Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Part 11

In a morning as bright and fair as the one that greeted Beauty and Serenity when they awoke, surely no such thing as a terrible monstrous Beast could possibly exist. How Serenity laughed when she found that Beauty was cocooned all the way down at the foot of her mattress, with the coverlet and all the pillows barricading her from the outside world! Beauty tried to explain what she had seen the night before, but in the morning light and facing the disbelief of her sister, who had slept through the whole affair, she was forced to concede that it might have been a dream. As for the bolted window and door, well, perhaps she had been sleepwalking. It was difficult to remember her terror of the night before when the hands were bringing in a tempting breakfast and selecting dresses for them. (Their own clothes had been carefully cleaned and put away, but it seemed somehow inappropriate to wear linen smocks and homespun skirts while they were surrounded by such magnificence.)

That morning also began their tour of the castle. As they wandered through more drawing rooms and morning rooms and sitting rooms and ballrooms and bedrooms and banquet rooms and dressing rooms, Beauty and Serenity found everything in a perfect state of readiness -- but for what, or for whom? Rooms that were apt to be damp had cheery fires burning in the grates; rooms that might have been chilly had thick tapestries (woven with scenes of hunting or harvest) lining the walls to block any draughts that were impertinent enough to try to enter; any interior rooms that threatened to be gloomy had intricate candelabra, filled with wax candles, set in the most convenient places to cast light; and there was not a speck of dust or a shred of cobweb to be seen.

Every metallic or glassy surface was polished to a mirror brightness, and every bit of wooden furniture possessed an equal luster (the well-waxed surfaces somehow never smudged when touched). Everywhere were fresh flowers, looking as if they had just been brought from the garden or hothouse: a cluster of violets in a crystal vase on a side table, or a single water lily floating in a porcelain bowl of matching translucence and whiteness for a centerpiece on a dining table, or tall irises in a floor stand whose lapis lazuli inlay precisely matched the petals. If it were not for the eerie silence that pervaded everything, the girls would have expected to meet crowds of people around every corner; but all they met was more hands, still busy with their chores.

One of the most interesting rooms they found was a portrait gallery, whose pictures chronicled the long line of kings, queens, princes, and princesses that had ruled from Castle Lochlein. Beauty and Serenity were very much amused by the older portraits. "Keeping one's chin up" must have been more than a platitude for the men wearing those awful starched ruffles around their necks, and for one period the degree of a gentleman's nobility seemed determined by the width of his hat brim and the number of plumes he wore! It was a wonder the women managed to move at all: some of them were wearing enormously wide hoops and crinolines under their skirts, and others had skirts so narrow they would hardly be able to walk. The fashion for ridiculously high-heeled shoes seemed to disappear for everyone after the men were forced to wear them for a time, and thankfully women were no longer expected to pluck their hairlines and eyebrows so viciously!

The last two paintings held their attention the longest, as much for the quality of the artwork as for the differences between the subjects. The first was a young princess, of about sixteen or eighteen years, wearing a rose-colored gown, and shown seated on the edge of a marble fountain. She was smiling and laughing as she attempted to coax a jewel-bright butterfly to land on her finger. With the sunlight glancing off the golden circlet in her flaxen hair and the happy sparkle in her eyes, which the artist had captured with unparalleled skill, she was the very image of delighted innocence.

The next picture was composed much more formally, and its subject was an imposingly handsome man of decidedly royal mien -- presumably the current King of Lochlein, since it was the last portrait in the gallery. His dark hair was confined by his ornate golden crown, and his amber eyes gazed out from the canvas quite soberly. Very little could be seen of his figure, draped as it was in heavy ceremonial robes, but he seemed to have the form and stature to match the nobility of his face. Standing behind the King to his right, offering him a golden chalice, was another man. Although he was clearly not the main focus of the picture and even stood slightly in shadow, there was no denying his presence. His garments were nearly as fine as the King's, dyed in rich colors and with fur at the collar, and across his broad shoulders hung the chain of some high office. The light painted into the scene drew auburn highlights from his hair, and the artist had drawn an unmistakable look of mischief in his brown eyes.

"He's very handsome, isn't he?" Serenity said, looking at the painting of the King.

"Yes," Beauty answered, "but he's not about to let you forget who is ruler and who is not, is he? I should imagine he's very proud."

"But he's the King, so I suppose he of all people must have a right to be proud. His companion looks rather more amiable."

"And hardly trustworthy to be so near the King! His expression makes me wonder what he has hidden at the bottom of that goblet -- a tadpole, perhaps?" They both laughed at the idea that someone might dare to play such a joke on the very solemn King. "Now she," Beauty said, pointing at the Princess's portrait, "looks more like someone I should be glad to know. The friendship of a person with such a joyful soul would be a treasure indeed."

"Yes, but how likely would it be for two woodcutter's daughters to be granted the privilege of friendship with royalty?" Serenity asked with a sigh.

Beauty had to concede the truth of her sister's words, and with that they left the gallery. However, Beauty could not entirely banish the portraits from her thoughts. She told herself it was because she wanted to find the garden in which the Princess had been painted, which was likely the same one they could see from their rooms, and not because she was still thinking about the handsome King.

When the sisters finally found a passage leading to the central courtyard and emerged into the sunshine, Beauty felt sure that what she had seen the night before must have been a dream, because the garden seemed far more beautiful than she remembered it. But if it was a dream, how could she have imagined it so clearly? For there in the far corner were the kitchen herbs, smelling of rosemary, mint, and thyme; and over there were the honeysuckle and jasmine, with golden bees darting between the flowers; and the surrounding walls, as she had hoped, were covered in roses of every perfect hue.

What she did not recall, as she spied an unusual flash of color, was that solitary flower, all alone near one of the walls; but then, in her dream -- if it was a dream -- that was the wall against which the Beast had been standing, so her view of it had been obstructed. The flower was unlike anything she had ever seen: a beautiful golden lily. However, whoever planted it must have been very careless, for it was in a place where it would receive far too much sun than such delicate flowers usually required; indeed, it was drooping rather sadly. Beauty called Serenity to her, knowing she would also be delighted with the pretty plant, and they had just knelt down to feel whether the ground below it was too dry, when both girls were stunned by an awesome roar.

Charging towards them through one of the archways was the Beast! After an instant of terrified immobility, the sisters promptly picked up their skirts and fled in the opposite direction. Fear lent them speed, and they had soon left the garden far behind. Keeping tight hold of each other's hand, they darted through doorways and up stairs at random, their only thought to put distance between themselves and the hideous monster.

Author's Note: This whole chapter started to turn into an art history lesson in my head! The tapestries resemble those designed by Goya, which hang in El Escorial, and the flower arrangements were inspired by either Monet or Van Gogh. Princess Graceful's portrait would have been done by Burne-Jones or one of the other Romantics, and the King's portrait was influenced by Velazquez (particularly Las Meninas).

Part 12

Now you will notice that the King -- or rather, the Beast -- had managed to disappear from my tale again, and as before I'm sure you are wondering what he has been doing. Once the initial shock of having been enchanted wore off, his foremost thought was that, Beast or not, he had a castle to maintain, a kingdom to run, and subjects to rule. Those were his royal duties, and the importance of carrying them out had been drummed into him from a very young age, so he wasn't going to let any pesky little illusion get in their way. However, he soon discovered (once he paid some attention to it) that he actually had very little to do with maintaining the castle; the servants took care of everything! Running the kingdom alone might have proved difficult, especially without Counselor Gallant, but instead it was tremendously easy because there was no one to rule: almost all of his subjects had run away or were staying shut up indoors for fear of the mighty Beast that had supposedly invaded the castle.

With these usual kingly pursuits denied to him, the King spent some time in the library, poring through his vast collection of books in the hope that he might find a few clues about breaking the spell. He brought out dusty old tomes and scrolls that hadn't seen the light of day in several generations, but nowhere did he find any mention of the kind of magic that enveloped the castle. It was just as well that the King was all alone, because he never considered how odd it would be for someone passing by to see a black-furred, wolf-headed, bull-horned, boar-tusked, bear-pawed, lion-tailed Beast sitting in one of the library's comfortable armchairs, paging through an ancient illuminated manuscript. (Actually, the King quite often forgot that he looked like a Beast to everyone but himself. With his sister transformed, his counselor vanished, his servants invisible, and his subjects fled, there was no one to remind him, "Sire, you're a Beast.")

When he became bored with his fruitless attempts at research (since he was in any case a King who preferred action to study), he formulated a grand scheme to pursue the wizard over land and sea, battle him until the very mountains shook on their foundations, bind him in heavy iron chains, and then force him to undo the spells on the castle. However, the first snag in this plan was the fact that the wizard would be unable to counteract the effects of the magic orb. The King didn't know this, of course, since he had no idea the wizard had stolen the orb, but he probably wouldn't care if he did know. He would likely just bind the wizard in heavier chains or put him on a diet of bread and water in the deepest, darkest dungeon of Castle Lochlein until he thought of some way to reverse the spell.

A more serious problem turned out to be the King's lack of transportation. Although the groomsmen-hands and the coachmen-hands were perfectly capable of doing their jobs to prepare a horse or a coach for the King to use, the animals would have none of it. The horses only saw a Beast, and they would never let it come close enough to enter a coach or, even worse, mount into a saddle. After two episodes in which the King's favorite black stallion reduced the wood of its stall door to splinters with an emphatic and well-placed hoof, everyone was finally convinced that the horses were sincere in their refusal to cooperate.

These events left the King terribly frustrated -- after all, he was the most powerful ruler in seven kingdoms, and he was ordinarily used to doing exactly as he pleased, whenever he cared to do it -- or ordering someone else (usually Counselor Gallant) to do it if he couldn't be bothered. In short, from having advisors and nobles and servants scurry to carry out his every whim, he had become a little spoiled. Being snubbed by his favorite horse was simply the last straw.

His only comfort each day was the time that he spent in the garden, when he would lean against the wall and talk to the lovely flower that was his sister, telling her everything about his attempts to break the spell, encouraging her not to give up hope, and sharing with her his fears about the fate of Counselor Gallant, of whom there was still no sign. He imagined that the golden lily responded to his presence, standing a little straighter or turning slightly towards him as he took up his usual position by the wall.

If the King had been protective of his sister before she was enchanted (you will recall that she was described in local gossip as the treasure the King kept locked away within the castle, which is the rumor that started this whole mess), he was even more careful of her welfare now. He had forbidden any of the servants to enter the garden, for fear that one of them might mistakenly cut her down and put her in a flower arrangement in the banquet hall. He also kept a watchful eye on the crows, ravens, and magpies that still perched on the castle roof, to ensure that none of them flew down to peck at the flower -- even if they were now birds, they were still spiteful creatures, and who knew what revenge they might take to punish him for not selecting a wife from among them before they were all given beaks and feathers? Despite his care, the lily looked a little more distressed every day, and the King became concerned that his sister was giving in to despair. He redoubled his efforts to console her, assuring her that he would find a way to restore her human form. The idea that he should water the flower never crossed his mind -- after all, he was a King, not a gardener.

When Beauty and Serenity arrived at the castle, the King spared a thought for them, but very little more. He imagined only that they were two more women come to present themselves as prospective brides, so he instructed the servants to greet them in the usual way. (That accounts for the opulence of the welcome the woodcutter's daughters received. The servants had learned the hard way that if the princesses, duchesses, marquesas, countesses, baronesses, and other assorted noblewomen who previously came to the castle were given anything less, they would raise a ruckus the likes of which you've never seen.)

Although he expected nothing more than that they would each make the usual adequate curtsey before the throne and twitter something about how handsome he was and how splendid his kingdom was, the King allowed himself to feel a slight anticipation for meeting these two women that he had not felt for any of the others. They might turn out to be cunning and mercenary shrews, who were encouraged by the knowledge that all of their competitors were now birds, and whose desire for a rich husband was not at all dampened by the King's Beastly looks -- in which case it might be entertaining to put them in their place. Or they might turn out to be powerful enchantresses who had come to undo the spell and thereby render a service to the benevolent King of Lochlein, hoping to receive a suitable reward -- in which case one of them might possibly be worthy enough to be his Queen. Needless to say, the King never considered that there could be any other reason for their arrival, and he never suspected that they were only the daughters of a common woodcutter.

Therefore, on the morning that Beauty and Serenity were starting their exploration of Castle Lochlein, the King was in the throne room, practicing both scathing retorts (delivered with one arm majestically but unequivocally pointing toward the exit) and royal welcomes (accomplished with an imperial yet gracious wave of one hand), since there was no telling which the women would deserve. He was also becoming more and more annoyed as time passed and they did not appear. Surely every lady who came to Castle Lochlein knew that it was her duty to present herself before the throne? It would never do for the King to seek them out, but being a King he also could not give in to impatience, so he determined that he should wait a little longer; and to calm himself he turned towards the archway which led to the castle garden, hoping that the sight of its loveliness would soothe him.

He was very surprised to see that his two guests were in the garden -- how could they possibly be interested in plants and flowers, when he was giving them an opportunity to meet the King? Really, he ought to have sent a servant to summon them into his presence! (This had not been necessary before, since every lady who came to the castle knew almost by instinct where she should go. The trick at times had been to keep from having too many women in the throne room at once, all of them practically falling over each other to display themselves before the King.) However, perhaps these two had come from father away than usual and did not know the customs of the castle. Well, they were sure to come before the throne in a moment, and in the meantime he could admire the pretty picture they made: the bright hues of their gowns, their slender lissome figures, and the contrast of one lady's chestnut hair with the other's golden hair as they bent down to more closely examine one of the unusual flowers...The King felt his heart stop. It looked as if they meant to uproot the golden lily that was Princess Graceful!

The King reacted entirely without thinking, running into the garden and shouting, "No! Don't touch her!" However, he did not anticipate how much more intimidating the Beast-illusion would make him seem, with a ferocious roar under his words and his horns and tusks glinting cruelly in the sunlight. He didn't care how Beauty and Serenity responded, nor did he concern himself with what they might be thinking as they ran away. All that mattered was that Princess Graceful was safe.

After he had calmed down and could see that the golden lily was unharmed, his royal training reasserted itself, and he felt he ought to find his two guests and apologize for startling them so badly. Striding quickly down the passageway into which they had disappeared, he began to look through the castle for them.

Part 13

When Beauty and Serenity finally stopped for breath (which was after quite some time had passed, since anyone can tell you that woodcutter's daughters are usually in excellent physical condition, and these two were no exception), they found they were in a part of the castle they had not seen before. This was hardly surprising, because the castle was so large and the time they had spent exploring it that morning was comparatively short. What was surprising was that they were utterly alone. In their earlier wanderings, they had always been discreetly accompanied by at least one pair of hands, which opened doors for them, lit candles for them, or drew back curtains so that they might see a room in the best light. Beauty and Serenity had not realized how easily they had become accustomed to these silent attendants until they were no longer present.

However, being alone at least meant that they were not being pursued by the horrible Beast, so they felt they could take a moment to investigate their surroundings. They were standing in a wide stone passage, and at one end was a large archway. Through this opening came a light that immediately intrigued the two girls; it shone with an intense softness, or perhaps with a subdued brightness. If asked, Serenity would have said it seemed melancholy, but she tossed the idea away as quickly as it formed, thinking it was an idle fancy. Stepping very gingerly, they moved to the archway and looked through.

The room which opened out before them must have been a ballroom or a reception hall at one time, though it had likely fallen out of use when a newer wing of the castle was built. The stonework looked somewhat worn, and the wainscoting around the walls was badly in need of polish. Over all was that indefinable air of desertion that old and unused rooms sometimes acquire, as if they are lonely for the crowds of people that used to fill their walls. At one end was a wooden dais, empty now of any fine carved chairs which the King or Queen and their courtiers would have used. At the opposite end was an opening which might have been a musicians' gallery, or a balcony from which favored guests would watch while the King or Queen received their supplicants. All around the walls were barren hooks and holders from which banners or coats of arms or even garlands of flowers might once have hung. There was only one other object in the room.

In the very center of the impressive expanse of open floor was a coffin made entirely of glass, and this was the source of the strange brilliance. Although the glow remained bright and unwavering, the two girls could easily see into the light to examine the extraordinary object. It was etched all over with fascinating and intricate patterns, which added an air of mystery to its beauty. The coffin may well have been carved out of a single enormous crystal, for there were no seams visible where the sides met each other and the bottom. The only way to open the coffin would be to lift the lid, but this was sealed with three heavy padlocks: one of gold, one of silver, and one of iron.

Beauty and Serenity moved cautiously closer, unsure what to expect from this new evidence of strong magic in the castle, but irresistibly curious about what could be so precious that it was locked inside this marvelous object. When they saw, however, they only stood unbelieving, and had to look again. And then Serenity sank down next to the casket, pale as ashes, and laid her cheek against the cold surface. A single tear, glistening in the light almost as brightly as the crystal itself, slowly slid down her face.

It was Prince Cheerful who lay inside the glass coffin. He might only have been sweetly asleep in his own bed, for he showed not a sign of injury, and he had not a golden curl out of place. Indeed, the color in his cheeks and the hint of a smile on his lips made it appear that he might wake at any moment -- without any distress except perhaps some perplexity at the strange place in which he had chosen to take a nap. Serenity called his name aloud and beat her hands against the unyielding glass, but to no avail; Prince Cheerful never stirred, and the coffin would not open.

Beauty quickly knelt and embraced her sister, sharing her distress and trying to give her comfort. No more tears came, though, for Serenity had seen something else locked inside the casket. It was a small token only, but enough to give her hope, and so also did Beauty understand it, when she saw what her sister had noticed. There on the Prince's breast, with one of his hands clasped protectively around it, was the blush-tinged white rose that Serenity had given him. It was still as fresh and unfaded as when she had first plucked it outside the woodcutter's cottage.

It was another few moments before Serenity trusted her voice enough to speak. "Surely if the enchantment had harmed him, it would have withered the rose also. There must be a way to free him, and I swear I will find it." Then her eyes brightened. "The Fox! Our friend the Fox told me how it could be done, but at the time I did not understand him!" She recited the beginning of the Fox's rhyme for her sister:

When your heart in a casket is sleeping,
Find the keys and don't waste your time weeping.

That she did not know where to look for the keys was unimportant; it mattered only that the keys existed, and wherever they were in the world, she would discover them.

A sudden noise disrupted the mournful silence of the room. Serenity paid it no attention, having no care for anything other than her Prince. Beauty, however, was on her feet in a moment, whirling around to face the archway and interpose herself between her sister and whatever new threat might be approaching. Standing there in the entrance (which was also, Beauty noticed with some alarm, the only exit) was the Beast.

Now, when the King left the garden, he fully intended to be gracious. After all, he had surprised his two guests by appearing so suddenly and shouting at them, so of course they had fled from him. He would apologize for frightening them, and they would apologize for not presenting themselves in the throne room that morning, and all would be well. Surely he would be able to make them understand he was a King and not truly a Beast. The best evidence of his exalted rank would be to show kindness and condescension to these strangers, who obviously did not know how to behave before royalty.

After he had scoured the north wing of the castle looking for them, he decided it would be better to be stern, with the barest hint of dignified displeasure. Considering that they had arrived without an invitation, had they not been treated well? There was no reason for them to have run so far away -- such rude and ungrateful manners! Even if they had been frightened, they should have realized that their fright was caused by his anger, which was caused by his fear, which was due to their trespassing in his garden. Certainly it was all their own fault, and they must recognize that.

By the time he had searched the west wing, looked in every corner of the main courtyard, and tramped through all the empty corridors leading to this long-disused room, his temper was very bad indeed. If they were trying to harm his precious lily, they were lucky he hadn't responded even more violently than he had! They should have instantly dropped to their knees before him and begged for mercy. Their paltry attempt to escape his wrath would do them no good, and unless they showed the respect his rank deserved, they would be severely punished.

So, when he finally found the two sisters, the King was in a towering black fury. Seeing Beauty standing so defiantly before him only fueled his anger. The King's shout was nearly equal to the Beast's roar. "Is this how you repay my hospitality? You have tried to destroy that which I hold most dear!"

Confusion and the return of fear made Beauty fierce, and she gave a spirited reply. "The hospitality of this castle is not yours to give, and we have destroyed nothing."

"How dare you speak so to me?" The King was astonished at her boldness. "Have you no respect for the King of Lochlein? You will bow before me at once and implore my forgiveness!"

"Never! You may enchant us or kill us, as you have with everyone else in the castle, but we will never bow to a Beast!" Beauty cried.

"Kill you?" The King was shocked at such an awful suggestion. He paused as her meaning finally became clear to him. A Beast! He had forgotten about his appearance again. "I am the King of Lochlein," he repeated, but not quite so loudly as before, "and I did not cause this enchantment -- I am caught in it."

Beauty eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he was bothering to argue with her -- he could just strike her with one of those huge paws, and that would be the end of it. Could he be the King? Impossible! "An old man on the road told us that a terrible Beast had bound Castle Lochlein under an evil spell, and that Prince Cheerful had come to engage him in battle. You are the Beast, and here is the Prince, cruelly trapped by your wicked magic -- so why should I believe anything you say?"

The King blanched at her words, and Beauty could see the Beast's features go slack with surprise. "Prince Cheerful? My friend! What has happened to him?" He took an almost involuntary step forwards, toward the glass coffin.

Beauty would have tried to stop him, heedless of the danger present in the form of sharp teeth and claws. However, Serenity stood and took her sister's arm, saying, "Let him see. He may be telling us the truth."

"He is a Beast and obviously untrustworthy," Beauty hissed in reply. Then she challenged the Beast again. "No doubt you shaped this prison for him with the same sorcery you used to subdue the rest of the castle."

The Beast, now standing next to the glass coffin, did not answer for a moment. Beauty heard him sigh, but she only scoffed at this; surely it was all a pretense on his part, designed to make them pity and trust him. Finally he raised his eyes, as if he could not bear to look at Prince Cheerful any longer, and spoke again -- and in the most courteous tone the woodcutter's daughters had yet heard from him.

"I swear, the Prince would never suffer so at my hands. There is even more magic at work here than I was aware."

"More than enough to empty a castle, plunge a countryside in terror, and depose a King?" Beauty mocked. "Your power must surely be greater than anything the world has ever known."

The King ignored her jibe. "Mesdames, when I saw you in the garden, I thought you were attempting to harm the golden lily. You will understand how precious that flower is to me when I tell you it is my sister, transformed by the sorcerer's curse."

Serenity gasped. "Your sister? How terrible! We were only trying to..."

Beauty cut her off, thinking this was yet another of the Beast's ploys to gain their sympathy. "If that is true, it must only serve to show the depths of your evil -- to bespell a friend and a sister! Your soul must be as monstrous as the shape you wear."

The King had no answer for this, but he was growing tired of the argument. "Believe me or not, as you choose. I bid you welcome to Castle Lochlein, and I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me or from the citizens of my realm. If there is anything you require, my servants will await your commands." Without another word he swept from the room, strode down the hall, and was gone.

Serenity did not watch him depart; she had returned already to her previous position, kneeling by the glass coffin and caressing the surface above Prince Cheerful's face. Beauty did watch the Beast leave; and so she stood for some little time afterwards, wondering.

Part 14

This was all his fault, Caprice fumed. If that aggravating Fox hadn't purposely misdirected her, she would have been in that lively seaside town by now, surrounded by single, handsome, eligible men of every description! As it was, she was hiking along a forest path, with rocks that tripped her at every other step and not a whiff of sea air anywhere. She should have called him something worse than a hedgehog! That Fox was no better than a muskrat...or a beaver...or a marmot! And to top everything off, she was once again growing very hungry and thirsty.

Then through the trees she could just see a little cottage -- there she would possibly find some farmwife whom she could convince to give her some bread and cheese (with perhaps a bit of ham, or a piece of chicken, or a meat pie, and a few apples, a bowl of milk, or even a mug of small beer...Caprice wasn't too particular, but she had quite an appetite).

She knocked at the door of the cottage and waited, then knocked again (but not too hard -- remembering the episode with the pigs, she stayed ready to jump out of the way if the little house seemed likely to collapse). When there was still no answer, she tried the latch and found that the door was unlocked. She pushed it open, calling out to alert anyone inside to her presence. However, the room before her was quite empty. Caprice entered and looked around -- or she meant to, but she came to an abrupt stop when her forehead hit the lintel of the doorway. Rubbing the bruise, she reflected that whoever built the cottage could not have been very tall! She tried again, this time being sure to stoop a bit as she crossed the threshold.

Everything inside was as neat and tidy as could be. A fire crackled merrily on the hearth, the wide boards of the floor were swept clean, and the glass of the windows gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. There was a long trestle table to one side, set with pewter cups and plates that were polished almost as bright as silver. A tantalizing smell drifted from a pot that was bubbling over the fire. Lifting the lid, Caprice saw it was a pot of beef stew, thick with potatoes and carrots. "The good people who live here would certainly not grudge a share of their meal to a traveler in need," Caprice thought. So, she took one of the plates off the table and ladled out an ample serving for herself -- and it tasted just as delicious as it had smelled.

Dumping the plate back on the table and the spoon back in the stew pot, Caprice searched for something to drink. Hanging on a peg in the larder, she found a wineskin that sloshed a bit when she moved it. "Having been so kind as to offer me food to eat, they would not possibly mind if I also took some liquid refreshment," Caprice reasoned. A tumbler from the table proved to be just the right size to hold the wine that was left in the skin, and Caprice downed it without a second thought. The empty wineskin she tossed onto a chair, and the tumbler she left on the table.

Now, Caprice was not very used to wine -- it was a luxury the woodcutter could not afford very often, and the woodcutter's wife had never learned how to make her own -- and it soon made her rather sleepy. "The folk whose house this is would without a doubt offer me a place to rest for the night," Caprice thought, and she stumbled over to a ladder which she presumed led to a sleeping loft. She climbed it slowly, suddenly having to think very hard about where to place each hand and foot as she ascended.

Gracious, how many people lived in this cottage? There were six...no, eight...no, four...maybe seven beds! Caprice shook her head, trying to clear her vision. Giving up counting, she bounced on each bed until she found one whose mattress seemed comfortable enough, and in moments she was asleep.

Caprice dreamed, or she thought she dreamed. From a long way off, she heard a voice say, Who has been eating from my plate? And another said, Who has been drinking from my cup? Then closer still, a voice said, Who has been sleeping in my bed? Finally there were several voices, saying, And mine! No, wait, look here!

She awoke with a start, to find herself nose to nose with a monster! Then the monster spoke, and she discovered it wasn't a monster after all -- just a little man whose large nose and larger beard cast odd shadows in the light of the candle he carried. "Child, what are you doing in our house?" he asked.

Caprice, who was always rather petulant when she first awoke (just ask Echo, who had to share a bedroom with her in the woodcutter's cottage), promptly told the little man a terribly outrageous story. "Ah, good sir, do not send me away! I am fleeing from my evil, nasty, mean step-father and my four evil, nasty, mean step-sisters. When famine struck our village, they decided our family's small supply of food would last longer if there were fewer mouths to feed, and as I am the youngest of the family, I was deemed the most expendable..." She let her voice trail off into a hiccuping sob.

"Child, do not distress yourself!" The little man patted her shoulder in a comforting manner. "Here you are quite safe from all harm. Brothers, is that not so?" Six other voices joined in agreement.

"Your kindness overwhelms me," Caprice said, doing her best to look pitiable.

The little man, who was the oldest of them all, spoke up again. "We are seven brothers, who labor in a nearby mine from sunrise to sunset, searching for gold and diamonds. If you will consent to cook and clean for us, then you are welcome to stay as long as you like. We haven't had anyone to keep house for us since our dear friend Snow White left us to marry a prince."

Caprice's eyes had lit up at the mention of gold and diamonds, and they positively sparkled at the idea of a prince, but her face fell at the thought of having to do chores. She had left all that behind at the woodcutter's cottage! Still, where there was one prince, there was bound to be another -- and then she could leave, too!

This happy situation lasted all of a week. Every morning, the little men would depart for their diamond mine, and the oldest would always give Caprice strict instructions not to talk to strangers. "If it's a prince, I'll certainly talk to him, no matter what you say!" she thought. When the little men were gone during the day, she would wander the woods, picking wildflowers and happily daydreaming of what fine clothes and coaches she would have when the prince came for her.

But the days went by, no prince appeared, Caprice got bored, and the seven little men began to grumble. Their beautiful tidy little cottage was looking dingy and drab. There were cobwebs in the corners, there were fingerprints on the windows, and there were even one or two adventurous mice nesting in the thatch in one corner of the roof. The meals were never served on time, and they were leftovers more often than not. The laundry was done either all in hot water, which shrank their tunics to uncomfortable sizes, or all in cold, which didn't get all of the muddy stains out of their breeches. Wild animals proceeded to steal everything eatable out of the garden. And the little men grumbled some more.

"Snow White never burned the porridge," said the first.

"Snow White always dusted the mantelpiece," said the second.

"Snow White never starched my socks," said the third.

"Snow White always washed the dishes," said the fourth.

"Snow White never let soot clog the chimney," said the fifth.

"Snow White always made my favorite dessert," said the sixth.

"Snow White never forgot to weed the vegetable patch," said the seventh.

"Enough!" cried Caprice, when she had had exactly that. "Snow White this, and Snow White that! In case all of you are too nearsighted to notice, I am not Snow White, whoever she is! What are you complaining about? I'm the injured party here! You little twits misrepresented this cozy little abode as a way station for princes, but I haven't seen a single one since I arrived! That's it -- I am leaving!"

And in the general uproar and commotion that followed this singular declaration, Caprice managed to kick a few shins, yank a few beards, pull a few ears, and tweak a few noses before she scrambled out the door. She went down the road laughing, paying no attention at all to the howls of anger, shaken fists, and dire threats behind her. Even if they did know a witch who could turn her into a frog, they'd have to catch her first!

Caprice's adventures in the woods were not yet over. Soon afterwards she came to a small clearing, where she noticed a woman sitting under a tree. Caprice was just about to enter the clearing and ask directions to the nearest village, when the woman -- who looked like a perfectly sane, mature, and ordinary baker's wife -- of all things, burst into song!

Was that me?
Was that him?
Did a prince really kiss me?
And kiss me?
And kiss me...? (166 KB)

A prince? There's a prince running around the forest kissing strange women? Caprice was interested at once and ducked behind a bush, where she could stay hidden but still hear what the woman was saying...er, singing.

Was it wrong?
Am I mad
Is that all?
Does he miss me?
Was he suddenly
Getting bored with me?

"Of course he'd get bored with you, lady, when there's someone younger and more attractive around -- like me!" Caprice thought.

Caprice didn't bother to listen to the rest of the song, since the woman no longer mentioned the prince. Instead she began to quietly edge around the clearing, still taking care to stay out of sight, moving in the direction in which she presumed the prince had gone, if the languishing looks the woman was throwing towards that side of the clearing were any indication.

By the time Caprice reached her destination, the woman was saying...er, singing...something utterly nonsensical about "peculiar passing moments," and "and" and "or," and having one or both, or one meaning more than the other, or something of the sort. Obviously the woman was some kind of dangerous lunatic. Caprice didn't care, though -- she was on the trail of a prince, and eager for whatever adventure next awaited her.

Part 15

Beauty, Serenity, and the King observed a state of truce for the next few days. The suspension of hostilities, however, rested as uneasily over Castle Lochlein as the famous Princess must have rested over the more famous Pea. Beauty spent most of the time ensuring that her sister remembered to eat and sleep; without her watchfulness, Serenity would have spent every minute of every day and night in the room with the glass coffin. She knew she ought to be searching for some way to free the Prince, or hunting for the keys to the gold, silver, and iron padlocks, but she felt it would be heartless to leave him alone. Serenity hoped that he somehow knew she was nearby. The King had returned to his own studies in the library, although he was not at all confident the books there would hold a counter-spell that might help him, Prince Cheerful, or the other enchanted residents of the castle.

For the most part, Beauty and the King rather studiously avoided each other, but sometimes they would meet by accident, passing in the corridors or entering the banquet hall. When this occurred, they would exchange a frigid bow and an icy curtsey and then continue on, each making a mental note not to walk down that hallway again or to order the servants to serve their next meal in their chambers. To speak would be to resume the argument they had left unfinished in the room where the glass coffin lay, and neither of them wanted that. The King knew Beauty was in the wrong but felt it would be beneath his dignity to try to convince her of the truth; Beauty believed she was right and wished to view the Beast only as the target at which she could release her anger and frustration over her sister's sorrow and Prince Cheerful's ensorcelment.

However, anger is very difficult to maintain without any repetition of the offense, real or perceived, that inspired it. As time went by with no evidence that the Beast intended her and Serenity any harm, or that he meant to punish them for trespassing in his castle, Beauty felt her distrust of the Beast slowly lessening. Beauty had expected that at best she and her sister would be thrown into the dungeons or at worst they would be transformed into dung beetles. She didn't know what to think when none of this happened. The servants showed no sign of turning them out of their beautiful suite of rooms, and every day there were still sumptuous meals and exquisite clothes waiting for them.

Beauty knew that the Beast continued his daily visits to the garden, and once when she encountered him there, she was confused to see him talking to the golden lily. Could the flower truly be his sister, or was he only keeping up a pretense to deceive her? She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but he stopped at once when he realized he was not alone. Beauty was working up the courage to speak to him when he abruptly bowed and left, as was becoming his usual behavior. She sighed; perhaps they would never be reconciled to each other's company.

Beauty then noticed that the lily, which mysteriously had been standing taller while the Beast was in the garden, was drooping again. The earth around it was still terribly dry! Enchanted or not, the flower obviously needed more care than the Beast was giving it. She fetched some water from the fountain and sprinkled it over the flower, taking care not to wash the soil away from its delicate roots. To her delight, the lily revived almost at once; she fancied it was thanking her as the soft petals brushed her hand. Uprooting it to take home was unthinkable, since such a fragile plant would never survive the journey back to the woodcutter's cottage. Instead, Beauty promised herself that she would come every day to tend the lily, so that it might grow and bloom more vigorously.

The King had not gone far, only stopping in the shadow of one of the archways leading from the garden, hiding himself so that Beauty would not see him. He watched her water the golden lily and smiled to himself. He had been a fool not to think of it before! He also realized that, despite the impression of ferocity and stubbornness she had given him, the lady must be very kind indeed if she was moved to alleviate even a flower's suffering. The next time the King met Beauty in the hallway, he greeted her with a trifle more warmth, and he was about to ask whether his servants were providing everything she needed when he realized he did not know her name. Surprise and embarrassment at this lapse kept him silent, and he quickly walked away.

Serenity, when she could be convinced to join her sister for a meal, told Beauty that the Beast also came to watch over Prince Cheerful with her. He almost never spoke beyond a quiet word or two of greeting, and he never stayed more than a few minutes. Just that day she had also found a little padded stool next to the casket, where she might sit in comfort during her vigil, along with a warm cloak to protect her from the chill.

"If he is capable of such consideration, he cannot be as malevolent as you believe him to be," Serenity reasoned. "He must have been telling us the truth when he said that he was also caught in the castle's enchantment."

"Perhaps," Beauty replied, "but I find I cannot yet believe him completely. Even if he was bespelled along with everyone else here at the castle, it is impossible that he should be the King, as he claimed. What king would be so weak or so foolish to let a sorcerer near enough to work such magic? No, more likely the spell went awry, and he is the sorcerer himself, snared within his own conjuring."

Serenity looked puzzled. "But then where is the true King?"

"Spirited away to some mystical dungeon in the air? Held in chains and surrounded by gargoyles? How awful for such a handsome man to be mistreated so!" Beauty's voice had taken on a dreamy tone while she paired her remembrance of the figure in the last portrait with her wild imaginings. Then she shook her head, as if rediscovering reality. "He may only be trapped here in the castle, as Prince Cheerful is, but this place is so vast that it would take ages to find him. And I doubt we could trust the Beast to tell us where he is hidden!"

Serenity disagreed, pointing out that, since the Beast desired Prince Cheerful's freedom, it was doubtful he would wish the King to remain likewise captive; but Beauty held to her belief that the Beast must somehow be responsible for the Prince's imprisonment and would therefore also be the King's jailer. The two sisters parted soon after, each unconvinced of the other's opinion. It would never come to a quarrel -- they knew and loved each other too well for that -- but Serenity still wished her sister would take a more sympathetic view of the situation, and Beauty thought her sister might do well to consider their predicament without an intervening veil of emotion.

While the hall of the glass coffin was no doubt Serenity's destination, there was no place in the castle that claimed Beauty's attention so imperatively. She wandered through the hallways for a few hours, half-heartedly admiring the splendor that met her eyes at every turn, but mostly pondering the question of the Beast. The contrast between the terror he had first inspired in them and the courtesy he had lately shown them was great indeed. His character was broad enough to encompass both great fury and great compassion. She certainly preferred the latter behavior in both instances!

Beauty looked up to discover that there were paintings marching down the walls on both sides of her; she had come back to the long gallery. Walking to the end, she stopped before the portrait of the King. Again she admired his dark hair, curling from beneath the heavy crown, and she wondered if the severe expression in his amber eyes was ever lightened by merriment -- but then she was forced to laugh at herself. Imagine a woodcutter's daughter daring to entertain such thoughts of a king!

From the shadows at the end of the hallway, the King watched her stare at his portrait. He was chagrined to hear her give a slight chuckle, thinking she was finding some fault with the picture. She would not thank him for interrupting her reverie, but it was insupportable that she should mock even his likeness! He did not intend to surprise her again, but it really is impossible for a Beast to clear his throat quietly or politely.

The King was sorry to see how she started where she stood, with a flicker of fear crossing her face before determined politeness chased it away. "Madam, I beg your pardon, I..."

"Sir," she said, as coldly as ever, and turned to depart. After gazing at the King's well-proportioned features, she thought the Beast seemed even more hideous than before.

The King spoke hurriedly, determined that she should not leave just yet. "Madam, I wished to inquire after your companion. Is she well?"

If Beauty was surprised either that the Beast should address her, or that he should do so with such civility, she betrayed no sign of it. "My sister is well, I thank you."

"Your sister! I was not aware she was your relation. Does she keep watch over the Prince still?"

"Yes," Beauty answered. "Some days it is difficult to make her leave that room at all, since she is so determined not to desert him. She told me of the stool and the cloak she found there -- for her sake, I am grateful for your kind attention."

"It is of no consequence," the King said, uncomfortable with her thanks. "I only wish I could offer more substantial assistance. I hope the Prince will one day know how tenderly she has looked after him."

Beauty was tempted to make a pert reply, but she restrained herself. If the Beast was resolved to be polite, then so would she be. "It is my hope also."

Such a short answer could hardly be considered to be encouragement, but at least she seemed less determined to antagonize him. A few more silent moments passed as the King gathered the courage to ask his next question. "Madam, would you honor me with your name?"

"My name?" Beauty's cool demeanor disappeared as she could not resist a laugh. Their previous encounters had certainly not been suitable for making introductions! "How is it you have not troubled yourself to inquire before now?"

"Madam, I am not accustomed to having to ask. Usually I had a chamberlain who ascertained the names of my visitors before announcing them to me." The King suddenly realized how much his royalty had prevented him from learning the common courtesy that less exalted people used every day.

He could see that Beauty's eyes were still dancing with amusement, though it was not at his awkwardness, as he thought. Since she still did not believe him to be the King of Lochlein, she thought his claim of having a chamberlain was only a fabrication, designed to fool her. She wondered to what lengths he would go to convince her of his supposed rank.

"Madam, may I know your name?" he asked again.

"My sister is called Serenity, and I am called Beauty," she said at last, with a smile.

The tiny dimple that had so affected her father had a similar effect on the King. "Never have I met two ladies who were so well named," he replied with a bow, enjoying the blush that his compliment brought to Beauty's cheek.

Beauty laughed again to cover her discomfort, surprised that the Beast seemed so much more sincere in his gallantry than the village boys who had for years teased her about her name (usually when she was covered from head to toe in dirt after some tomboyish escapade). "Our father named us, although no one in our little town expected a simple woodcutter to wax so poetic over his daughters."

The King froze. Little town? Simple woodcutter? He had thought they were noblewomen from some faraway land! At the very least they ought to have been the daughters of a count or a duke! He had given the finest hospitality of his castle to commoners? It was unthinkable! Had the tales of the King of Lochlein's search for a wife sunk to being the gossip of the lower classes? Clever, conniving creatures -- to conceal the true purpose of their visit here behind a spurious concern for Prince Cheerful, when all they were after was the prize of a royal marriage!

Well, now that he understood their despicable scheme, he was safe from it. Prince Cheerful might take the other to wife out of gratitude if she was so desperate for a husband that she actually found a way to open the glass coffin -- but he was only a Prince yet, and raising up a woodcutter's daughter to be his Princess wouldn't be nearly as damaging to him as making one the Queen of Lochlein would be to the King. Unbelievable! No matter her name, Beauty must have a heart of ice under that lovely exterior.

The shock of Beauty's revelation made it easy for the King to return to his former haughty behavior. "Madam, I am taking too much of your time. Pray excuse me." With a hasty bow, he departed the gallery, moving as if the entire flock of crows from the roof was pursuing him.

Beauty was left alone in her perplexity, wondering what could have caused him to change so abruptly. Even a woodcutter's daughter knows when she has been insulted.

Part 16

Surely she must be dreaming. Serenity knew it could not be otherwise -- for how could she now be walking in the castle garden, when her last action had been to lay her head on her folded arms on the lid of the glass coffin? Rest had been her object, and this dream of the garden seemed restful enough. Sunlight gleamed in shades of ruby and topaz on emerald leaves while the fountain murmured softly to itself, lulling all the roses to sleep. She looked around, hoping the quiet loveliness of the flowers would ease the ache in her soul, and she discovered she was not alone.

On a marble bench beside one of the paths was a man. He wore the elaborate robes of a mage, which for a moment frightened Serenity, who thought he must be the sorcerer who had cast the spell over the Prince. However, his face was kind and his manner gentle, and his voice when he spoke was as mellow as a warm fire on a cool autumn evening. "My dear child, come sit by me."

As she now felt no fear of him, Serenity easily complied. "Good sir, who are you, and why have you come here?"

He smiled. "I am the Sorcerer Steadfast, and I have come to this dream of yours in Castle Lochlein so that I might make amends for the trouble I have caused."

"Is all this magic your doing, then?" The idea should have made Serenity afraid again, but somehow it did not -- perhaps because the sorcerer's smile became barely tinged with sadness.

"It is my magic, but it was put to ill use by another. For years I have sought methods to refine my skills, and at last I succeeded -- by creating a magical orb into which I sank the larger part of my powers. This orb was not meant to be used lightly; any spell for which I used it would have required my utmost concentration, lest the magic go astray. So much power together becomes almost aware of itself, and although it would never act with malice -- since I have only ever used my magic for good purposes -- if it were released without any control, it might behave in a manner somewhat...well, let us call it whimsical, for lack of a better term.

"Having created this magic orb, which was my highest achievement in a long career of sorcery, I felt I deserved a small celebration. I soon found myself toasting my neighbors at a local pub. Whether I was weakened by my recent exertions, or whether I simply let myself indulge in too much liquor, the drink rapidly rendered me insensible. When I awoke -- with a headache the likes of which I fervently hope I may never again endure -- the orb was gone from its hiding place within my robe. I can only assume it was stolen by the wizard who bought the last round, since I recall he was very interested in my accomplishment and begged to be allowed to see it. I refused while I was conscious, but after the wine had its way with me, I could have offered no resistance. I am not trying to offer you an excuse or an apology for my actions, for such carelessness is inexcusable for a sorcerer in my position.

"I searched far and wide for that miserable wizard, but he had cloaked himself surprisingly well within his limited power, and his trail had gone cold. All I could do was wait for him to try to use the orb; since I had created the orb and its magic was mine, I would know immediately when it was released. And I must say, even I was impressed by its strength! Since then, I have been trying to find the location where the orb was broken, and my search has led me here. I regret that I could not get here sooner; I might have been able to reverse the spell if it had just been cast."

"Can you give aid now? You must know how to end the enchantment!" Serenity pleaded.

"I have discovered how to end only part of it; the rest will need further study, and I may have to ask a friend or two for advice. However, even the part of which I can tell you now will not be easy."

"If it will free Prince Cheerful from his imprisonment in the glass coffin, I will do anything!"

"Yes, the glass coffin! I expected something a little more straightforward, like a magic mirror, or an enchanted lamp, or an poisoned apple, or something more...well, perhaps whimsical wasn't quite the right word. What would be better -- sarcastic? Satirical? Mischievous? Frivolous?"

Serenity gently prodded him to continue. "And how do I free the Prince?"

"I beg your pardon. I am still surprised by what my orb managed to accomplish." The sorcerer cleared his throat and collected his thoughts again. "As you know, there are three locks on the glass coffin. Opening the iron padlock will return all of the castle's servants to complete visibility. Opening the silver padlock will restore that dreary-looking flock of crows, magpies, and ravens to their human forms. Opening the gold padlock will open the glass coffin and wake the Prince."

Although she was not quite as clever as her sister Beauty, Serenity still had plenty of intelligence, and she realized that opening the three locks on the glass coffin would not banish all magic from Castle Lochlein. "But what about the King of Lochlein and his sister, the Princess? Were they not also enchanted?"

"My dear child, I thought you knew already! Princess Graceful was transformed into the golden lily, which I'm sure you have seen in the castle garden. However, freeing Prince Cheerful will have no effect on her. As I said, I have not determined how to entirely end the spells surrounding the castle, but I assure you my endeavors will continue. I know a few warlocks and a fairy who may have a few suggestions."

"But what of the King?"

The sorcerer heaved a little sigh. "I'm afraid the spell on the King is not of my making. That wretched wizard must have used some of his own magic before he used my orb, so I cannot tell you how to counteract it. I am sure there is a way, since no magic lasts forever -- not without some very nasty side effects on the magician who created it, that is. I once tried to transmute lead into gold and hold it in that form for over a month (I'm afraid the rent on my tower was overdue), and what do you think happened? My nose turned green! Very unpleasant, let me tell you! And things got even more unpleasant when my landlord showed up, demanding that I make good on my debt with real coins..."

Serenity was disappointed. She had hoped that Beauty could end whatever spell was holding the King while she was helping the Prince. "I beg you, where can I find the keys that will open the glass coffin?"

The sorcerer's face became even more serious. "To find the keys you must go to Castle Rahonain -- the queen there has taken them and hidden them. She is a crafty woman who once had aspirations of becoming a sorceress, and she likes to meddle with other people's spells in an attempt to increase her own magical skill. If she has not found a way to use the power in the keys for her own ends, she will try to keep anyone else from using them, so taking them from her may be quite difficult."

"How do I get to this castle?" Serenity was undaunted. The queen of Castle Rahonain would surely understand that the keys were required to free Prince Cheerful from his terrible imprisonment, so once Serenity had explained the situation, it would be a simple matter for the queen to remember where they were hidden.

"Castle Rahonain is on an island behind the setting sun. Queen Scornful, you see, was determined to find a monstrously inaccessible place to build her castle, the better to prevent any enterprising thieves from carrying off the magic objects she has already stolen! I'm afraid you will have to find your own way to get there -- I wish I could help you, but what with the power I lost in the orb, and what I've had to spend on the search for it, and what was required to discover how to reverse the enchantment, I don't have very much left. I certainly wish you the best of luck, and I'll send someone along when I figure out the rest of the magic."

As the sorcerer finished speaking, the dream image of the garden began to waver like a reflection in water when the wind blows across it. The colors of his robe became indistinguishable from the colors of the flowers, and Serenity could no longer determine if he was still there. "Wait, please! Don't go!" But it was no use. The sorcerer disappeared, and Serenity woke up, to find herself alone by the glass coffin. She smiled then and pressed a kiss against the glass before running off to find her sister. Beauty had to know at once!

But Beauty was nowhere to be found. Serenity searched the garden, the portrait gallery, and as much of the maze of other rooms as she could remember how to find her way through. Serenity finally returned to their rooms, where she put on her own clothes again and had the servants bring her some provisions for her journey. Beauty was certain to reappear before her preparations were complete, and Serenity did not wish to waste a moment. The sooner she could be on her way to Castle Rahonain, the sooner Prince Cheerful would be released from the glass coffin!

Finally she could wait no longer. One of the servants brought her a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill pen, which she used to write a hurried note to her sister.

Dearest Beauty,

No doubt you will be surprised to find me gone, but the most amazing thing has happened! I was visited in a dream by the sorcerer whose magic was stolen and used to enchant the castle, and he told me how I could free Prince Cheerful! Hold me in your thoughts and wish me luck, my dear sister, for the sorcerer warned me it would be a difficult task. I must find Castle Rahonain behind the setting sun, but I will return to you as soon as I may.

Your loving sister,
Serenity

P.S. The sorcerer also revealed that the golden lily in the castle garden is indeed the Princess, which means the Beast must truly be the King, as he claimed. Poor man -- he must worry about his sister dreadfully.

Then she made her way to the main entrance of the castle, where she stood under the gateway arch and looked west, where the sun was just beginning its final slide down the evening sky. There was no telling how she would reach the setting sun, let alone a castle behind it, but if it was a task that determination could accomplish, then it would be done. She had crossed the drawbridge and was just about to start walking, when she heard a familiar voice.

"Behold the brave maiden so fair
Who wishes she could walk on air;
The end of her quest
Lies far off in the west,
So how will she ever get there?"

When this peculiar rhyme was finished, the owner of the voice emerged from the bushes next to the castle wall. "To Castle Rahonain, my lady?"

It was the Fox! Serenity gave a cry of joy and embraced him, ruffling his thick red fur. "Dearest Fox, how glad I am to see you! May I beg your help once again?"

The Fox bent one foreleg and stretched the other before him in a playful bow. "Madam, your chariot awaits," he said. Serenity took her seat as before, on the Fox's tail, and away they went.

However, Serenity had forgotten to close the sitting room window, and she was unaware that a stray breeze was toying with Beauty's letter on the little writing-desk. The folded parchment teetered on the edge for a moment as the mischievous gust swirled around it, and then it slid over the side, to land between the desk and the wall.

Part 17

When Beauty returned to her suite of rooms after dinner, she was not initially worried to find them empty. Serenity was most likely still sitting by the glass coffin, having once again forgotten that she required food or sleep, or anything other than her devotion to the Prince, to sustain her. With a smile and a sigh for her sister's distracted lovelorn state, Beauty went back out into the castle to look for her.

There was no one watching over Prince Cheerful, however; the little stool was empty, and the warm cloak provided for Serenity's use was neatly folded upon it. Beauty stood under the wide arch of the doorway, staring at the glowing crystal casket as if it might open at any moment, allowing the Prince to emerge and tell her what had become of her sister. She was forced to turn away at last and continue her search; the heavy padlocks would not relinquish their tight hold on the coffin's lid simply because she wished them to do so.

As she looked through the rooms that she and Serenity had come to call their favorites -- the music room, the portrait gallery, the anteroom with the unusual collection of carved jewelry, the hallway lined with suits of armor, the high turret room with its magnificent views of the surrounding countryside, and many others -- with no sign of her sister anywhere, the whisper of fear in the back of her mind grew louder and louder. Beauty tried to convince herself that she would find Serenity back in their apartments, but she was slowly losing the certainty that she would ever find her sister. Her own words, spoken when she was considering the probable fate of the King of Lochlein, suddenly resurfaced: "He may only be trapped here in the castle, but this place is so vast that it would take ages to find him. And I doubt we could trust the Beast to tell us where he is hidden!"

Was Serenity now trapped or hidden as well? Had the Beast finally decided to take his revenge? After their earlier meeting in the portrait gallery, Beauty had almost allowed herself to hope that the Beast truly might not mean her and Serenity any harm -- but then she remembered how odd his behavior had been, when he had left her so abruptly. Had she offended him in some way? Had he simply tired of their presence in the castle? Had he simply been biding his time until he thought of a particularly wicked spell? Perhaps the Beast had come upon Serenity just as she discovered the keys that would unlock the glass coffin, and he had bespelled her before she could break the enchantment! Or -- and this was the worst thought of all -- perhaps Serenity was not under a spell, but instead had suffered the same fate that the old man on the road suggested had befallen the King and his sister: perhaps the Beast had killed and eaten her!

Beauty continued to walk through the castle while her brain occupied itself these morbid fantasies, and the last terrible thought surfaced just as she was about to go through one of the arched stone entrances to the castle garden. The movement of a shadow ahead made her stop. It must be the Beast! Beauty was paralyzed with fright, convinced that the monster was lying in wait for her -- surely if she took even one more step forward, he would spring upon her out of his hiding place. In the next instant, though, she turned and ran back to her rooms as fast as her feet would carry her, with a sob threatening to burst out of her throat at every step. Only when the door was securely bolted behind her did she fling herself on her bed and release her tears of fear and frustration.

In the meantime, the innocent rosebush, who had woven itself around and over the archway through which Beauty had been about to pass, continued to wave its vines languidly in the evening breeze, as the last of the sunlight threw its shadow back against the stone wall.

Two days later, as the King was eating his breakfast, he suddenly realized that it had been some time since he had seen either of his guests. Once again he fumed at the inconveniences created by a castle full of silent, mostly-invisible servants. His staff of butlers and chamberlains might be doing their usual excellent job of keeping track of the visitors in the castle, but they could not easily communicate their knowledge to him! The King threw down his napkin with an irate snort. He supposed it would be only polite to find the two women and inquire whether all of their needs were being met, and he felt he should also tell them that his work in the castle library had so far yielded no answers to the question of the glass coffin. The thought that he might like to find them only to see whether his remembrance of Beauty truly matched her name was barely formed, but not acknowledged.

His walk through the castle took him into the same rooms that Beauty had searched for her sister, but his quest was as unsuccessful as hers. Could they have left the castle without telling him? If so, here was another instance of their rude and impertinent behavior! The Beast was momentarily convinced that Beauty could not possibly be as lovely as he had imagined her to be. He was about to turn down a corridor that would lead him to the sisters' apartments, but first he decided to go to the garden.

The King took up his accustomed place, leaning against the rough stone wall, and gazed down at the lily. The flower was swaying gently in the light breeze that swept through the garden, causing alternating patterns of light and shade to dance across its petals. The King smiled to see it, but then he noticed a slight droop to its leaves. Had Beauty not come recently to water the lily? Well, what she could do, he could certainly do! At the fountain, he awkwardly collected some water in his cupped hands and hurried back to the lily before it all dripped through his fingers. Not satisfied that he had done enough, the King made another trip to the fountain and back. Finally the lily seemed refreshed, and the King allowed himself to relax again.

Returning to his former position, he slid down until he was sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the wall, and it suddenly struck him what an odd picture he must make. Imagine a black-furred, wolf-headed, bull-horned, boar-tusked, bear-pawed, lion-tailed Beast traipsing back and forth from the fountain, paws dripping wet, as he inexpertly tried to water a flower! The King was forced to laugh in spite of himself.

"I do wonder what Beauty would say if she saw me thus," he said aloud, addressing the lily.

And then another thought struck him. Why could he not stop thinking about her? What was he doing, imagining her reaction to his behavior, or trying to remember what shade of gold were the highlights in her hair? Why should it matter so much that he wanted to hear her laugh again, as she had when they met in the gallery? The King was quite perplexed.

"She's the daughter of a common woodcutter! If every princess, baroness, and contessa in seven kingdoms could not affect me, why does she?"

The lily made no answer, only continuing to sway on its green stalk. The King was silent again, meditating solemnly on the situation and unconsciously twisting the ring he wore on the smallest finger of his left hand. (To an observer, it would have appeared that the Beast was flexing his claws.)

"To be sure, her only reason for coming here must have been to offer herself as my bride, but I can hardly blame her! After all, as the most powerful monarch in seven kingdoms I am eminently desirable as a husband, and every other lady who has visited the castle in the past twelvemonth has had matrimony as her goal. Beauty is only more presumptuous in her aim because she has no rank or title to qualify her, no matter her pleasing features or her vivacious spirit."

He stood up and paced for a while, as if the physical exertion might help to order his thoughts. Could he actually be contemplating marriage with a woodcutter's daughter? But why not? He stopped abruptly in his tracks. No one else need know her parentage! He started pacing again, faster and more determinedly than before. Surely everyone who saw her would make the same mistake he had, and assume that she was royalty, or at least nobility, from some faraway land. There was her sister to consider, of course, but if Serenity were married to Prince Cheerful she would surely see the necessity for this minuscule deception. And Beauty herself would be so sensible of the extreme honor he was conferring upon her by condescending to accept her as his wife that she would certainly never do or say anything to reveal the truth.

Of course it would be impossible for Beauty to see her family after the wedding, or even for them to attend the event, if the pretense were to be maintained, but surely that was no obstacle. Besides, why on earth would she desire their company? She would be giving up a life of drudgery in some tiny hovel in exchange for a life of ease and plenty in a glorious castle! Her family would understand and be happy for her -- how could they be otherwise? The King shuddered to think of what they must be like -- bedraggled, dirty, stinking of woodsmoke and desperately in need of a bath, every single one of them. And how many of them were there likely to be? Ten? Twelve? More? He shook his head emphatically. No, it was absolutely and without question impossible. He could appreciate the miracle that such a family had produced a daughter like Beauty, but that did not mean he had to associate with them as his in-laws. If selective acquaintance wasn't one of the advantages of royalty, then what was?

But how to propose? It would be entirely proper for him to summon her to the throne room and inform her of her good fortune, but perhaps that was too impersonal. Women inexplicably liked a romantic setting for such news, for some reason known only to themselves. Why then, he would tell her here in the garden! Surely nothing could be more romantic than this, with hundreds of blossoms cascading over the walls. That's it! He would graciously conduct her to one of the marble benches next to the fountain -- where she would sit gracefully and blush prettily at his gallant attention, of course -- and he would say...he would say...

Blast it all, what would he say?

Perhaps if he walked through it, the words would come naturally to his tongue. So, he strode with his most imperial bearing towards one of the marble benches and performed one of his most flourishing bows before it. Several crows on the roof cocked interested gleaming black eyes in his direction, puzzled to see a black-furred, wolf-headed, bull-horned, boar-tusked, bear-pawed, lion-tailed Beast conduct himself in such a bizarre manner, but there was no one else in the garden to notice.

"Madam," he began. No, that was hardly the kind of intimate address required for a proposal of marriage. He tried again. "Most esteemed, beautiful..." No, too artificial. "Dearest, loveliest Beauty..." Too much -- he was not so besotted with her as all that.

"My dear Beauty..." Perfect! Affectionate yet respectful. "You must allow me to express my ardent admiration, for you cannot be unaware of the effect you have had on me. I speak no more than truth when I say that, despite your lowly station, you are the most captivating lady I ever beheld. Although I have struggled long to resist the attraction of your charm, your graceful manner, and the beauty which gives you your name, by reminding myself of the extreme unsuitability of your family, my heart would not be denied. It gives me great pleasure to tell what it must give you still greater pleasure to hear: that I have chosen you to be my wife."

Was it likely she might faint with happiness at this point? The King had heard of such things happening. After all, women were easily overcome by extremes of emotion. Just in case, he dropped to one knee, pretending he had caught his beloved as she swooned.

"You may be assured that no reproach for your humble upbringing will ever cross my lips when we are married, and indeed, it is something which your subjects never need know, when you are crowned Queen of Lochlein and take your place to rule at my side."

By now the lady would certainly have recovered her senses, so the King rose to his feet again. If she were so transported by joy as to wish to demonstrate her affection and gratitude, he supposed it might be proper to allow her to kiss his hand. Otherwise, after she had accepted his offer, he would bow and tell her he must depart immediately to begin preparations for the wedding celebration. Then he would turn around and...

...be struck utterly dumb to see Beauty standing on the other side of the garden.

Continued In Next Section