Behind the closed doors my stomach begins to grumble. I did not have enough for breakfast. I should also probably tell Martha I’m alright. But I don’t want to go to the kitchen through the dining hall.

The ballroom is a large expanse polished marble floor and bright high ceilings. It is made for parties and joyful occasions. But void of people, it just feels empty. I hurry across the room to the bathroom that is tucked out of the way behind yellow curtains. I enter and walk straight to the storage cupboard at its back. It is designed to look like part of the world, like most secret rooms in this castle. I press on the door and release my hand quickly. I hear a click and the door springs open.

A mop and broom greet me by merrily trying to fall atop me. I instinctively grab them before they fall and prop them up properly on the wall. Then I walk into the cupboard and shut the door behind me. I press on the wall on the back of the tiny room and another door springs open leading into a long wooden panelled hallway.

This hallway was used long ago, so servants and maids could travel unseen. Hidden from view, until they were needed. The past few kings however have let their staff roam about the castle as they pleased. So this hallway fell into disuse.

I travel up the hallway passing by different 'secret' doors until I find the door for the kitchen. It opens into a pantry. I exit and oddly no one notices, too busy with their chores, too busy with their own lives. That is all except one.

Martha knew me as a young boy when I first entered the castle. I've often used this hallway to look for her growing up. She turns and notices me walk out of the pantry. I don't know how she keeps doing that.

“Martha?” I say cautiously. “I…”… don’t know what to say.

Martha is a large bony woman. She is mostly muscle than fat, though she would argue that she had more weight then she should. She stood taller than most of the men I knew. I always thought that she was like the wind. She could be a hurricane or a breeze whenever she wanted.

“Heston, Heston,” she comes towards me and pulls me in for a hug. “Ah, my poor little boy. My poor little Hesty. I’ve heard all the nasty things about you. You never let them get to you, you hear? I know my little boy would not do any of those things. Don’t worry I’ve shut up all of the kitchen staff from talking; they know not the mess with Martha. Everyone here knows you were ill in bed. I fed you some soup I did but you probably don’t remember it.”

Oh. Maybe, there was a ‘somebody else’ for me after all. My face feels flush and tears begin to fall out again. I stand there in her arms for a short while trying to will my tears away.

“I bet you are hungry now aren’t you? Sit down now, these scones are just done. There is a bit of left over porridge too in the pot over there, help yourself.”

The large kitchen is very familiar to me. The walls are lined with counters. Four large ovens sit to the east corner of the room, stoves on top of them. The middle aisles are filled with tables, with kitchen staff sitting on low stools, peeling and chopping up ingredients. The smell of carrots boiling hang in the air mixing itself with fried onions and chopped herbs. Coffee too makes its occasional visit towards my nose.

I often come for warm milk when I first found myself unable to sleep in my new room. I hardly come anymore, but Martha still feels like a mother figure to me. Especially when I have not seen my own in about ten years.

She had children herself, all grown up she mentioned. Her husband died in a farming accident, and she raised her children by herself. She used to live outside the walls of the castle and commuted to work, but when her children grew she moved into the castle.

She and I just moved to the castle when we first met. We bonded quickly. Each finding a little bit of something of someone else we were missing in the other.

I help myself to scones then sit down on the stool nearest to Martha.

“Martha?”

“Yes my boy?”

“What do you know about Mikail's disappearance and Mortimer’s fall? What happened while I was ill?”

Martha turns to look at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “You just got out of bed boy. Enough of all of this rumour nonsense. You eat up first.”

I wipe away the rest of the tears from my face, munch a little on my scone and then I reply. “It’s okay. I’m alright now."

She sighs and tell me what she knows. “After the concert we were in the kitchen, tending to the party, when I hear Mikail was really drunk. Fell straight onto the table, stiff as a log! Mortimer rushed over, assured everybody that he was fine, just passed out and said he would bring him to his room. A long while later Julia, one of my girls, comes running to the kitchen shrieking, her apron all bunched up in her hand. Says Cecil found Mortimer lying at the bottom of the stairs, his arm twisted and a broken violin next to him. Cecil stayed with him until the doctor came and then of course I hear that you are ill and the doctor had to divide his time between the two of you. And then the next day we hear Mikail is gone!”

“Violin? Broken?” Is…was it mine? “Martha, was it… was it a mute?”

“I don’t know child I didn’t see it,” she says over her shoulder, getting back into her busywork.

“Martha, when you came in to see me, did you see my violin in its case?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Your mute? Mortimer’s old mute? No I can’t say I have. I did see the case though. I thought Mortimer must have taken it back.”

I tense up. Broken? My violin… broken?

“When did you come to my room?”

“Well, I went in yesterday to check up on you, and the day before too, making sure you ate something, but I don’t remember what time exactly though, if that’s what you are asking. Hardly ate anything too, a waste of good porridge you are. But I fed what you couldn’t eat to the cat.”

“Oh”. I tear up at the thought. “Thank you,” I mumble to her.

“Not a problem boy, you know that,” she says carrying on with her work.

I glance around the room. The kitchen staff members are pretending to look busy. There is one who is rolling dough for a pie a bit too thin. Any more thinner and she would hit the table. Someone is stirring his pot a bit too intently, and another is watching a pie bake with such a profound eagerness.

“Well, that’s all I know about the incident. Poor Mortimer. Won't wake up no matter what we do. And with his boy gone... But enough about that. What happened to your violin then?”

“Um…”

Martha sees me looking around and she glares at the curious glances around her, eavesdropping on our conversation.

“You can tell us boy, and never mind this lot, they wouldn’t whisper a word outside the kitchen. Isn’t that right you lot? I’ll make sure of it.” She says the last phrase just a tiny bit louder. Everyone begins to do their job with a little bit more effort; stirring pots a bit faster, rolling dough a bit harder and staring at pies just a bit more eager.

Martha chuckles. “Go on my boy. Tell your Martha what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know.” I confess. “My violin was on my chair, I remember playing my scales on it, but I didn’t shut the lid. Then I woke up and it was gone.” I rub my forehead with the palm of my hand, my elbow still resting on the table. “I can’t remember... I don’t remember you coming in. I vaguely remember the doctor though.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. Poor Hes, my poor poor boy. The fever was terrible it was, its a good thing you don't remember much.” She comes over to me and pulls me in for another hug. I start to tear up again. While I don't hate being comforted, when I do get comforted all I seem to do is cry.

“I do wonder…” she murmurs. “Mikail missing, his father pushed down the stairs, your violin missing, what is going on,” she says.

Why would anyone want to take my violin?

“You must be worried, with Mortimer like this and Mikail missing and all and now your violin. You poor thing.”

“I…” I pause mid answer unsure about what I was going to say. I’m okay? It’s alright? I suddenly realise that I did not care about Mikail’s disappearance and Mortimer’s fall. I just don't. I should though. Shouldn't I?

What did worry me though, was just the violin.

“Cecil was there when Mortimer fell? Does she know what happened to the violin that was with him?”

“No, she only found him after having attend to the little prince. As for the violin, I don’t know.”

“Which… which stairs was it?”

Martha paused. “Now that I think about it, I really don’t know. You could ask Cecil though, if you come back here for dinner. Now enough chatter you should be resting. Go back to your room, get more rest and drink your fluids. I’m sure everything will be fine. I’ll bring you up something for lunch and for dinner you can dine with Cecil, she might be able to tell you more.”

I heed her words and return to my room to rest. Tonight, just maybe, tonight, I’ll get some answers.