Fairly Wicked Tales (29 page)

“Will I smell like you?” she asked.

The man laughed.

“I hope not! You will smell much better than me.”

He took her to the window.

“Anne, would you like to know a secret?” he seemed to enjoy using her name.

She nodded.

“I brought you to the most beautiful place in the whole kingdom. I brought you to the palace.”

***

“Approach, Lord Patrick,” said the fat man, busy with a chicken leg.

The decorated table did nothing to refine the King’s manners when he ate. That’s what Patrick always thought when he observed King Cassius eat in the dining hall. He resembled an animal, possibly a lion about to consume its prey. He wondered if he came upon the King in the forest, would he realize he was a man, or would he kill him, afraid the wild beast would attack him?

His eldest son, Prince William, sat at his side holding a golden cup. He stared straight ahead, lost in his thoughts. Only the noises his father made seemed to sometimes draw his attention. He regarded the King with a mixture of pity and disgust.

Patrick bowed down and then approached the table. He sat when the King invited him to.

“I was told you met someone interesting on your way back,” he said and smiled.

“We found a girl. A sick thing—if we hadn’t come upon her, she would have surely died, your Majesty.”

“I think you’re trying to make yourself sound like a better man than you really are, Patrick. I was also told the creature is very, very attractive.”

Patrick made no comment.

“Maybe she will be your second wife,” the King went on. “Some of the soldiers claim she’s a witch, you know.”

“Do you believe them?”

Laughter escaped the man and then he started coughing. He swallowed a cup full of wine to make it stop.

“Don’t be a fool, Patrick. Make sure to present her to me tomorrow. Who knows, her lucky streak might go beyond being found in the woods.”

Patrick began to sweat as he thought about the fate of the rest of the girls who had caught the King’s eye. Or that of his son’s. Word was they shared everything.

“But my Liege, she’s still not well.”

“Enough, Patrick. I expect you both tomorrow.”

He balled his hands into fists and murmured, “Yes, your Grace.”

He got up and left the room to search for her. He wondered if the girl would have fared better in the woods, than the corrupt halls of the palace, where death was often not the worst fate.

***

“You hair is like gold,” Esme said as she poured warm water down her face.

Anne lifted her hands and touched her hair again. It was still gone, cut short to her ears.

“Don’t be sad, Anne. It’s not that bad. It’s longer than it appeared to be when I first saw you.”

Anne turned and looked into her eyes. “Am I ugly?”

“What are you talking about? Do flowers ask such questions? They will bring you beautiful dresses to wear and we will hide your hair with a white veil. All the ladies wear them in the palace.”

Anne reached out and held the maid’s hand. A broken smiled formed on her lips. Esme’s tired face brightened a little bit.

***

“Do I have to wear this?” Anne asked.

She stared straight ahead and held her breath, as Esme tightened the corset around her waist. The clothes were tight, too. The veil held her hair, but her pale face shone through the green fabric. Esme shot her a look and then continued to adjust the dress. Every detail seemed to be important. She ran her fingers through her clothes and by some magic way seemed to make the already uncomfortable dress completely unbearable.

“You don’t want to present yourself to the King completely naked do you?” she told her. “I’m sure you don’t want that …” she whispered to herself.

The fingers suddenly stopped at her neck. Anne heard the servant draw breath and glanced up into the mirror. Her fingers had caught in a few golden tufts that had escaped the veil. She put them back under the veil and swallowed.

“Esme? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said and curtsied. “You are ready my lady. Now you must follow me”.

Anne followed her without comment. They reached the great hall and the guards stood aside to let them pass. Patrick appeared and she hesitated a little before bending her knees and bowing her head. She spread her arms and completed the curtsy she had been taught to do.

“Very good,” Patrick said and smiled.

He offered her his arm. She placed hers in his without a second thought. She trusted him. She almost forgot the uncomfortable clothes she wore and how she could barely breathe.

They walked into the hall and everywhere, men and women bowed deep before them. She watched them intently. A familiar song reached her ears. Her stomach dropped and her heart beat faster. The darkness in her mind was complete, but that song was a ray of sunshine that threatened to dispel it. She looked at Patrick’s face. He smiled, but something seemed to be bothering him.

“What’s that music?” she asked.

“It’s one of the most beloved songs in the Kingdom. It can be heard every time there is a celebration. It’s called
Helena’s Lullaby
.”

“What is it about?”

Patrick told her the story.

“Some years ago, a little girl lived in this palace. Her name was Helena and the whole Kingdom loved her. Her mother, the Queen of these lands, sang this song to her when she was just a baby, to put her to sleep. But the Queen died one day and the little girl was left alone with her father, the King.”

Anne felt a weight she could not explain on her heart. She was happy to be by his side, but the story weighed heavy on her heart. Patrick sensed the change in her and he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. He removed his hand once he realized they were outside the great wooden door with the golden ornaments. Soldiers stood emotionless on each side. The music, a music that broke her heart, came from behind the door.

“Enough with the stories. It’s time for you to meet the King. He motioned to the guards to open the doors of the great hall.

She stood frozen as the doors opened. She had never seen so many people gathered in one room before. Men and women, in their finest garb, stood everywhere. The women had painted faces and clothes made from the most colorful fabrics. They seemed to float about the room to the pace of the song.

In the center of the room, weird creatures danced their own dance. Tiny people and others with forms and faces that didn’t look human. They were wrong and wild, and unnatural. They hobbled or walked with their hands because they had no legs. Others were stranger still because they wore masks with the faces of animals, trying to hide their own. They wore colorful clothing, as if to call attention to what made them different. They spat fire and jumped through flaming hoops. They yelled and laughed, loud, and made the lords and ladies laugh in turn. They seemed to be the happiest creatures in the hall. As if the King had brought them here to show the nobles, who seemed bored, how to have fun.

One of them came near her and made a white dove appear from one of his sleeves. He wore a mask like a deformed face. She wondered how much worse his real face could be. Patrick put his hand on her shoulder and drew her towards him.

“Don’t be afraid. They’re just jesters and jugglers, they won’t harm you,” he said.

She shook her head. She thought about telling him about how they reminded her of the forest. That creatures like those and even stranger ones slithered among the trees and walked besides her without ever wanting to harm her. Unlike humans, whom she didn’t feel the same about. But she kept silent.

Between the two different worlds in the hall, only one thing stood out. The man who sat high atop the golden throne. Beside him, a little lower, sat a younger man. Women sat at their feet. They were some of the most beautiful Anne saw in the room, and their clothes were different. They showed more of their pale skin and they wore their hair loose and decorated. Some watched the two men with wonder and others stared at the jugglers blankly. They looked sad to Anne.

The man on the throne was fat and appeared to be very bored. They walked towards him until his eyes fell on them. His bored expression changed. His eyes lit up. Patrick knelt before the king and drew Anne down with him. They both bowed. The King motioned them to rise and approach.

“So you are the young lady that came uninvited to my palace?” he asked. She noticed the younger man’s eyes followed her as well. She squeezed Patrick’s hand.

“Her name is Anne,” Patrick said.

“Anne? Like your dead wife?” King Cassius asked, perplexed.

“Lord Patrick chose my name because I cannot remember my own,” Anne hurried to answer.

She stole a glance at Patrick.

He gave me his wife’s name
, Anne thought.

“Yes, yes …” the King said. “I will be happy to have you as a guest in my palace, Anne.”

The younger man stood up.

“This is my son, Prince William.”

The man took her hand and kissed it softly. He invited her to sit beside him. Patrick nodded and she sat down.

The song kept on going.

They must really love the princess
, she thought.

Now and then, a servant would appear to refill a cup with wine or bring out more food. But the old maid that appeared at the door had no business being there. She walked towards them, never taking her eyes of Anne, as if she had seen a ghost. When she reached the guards, they blocked her path.

Anne could see her eyes. They were a pure blue that seemed to pierce her. She understood the maid wanted to speak to her. She tried to get up, but the Prince took hold of her arm.

“Helena?”

The old blue eyes shed tears. She covered her face and sobbed. Before the guards dragged her away, Anne managed to escape the Prince’s grasp and run down the stairs.

“My name is Anne,” she said, uncertain. She felt bad about using a name she knew was not hers.

The old woman said, “No. You are Helena. You are my little girl. The daughter of King James, the Goldenbearded. Don’t you remember me?” she asked with bitterness in her voice.

“I don’t remember anyone or anything,” she said.

Patrick already stood by her side and Prince William was coming down the stairs. The King looked worried from his throne but soon, he too got up.

“Speak!” said Prince William. “Is it true, what you’re saying?”

“Lords and ladies, I beg your forgiveness, but …” the old woman’s voice trembled. Anne saw in her eyes how afraid she was but also how much she wanted her to be the lost princess.

“There are marks on her body, marks I knew from when she would sit on my lap. Other servants know those marks as well. They know our Helena well too.”

The guards stood aside so Anne could approach the woman and hold her hands. The darkness in her mind seemed to lift, slowly.

“You hear that? It’s your song, my Princess. A hundred days and a hundred nights from when we knew you were dead, the song was heard throughout the kingdom. I am Thea, my girl, your nanny.”

***

There was no reason to wear the dress so tight. No reason to keep her head under a veil. It didn’t matter if she was beautiful or ugly, or if her hair was long or short. Her fate was sealed. She had to marry Prince William. The King must have been really scared, to arrange the betrothal even before being certain she was Helena.

Within a fortnight, she lost everything she had gained that morning, when she had been found in the woods. Patrick did not defend her. She thought he was her friend. But why would she think that? He didn’t see her for who she really was. He only saw his dead wife.

Then there was Thea. When they were certain she was the princess, they took the old woman and the servants who had known her as a child away. To their death.

Why such hate? Such fear?

Yes, fear. Because they should be afraid of you.

The voice in her head made her jump.

It was a pretty room. The walls were a soft white color and the furniture was pretty. Decorated for a woman. Maybe for one of the King’s mistresses. But it wasn’t the Princess’s room, not
her
room. It stood far from the main palace and the door was secured with a heavy bolt. She was up in a tower and when Helena looked down, she got dizzy from the height, the strong wind that blew through her hair, and the darkness below.

Darkness. Like the one in your mind, the one that swallowed you in the woods, little bird. That’s what father called you, but you didn’t know how to fly. Neither did he.

She held her head and tried to find where the voice was coming from inside her. The voice hurt her and the darkness was no longer dark enough to hide everything. Only a small part remained hidden from her, but that too, was ready to be revealed.

Yes, she didn’t need the veil anymore. It couldn’t hold her hair anyway. She looked out at the night covering the Kingdom outside her window. She walked to it once more and stuck her head out, letting the wind pull at her hair. She was calm.

Nothing will happen to you this time.

She looked at the darkness below and at her golden hair, which now licked the tower’s stone walls. It slithered along like a snake and already grew thicker. Yes, now she knew that even if she fell, nothing would happen to her. Nothing at all.

***

Patrick saw no other solution than to grab her by the arms and shake her. Esme let a small cry escape her but said nothing. He recognized the fear in her face.

“I asked you, how is she? What happened? Did the King order you to not even tell me if she is alive or dead?”

“She is alive, my lord,” she whispered. “She is very much alive.”

“Then what is it?”

She lowered her head and closed her eyes as if she expected to be hit. She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Perhaps you should have left her in the forest, M’ Lord.”

Patrick felt his blood boil but said nothing. He wanted to hear what the woman had to say. When he didn’t react, the servant looked at him.