Section I, Next Section
Posted on Thursday, 16 July 1998
Once upon a time...
As far away as nowhere and as long ago as nevermore, there lived a woodcutter and his wife. They lived in a comfortable cottage on the edge of a deep dark forest, and together they felt they had everything they could ever want. Well, almost everything - the woodcutter and his wife had five daughters, who were at the same time the treasure and bane of their lives. For the witch who lived on the other side of the woodcutter's kitchen garden had wrought a terrible curse: she decreed that, unless one of these daughters were to be married within the next twelvemonth, the woodcutter's wife should be turned into a toad. The thought of becoming a toad was terribly distressing, so the woodcutter's wife made it her sole purpose in life to find husbands for her daughters. So focused was she on this single task that she forgot several other things.
Most annoying to her husband was that she forgot to perform all of her daily chores; however, the woodcutter remembered how he had managed while he was still a bachelor, and he did a fairly good job of cleaning the cottage and keeping up with the laundry. (It was his own fault if he didn't remember to separate colors and whites in the wash, but we shall not laugh at him for this - having to wear a pink tunic which used to be white while he was cutting wood in the deep dark forest is punishment enough.)
The next thing the woodcutter's wife forgot was that the witch who lived next door wasn't a witch at all; in fact, it was her sister. The woodcutter only referred to her as "the witch" because she had a cackling laugh which got on his nerves, and she tended to dress all in black. Besides, every self-respecting woodcutter who lives in a comfortable cottage on the edge of a deep dark forest ought to have a witch next door if he can possibly manage it, and his wife's sister was the only available neighbor who came close to fitting the description.
The last thing the woodcutter's wife forgot was that the curse wasn't really a curse. It wasn't even an omen, a bit of soothsaying, or a friendly warning - instead it was just a shred of local gossip that had been exaggerated out of all proportion, but which had been repeated so many times that it had acquired an air of truth. Besides, every quaint little village which can boast a woodcutter's cottage on the edge of a deep dark forest - and a witch (sort of) next door to said woodcutter - really ought to have a terrible curse cast on one of its inhabitants, if it can possibly be arranged.
However, even if her sister of the woodcutter's wife had been a witch (instead of just sounding like one when she laughed and having a pale complexion that actually made her look good in black), the woodcutter's wife would have had nothing to fear: considering how much trouble the poor woman had while she was making bread and beer, it wasn't likely that she would be successful at mixing up a cauldron of spells.
Nevertheless, the woodcutter's wife was convinced that the curse was real, and at times it made her so distraught that she felt she might as well go down to the mill pond to pick out a nice lily pad under which she might like to live. And what did she do if she were particularly upset that potential sons-in-law weren't appearing out of the ether to knock on her front door? Well, then she would complain of how terribly this curse was affecting her nerves, and beg her daughters to keep her well supplied with flies and perhaps the occasional grasshopper when she was turned into a toad, for she was certain that with webbed toes she would never be able to look after herself properly.
But was the plight of the woodcutter's wife so desperate? Were her daughters so ugly that no man would ever look at them? If they were very unlucky, they might have had, perhaps, only one eye in the middle of their foreheads. However, even a girl with one eye in the middle of her forehead could make some farmer a good wife, if she had an excellent hand with a needle or if she had a family secret for cheesemaking - and if the farmer wasn't too particular about his wife's looks.
However, the woodcutter's five daughters all had the proper number of eyes, so obviously it was something else which was distressing the woodcutter's wife. In short, the good woman was determined not only that at least one of her daughters should marry (you see, she is improving upon the curse already), but also that they should marry well. No ordinary miller or blacksmith would do for her girls, no sir! Their husbands must be kings - or perhaps a prince if the king was already married - oh, very well, maybe a sorcerer if princes were scarce. And kings, princes, and sorcerers certainly were scarce in the woodcutter's neighborhood, so now you may begin to understand the dilemma under which the woodcutter's wife was suffering.
And in the meantime, while the woodcutter's wife was working herself into such a state over this nonexistent curse, were the five daughters who were so central to its completion at all affected? Not a bit. They simply went on about their usual tasks, helping their father with his woodcutting, keeping the cottage in order, and making their mother soothing cups of chamomile tea if she let her fears run away with her.
Now, it may not be terribly important to the course of this tale for you to know how the woodcutter's five daughters came by their names, but you will have to be introduced to them at some point, and it will give your storyteller something to do. Daughters in most tales are named by fairy godmothers who appear out of nowhere in a puff of smoke or a shower of stars, but in this particular village, fairy godmothers were about as common as witches, kings, princes, and sorcerers. In other words, there weren't any to be had. So, the woodcutter took it upon himself to name his daughters when they were born (the woodcutter's wife being far too tired after her labor to assist).
When the first daughter was placed in her father's arms, she snuggled in without any crying whatsoever and promptly fell asleep, so the woodcutter named her Serenity. The second daughter cried heartily at first, but as soon as her father picked her up, she stopped and gave him an amazingly radiant smile instead; she was named Beauty. (The fond father was bewitched by a tiny dimple on the infant's cheek - we shall let that be his excuse for such an appropriate, but unoriginal, name.) The third daughter, rather than cry properly, could only manage a series of hiccuping whimpers, and she had a puzzled frown on her face when her father leaned over the cradle; she was therefore called Solemnity.
The fourth daughter absolutely refused to do anything which might give her father a clue to her personality, so the poor thing suffered under the title of "Baby" until the next child arrived. The woodcutter's wife was by now quite used to childbirth, and she insisted on holding the little girl herself; and whether from being willful or from being colicky, the baby squirmed and fussed until her mother was quite at her wits' end. The woodcutter promptly named her Caprice. The fourth daughter soon discovered that the best way to get attention from her parents was to copy whatever her younger sister did, so she was finally called Echo.
And the daughters grew up to match their names well, either to please their father, whom they loved, or to show what an excellent judge of character a humble woodcutter could be.
Posted on Thursday, 16 July 1998
One day, it happened that Serenity and Beauty were in the garden, tending their rosebushes. Enough time had passed since their naming (as I have described it previously) that the two had grown up to become very beautiful young ladies indeed. And if, by some coincidence, they happened to resemble their rosebushes, well, that is the way of these tales, isn't it?
The bush which Serenity was watering so carefully was a climbing rose, with long elegant canes, glossy green leaves, and delicate white blossoms with the faintest blush at their center. When the flowers were woven into a wreath, there was nothing that could crown Serenity's golden hair half so well; and her slender white hands suffered nary a scratch when it came time for pruning, for not a single thorn could be found on the entire plant. The creamy petals just matched her complexion, which resembled ivory lit by candlelight (or so said the miller's son, in a fit of poetic inspiration).
Beauty's rosebush was a smaller, hardy plant, whose dark green leaves looked jagged about the edges but when touched were as soft as velvet. The bush had blooms the size of teacups, each one a vibrant scarlet. They would stay tightly furled at first, but then all at once - and always when you weren't looking - they would open wide to rejoice in the sun and raindrops that bathed them. The stems had the occasional thorn hidden behind the leaves, which often scratched the unwary; however, if you were careful, you could handle the cut flowers without fear. The rich petals looked very handsome indeed when Beauty would tuck a flower behind her ear to hold back her chestnut hair.
Your storyteller will not trouble to describe the other daughters in terms of their gardening efforts. Solemnity was in charge of the vegetables, and the best thing she ever grew was a squash that took first prize at the village fair one year. And as for Echo and Caprice, their sisters had hurriedly put them in charge of housekeeping, before they managed to kill or trample every green thing in the gardens - enduring dusty furniture and the occasional smear on a windowpane was infinitely preferable to having no food put by for the winter!
So, as I was saying, one day it happened that Serenity and Beauty were outside tending their rosebushes. It was a bright summer day, with birds singing and bees humming, and just warm enough to bring a becoming flush to the girls' faces. All of a sudden, they looked up from their work, because they heard the steady clip-clop-clip-clop of a horse coming along the road. None of their neighbors owned anything grander than a plow horse, so they were intrigued by the fine ringing sound the horseshoes made on the gravel, and they expected to see something unusual.
Unusual indeed: for there was a prince on a white charger riding up their lane. Who knew how he had come there, but come he had, and a long way, too, for he looked rather hot and thirsty. In fact, when he saw the two girls and came even with their gate, he stopped his horse and addressed them very prettily, asking if he could have a drink of water from their well. Beauty went to fetch it, leaving her sister to admire the gentleman, who had hair as golden and eyes as blue as her own. By the time Beauty returned with a brimming mug of cool water, Serenity had learned that his name was Prince Cheerful, and he was on his way to the neighboring kingdom, to pay a visit to the ruler there.
Beauty liked the young prince very much; he certainly had a happy disposition, his silks and satins displayed his figure to excellent advantage, and he seemed to approve of everything he had seen in their little village, not at all minding the wrong turning which had removed him from the high road and brought him here instead. (Actually, he had been a little cross about the mistake before now, but that was all forgotten when he saw the sun shining on Serenity's hair.) Serenity thought she had never seen a man so handsome, and she was almost too overcome to look at him directly, instead directing her conversation to the horse while she rubbed its nose and fed it an apple she happened to have in her pocket. When she did dare to look into the prince's face, it was with the most charming blush on her face, making her look (if such a thing were possible) even more beautiful than she already was.
Prince Cheerful was utterly captivated. Beauty was very agreeable, of course, but Serenity outshone the sun itself. (The flights of hyperbole to which he was transported may show you how much he was affected.) Greatly daring, he begged a rose of her before he left. Serenity, feeling she could refuse him nothing, cut a perfect half-open flower from her bush with the white roses and shyly handed it to him. Prince Cheerful inhaled the delightful fragrance, feeling like a man drunk on the finest Rhenish or Tokay, and carefully placed the rose in the buttonhole of his doublet. He gave Serenity a last lingering look before he had to leave and said that he hoped the flower would bloom until he could return to collect another, because he was certain he would find nothing else so lovely in all his travels.
At length, Prince Cheerful rode away, since he wanted to be sure of reaching the neighboring kingdom before nightfall. The two sisters stood at the gate and watched him go, their arms around each other's waist. Serenity sighed deeply and informed her sister that no man on earth could come so near perfection as the prince who had just departed. Beauty laughed and gave her sister a hug, saying with a flash of mischief in her green eyes that he seemed sensible enough, but she hoped he had a competent staff of servants to look after him, if he made a habit of swooning about in that manner. With that, the two went inside to continue their round of daily chores.
If they had looked at the cottage more closely before they entered, they would have noticed that the curtains in the sitting room window were twitching in a mysterious way. The woodcutter's wife had seen the entire encounter from her hiding place and was like to burst with excitement. A prince on a white horse! Oh, what a wonderful thing for her girls! She would have to scold Serenity, however, for not managing to get a lock of his hair, or some other personal item, which she could have taken to the witch next door (who wasn't a witch, but the woodcutter's wife had forgotten that). The witch could then have made it up into a love potion, which Serenity could have drunk, making sure the prince would return and marry her - which would prevent the woodcutter's wife from being turned into a toad! Still, the whole situation was looking more promising than it had in a long time.
Posted on Thursday, 16 July 1998
Now, before I can go any further in my tale, to tell you how Prince Cheerful fared on his journey or to describe the prince-induced hysteria suffered by Beauty and Serenity's mother, you and I (of course I must come - otherwise you would have no storyteller) must don our seven-league boots and hurry to the neighboring kingdom. This was the Kingdom of Lochlein, and it possessed every good thing that a respectable kingdom ought to have: crystal lakes and streams, rugged snow-capped mountains, lush fields, and forests even deeper and darker that the one next to the woodcutter's cottage. And in the exact center of the kingdom was the castle of the King of Lochlein, which was marvelously built out of granite and marble and full of furniture so splendid that it is beyond my poor powers of description.
The King was a stern man, but any faults in his character were happily overlooked by the many princesses and other ladies of noble lineage who sought him in marriage - for when confronted with a noble forehead, a strong jaw, silky brown hair and eyes like liquid amber, who minds a little stiffness of manner? The ladies came from far and wide to present themselves at the court of Lochlein, and after each had made her curtsey before the throne, she was welcome to stay in the castle until the King should choose a wife. In the meantime, the women went around oohing and aahing over the tapestries, inlaid mosaics, stained glass, gilt-edged mirrors, and other decorations in the castle, imagining how wonderful it would be to be queen there. And despite the exceedingly fierce competition for the King's attentions, the ladies did their best - with varying degrees of sincerity - to be pleasant to one another, in the hope of being chosen as one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting in the event they could not be the queen herself.
However, even though he owned a castle unmatched by any in seven kingdoms, and even though the residents of the kingdom loved him greatly, the King of Lochlein was unhappy, because he was pleased by none of the ladies who wished to be his bride. One was too tall, one was too short, one had a big nose, one had a piercing high-pitched giggle, one did nothing but play her mandolin all day - out of tune, too! - and most of them cared more for the furnishings of his castle than they did for him. (Or else they viewed him as one of the furnishings, which is also possible.)
At just about the time that you and I arrive (and you're not even breathing hard - aren't seven-league boots wonderful?), the inhabitants of Lochlein are facing the terrible news that a powerful sorcerer has come to the kingdom. (Since this story now has a witch, a prince, and a king, it seems only fair to have a sorcerer, after all.) If the rumors were to be believed, he had conjured seven giant eagles out of the air, and the giant eagles then proceeded to carry off all the best flocks of sheep. The good citizens hid in their cellars and locked their shutters up tight, for fear that the sorcerer would bespell them all, and they sent a messenger to the castle in order to beg their king to do battle with him.
In the usual bureaucratic manner of castles, the message went first to the guard at the gate, and then to the major-domo, who dodged several gossipy princesses to take the message to the King's most trusted advisor, Counselor Gallant. This Counselor Gallant was the King's cousin (thereby making a few noblemen who had wanted positions on the King's council grumble about nepotism), and he was a wise and fair-minded gentleman who had given the King good advice in many difficult situations (including the King's decision not to attempt to win the Princess on the Glass Hill, but that's another story). The counselor was also blessed with a pleasing manner and handsome visage, so he had to evade the increasing population of noblewomen at Castle Lochlein almost as often as the King did.
In order to reach the King's private chambers, the counselor had to win through three countesses, five duchesses, and a marquesa, and in desperation he eventually left the main corridors and passed through the servants' quarters. He was so out of breath from this obstacle course that he became a little confused and told the King that seven giant sheep had stolen all the eagles in the village; however, he quickly corrected himself after consulting the scroll which the original messenger had brought. When he heard that a sorcerer was involved, the King immediately started polishing his best suit of armor, thinking that he preferred vanquishing a sorcerer to dealing with the hordes of husband-hunting women who were starting to overflow his castle. (There was even a Princess Winifred who had swum the moat to get in - really, these ladies were quite persistent.)
However, I must tell you that this sorcerer (like many other people in this tale, you will notice) was not entirely what he seemed. It is true he possessed some magic, but he was really only an average wizard who used his talent for illusion to deceive people into thinking he was more powerful than he actually was. He hadn't conjured any giant eagles out of the air at all: he had simply used an illusion to make the sheep look like rocks and bushes, so the townspeople only thought they had been carried off, and perhaps there had been a hawk flying overhead at the time; the normal progression of gossip did the rest.
To sum up, this wizard was a born troublemaker with a book of spells - and his most prized possession was a magic orb that he had stolen from a real (but rather drunk) sorcerer he had met in a pub. Now, the wizard wasn't quite sure how to work the orb, but he was convinced it contained more power than he had ever been able to command before, and he intended to use it to create his most astonishing illusion yet, thereby guaranteeing his fame as a sorcerer for ages to come.
And if this astonishing illusion could make his fortune at the same time it made his reputation, so much the better; for having heard that the King of Lochlein kept the most magnificent treasure hidden in his castle, the wizard was determined to obtain it for himself. When he heard that the King was polishing his best suit of armor and readying his war horse in order to do battle, the wizard suffered only a moment of doubt. Since he wasn't really a sorcerer, he knew he would never have a chance against the King in a pitched combat. He would have to keep the King busy somehow if he was going to steal the treasure, master the orb, and cast his astonishing illusion. So, he wove a spell that made a hideous fire-breathing basilisk appear in the town square.
The townspeople, even though they were cowering in their cellars and behind their shutters, considered a hideous fire-breathing basilisk much more of an immediate threat than giant eagles that carried off sheep, since everyone knows that even a sidelong glance from the basilisk's wicked beady eyes could turn fifty strong men to stone. Another messenger was sent to the castle to beg the King to slay the basilisk before he vanquished the sorcerer. The King shrugged and agreed; as long as his armor was well polished, it didn't matter to him whether the basilisk or the sorcerer was dispatched first.
The King was a fine sight to see, as he rode out of the castle gates in his gleaming armor and on his coal-black steed, but the wizard, who was hiding in the shadow of the wall, hardly noticed. Amid the confusion of men cheering and women throwing flowers as the King cantered away (at least, those men and women who were brave enough to leave their cellars), the wizard slipped unnoticed into the castle. Always keeping to the shadows, he stalked through the rooms, silently sneering at the fine furnishings and laughing at the hordes of women who were now discussing the basilisk along with their chances of becoming queen. The wizard reassured himself that he would have a castle twice as beautiful and twice as many women fawning over him, when his reputation as a powerful sorcerer was established.
The wizard sought high and low through the turrets and dungeons of the castle, impatient to find the treasure before the King returned. However, none of his magic arts revealed any secret doorways or false panels behind which a magnificent treasure could be hidden. Eventually, the wizard found himself in a lovely garden in the center of the castle, and there he beheld something that made him catch his breath in wonder.
Posted Monday, 20-Jul-98
Author's Note: I have decided to dedicate this story to Ann, who has proved to be a wonderful fairy godmother by starting this board for us and working so hard to make sure our stories are accessible and archived. Thanks again, Ann!
Sitting there on the edge of a marble fountain was the most beautiful maiden the wizard had ever seen: she had a cascade of flaxen hair, crowned with a slender golden circlet; she wore a flowing gown of the finest rose silk, clasped with a girdle all encrusted with precious stones; and her dove-grey eyes were as cool and gentle as mist on a mountain stream. For amusement she was letting the music of her song mingle with the music the water made as it tumbled down the fountain. Her name was Princess Graceful of Lochlein, and she was the King's young sister.
The wizard hardly had enough heart to deserve the name, so I cannot tell you he was instantly smitten with love for the Princess; instead his greed filled the place of every other emotion, and he knew he would never be content if he could not possess her. It never occurred to the wizard that the Princess herself might be the treasure which the King of Lochlein guarded so jealously (which she was, of course); he only thought that now his invasion of the palace would be doubly successful, if he could gain riches and seduce a princess as well.
At this point, the wizard threw caution to the winds. He wanted to impress the Princess with a grand entrance, so he conjured a blinding flash and a cloud of blue smoke from which he seemed to magically appear. Taking advantage of the Princess's surprise, he threw his arms around her and proceeded to tell her an amazing (and entirely fabricated) tale of how he, the world's most powerful enchanter, had seen her image in a magic mirror, and how he had traveled thousands of leagues on land and sea, battling monsters at every step, to come and claim her as his bride.
Princess Graceful, however, had no intention of being claimed as anyone's bride, especially when the prospective bridegroom appeared in such a violent and previously unannounced manner. So she did what any sensible maiden in her position would do: she screamed loudly for help, stomped viciously on the wizard's foot, and succeeded in freeing herself from his unwelcome embrace. She then stepped out of his reach, assumed her most regal posture, and said in her most imperious tones that she would never deign to consider marriage to anyone who had not been introduced to her properly, enchanter or not.
This speech took the Princess to the end of her courage, for although she was a well-brought-up princess who had been thoroughly trained in royal behavior by her brother the King, she was still very young. (No doubt you and I would also be rather frightened if a complete stranger appeared before us in a blinding flash and a cloud of blue smoke, so we will not criticize her.) So the Princess began to be a little afraid of how this so-called "world's most powerful enchanter" would react to her declaration.
To say he was not reacting well would be something of an understatement. For one thing, he was now hopping about on one foot, with his eyes squinted in pain, holding his other foot which the Princess had stomped on. For another, he was not at all used to rejection. When one is a wizard with even a minute amount of power, one gets rather spoiled from being able to get almost everything one could possibly desire, just for waving a wand or muttering a charm -- and this wizard was no exception. When he was done hopping around, he turned to the Princess again, and the expression on his face was blacker and more terrible than the fiercest thunderclouds that ever piled themselves above the deep, dark forests of the kingdom of Lochlein (or so the Princess thought, and since she was not normally very good with metaphors, this may show you just how nervous she was becoming).
The throbbing of the his stomped foot had put a very nasty idea into the wizard's head, and he intended to use this nasty idea to revenge himself. For of course it would never do for word to get about that this wizard -- or sorcerer, as he was advertising himself -- had let some upstart impudent princess get the better of him. He took a deep breath, gathered together as much of his magical power as he could, and spread his arms wide while intoning a fearful chant:
A Beast thou shalt be
With fur blacker than soot
Until someone squints at thee
While hopping on one foot!
The Princess quailed against the edge of the fountain when she heard this, since she didn't especially like the idea of being turned into a Beast, but she was too frightened to move and could only watch in terror as the wizard's arm came sweeping down (with a very theatrical billow of his robes) to cast the spell. However, just at that moment, the King came charging into the garden.
I'm sure you have been wondering where the King has been for all this time. Well, he went trotting out of the castle gates while all the watchers cried "Hurrah!" and a short ride after that took him to the market square, where he found the hideous fire-breathing basilisk, just as the messenger said he would. The King had a great deal of dragon-slaying experience, so he thought a basilisk -- even a hideous, fire-breathing one -- would pose no trouble at all. He couched his lance, brought his shield up before his eyes so the monster's baleful glance couldn't turn him to stone, set spurs to his coal-black war horse, and charged! There was a glorious loud moment of confusion as the monster roared and the King yelled and the horse neighed and the King's armor clanged and the villagers peeking through their shutters gasped -- but then the King's lance touched the monster's hide, and the illusion shattered.
The King and his horse came clattering to a rather inelegant stop on the far side of the market square, pulling up short just before they tumbled through the front door of the tailor's shop. Raising the visor of his helmet, the King looked around for a moment, as if wondering where the basilisk had gone -- perhaps it had turned itself into a mouse and run away? But in a flash -- since he was a very intelligent king, in addition to being a very handsome one -- he realized that the sorcerer must have created the hideous fire-breathing basilisk as a diversion to get him out of the castle, and he also realized that he had left Princess Graceful alone in her garden, which made him wheel his horse and gallop back up the road as fast as the faithful animal could take him.
His servants were surprised to see the King return so soon and in such a hurry, but he gave them no time to ask questions. He hurled himself off his horse, throwing the reins to his groom, and raced toward the garden, removing his armor as he went, like a large bird molting iron feathers -- gauntlets there, greaves here, helmet one way, breast plate another, and so on. He arrived at one archway leading to the garden just as the wizard (or sorcerer, as the King and local gossip still imagined him to be) finished his chant; but before he could lower his arm to throw the spell, the King leapt upon him.
And so it was that the wizard's aim was spoiled, and instead of hitting Princess Graceful, the magic's full force hit the King of Lochlein.
Posted on Wednesday, 22-Jul-98
In that instant, there was a thunderous crash along with more smoke and an even brighter flash than what the wizard had conjured to make his first appearance in the garden. When her vision cleared, Princess Graceful looked up, desperate to see what had happened to her brother. She saw the wizard -- who was cursing volubly and now suffering a bruised head in addition to his already stomped foot -- lying on the ground some distance away. Then she caught sight of a dark figure crumpled against the garden wall, and thither she flew, thinking that the force of the magical blast must have been great indeed to throw her brother so far away. Sinking to her knees beside him, the Princess reached out to touch the King's shoulder, but she drew back in horror as she realized what he had become.
Her brother's form, which had previously been clothed in a linen tunic and sturdy broadcloth breeches (not terribly fashionable, but much more comfortable than silk and satin under a suit of armor), was now clothed in the blackest, shaggiest fur. What had been his noble forehead now showed the horns of a bull. The wizard in his anger had also conjured for his victim the face of a wolf, the tusks of a boar, the paws of a bear, and the tail of a lion. The Princess found herself crying as she looked at her brother, wondering how he would ever regain his natural form.
The King had been stunned by the blast, but now he shook his head and pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning against the garden wall. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw his sister's tear-stained face, and he tried to speak her name to comfort her and let her know he was unhurt. However, at his attempt she became even more distressed, to hear her brother's voice from the Beast's throat.
Now, you must recall that the wizard's skill lay in illusion, not true magic. Therefore, the King was still a man, and to himself he still looked like a man; but everyone else would see him as a Beast until the spell was broken. In fact, if he cocked his head just so, the King could just see the ghostly outline of the shape that shrouded him. If someone had touched him, he could have felt the hand rest on his arm, but the person would only have felt the muscle and fur of the Beast's paw. He could speak, but all his words lay under an animal's growl.
The King's dawning understanding of what had happened and the Princess's growing despair that it could never be undone were interrupted as another enraged shout rang across the garden: Counselor Gallant had finally arrived on the scene. He had heard the Princess's first cry for help, but it had taken him this long to fight his way through the milling crowds of women in the castle, none of whom could collect herself enough to do more than wonder what all the commotion was about. One lady made the unfortunate suggestion that perhaps someone was shooting off fireworks to celebrate the King's finally choosing a bride, which resulted in a perfect frenzy of name-calling, hair-pulling, and general squabbling in the passages that Gallant was desperately trying to get through. Even now you could hear the increasing noise of cat-fighting coming from the open castle windows.
Of course Gallant had known that there was a sorcerer on the loose ever since the first messenger from the village had arrived. The clouds of smoke and bright flashes Gallant had seen while he was making his way to the garden had confirmed his fear that the sorcerer was within the castle, instead of being engaged in battle with the King somewhere outside. It took only a single glance around the garden for Gallant to see Princess Graceful and the Beast to one side and the wizard, who was now trying to get to his feet, on the other. The Counselor could perceive that the Princess was terribly upset, and he was afraid that the Beast had done her harm. However, Gallant was equally shocked when she made him understand that the wizard had transformed the King into the creature he saw -- how could the King endure being so very hairy?
The wizard finally knew fear as Gallant turned to him with a murderous scowl on his face. And what if the Beast should revive enough to attack? Illusion or not, those claws would feel all too real and were capable of inflicting serious damage. Then the voices of several servants became audible through the archway behind Gallant -- if any more people arrived, they would catch him and punish him! Panic set in as the wizard's cowardice made itself felt. He hurriedly started backing towards the nearest archway, trying to feel around in the pockets of his robe for anything that could be used as a weapon, all the while keeping a wary eye on Gallant.
The wizard's eyes widened in surprise as his hand, rummaging through the odd collection of mystic talismans, amulets, and charms he had accumulated over the past few months, closed around the magic orb. He had forgotten all about it! But would it help in his current predicament? He had no idea of its power! Well, he thought in a flash, it could hardly make things worse for him, and it was the only way to create enough of a distraction for him to escape. With as much wizardly flair as he could muster (which wasn't much, but then he'd been having a really bad afternoon), he swept the orb above his head and promised dire consequences if anyone laid a finger on his powerful magical self.
Seeing that his pursuers were too determined to be dissuaded by threats, the wizard hurled the orb to the ground, where it shattered into a million sparkling pieces. Then he pulled the remaining shreds of his magic around him in a shield against whatever enchantment the orb would work, and he fled the castle as fast as his feet would carry him, not stopping to see what happened.
Two magical blasts of smoke and light should have been plenty for one day, but now there was a third, bigger and brighter than the two before. The sorcerer who had created the orb had been a master of real magic, and the difference was obvious at once -- not that anyone in the castle noticed, since they were too busy feeling its effects. Most dangerous of all, the wizard had flung the orb without trying to control it in any way, so the enchantment was free to take whatever form it wished. When the smoke cleared, everything was quite different than it had been before.
The Beast found himself alone in the garden -- since he was wrapped in magic already, nothing further had happened to him. However, he had not been turned back into a man, since the orb had not followed the directions necessary to break the wizard's spell. Where Princess Graceful had been, there was now a beautiful golden lily. The many women whose noise had filled the castle only moments before were gone, transformed into flocks of crows, ravens, and magpies that covered the roof -- and from the croaking and cawing and flapping of wings, they were still arguing and fighting amongst themselves. The servants, caught on the outer edges of the spell, had not disappeared entirely; but the only parts of them that remained visible were their hands. Of Counselor Gallant, who had been standing just where the orb had smashed, there was no sign.
One would think that, having wrought so great a change, the orb would have had no magical energy left for anything else; but even after all this, there was still one final piece of the spell waiting to be cast.
Posted on Monday, 27-Jul-98
When Prince Cheerful rode into the Kingdom of Lochlein that evening, he found everyone and everything in an uproar. As he got closer to the castle, the streets became more crowded with villagers running pell-mell in the opposite direction, and the stories the villagers told as they ran became more fantastic. Could a giant ogre in an equally giant iron chariot, pulled through the air by seven giant eagles and attended by armies of ravens (giant, of course), really have laid waste to the castle and all its inhabitants? Prince Cheerful wasn't sure what to believe, since even princes (or perhaps, especially princes) know how quickly hearsay can become exaggerated.
However, there was no question that something unusual was happening at Castle Lochlein, and the Prince was determined to discover what it was. (Pleasant and charming he might be, but Prince Cheerful also did not lack for courage.) So he drew his sword and sent his horse cantering down the road to the castle gates.
At first glance, the castle appeared to be entirely deserted. The birds on the roof were noisy, to be sure, but how was the Prince to know that they had been noble duchesses and haughty baronesses a few hours before? Not a single servant was in evidence, but how was the Prince to know that they were hiding themselves away? (It takes more than a few hours to get used to being mostly invisible, after all, so we will not comment about their disinclination to welcome a visitor.) The silent, empty castle made the Prince rather nervous, and he stood on the drawbridge for a moment, making up his mind to go inside.
A sudden rustling sound startled him from his indecision, and he quickly turned to face the intruder. But there seemed to be no one there! The Prince kept his sword before him as he looked up, around -- and finally, down. There was a large red fox, who had very handsome whiskers and an excellently bushy tail, sitting at the end of the drawbridge. With its ears pricked forward and its tongue lolling (thereby displaying its fine set of sharp white teeth), it had an air of being infinitely amused by whatever it was looking at.
The Prince lowered his sword, relieved that the noise hadn't been created by something more threatening, like a dragon, or the giant ogre the villagers had feared. "Well, Reynard, you and I seem to be the only ones at Castle Lochlein this evening. It's too bad you can't tell me what has happened here, because I am terribly concerned about my friend the King."
The fox cocked its head to one side, as if considering whether to reply. The Prince smiled to himself, thinking he must be daft to be conversing with the local wildlife. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and prepared to enter the castle, when --
"I see here a prince they call Cheerful,
Who looks just a teensy bit fearful!"
The Prince spun around again in surprise, but there was still nothing behind him except the fox, who seemed to be grinning even more broadly than before. The Prince shook his head, scolding himself for what must surely be a childish fancy. Voices coming from nowhere, indeed! He turned back towards the castle gate and had taken no more than two steps forward, when --
"The danger I'll soften:
Beware the glass coffin..."
Brave the Prince was, but a man ten times as brave would have been disconcerted by this disembodied voice (I know I would have been, and you must admit that you would, too). Whirling around again, the Prince cried, "Who speaks?"
"Or else all your friends will be tearful! Who speaks? I do, of course," said the Fox.
The Prince was dumbfounded, since it isn't every day that one encounters a talking fox, and it's even less often that one meets a fox clever enough to talk in rhyme. Poor Cheerful felt a little light-headed, and he momentarily had to support himself against his horse -- who was calmly munching grass at the edge of the moat, utterly unconcerned with anything except its dinner. Once the Prince had recovered himself, he tried to question the Fox about the strange silent emptiness of Castle Lochlein, but it was no use. True to its playful nature, the Fox seemed to speak only in riddles, none of which made any sense to Prince Cheerful. However, anyone who has been paying close attention to my tale may be able to decipher what the Fox was saying:
I know something that nobody knows,
It's as plain as the face on your nose:
Those rich, proud princesses
With silky-fine tresses
Have flown off as ravens and crows!
Where servants once were by the score,
You'll find no one answers the door,
If you wait where you stand
They might lend you a hand;
They can't easily offer you more!
There was in this kingdom so hilly
A maiden who owned a fine filly;
To call Graceful a beauty
Is no more than your duty
And at best is just gilding the lily!
Though I am neither beggar nor priest,
My wisdom is too good at least,
To advise our dear King who
Got caught in this to-do
And emerged as no more than a Beast!
The Prince finally began to lose patience with the animal, since he thought none of the Fox's rhymes explained the mystery of what had happened at the castle. Deciding that facing whatever dangers lurked within, would be at least as bearable as being driven mad by the Fox's nonsense without, the Prince once again raised his sword and turned toward the gate. For comfort, he inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance from Serenity's rose, which he had kept in his buttonhole; it was still blooming as freshly as if he had just taken it from her hand. This time Prince Cheerful strode across the drawbridge without hesitation, and he ignored the Fox's parting words:
"I really wouldn't go in there if I were you!"
The world became eerily quiet once the Prince crossed the drawbridge, since the Fox had vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared, and the birds could no longer be heard. Just inside the entrance of the castle, the Prince found himself in an enormous reception hall. When he looked up, to try to determine just how many stories away the ceiling was, he was amazed: the painted ceiling had been cunningly inlaid with patterns of gold and diamonds, which winked in the dimness like summer stars in a clear sky.
It was too dark in the failing light of sunset for the Prince to see many more of the castle's wondrous decorations; and just as well, or he should have been too distracted to continue his exploration. However, despite the splendor of his surroundings, the atmosphere began to depress his spirits. The sound of his own feet on the marble floor was disturbing, since the echoes thus raised made it seem as if he was being followed by a stealthy someone who always took care to stay out of sight. There were a few torches still burning in their sconces on the walls, but their wavering light only created strange shadows in the corners of the hall. Prince Cheerful was relieved at first when he had ascended the grand staircase and emerged into a carpeted corridor -- but here there were far fewer torches, and with his footsteps muffled, the silence became even more weighty and oppressive.
He felt he had been wandering for hours, through acres of rooms, every one as deserted and hushed as the one before, when he saw a light ahead of him. There was a clear bright incandescence reaching him through a large arched doorway, wholly unlike the gloomy torchlight. And just as he saw the light, he heard the most delightful sound. It was the melody of his favorite song; it was the happy bark of his most faithful dog; it was Serenity calling his name; it was all of these and none of these, and the Prince found it utterly irresistible. Confident that there could be no danger ahead, he sheathed his sword and walked through the archway.
And he did not come out again.
Author's Note: I blame the Fox on Aja -- after I read her P&P limerick, the infuriating animal refused to speak in anything else! ;-)
Posted on Wednesday, 29-Jul-98
Since it now seems that nothing further can befall the inhabitants of Castle Lochlein -- the situation there being about as bad as it can be -- you and I may now leap onto my flying carpet and return to the woodcutter's cottage by the deep dark forest. (I do apologize that the seven-league boots are not available for this trip; the piskie from whom I borrowed them before could not spare them again so soon.) By the time we arrive, several days have gone by (I apologize again -- flying carpets are not quite as swift as seven-league boots), and I'm sure that, even before we land, you can already hear how distraught the woodcutter's wife has become.
The good woman was convinced that Prince Cheerful's arrival signaled the end of all her troubles, she was sure he would come back soon (although she thought Serenity had been terribly foolish to let him leave at all), and for most of that day she was perfectly happy. For a time the woodcutter's wife was able to exchange thoughts of being a toad for thoughts of what a lovely wedding Serenity and the Prince would have. However, as the days went by and the Prince did not return, she once again succumbed to a dreadful contemplation of the mill pond, the lily pad, grasshoppers, and webbed toes.
Finally she declared that her nerves could not stand the suspense any longer, and she issued her ultimatum: if husbands would not come to her daughters, then her daughters must go out into the world to seek them. So she marched right out into the back garden, where she went to the poultry coop and plucked five feathers from the tail of her best goose. (The goose was mightily indignant at this treatment, and in retaliation she refused to lay any eggs for a whole week.) Then the woodcutter's wife made up five little journey packs of bread and cheese for her daughters to carry, and herded them all down to the crossroads in the market square. Handing one feather to each girl, she instructed them to toss the feathers up in the air; wherever they landed would be the direction they would take to look for their husbands.
Caprice treated the whole situation as an enormous joke, but she reflected that at least it would be an opportunity for her to get away from the woodcutter's cottage (which she thought was terribly poky and drab) and have some fun. So she spun around in a dizzy circle and threw her feather, not caring where it should go; but she clapped her hands and crowed with delight when she saw that it landed on the road leading southwards out of the village. This road eventually ended at a bustling town where everybody who was anybody went for sea bathing, and there Caprice felt she would find infinite sources of amusement. Clutching her little bundle of provisions, she waved goodbye to her sisters and skipped away down the road.
Echo tried to nudge her feather towards the same spot where Caprice's feather had landed, but a little gust of wind carried it out of her reach. Her mother was terribly vexed when she saw the feather drop onto the road which went away eastwards from the marketplace, for this road led nowhere but back to the woodcutter's cottage. However, the woodcutter's wife reflected, Caprice's destination looked promising (and the dear child was such a darling that she deserved to go somewhere exciting), and the other three had not taken their turns yet. Poor Echo hung her head and slowly started walking back home, and she wasn't halfway there before she picked up a stone in her shoe which gave her a blister.
Solemnity's feather offered no comfort either, for it came to rest on the road which traveled westwards from the square. At the end of this road was the common land of the village, where all the farmers shared in the work of tilling their crops. The woodcutter's wife didn't see how there could be anything particularly interesting in this direction, since no one over there could satisfy her plan of marrying all of her daughters to kings, princes, or sorcerers; however, Solemnity was perfectly content with her lot. Having bid her sisters farewell and safe journey, she walked down the road at a calm, reasonable pace until she found a nice shady tree at the edge of the farmland, and against its trunk she settled herself. To pass the time, she read a book on organic farming and crop rotation methods that she had smuggled into her pack. Perhaps, she thought, someone would come by who would appreciate the story of her prize squash!
The woodcutter's wife now turned to her two daughters who still remained in the market square, as much as to say, "If your feathers go astray, I may as well start collecting flies!" While their sisters' destinations were being determined, Beauty and Serenity had agreed that under no circumstances would they be parted, so they tied their two feathers together with a piece of thread. Serenity then closed her eyes as Beauty tossed the feathers up in the air; she was too nervous to watch them fall.
Beauty -- being a very clever girl, in addition to being a very pretty one -- wasn't at all averse to giving her fate a helping hand, and besides, she had some idea of where she and Serenity should go. So, she waited until the little breeze died down before she released the feathers, and she blew on them ever so lightly as they left her grasp. When Serenity opened her eyes, she saw that the feathers had softly spiraled down onto the road which led northwards from the village -- and this was the road that led to the Kingdom of Lochlein.
Now was their mother happy! For even she knew that Lochlein was a prosperous kingdom, and her two daughters (even if they were not quite as merry and charming as dear little Caprice) would surely find rich husbands there. Perhaps they could each marry a lord and have a place at court, and then they could give grand balls and banquets, to which their other sisters would be invited, where they would surely meet other rich, eligible men! And then she could convince her husband the woodcutter to give up woodcutting entirely, and they could move to a comfortable house in one of the larger towns in Lochlein -- nothing too fancy, but suitable for the parents of a lord's wife, of course, provided they could find a house whose drawing room wasn't too drafty.
The woodcutter's eldest daughters kissed their mother goodbye and went walking off together along the north road. They were excited by the prospect of a journey, the weather was fine, and they had each other for company; what more could they wish for? They therefore traveled along in the best possible spirits, chattering and laughing together, and admiring the pleasant countryside. And if Serenity's favorite way of passing the time while they walked was speaking of the many perfections of Prince Cheerful's person and manner, Beauty had no objection; she only teased her sister gently by pretending to think that the Prince's hair couldn't possibly be as golden and his eyes couldn't possibly be as blue as Serenity remembered them.
They met a variety of fellow travelers along their road, including a friendly dairymaid who gave them a fresh bowl of milk to drink with their bread and cheese, a generous farmer who let them sleep in his hayloft one night, and a helpful tinker who insisted that they ride for a while in his cart in order to rest their feet. The two girls often asked for directions, since they wanted to be sure of their road, and most of the people they encountered would point the way with courtesy and good humor. However, when Beauty and Serenity accosted an ancient gentleman in a tattered robe, who was supporting himself on a peculiar twisted staff as he hobbled along, they received a different type of response than what they had come to expect.
"Good day, grandfather," Beauty said as he approached. "I hope your travel has not overtired you. We passed a farmhouse not long ago, and I'm sure they would let you rest there a while."
"Saucy wench! There is plenty of strengh left in me, no matter if I am old, and I don't need any impudent hussy like you telling me when I should take my ease," he spat in reply.
Both Beauty and Serenity were surprised by his irritable manner, since everyone else on the road had been so friendly. Beauty longed to retort with a suitably sharp remark, but respect for the man's advanced age kept her civil. "I beg your pardon, grandfather. I did not mean to imply you were not fit for travel, since you have obviously come a long way."
The old man was not mollified. "And I have a long way to go yet, so I have no time to waste on idle creatures like yourself. Be off with you!"
"Before you go, grandfather, could you tell us if we are on the right road to Lochlein?" Beauty quickly asked before the old man could depart.
Her question seemed to catch the old man's interest, and he turned a surprisingly bright eye upon Beauty and her sister. "Lochlein, eh? This is the road, but why would you want to go there? Don't you know what has happened?"
"We have heard nothing, good sir," Serenity said.
"Well, let me tell you, it's not the safe, prosperous kingdom it used to be! The castle has been invaded by a terrible, ugly, malicious Beast, who has laid waste to the countryside and put the entire palace under a wicked enchantment! The King, his sister, and his closest advisor haven't been seen since the Beast arrived, and there is some fear that the Beast has eaten all of them! And then there's Prince Cheerful, from one of Lochlein's neighboring kingdoms -- he came to do battle with the Beast and slay him, but no one knows what has become of the Prince since he entered the castle! It's my guess that either he became trapped in the enchantment, or he was eaten along with everyone else!"
A small shriek from Serenity greeted this revelation. "Beauty, let us make haste! If any tragedy has befallen dear Cheerful, we must help him!" And despite her name, Serenity became quite agitated, and she practically dragged her sister away, barely giving them time to take leave of the old man properly and thank him for his information.
As for the old man himself, well, he stood in the middle of the road for a short while, watching the two girls hurry off and chuckling to himself as he thought of the exaggerated tale he had told them. Surely, innocent as they were, those two wouldn't hesitate to believe a respectable, if grouchy, old man! The Beast would get no help from them, and the spells enveloping the King and his castle would continue unbroken.
Now, if anyone else had passed by at just that moment, they would have seen a strange shimmer in the air -- and although it was an old man who had walked to that place in the road, it was the wizard who walked away.
Posted on Friday, 31-Jul-98
Author's Note: This chapter is for Peg, whose comments inspired me to include some of the characters making a guest appearance. (Let me know if anyone else has a favorite fairy tale character they'd like to see, and I'll try to work it in!) And Rachel, I have a much more horrible fate than death awaiting the wizard -- be patient. ;-)
As Beauty and Serenity approached the border lands between their country and the Kingdom of Lochlein, they met fewer and fewer people. Eventually they found themselves all alone, so they had no one to advise them which direction to take when they came to a fork in the road. They decided to wait under a nearby tree for a few moments, to catch their breath and to see if anyone might come along who could tell them which way they ought to go.
Beauty was the first to catch sight of two figures hurrying towards them down the left side of the fork, and she was somewhat startled at their appearance. One was a very handsome young man dressed all in black, with a finely crafted sword hanging from his belt; his fair hair was thoroughly tousled, and his eyes were the color of the sea before a storm. His companion was a very beautiful young woman whose hair was just as fair and just as tousled, and she was wearing a red gown that had certainly seen better days: the hem was torn, part was burnt, and a few folds were actually dripping sand. The very handsome young man put his hand on his sword and moved protectively in front of his companion when he first saw Beauty and Serenity, but as soon as he determined the two girls weren't dangerous, he greeted them quite politely.
"How d'ye do? I say, could you tell us the way to Florin? I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts, and I need to get back to my ship."
Beauty and Serenity apologized for not being able to help; being unfamiliar with this part of the country, they did not know how to get to Florin. In fact, they told the very handsome young man, they were looking for the right road to Lochlein.
"Lochlein?" the very handsome young man repeated. "Never heard of it. But however you go, I wouldn't recommend that you go the way that we came from. That is the road to the Kingdom of Guilder, and along that road lies the Fire Swamp. Although we know its secrets and could live there quite happily -- the trees are really quite lovely -- it's no place for the two of you."
The very beautiful young woman tugged at his sleeve. "Westley, you must warn them about the ROUSes."
He turned an adoring gaze to his companion. "As you wish, my darling Buttercup." Then he returned his attention to Beauty and Serenity. "You'll also avoid meeting any Rodents of Unusual Size -- nasty creatures, believe me -- if you take care to stay out of the Fire Swamp."
The very beautiful young woman tugged at his sleeve again. "We must go, Westley." She looked apologetically at Beauty and Serenity, saying, "When you're being hunted by a prince who can track a falcon on a cloudy day, you haven't a moment to spare."
Again the adoring gaze. "As you wish." He flashed a dazzling white smile to the two girls, who were still sitting under the tree at the side of the road. "I do beg your pardon, but we must be off. If you happen to meet a Giant and a Spaniard, you could tell them which direction we've gone, but we'd take it as a great favor if you wouldn't mention to anyone else that you'd seen us -- particularly if you encounter Prince Humperdinck or Count Rugen."
And with that the pair hurried off down the road. A rather bemused Beauty watched them go, thinking with sisterly pride that Serenity was much more beautiful than the young woman in the red gown; all the while Serenity was dreamily considering that the handsome young man in black wasn't nearly as attractive as Prince Cheerful. When they were all alone again, however, Serenity stood up and brushed off her skirts, telling her sister that they should start moving again.
The two sisters therefore followed the right side of the fork, and they soon crossed over the border into Lochlein. Soon the road was once again lined with small cottages and tilled fields, and more people started appearing. Most of them seemed quite ordinary, like the farmer on the way home from weeding his cornfield, who tipped his hat to them as he passed; but there were a few who seemed rather odd. One of these was a homely young lad who introduced himself as Jack. He walked along with Beauty and Serenity for a while, telling them a fantastic story about the hen that he was holding under his arm. He claimed to have stolen it from a giant that lived at the top of a magic beanstalk, and he said that it (the hen, not the giant) laid golden eggs! He told them he planned to climb the beanstalk again tomorrow, in order to steal a magic harp that the giant owned -- only it wasn't really stealing, since the giant's castle had once belonged to his father, who was a knight. Beauty, suspecting the young man was not quite right in the head, was quite glad when he turned off into a side lane towards his own home.
No sooner had that young man gone, however, when another came along! This one also introduced himself as Jack, but he was holding a goose (which looked golden, but surely that was a trick of the light) under his arm, and he had no less than six people following close behind him, most of whom were calling the youth rather vulgar names and describing in great detail what they would do to him if they could free themselves. This Jack, however, kept walking right along as if he could neither hear nor see his unwilling followers. Serenity felt sorry for this parade of people, and she was just about to grab the last in line to see if she could pull him loose -- but Beauty held her back.
"We'd better keep out of this," she said. "There is something more unusual here than boys with an extreme fondness for poultry and mothers with a deplorable lack of imagination for naming their sons."
So, they only watched as the young man, the goose, and the crowd of people trotted off down the road. "What a strange country this is!" Serenity cried. "The very air seems full of magic -- or madness, depending on how you look at it. Do you think this is because of the Beast?" But Beauty could not answer her sister's question and said that they would surely find out when they got to the castle.
They walked on without any more unusual encounters, and just when the heat and dust became too much for them, they found a little stream running beside the road. No sooner had they sat down on its banks to rest than they heard a pitiful voice cry out, "Oh, someone please help me, or I shall die of thirst!"
Beauty and Serenity quickly parted the long grass beside the stream to see what creature could be in such distress, and there they discovered the Fox, whose lustrous black eyes seemed glazed with fatigue, and who was panting miserably. While Beauty made the animal as comfortable as she could, pillowing his head on her skirts and stroking his fur soothingly, Serenity fetched some water from the little stream. After the Fox had lapped some water out of her cupped hands and refreshed himself, he quickly sprang to his paws again.
"Since you have both shown such kindness to me, I will help you in return. Come with me, and I'll have you at Castle Lochlein in no time."
The two girls were overjoyed at the Fox's offer and said they would be very grateful for his assistance. Not only would they get to the castle days sooner than they expected, they would not encounter any more near-lunatics on the road! He instructed them to sit on his tail and hold tight to his fur, and once the girls were settled, he was off like the wind. Roads, meadows, and streams all blurred away beneath the Fox's paws, and almost before Beauty and Serenity had time to be astonished at their speed, they had halted at the gate of an enormous castle.
"Here we are at Castle Lochlein, as I promised," said the Fox, "but now I must leave you."
Beauty and Serenity thanked the Fox a thousand times for his help, and they begged him to stay and help them further, calling him a dear friend and scratching his ears in just the right spot. The Fox was touched by their affectionate attention, but he insisted that he could not go inside with them.
"However," he said, "I will tell each of you a secret before I go, so listen carefully." The Fox then moved close to Serenity, making sure his whiskers didn't tickle her ear, and whispered:
"When your heart in a casket is sleeping,
Find the keys and don't waste your time weeping.
If you're faithful and kind,
Some true friends you will find.
Your reward is a love that's worth keeping!"
Then approaching Beauty, the Fox whispered:
"To aid you I give you this token;
Remember the words that I've spoken.
If you sense some disguise,
Let your heart be your eyes,
And in no time the spell will be broken!"
The two girls faithfully promised the Fox that they would not forget what he told them, and they waved farewell to their new friend as he sped down the road and out of sight.
Posted on Tuesday, 04-Aug-98
Now, the djinn from whom I borrowed the magic carpet wants it back soon, but before I must return it, you and I have just enough time to take another trip southwards. So, away from Castle Lochlein we fly, over the deep dark forest and the woodcutter's cottage, and along the southern road. If you look closely, you can see a single person walking there with a happily determined bounce in her step. Do you recognize her? It is none other than Caprice, the woodcutter's youngest daughter.
Although it may seem surprising that someone as vivacious and charming as Caprice (or so her mother would describe her) would be traveling alone. Surely in the time it has taken her sisters to reach Castle Lochlein, she would have found a companion or two? Well, she did meet a few other people, but the little seamstress was put off by Caprice's vulgar sense of humor, and the tanner -- who was a married man -- did not take kindly to the suggestion that he and Caprice could share a room at the inn one evening.
An ordinary person might notice that others responded to her behavior in such a negative fashion, but not Caprice. She was utterly unaffected by the reactions of these good citizens, imagining that the fault lay with them, not with herself. "Obviously," she thought, "they have neither the temper nor the intelligence to match mine, so they cannot be worth considering." (This thought was quite true, of course, but not exactly in the way that Caprice imagined it.)
Late one afternoon, however, Caprice found herself walking along the road without a village, an inn, or even a farmhouse in sight, and she was growing rather hungry, since she had eaten her bread and cheese long ago. Finally, however, she caught sight of a funny little structure by the side of the road, and she decided to knock at the door to see if whoever lived there could spare her some food.
"Say, where can a girl get some dinner around here?" She pounded and rattled at the door to make sure that the person inside noticed her, but she must have pounded and rattled a little too hard, because the funny little structure -- which seemed as flimsy as straw -- suddenly collapsed! The creature inside -- who happened to be a pig -- raced off to find shelter, since the only word it had heard of Caprice's question had been "dinner."
Caprice made haste to follow the pig down the road, thinking that it must be returning to some farmer's yard. The rather frightened pig, however, moved very quickly and was soon out of sight. Caprice stopped to catch her breath, but then she saw another odd little shed on the other side of the road. Since she was now breathless in addition to being hungry, she knocked and pounded here even harder than she had before.
"All I want is something to eat, you stingy ingrates!" This door held up a little longer than the first, but then all at once the odd little shed fell apart with a clattering noise, as if it had been made of nothing but sticks. And then there were two pigs running away down the road, both petrified by the word "eat."
Anger giving her enough energy to run again, Caprice chased the animals down the road, where she saw them just disappearing into a little stone hut. Again she pounded at the door with all her might, throwing in a few kicks for good measure.
"I can't believe you're too uncivil to give me even a mouthful! You'd think I wanted to roast you alive or something!" A terrified squeal from inside was her only answer. And this time, no matter what she tried, the door of the little stone hut wouldn't give way to force. Eventually she gave up and stamped down the road in a huff, much to the relief of the pigs (now there were three) inside. Caprice never even noticed the young wolf in the hedgerow, who was staring after her with the strangest look on its face.
Caprice was still in a foul mood a few miles later, when she finally located a cool stream in which she could bathe her hand, which had gotten rather bruised with all of her rattling and pounding on doors. A long drink of water helped the empty feeling in her stomach, but it did nothing to sweeten her temper. Therefore, she was not in her best form for her next encounter.
From the ditch that followed this part of the road crawled the Fox, who seemed to be in a most wretched condition. With his fur hanging limp and his tail drooping, he cried, "Oh, someone please help me, or I shall die of thirst!"
Caprice looked askance at the Fox, who was now lying in a forlorn heap in the roadway. "Why on earth should I help you, you mangy creature? For all I know, you've got fleas!"
The Fox used his front paws to pull himself closer to the girl, dragging his back legs behind him. Turning eyes that seemed dulled with pain up to her, he pleaded again. "If you could just fetch me a drink of water from the stream, I would be most grateful."
"If you can drag yourself this far, then you can bloody well drag yourself close enough to get your own drink. I haven't got time to tend an animal that hasn't the sense to stay out of trouble."
Caprice raised her hand as if she was going to smack the Fox on the snout for having the impudence to delay her on her journey, but in a trice the Fox was up on his paws with his fur bristling and his teeth bared, all appearance of weakness gone. Caprice drew back a little, finally beginning to suspect that she wasn't dealing with an ordinary fox. (Any other person would have suspected that from the first word that dropped from the Fox's mouth, but then Caprice always was a little slow on the uptake.)
"Insolent, ill-mannered girl!" the fox said. "You are far too concerned with yourself to have a care for anyone or anything else! Heed my words, or you'll come to grief:
If a creature in need cannot tarry you,
You'll find that the Fates all shall harry you!
If you're vain and unkind,
Though you see you'll be blind;
Only a gnome could be persuaded to marry you!"
"Ha!" Caprice snorted. "What do I care for your riddles? I'm free in the world, and I mean to have some fun, and no matter what any bedraggled overgrown hedgehog says to me, I'm going to find myself a rich, handsome husband!" And without another glance for the Fox, she continued on her way down the road.
The Fox gave an indignant bark at the insult, but he managed (despite a burning desire to sink his teeth into her leg) to control his anger and even called one last piece of advice after Caprice's disappearing form. "When you come to the fork in the road, be sure to go to the right."
But Caprice was terribly stubborn and self-willed, still thinking that a mere Fox was being mightily presumptuous to be giving her advice; so what do you think she did when she came to the fork in the road? She turned left.
Posted on Friday, 07-Aug-98
Back at Castle Lochlein, Beauty and Serenity were feeling some of the same trepidation that had earlier plagued Prince Cheerful. Now that they had come to their destination, would they have the courage to go inside? It was Serenity, still thinking of the Prince's golden hair and blue eyes, who pointed to the setting sun and convinced her sister that it would be much more frightening to enter the castle after dark. With this in mind, the two girls firmly clasped hands; they each straightened their shoulders and took a deep breath; and then they marched across the drawbridge. They rather unconsciously walked more slowly as they passed under the portcullis, but all too soon they were standing before the massive portals of the main entrance. They were both surprised when the doors opened before they could knock, and they were even more astonished by who -- or rather, what -- greeted them.
Hovering there in the doorway were several pairs of hands; a few held lighted torches, and the rest beckoned for the girls to enter. Although their fear returned in full at such a strange sight, Beauty and Serenity knew they had come too far to retreat, and they followed the hands inside.
Like Prince Cheerful before them, the two girls were also astonished at the size of the entrance hall; now, however, there was enough light to see how the ceiling was painted. The ceiling in the torch- and lamplight looked precisely like the sky at sunset, with a pale azure background full of piled white clouds, their undersides lit to fiery shades of scarlet and bronze by the departing sun. On the side of the dome which was becoming shaded as the sunlight left it, one cluster of inlaid stones reflected a bright flash, mimicking the evening star.
The reappearance of the servant-hands also changed the character of the place greatly. By now they had had plenty of time to accustom themselves to being mostly invisible, and they were doing their best to keep up with their daily household business. All about the rooms through which Beauty and Serenity passed, there were hands lighting torches along the walls, hands busy scrubbing a floor, and hands carefully dusting furniture. Most disconcerting were the hands washing the high windows -- one had to be careful of the buckets of water that were floating so high, since they would occasionally tip and splash water below, much to the chagrin of the floor scrubbers.
Finally the hands that were conducting Beauty and Serenity through the palace opened before them a gleaming wooden door, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the sisters entered to see an exquisitely lovely suite of rooms. There was a bedroom containing two soft beds, each tall enough to require a little painted footstool to climb up to the mattress, and each made up with snowy linens and hung with heavy silken draperies. There was a dressing room with enough gilded wardrobes to hold gowns for all twelve of the Dancing Princesses. There was a sitting room with the most comfortable chairs and the most delicate carved tables imaginable, and through whose open window the most intoxicating scents drifted up from the castle garden.
Beauty and Serenity spent some little time exclaiming over the splendor of their surroundings -- surely these fine rooms were not meant for their use! Perhaps the servants -- well, hands -- had mistaken them for two grand ladies whose visit was expected? (After all, there was no telling how clearly the hands could actually see anything -- perhaps they were nearsighted enough to confuse woodcutter's daughters with nobility?) When they returned to the dressing room, however, they found that the hands had prepared two enormous copper bathtubs, each filled with steaming water which smelled of roses and lilacs. The hands had also laid out two of the most beautiful gowns the girls had ever seen -- the silk and satin and gold thread glowed softly in the candlelight. With such enticements, and considering their travel-worn state, who can blame them for taking advantage of their situation?
After they were cleaned and dressed, down to the embroidered ribbons in their hair, the diamond bracelets on their wrists, and velvet slippers on their feet, Beauty and Serenity followed the hands to a splendidly appointed banquet hall, where they found a magnificent supper laid for them. Being served by hands that silently floated a seemingly endless parade of dishes of meat, fowl, game, breads, salads, and sweetmeats through the air was truly a novel experience for two girls who had been accustomed since childhood to preparing and serving their own meals. Though they hardly recognized any of what they ate, it was all delicious, and by the time they were done, they were completely refreshed from their long journey.
If they had expected the delights of the evening to conclude with supper, they were quite mistaken! Another few sets of hands (or perhaps the same ones -- it was impossible to tell) conducted them to a neighboring chamber, clearly meant for use as a music room. Here the hands pulled several marionettes out of the air and proceeded to make them dance and caper while other hands played a charming accompaniment on the pianoforte, lute, and dulcimer. Serenity, clapping and laughing at the antics of the puppets, thought she had never been so well entertained in all her life. Beauty's enjoyment was somewhat lessened when she remembered what the old man had said -- that the castle was bound in an evil enchantment -- but since she as yet had seen nothing to fear, beyond their first shock at entering the castle, she momentarily put the idea aside.
Later, back in their bedchamber, after the hands had helped them change into muslin nightdresses of wonderful softness and then departed for the night, the two sisters sat together on one of the beds and talked over everything they had seen. Beauty still could not forget the old man's words, but Serenity was inclined to be more charitable. "Possibly he could have been mistaken," she told her sister. "Magic is in many cases quite frightful, so without investigating for himself, perhaps he only assumed it was evil."
Beauty was unconvinced. "That this place is under an enchantment cannot be doubted," she said with a smile, thinking of the disembodied hands that populated the hallways, "but how are we to discover its purpose? Perhaps the magic means to disarm us by welcoming us in this manner, and there will be some terrible trap sprung on us later -- possibly even something that makes the threat of our mother's being turned into a toad positively pleasant by comparison! If the spell is entirely benign, would not Prince Cheerful have been here to greet us? For we know this was where he meant to go."
Serenity had to admit the sense of her sister's argument, but she was still reluctant to believe that there could be anything evil in a place that had received them so kindly. "It may be that there is no enchantment at all! Perhaps all servants are invisible in this kingdom, and the Prince and the King have only gone off somewhere together -- say, on a hunting expedition."
Beauty smiled again at this proof of her sister's impervious good nature. "Very well, believe that if it gives you comfort, dear sister. We will examine this place more thoroughly in the morning, to see if we can discover what has become of your darling Prince."
"He is not my Prince," Serenity answered, blushing.
"But consider how he nearly swooned out of his saddle for joy when you gave him that rose!" Beauty retorted, and threw a pillow at her sister. Serenity made no reply to this, except to hurl a pillow of her own -- and not until the feathers settled did they wish each other good night.
While Serenity was no doubt in the midst of a blissful dream (in which Prince Cheerful likely had a prominent place) almost as soon as her head touched the pillows, Beauty found herself unable to sleep. Despite the softness of the bed, she tossed and turned and simply could not get comfortable. Her brain was far too busy thinking about the enchantment and worrying about the Prince's fate to allow her to rest. Where was the King that the old man had mentioned -- and everyone else who ought to live at this castle, for that matter? Finally she decided that some fresh air was what she needed to clear her head. Slipping quietly out of bed and tiptoeing about so as not to wake Serenity, she pulled on a robe that she found and walked through their apartments until she came to the sitting room, where the window was still open. Leaning on the sill, she took several deep breaths of the clear air and gazed down at the garden below.
Beauty and Serenity, since they took care of their own garden at home, had a special fondness for any other garden, and this one looked especially fine. All of the gravel paths, which in the moonlight looked silver, led to the central fountain, which was splashing gently in the darkness. Something smelled of rosemary, mint, and thyme -- perhaps that corner was used to grow all of the household herbs? From another side came the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine. That would be a favorite place for the bees in the summer! The enclosing walls seemed covered with vines, which Beauty hoped were roses -- they would look lovely in the sunlight, with their bright petals softening the hard stones.
As she looked more closely at the wall, trying to determine whether the vines were indeed roses, she suddenly noticed a patch of shadow that seemed darker than the rest. She stared at it for a moment, not comprehending what she saw. But then the shadow moved! The creature took a few steps forward, and Beauty could see its silhouette in the moonlight: the horns of a bull, the head of a wolf, a large muscular body covered in the blackest fur...
Her eyes widened in fright. It must be the Beast! She threw the window shut and bolted it, then she raced over to the main door of the suite and bolted that also, hoping it was sturdy enough to hold if the Beast tried to force his way through. They obviously could not escape tonight, not with that terrible monstrous Beast roaming the castle in the dark. Resigned to spending at least one night in this castle (which in Beauty's mind had gone from being magical and beautiful to being horrid and confining, all in a moment), she returned to her bed and burrowed into it, vowing that she and Serenity would leave Castle Lochlein at the first possible opportunity.