her father to let her go there, still the king and his advisers have the final word. It is for them alone to decide whom the princess will marry.
“Did you sing as sweetly for the Sultan as you did for me?” Lilophea inquired as if incidentally. “Did you also advise him not to invite mermaids into his harem, because it is dangerous to communicate with them?”
“What do you mean?” The peacock didn’t give himself away. What an actor! “Would they teach me anything? They wouldn’t even give me any fruit when I sang under the window. Amazingly insensitive people! They have splendid palaces, but they won’t let a talking bird into any of them.”
“Why? Don’t they value rare species?”
“That’s not the point,” the peacock deftly picked a grape from the fruit bowl with its beak, and only continued when it ate it greedily. He appeared to be hungry.
“There is great fear in eastern countries of spies sent from the sea. And I am blue, the color of the sea. And the stone in my forehead shimmers with all the shades of water.”
“Are there spies from the sea?! What does that mean?”
“Well,” said the peacock, uncertain how to avoid the embarrassing subject. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Well, now go on. Why be embarrassed?”
He ate a few more berries, grunted softly, and then shifted his gaze to the pearl in the dried out shell flaps.
“You don’t have to look out of the window at the sea. There’s so much going on in the sea. I saw all sorts of terrible things while I was hiding in the masts of the ship on which I sailed as a stowaway.”
Lilothea laughed involuntarily. What a pun it turns out!
“By the way, I thought the ship sailed to another kingdom, and ended up here. Bad luck!”
“You will know how not to pay the fare!” She joked. I should have added that he deserved it, and that he who wants to deceive others in the end remains deceived himself, but she was not cruel. It’s the maidens at court who like to let the stilettos go. The peacock will never get enough of them, and will probably pretend to be dumb so as not to have to answer their taunts.
“Do you think that if I brought a coin to the sailors they’d tell me exactly where the ship was going?” The peacock showed unexpected seriousness.
What could you say to that?
“I don’t think so,” Lilophea answered honestly. “They would have taken the coin, and you would probably have been caged and sold at the first port.”
“You see, I might not have been honest.” He spread his wings in triumph and ate almost all the grapes from the vase. What a glutton!
“Travelling alone is dangerous in any case,” Lilophea consoled him. “It is better to sail the ship only with the mistress.”
“Well, I’ve managed to get out of it, now you can always be my mistress.”
What does that mean? He thought of himself as master here and her as servant? Or is he her best friend now? You can’t be mistress to a friend. It’s not like he’s a pet. The peacock had indeed chosen her for himself. He wasn’t bought. He wasn’t brought as a gift. He flew up to her in the garden and made conversation. That’s what everyone who wants to make friends does.
“I’ll consider you my faithful cavalier,” Lilofephea suggested aloud. “By the way, do you have a name? Or should I call you something.”
It’s not nice to call him just a peacock, like all the other birds in the garden that don’t know human speech. A talking creature, however feathered, deserves to be addressed by all the rules.
“I am Seneschal,” he bowed respectfully. Lilophea had no idea that a peacock could bend its neck so low. He could at least be applauded. Had he escaped from the circus? The princess sometimes heard rumors of cruel trainers, from whom it was not easy to buy back rare but offended animals. A peacock with his talents could bend the bars of a cage and escape on his own.
“There is already one seneschal in the palace. That’s what they call the chief of staff,” Lilophea hesitated.
“For him it is a title, but for me it is a name. Though, to tell the truth,” the peacock looked conspiratorial. “I was in charge of the servants in the house of a great sorceress for some time.”
Lilophea grinned incredulously.
“Enchantresses and rogues are practically the same thing.”
“What do you know, girl?”
“I am guided by my experience at court.”
“This isn’t the court to learn anything.”
“But you got here somehow. Which means there’s already something unique here – a chatty peacock!”
“I’m the most worthy creature here,” he arrogantly cocked his beak. Lilophea gazed for a moment at the stone glinting in his forehead. She wondered if it hurt him, made him feel uncomfortable with the hard jewelry growing in his forehead. Even her own tiara was starting to press on her head if she wore it too long. All jewelry should be removed before going to bed so it wouldn’t leave a mark on the delicate skin. That’s what the ladies-in-waiting used to say.
Lilophea remembered the crown. She longed unbearably to try it on again, but the blue peacock looked behind the chest like a spy. It seemed that if she took anything from there, and he pecked her in the finger. Of the chest there was a wet puddle on the malachite table. There was no place for it to come from, for the jug and the basin for her morning bath were in another room. There was water inside the jewels themselves. But how could it have flowed through the hard casket. There was an icy chill coming from the water. It felt like a draught in her chambers, though the day was very hot. All the ladies at court were waving their fans vigorously. Suddenly there was an underwater chill in the princess’ apartments. Lilophea noticed that in a puddle on the table bloomed most real water lily. What a miracle!
She must send the peacock away on some errand while she looks around and tries on all the pearl adornments.
“So you are Seneschal,” she smiled at him. “I’ll call you that if you like. Do not present yourself as so to the other courtiers, or you will be confused with the head of the household. He might think you are making fun of him and tease you.”
“Let him try it,” the peacock hummed haughtily. Apparently, he’d never been chased by a cook’s knife before. But Lilophea had once seen a swan roasted for a feast, and the sight made her sick. How can you make a feast of a beautiful bird? People can be so cruel sometimes.
“You love waterfowl! You have a good heart! You have a water heart! Come to me! Come into the sea!”
Who said that? It was certainly not the peacock. His insolent bird voice is not capable of whispering with such inspiration.
“I’ll tell you what,” Lilophea opened her writing bag. “Take a couple of letters for me.”
“I’m not a messenger,” the peacock grunted.
She scribbled a few lines on two sheets of paper, sealed them with the Royal Seal, and handed them to Seneschal. “Here, one is for the cook, let him not cook birds yet, better let him treat the ambassadors with fish and crabs from the local coast.”
Here the peacock understood her and nodded sternly.
“It is no birds to eat,” he agreed and clutched the envelope in his beak.
“Can you find your own way?”
He nodded again.
“And the second letter is for my father’s honored guest. He is coming today. He is the famous navigator and privateer. You know what that is.”
Peacock