Cats Triumphant Read Online Free PDF Page B

tell from the moment he arrived that the rulers did not care for their people or their possessions. Rats ruled in the cellars, the stables and the grain storage.
    He crept in, posing as an ordinary pest-catcher. Following the smell of rotten food and the sound of drunken voices raised in raucous song, Marco found his way to the great hall.
    The floor cloths in the huge room hadn’t been changed in years. Hordes of overfed dogs snored in front of the fire. Men in hunting clothes lounged all over the benches and chairs around the tables. Marco spotted the prince right away. He was the horse-beating barbarian who had proposed to Briar Rose first at the dinner table. If he was a day under thirty, Marco wouldn’t believe it. He crept closer, wanting to give the man every chance.
    Unluckily, the prince spotted him. He drew back the flagon from which he had been drinking, and flung it straight at the cat.
    Marco leaped to one side. He was footsore from his long journey, but he seemed to grow wings on his feet as he fled. He dived into one of the huge rat-holes in the wall just as a wineskin struck beside him, splattering him in sour wine. He spent one night in the stables before departing. His pads were so tender they bled, but he was eager to put this horrible place behind him. Briar Rose’s true love lay elsewhere.
    * * *
    From kingdom to kingdom Marco traveled, seeking the worthy prince who would break the dark fairy’s deadly spell. Most, as he remembered them from the feast, were rough-and-tumble men of the field. A few were learned in the gentle arts, but were cruel to women and animals. In the fourth kingdom Marco just missed being skewered by an arrow launched by one of these who was out reciting poetry he had written to a woman. It did kill an innocent pigeon who was sitting on a branch. Marco crossed Prince Dysart of Olmbenia off the list, but dragged the dead pigeon into the underbrush as soon as Dysart was out of sight. No wind blew only ill. At least Marco would get a meal to make up for his fright. But he would not trust this man. He wished he could warn the girl.
    The same sad scenario repeated itself again and again. The princes were the same ones he had seen. The only difference was that they were growing older. By the time he reached them, many had married and had children. A few were already going gray.
    Marco fell into despair as he entered the last realm, Greenaway. Footsore, matted and hungry, he trudged toward the castle whose pennant-topped turrets he could see in the distance. This was his last chance. He remembered this prince: Golther was big, burly and smelly. If he truly was the princess’s love, it was because he had changed after all these years. But Marco doubted it. He wondered if he could take ship from here to another continent to continue his search.
    The well-worn road was blocked by a cluster of men lounging around the steps to a small traveler’s inn. Marco crept into the undergrowth. Some men sat on horses with hawks on their wrists. Others held leashed dogs, who scented Marco and strained toward him. One tall man with red-gold hair addressed a slender, dark man sitting on a stump with one boot off. Beside him was the body of a huge stag. Marco’s stomach gurgled. If only he could have a piece of venison. He was so hungry!
    “Gave you and your horse quite a run,” said the redhead. The seated man pulled a cluster of leaves out of his boot and pulled it back on.
    “Indeed he did, the big old fellow,” he said, patting his prey on the neck. “He gave us an honorable chase. We were only victors because we outnumbered him so greatly.” He tossed away the leaves, which landed on Marco. Marco jumped.
    The seated man’s eyes widened. “Why, I’m sorry, puss! Come here and let me make it up to you.” He rubbed his fingers together. Marco edged forward with great care. The prince in the seventeenth kingdom had sought to entice him in exactly the same way, then tried to run him through