Dressed in a Sack

Go back the other way: Forget About Everything

"My name is Illumina." She mouthed this soundlessly at his back as he followed his mother and her father, the Margrave, across the reception room. "Illumina, you over-bred, self-centered, mindless twit of a man." This was still spoken but without sound. She stopped even this much when her father turned a raised eyebrow in her direction, as though he had heard every word she said.

She knew he knew her well enough to be able to guess at her reaction without the need of hearing anything. She could hear him again telling her, 'You don't have to like him, just humor him, make him like you if possible. It may be a great opportunity for you and for the people of Loro.' Illumina grimaced back at her father and he laughed turning again to the Queen as she snapped her fan, demanding the King's attention.

Illumina laughed to herself, 'He won't last long in those ridiculous shoes, or those tights come to that. His carrot will freeze and drop off if he goes riding in the high country dressed like that. I suppose I will have to see he comes to no harm. With any luck, we can find a room for him somewhere and just leave him in it for nine months. Perhaps he'll be reborn, a better person. I doubt it.'

She imagined him as a baby and found the whole idea grotesque. She was unable to get beyond his current appearance with the shoes, the tights, exposing every aspect of his anatomy all the way up to his ribs, the flowery, elaborate, puffed out shirt and matching hairdo, his carefully made up face. She reflected on the curious asymmetry between the men and the women in the room; the women (all except her) exposing as much of themselves as they possibly could above the waist and as little as possible below it; the men doing precisely the opposite. They only seemed to agree on shoes and hairstyles. The women's shoes were a little more delicate than the men's but still absurdly high. The women's hair typically had a piece coming down the back of the neck, while the men just piled whatever they had on top of their heads, many of them, not having much, augmented their offerings with what appeared to be horsehair.

The thing that struck her as being most ridiculous was the shortened skirts the women affected showing their legs from about halfway down the calves with typically an elaborate array of petticoats and ribbons cascading below the skirt as though their underclothes were all about to fall down.

Her father had tried to persuade her to make some concession to local fashion but she had refused. He was unable to make any constructive impression on her refusal, being her father and a man; all he could do was protest, all she really needed to do was to ignore him. She had done nothing of the kind, choosing instead to shout at him and make a public disgrace of herself.

The fact was that she found the whole thing desperately embarrassing; her father having to interfere in her wardrobe, the prospect of having to submit herself to the inspection of all the fashionable people of the King's city, the idea of having to ingratiate herself with the Prince; all of it was simply unbearable.

She did not know what to do with herself, so she did what she normally did under such circumstances and shouted at someone, preferably someone who would shout back and, in this respect, her father made an excellent target. They shouted at each other, mostly over the Prince and partly over what she would wear. She threatened to wear nothing at all, bringing a look of real alarm to the Margrave's face, as he knew she was perfectly capable of it.

The alarm provoked a paroxysm of arm waving and shouting from her father, so much so that he almost fell off his horse. She had to reach over and grab one waving hand to help pull him upright. He turned away from her, saying nothing more to her for the rest of the day, his pride and his dignity more hurt by her refusal to listen to him and see reason than by the fact that he almost fell off his horse and had to be rescued by his daughter.

Illumina felt ashamed and angry over the whole thing but still would not give in and allow herself to be dressed as local fashion demanded. As they made camp that evening she rode past her father and said, "Very well, I'll humor this Prince of yours and attend the reception wearing an apple smock. It's the only dress I brought with me."

The Prince hadn't been far off in his assessment of her dress as a sack. An apple smock was little better than a large sack men and women occasionally wore to keep their better clothes clean at harvest time when working out in the fields. It was large, long and intended to cover everything except the face, hands and feet. It was also dyed a non-descript, mottled brown, calculated to show the stains as little as possible.

Her father was about to respond but then laughed and said nothing. He was an intelligent, powerful man and he knew she was responding to the incident on the horse, sensitive to his dignity, and trying to salvage something of her own by refusing to bow down to local fashions. He left her to her own devices and her own contrivances so far as dress was concerned, trusting she would be true to her word and humor the Prince. So she had found herself at the reception in an apple smock, being stared at in frank astonishment by the Prince; grabbing him as he was about to fall over, propelled by her father's humor when her father thumped him on the back. She reflected bitterly that she would no doubt have to spend the rest of the winter keeping him upright and out of harm's way.

The meal following the reception was just a continuation of the public humiliation she had brought on herself with the apple smock. The women were all elaborately dressed showing vast expanses of skin, front and back. Illumina found herself wondering what could possibly keep some of the outfits in place. Some of them seemed almost anatomically impossible as though the body within had somehow been changed to accommodate the garment rather than the other way round.

The men she found by turns, amusing, embarrassing and grotesque. It seemed that fashion demanded the tights extend well up the torso; the problem was that the torso at times extended well down into the tights. She did her best not to look but sometimes looking was unavoidable. The dinner, in a way, was a relief as everyone sat down so the only physical charms on display were those of the women, the men's display being blessedly covered by the tablecloth.

She found herself several places down the table from her father, who was on the Queen's right. Illumina had the Prince on her left and some local notary on her other side. Both the notary and the Prince turned to their far neighbors, ostentatiously ignoring her; behaving as though she was nothing more than a sack of apples.

She detected a sniff from the notary as he looked at her in astonishment as they sat down and she realized that the sniff was indeed justified. Sniffing at herself, she remembered the last time she had worn the apple smock was when she had been cleaning mushrooms, making a mushroom preserve earlier in the year. The mushrooms had their own musty smell and grew in the cellar on a bedding mostly comprised of manure. Inevitably, some of the smell of both the mushrooms and the bedding made its way into the smock.

She sniffed at herself again and laughed, it was a quite compelling odor once you became aware of its presence. She looked up to see someone staring at her from across the table, seemingly wondering if she were about to sprout wings and fly out the window. Illumina felt her face flush with embarrassment, wishing she could just fly out of the room.

The embarrassment was what she found hardest to cope with. She was embarrassed simply by the fact that she was embarrassed. Although she could see what was happening, she seemed helpless to do anything about it. The whole cycle of feeling awful because she felt awful, fed on itself and plunged her into a downward spiral that only stopped when it could not get any worse.

She had to control herself or suffer the ultimate embarrassment of weeping in public or being forced to get up and run out of the room. She sat through the meal, hardly touching the food placed in front of her, a stony look on her face. Finally, it was over. The King made another long speech about the Margrave, Loro, the dearly beloved Prince and his dearly beloved subjects, eventually trailing off into an awkward silence.

She noticed the Queen first making faces at the King and then dismissive gestures at her father who finally took the hint. He stood up, bowed to the King, thanked him for his generosity, hauled the Prince to his feet and embraced him, promising to take the place of his dearly beloved father while the Prince lived with them in Loro and then turned to his people scattered round the table and abruptly announced it was time for them to leave.

The Queen made an elaborate show of saying farewell to the Prince and placing him in the Margrave's care, literally pushing him back into the Margrave's arms. The Prince clearly liked the situation even less than Illumina did but seemed at a loss what to do about it.

At one point, in being bounced back and forth between the Margrave and the Queen, she heard him rather pathetically protest to the Queen, "But what about my clothes?" To which the Queen responded that the Margrave would provide for him and see that he had everything he needed for his stay in Loro.

The Queen made a show of crying, though Illumina could see it was a carefully controlled performance, calculated to impress the onlookers without compromising her makeup. She started the dismissive gestures again and the Margrave, getting more accustomed to the Queen's body language, immediately took the hint and turned away, grasping the Prince in the process, and dragged him, tottering helplessly on his ridiculous shoes, out of the vast dining room in which the meal had taken place.

Illumina hastily got to her feet and without so much as a glance at her notable neighbor followed them out of the room. She was both amused and alarmed at the sight of the Prince's pale, made-up face peering over her father's shoulder, trying to see back the way they had just come, as though hoping for a last minute reprieve from the awful fate that had just been thrust upon him.

They emerged into an inner courtyard of the royal palace crowded with the horses and carts that carried the Margrave's retinue. The Margrave had brought a large number of people with him, thirty-five to be exact and Illumina had brought another four, making forty-one in the party altogether, forty-two now with the Prince.

As the Margrave marched out the door, a huge smile spread over his face and he turned to his daughter, abandoning his hold on the Prince in the process. "He's all yours, mind the Queen's words and see he doesn't come to any harm." With that, he turned away again, plunging into the swirling melee of men and horses, shouting orders at the top of his voice, laughing and talking as he made his way through the crowd.

Illumina watched him go, thinking, "It's all very well for him to go off playing the glorious leader and leave someone else to pick up the turds." She stood a moment, looking at the Prince who remained unaware of her presence, seemingly overwhelmed by the noise and confusion of the courtyard.

For a moment, she almost felt some sympathy for him but then she realized that he had not given her a moment's thought since he was first introduced to her in the reception room. Even when they sat down at the dinner table, he had automatically turned away from her. She was sure there was no conscious effort involved at all. She was just an ugly inconvenience so far as he was concerned and he dealt with such things by ignoring them; well that was about to change.

She walked up to him, poked him in the arm. He recoiled from the contact so violently he almost fell over. Illumina was not amused. She said coldly, "Come this way," and turned, walking down the steps, not even bothering to see if he would follow her. There were eight carts, mostly used for carrying camping gear and food. Two of them were dedicated to Illumina and her four companions.

Two of the other women, like Illumina, preferred to ride most of the time and spent little time in the carts. The two remaining women were older and mostly rode in the carts. They were large, light, two-wheeled vehicles, well sprung and comfortable enough over even ground, comfortable on a level road, though the motion of the cart took some getting used to. The bed of the cart was entirely covered by an awning of heavy white cloth that could be drawn closed at the front and the back but was left open in milder weather.

She led him to the cart that was nominally hers. It would be empty all the time, as she would never ride in it with him in it and the two older women rode in the other cart. She turned to watch him, following timidly after her through the crowd, flinching away from the excited horses and wild looking men, having a difficult time keeping his feet in the ridiculous shoes on the uneven cobbled surface of the courtyard.

She waited until he was within earshot and then opened the back door of the cart; it was hinged in the floor and dropped down, revealing a steep series of three steps built into the back of the door. She pointed up into the cart and said, "Get in and take your shoes off before you get onto the padding, people will sleep there and don't want your dirt in their bed clothes."

He looked at her as though she had spoken in a foreign language. She guessed that, in a way, it probably was a foreign language to him. She doubted anyone had ever spoken to him as she just had, especially not someone dressed in a sack. That thought reminded her of the apple smock and the need to get it off so she could ride.

She raised her voice, walking and shouting in the direction of the other cart. "Nina, come and get this thing off me will you?" One of the older women put her head out of the front of the other cart, looked briefly at Illumina and then looked beyond her, a surprised and alarmed look played vividly over her features before she disappeared inside again. Illumina was quite taken aback by the sudden play of emotions across Nina's face, as she was accustomed to thinking of Nina as the most placid though, at times, taciturn of individuals. She stopped a moment, looking back the way she had come, seeing no one but the Prince still standing stupidly behind the other cart.

Illumina put it out of her mind for the moment and walked over to the other cart, dodging men and horses as she went. Nina stepped down from the back of the cart. Illumina looked at her and asked, with an exasperated look on her face, "Nina, what am I supposed to wear? I told you I wanted to get out of this thing. I need my riding clothes, jacket and chaps." Nina stood at the bottom of the steps looking at her, then turned and climbed wordlessly back into the cart.

It was the oddest performance Illumina had ever seen from her. Nina was usually completely organized; knowing exactly what needed to be done and what was needed in order to do it long before anyone else did. Nina reappeared carrying the leather chaps that would protect Illumina's clothes from contact with the horse and saddle and a waistcoat meant to be worn tight to support her back and breasts as she rode.

Illumina turned, letting Nina untie the lacings that closed the apple smock at the back. She slipped it off, revealing the loose white embroidered pants and shirt she had on underneath. Illumina shook out her hair and turned to smile at Nina, relieved at getting the apple smock off, hoping to discard along with it any memories of the awful occasion in the reception room and the dinner that followed. The smile faded on her lips as she looked at Nina, seeing in her face a shadow of the surprise and alarm that had been there when she looked out the cart. It was obvious that whatever it was, it was still there; controlled to some extent but there all the same. Looking at Nina, Illumina realized the expression was not entirely new, in it was an echo of something of Nina's habitual expression, something of the taciturn side to her seemed to come through in the look of surprise and alarm that had suddenly come to the surface like a bolt of lightning coming from a dark and somber sky.

Illumina reached out to her as Nina took the apple smock, folding it over her arm. "Are you alright? Has something upset you?" Nina shook her head, making it clear she did not want to talk, turning away and reaching up to put the smock over the back of the cart. She turned again holding out one side of the jacket.

Illumina was taken along with Nina's expectations, led into the clothes by what the other woman was doing. The jacket was sleeveless, and slung low at the front, high at the back. Nina guided Illumina's arms in place as she turned full circle, taking first one side of the jacket then the other, turning until she faced Nina again. Nina laced up the front pulling the garment close but not tight. It was intended to provide support to the back and upper body in the rise and fall of the trot and had to offer enough movement to the rider to be able to accommodate the movement of the horse as well as provide support and protection.

Illumina piled her hair up on her head and put a felted cap on that had a long heavy tassel that hung down her back, as well as ear warmers that she folded up away from her face. She sat on the bottom step of the cart, putting calf high riding boots on, tucking her pants into the tops of the boots. She stood and Nina steadied her as she put the chaps on over her pants. They were an odd garment made of leather and meant to protect the insides of the legs with nothing on the back, front and outside of the legs. The leather was dyed a deep red and beautifully embossed with patterns of stylized horses done in white and pale blue. The patterns were the same as the patterns embroidered on the jacket, which was a matching red with similar motifs of horses done in pale blue and white. The chaps had a number of tiny silver bells sewn into the outer edge so there was a soft tinkling sound as Illumina moved, kissing Nina, thanking and hugging her.

Nina pushed her away; she was never much given to displays of affection but seemed even more reluctant than usual to accept such a demonstration. Again Illumina was struck by the oddness of her behavior as she also seemed reluctant to let Illumina go, pushing her away as she usually did but holding her hand, fussing with her, pushing some loose hair back under the cap, even reaching out to her as Illumina walked off into the crowd whistling and calling for her horse.

To follow this thread in the story go to: Calling for a Song

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