is the least he can do after taking care of Queen Cettina… Well, tears have dried. My dear friend is now at peace, and her memory is always in my heart." A stinging sensation tried to taunt her eyes, but she swallowed hard and permitted not for sorrows to conquer her easily. "Well, let us not dwell in sadness. I like to think that my beloved friend's spirit is here with us, visiting us from heaven." As she said her light sentiments, Clowee went to her side, smiled, and wiped the little tear that was about to trickle down her cheek.
Looking at the child, the little princess was truly the spitting image of her mother, the darling Queen Cettina. Her eyes, her lips, and the way she laughed—it was like the queen, herself, became a child!
"Papa said, she is now an angel. And I know it is true, Alessandra, for I can hear her whenever I sleep." Clowee whispered, leaning to her nursemaid.
"Oh, it is true, my love."
"Well, who is this lovely swan here?" The man who just came in asked.
"I am no swan, Sinjur. My name is Clowee!" The princess curtsied before the man, whom she found to be big, fit, and even compared his handsomeness to a prince, although he was clearly older than how a 'handsome prince' was depicted in her illuminated manuscripts. She also noted the shape of his eyes and his strawberry blonde hair, similar to Bastjan's. She now wondered about their relationship.
"This is Sinjorina Clowee," Alessandra answered before she returned towards the princess and then said, "My dear, this is my brother, Pawlu. He is Bastjan's and these sweet babies' father."
"Nice to meet you, Sinjur!" Clowee greeted, making her curtsy deeper.
Pawlu was immediately delighted with the little girl's formality. "Glad to meet you, too, little one! I believe you already met my children?"
Clowee nodded in glee. "I already met Bastjan. The twins, too! Don't you think they look like lovely talking potatoes?" While talking, she played with baby Gakobb and baby Fawstina's little feet.
Pawlu and Fawstina laughed at how she described the twins. "Potatoes? That is unusual." The big man remarked, still chuckling at the innocent interpretation.
Clowee giggled as well, but not Bastjan.
Oh, quickly, his tolerance turned to loathing towards the little girl.
Not a second did he let his gaze falter from her. Every little thing she did was becoming a nuisance to him. Bastjan could not shake the question of why he was starting to feel annoyed by her, but there was something about Clowee that seemed to be draped in a veil, making her like a cloud meant not to be seen clearly. Was there a hidden dilemma? A quiet secret? The little boy could not tell for now, but he knew now he did not favour Clowee.
Losing track of the conversation between his aunt and his father, Bastjan was taken out of his madness hastily when Clowee exclaimed, "Can I play with the babies. Sinjur?"
"Of course, but I think you and my sister need to rest first. I believe you have had quite a journey. Bastjan, would you be kind enough to lend your room for the meantime for our lovely guest here?"
Upon hearing his father's request of him, Bastjan immediately protested. "What? No!"
"Bastjan—it is just for a while. We still have to prepare your aunt's house before she can stay there." Pawlu convinced him more. Despite his stern voice, there was still care. "Please?"
"She is a stranger! I don't want to share my room!"
"I will not make a mess, I promise," Clowee said with pleading eyes. Bright like a full moon, her gold eyes emanated a piteous catharsis.
"I know you will not make a mess, little one. Now, Bastjan, do be a good boy and let little Clowee stay in your room?" A little more convincing, and Pawlu finally defeated his son's uncalled pride as he sighed, pouted, and dragged Clowee to his room like she was some toy. "And please be gentle!" He reminded Bastjan before they left the living room.