he spun back around and kicked her arm.
‘Oh, you little demon!’ She grabbed him.
Cap-Pi-Hau sprang forward and began to rain blows about her face. Each time he struck her he called her, accurately, by the name of her own lower category. ‘Pual!’ He said it each time he struck her. ‘Pual! Pual! Know your place!’
‘Get this monkey god off me!’ she cried.
Perhaps she had also been hard on the other women, because they just chuckled. One of them said, ‘He is yours to deal with, Mulberry.’
Her legs were folded, tying her to the spot. She could hit back, but not too hard, even if this was a prince far from the line of succession.
Finally she called for help. ‘Guard!’
The bored attendant simply chuckled. ‘He’s a prince.’
‘Nia! Nia! Nia!’ the other children chanted not knowing if they were insulting him or cheering him on.
The nanny fought her way to her feet. ‘Oh! You must be disciplined.’
‘So must you.’ The young prince turned, and stomped up to the guard. ‘Your sword.’
‘Now, now, little master …’
Cap-Pi-Hau took it.
The woman called Mulberry knew then the extent of her miscalculation. She had imagined that this quiet child was meek and timid.
‘What are you going to do?’ she said, backing away.
He charged her.
She turned and ran and he slapped her on her bottom with the flat of the sword. ‘Help! Help!’ she was forced to cry.
The children squealed with laughter.
The tiny prince roared with a tiger-cub voice. ‘Stop, you pual! Talk to me or I will use the blade.’
She yelped and turned, giving him a deep and sincere dip of respect.
‘Hold still.’ he ordered. ‘Bow.’
She did, and he reached up to her face and into her mouth, and pulled out her wooden false teeth. He chopped at them with the sword, splintering them.
‘These teeth came to you from the household. For hitting a prince, you will never have teeth again.’
She dipped and bowed.
‘Now,’ said Prince Hereditary Slave. ‘I ask again. How do I find a particular slave girl I like?’
‘Simply point her out to me,’ the woman said, with a placating smile. She tinkled her little bell-like voice that she used with anyone of higher rank. ‘I will bring her to you.’
The guard was pleased. He chuckled and shook his head. ‘He’s after girls already,’ he said to his compatriot.
The next day, Cap-Pi-Hau found the girl for himself.
It was the time of sleep and dusting. He bounced towards her. ‘We can play slippers!’ he said, looking forward to fun.
She turned and lowered her head to the floor.
‘Here,’ said Cap-Pi-Hau and thrust a slipper at her. She had no idea what to do with it. It was made of royal flowered cloth, stitched with gold thread. She glanced nervously about her.
‘You do this!’ said the Prince. He flicked the slipper so it spun across the floor. ‘The winner is the one who can throw it farthest.’ He stomped forward and snatched up the shoe, and propelled it back towards her. She made to throw it underhand.
‘No, no, no!’ He ran and snatched it from her. ‘You have to slide it. It has to stay on the floor. That’s the game.’
She stared at him, panting in fear. Why was she so worried? Maybe she had heard there had been trouble.
Cap-Pi-Hau said to her in a smaller voice, ‘If you make it go round and round it goes farther.’ It was the secret of winning and he gave it to her.
She dipped her head, and glanced about her, and tossed the slipper so that it spun. It twirled, hissing across the wood, passing his. She had beaten him first go, and Cap-Pi-Hau was so delighted to have a worthy adversary that he laughed and clapped his hands. That made her smile.
His turn. He threw it hard and lost.
The second time she threw, she lost the confidence of inexperience and the shoe almost spun on the spot. The Prince experimented, shooting the slipper forward with his foot. So did she. The two of them were soon both giggling and running and jumping with excitement.
He asked her name.
‘Fishing Cat,’ she replied. Cmâ-kančus.
The name made him laugh out loud. Fishing cats were small, lean and delicate with huge round eyes. ‘You look like a fishing cat!’ Instead of laughing she hung her head. She thought he was teasing her, so he talked about something else, to please her.
‘Do you come attached to the royal house, like a cow?’ he asked. Groups of slaves were called thpal, the same word used for cattle.
‘No, Sir. I was given away, Sir.’
This interested the Prince mightily because he had been given away as well. He pushed close to her. ‘Why were you given away?’
Her voice went thin, like the sound of wind in reeds. ‘Because I was pretty.’
If she was pretty, he wanted to see. ‘I can’t see you.’
She finally looked up, and her eyelids batted to control the tears, and she tried to smile.
‘You look unhappy.’ He could not think why that would be.
‘Oh no, Prince. It is a great honour to be in the royal enclosure. To be here is to see what life in heaven must be like.’
‘Do you miss your mother?’
This seemed to cause her distress. She moved from side to side as if caught between two things. ‘I don’t know, Sir.’
‘You’re scared!’ he said, which was such an absurd thing to be that it amused him. He suddenly thought of a fishing cat on a dock taking off in fear when people approached. ‘Fishing cats are scared and they run away!’
Her eyes slid sideways and she spoke as if reciting a ritual. ‘We owe everything to the King. From his intercession, the purified waters flow from the hills. The King is our family.’
The Prince said, ‘He’s not my family.’ Fishing Cat’s head spun to see if anyone could hear them. The Prince said, ‘I miss my family. I have some brothers here, but my mother lives far away in the east.’
Cat
