And as I read it, I discovered that the movie only adapted the first two-thirds of the classic novel. Then, I found out Mr. Baum had written many more books about the characters and the land of Oz. He'd also left many tantalizing, and often inconsistent, clues about the history of the fairy tale land.
One of those clues was that Oz was ruled by King Pastorius and there were eight witches, two in each of the four countries of Oz. Pastorius's queen died in childbirth, the king died shortly thereafter, and the heir Princess Ozma disappeared. A civil war broke out between the witches, leaving suposedly four alive. When the Wizard arrived in Oz, his presence was the start of a cold war between the combatants until a tornado dropped Dorothy in Munchkin Country some years later.
I've always wondered what happened during the hot war. My imagination started filling in the blanks.
Sapphire isn't the first Oz story I've published. It won't by the last either. I hope you enjoy this tidbit.
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A light-blue umbrella shielded Beryl’s pale skin from the spring sun’s morning rays as she inspected her gardens. Dark blue brick paths wound their way around each section of freshly sprouted greenery or rich loam awaiting new transplants. Munchkin lads paused to bow or tip their hats in respect as she passed before they continue to weed the perennials and plant the seedlings of the annuals. The young men were strong and limber, as delightful to look at as the blooms in her hot house, but with a much earthier smell as they worked the soil.
She had no doubt they watched her, too, after she passed them. A quick glance at her ward revealed Nimmie was not as enthralled with the morning inspection. Pink suffused the girl’s cheeks. Whatever was the matter with her would wait. Beryl wasn’t in the mood to deal with any petty problem that troubled Nimmie at the moment. It was simply too beautiful of a morning for any worries.
Boq, the supervisor of the garden crew approached them. A middle-aged man with a bit of gray in his dark beard, he removed his pointed blue cap, jingling the silver bells hanging from its brim in the process, and bowed.
“Is there anything I may assist you with, Lady Beryl?” he asked as he straightened.
She smiled. “I need someone to help me with transplanting some herbal seedlings in my greenhouse this afternoon. Could you recommend one of your crew for the duty?”
The supervisor blushed and stammered. “Surely, you would want someone with a more delicate touch to handle your valuable herbs, m’lady, than this crew. I can—”
“Pull someone else from their duties?” Beryl flicked her fingers dismissively. “It’s planting season. Everyone in the province is busy as well this week, and these gentlemen are already here at my manor.”
“I’ll volunteer, m’lady.” A young man in the iris bed pushed to his feet. His blond hair gleamed beneath the morning shine. The locks were pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck, secured by a blue silk ribbon. The color matched that of his heavy cotton trousers. An undyed apron of the same material protected his white shirt. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular forearms.
Yes, he would do. He would do very nicely.
“Come to my private greenhouse after your lunch…”
“Fedall, m’lady.” He inclined his head.
“Very well, Fedall.” She nodded. “After your lunch hour then.”
She continued walking along the path. Nimmie scurried to catch up with her.
“Mother Beryl,” the girl murmured. “Must you use the people working on your estate in such a manner?”
“And what manner is that?”
“U-u-using them for your pleasure,” Nimmie whispered.
“Hasn’t the king commanded all citizens to support the royal protectors of Oz?” Beryl asked.
“Yes,” Nimmie stammered.
“I can focus better on my duties when I am relaxed.” Beryl stopped and stared at her ward before continuing her lecture. “Certain pleasures relax me. Yes, the people I choose give me pleasure, but I do the same for them in return. How is that not a fair trade?”
“I-I suppose it is.” Nimmie’s face was nearly as red as the southern witches’ tresses. If the girl wasn’t so loyal and valuable, Beryl would have sent Nimmie to one of the other protectors years ago.
“Are you finished criticizing your own guardian?” Beryl asked.
The girl stared at her shoes. “I apologize for my impertinence, Mother Beryl.”
“Very well then.” Beryl sighed. “It’s time for your lessons anyway.”
They took the left hand path back toward the manor. From the horrible odors drifting from the open windows on the first story, her sister witch protector for Munchkin Country worked in her laboratory.
“Maybe we should do your lessons on the north terrace.” Beryl wrinkled her nose. “Neither of us need to be gagging from Allophane’s current experiment.”
“My lady! My lady!” One of maids ran toward the pair. She skidded to a halt and barely remembered to bow in her trepidation. The instant she straightened, she thrust a brilliant white envelope sealed with green wax. “A message from the capital.”
Beryl accepted it, noting the imprint in the cooled wax was that of the royal vizier, not that of the king. She broke the seal, pulled out the letter, and scanned the contents.
“Lessons are canceled for today, Nimmie.” She eyed the girl. “Go see the cook about finding a task to occupy you.”
“What’s wrong?” her ward whispered.
“Nothing you need to worry your silly little head about.” Beryl forced a smile as she placed the letter back inside the envelope. “Unfortunately, my duties to Oz take precedence at times.”
Nimmie curtsied before running in the direction of the manor’s kitchen.
Beryl turned back to the maid. “This is not addressed to both me and my sister. Does she know about this letter?”
The maid gulped. “We received two letters, one addressed to each of you.”
“Thank you,” Beryl murmured. “You are dismissed.”
The maid also curtsied and ran in the same direction as Nimmie.
Beryl tapped the corner of the envelope against her right palm. The royal vizier had been smart enough to notify each of the eight protecters individually. Perhaps he was too smart. He would need to be eliminated before she and Willis launched their plan.
For now, she needed to display the appropriate mien of mourning when she spoke with Allophane. Then she’d use young Fedall to release her growing tension before she and Allophane traveled to the Emerald City for the funeral.
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