Snow (4 page)

The snow fell fierce and thick after she died and the day of her funeral it was bitter cold, the snow falling so fast it was almost impossible to see. The only other person present, the priest who was there to say one last mass for a departed soul, stood shivering, feeling snow soak through his fur-lined boots. He had not wanted to perform this mass, but when David had asked him, found him in the church and stared at him with anxious beautiful eyes and asked for a death mass in a pleading voice, he'd found himself saying "Yes, of course," right away. Anything to get the strange, quiet, disturbingly beautiful young man away from him. He'd heard the stories of the King's lost son--everyone had--but he'd never believed they were true. Not until that day. And now, standing, watching snow fall hard and fast, he prayed only that this moment would be over soon.

David got the pyre lit. As the priest watched he pressed a flame to the wood and blew gently on it. The flame sputtered and shifted, its color fading from red-yellow to white. The priest watched as the fire burned, consuming everything by ice, the body on the pyre swirling into a cloud too fine and too cold to be smoke.

"Dear God," the priest said, and it wasn't a prayer. He crossed himself and walked away. David didn't notice. He stood watching the fire, shaking not from cold but from grief. He stood watching the fire and snow fall from the sky like tears.

Across the courtyard David's brother and sister stood watching him. They were wrapped in furs, shielded from the falling snow by attendants standing, shivering and holding a canopy over their heads. They were supposed to be on their way to a party, but they'd stopped when they saw the brother they'd forgotten they had, when they saw the way the snow fell harder and faster with every shuddering breath he took. They watched the fire burn, saw its white flame, watched it consume by cold. They looked at each other for a moment and then the Princess lifted one hand up, held it towards the sky. Snow covered the dark rich fabric of her glove in a moment.

"The rumors--"

"Yes," the Prince said. "We'll have to do something. Let me send someone to get you another glove."

"You're too kind," the Princess said, and turned toward him, arm still outstretched. He peeled the ruined glove away from her skin, captured her wrist with his fingers. They left the glove lying on the ground when they went inside. It was covered with snow by the time the doors closed behind them.

***

"Do you love me?" the Princess asked. It wasn't really a question. She was lying naked on her bed, golden skin draped by soft dyed sheets, staring, smiling at the man standing, watching her.

"Of course I do," Joseph said. His voice was kind but strained, wrecked by want. It was written all over him. He wanted nothing more than to be hers forever.

"How much do you love me?"

"I'd do anything for you," he said, and knelt down, placed one hand on her thigh. His hand didn't shake at all. "Anything."

"Good," the Princess said, and spread her legs. "Come here."

"Do you love me?" the Prince asked later. It wasn't really a question. He was lying naked on his bed, golden skin draped by soft dyed sheets, staring, smiling at the man standing, watching him.

"Of course I do," Joseph said. His voice was kind but strained, wrecked by want. It was written all over him. He wanted nothing more than to be his forever.

"How much do you love me?"

"I'd do anything for you," he said, and knelt down, placed one hand on the Prince's thigh. His hand didn't shake at all. "Anything."

"Good," the Prince said, and spread his legs. "Come here."

David drifted. He was alone now and the rooms he'd shared with his nurse, rooms that had seemed cozy when he was young and cramped when he was older became cavernous, full of space he knew he could never fill. He went through her things; folded her shawl for the last time, ironed her sheets and made the bed she'd never sleep in again. He folded her tobacco pouch and put it with her pipe, took her shoes and put them where she liked them, pointing out towards the door. There was nothing else left of her except a coin with a woman's smiling face stamped on it that he found tucked into the pocket of her favorite coat. He touched the coin, traced the woman's smile and knew it as his own. He put it back in the coat.

He slept a lot, curled up on the bed he'd had his whole life, watching the small window glazed with ice and listening to snow fall. He went down to the kitchens at night and took food; tea and bread and ale and apples, ate them alone and watched the bread heels turn blue and green, the apple cores brown and melt into mush. One day a servant came and cleaned the room, directed a bent old washwoman to strip David's bed and then David, had a tub brought and said, "There's soap and towels on the table."

"Thank you," David said, and his voice came out sounding cracked and hoarse. He wondered how long it had been since he'd spoken.

"Thank your brother and sister," the servant said. "They've asked me to look after you."

"Please tell them thank you," David said. "Tell them I'm grateful and that they're too good to me, too kind, too--"

"Yes," the servant said abruptly. "I'll tell them." He looked at David. His eyes were cloudy, filmed white like snow. "They're always happy to hear from those who appreciate their kindness."

He thought his brother and sister would come see him then but they didn't. The servant did though, came almost every day. Most of the time he said nothing but occasionally he told David things. The snow was very bad now, worse than anyone could remember. The King had sickened, withdrawn to his rooms. "He is fading," the servant said. "Cries out for his dead wives.

Mostly the first one. Sometimes he asks for his children."

"Does he ask for me?" David said, unable to keep hope from his voice. The servant paused, then put down the tray he was holding.

"No," he said.

***

The Prince and Princess ate dinner together every night. They ate in their own gilded dining room, late at night and all alone. They asked that all the food be served before they arrived.

Neither of them liked waiting.

"Tonight is the night," the Princess said when they met in the hallway. Her face was aglow, her eyes shining dark and eager.

"I thought so too," the Prince answered. His eyes shone brightly, dancing with an eagerness that matched hers. "Our guest--"

"will be here soon."

They smiled at each other and walked hand in hand into the room.

***

Joseph knew what was going to happen as soon as he opened the door. Normally a servant from the Prince or Princess came, rapped once on the door and told him curtly when to arrive at the palace and what entrance to use, but tonight a pair of guards were waiting for him, their faces too perfectly blank to mean anything but that what he'd been doing had been discovered. He'd known it was forbidden but couldn't help it. They were both so beautiful. But woodsmen did not sleep with Princes. They did not sleep with Princesses. He had. He had and knew that if he could he would again. Wanting burned inside him and he saw no need to hide it. It had gained him something greater than he'd ever dreamed of desiring.

He went to what he knew would be his death, walking with his head held high. He walked into the castle flanked by silent soldiers and thought of golden skin and golden hair and wide knowing eyes. He thought of arms holding him, urging him on, sweet voices crying his name. He looked at the soldiers. They'd never know anything like what he'd had, what he'd found. They'd never do anything like what he'd done. He walked into a golden room and thought
it was worth
it
.

Death didn't come. Instead they were waiting for him, just the two of them surrounded by crystal bowls full of food and crystal glasses full of wine.

"I thought--" he stammered out, surprised by seeing the two of them together, by not being greeted with an axe slicing through his neck.

"Shhh---" the Prince and Princess said at the same time.

"You said you loved me," the Princess continued, and smiled a tender-eyed smile. She ate a bite of meat, mouth opening into a perfect round O, a flash of her tongue before her lips closed.

"You said you'd do anything," the Prince said, and smiled a tender-eyed smile. He drank a sip of wine, mouth opening into a perfect round O, a flash of his tongue before his lips closed.

"I do," he said. "I would. Anything, I swear."

The moment he said those words the Prince and Princess smiled at each other and he felt a chill crawl up his spine.

***

One afternoon the servant handed him a piece of paper instead of bringing him food. David felt the weight of the paper in his hand and stared at the soft cream color of it, the gilded edges that curved into silhouettes of his brother and sister. His stomach rumbled a little but he ignored it.

"They--they sent this for me?" he asked and unfolded the paper. Great slashes of words raced across it, all of them a curious mix of sharp curves and delicate loops. It was as if two people had written the letter at the same time. David wished he could read it. He looked at the servant, then back down at the letter.

"I'll return for you after the evening mass, then?" the servant said, a hint of impatience in his voice. His eyes were as impossible to read as ever, still fogged a snowy white.

"Yes," David said. "I'll be ready. And then we'll go and--?"

A frown crossed the servant's face. "You did read the note?"

"I--"

"Just be ready," the servant said, bitterness in his voice that David knew wasn't directed at him but at something else, someone else. "Their Highnesses don't like to be kept waiting."

"I'm going to see them," David breathed and smiled.

"Yes," the servant said, and didn't smile back.

They were waiting for him, sitting on long sofas across from each other and smiling at one another over a scurrying maid's head. They looked over at him at the same time, rose from their sofas together and walked towards him. The Prince waved the maid away, smiling a little as she flinched and raced from the room. The Princess said, "Thank you, that will be all," to the servant who'd led David to them, smiled as he blinked his fogged eyes and turned away.

"I'm so glad to see you," David said when they were alone. "I've --"

"Yes, yes," the Prince said. "We're glad to see you too. But we asked you here for a reason."

"Yes," the Princess said. "You see--"

"We've planned--"

"a gift--"

"of a trip--"

"just for you--"

"our dear brother."

"For me?" David said. "Really? No one's ever--really and truly just for me?"

The Prince and Princess smiled at each other. "Yes, dear heart," the Princess said, her voice laced with laughter that David wanted to enjoy but couldn't. Something about it didn't seem to include him.

"Just for you," the Prince said, and his voice was a deeper counterpoint to the Princess's, laced with the same excluding mirth. "You'll leave in the morning."

"Where am I going?" David asked eagerly. "What will I see?"

"A new land," the Princess said at the same time the Prince said, "You'll see things most people don't see until they are very old."

"Thank you," David said, and hesitated for a moment, then reached out and hugged each of them like his nurse used to hug him. They were both warm and it felt nice to be close to someone, to know they cared for him. Their arms didn't close around him like his nurse's had but it didn't matter. He didn't think he'd ever been so happy.

"Farewell," they said at the same time as he left the room. He turned back to wave at them but they'd turned away, were looking out the window.

Outside, the snow had stopped falling.

"We did it," the Princess said late that night, lying curled on her side with a smile on her face.

"Yes, we did," the Prince said. He stretched and then curled his body down into an echo of hers, the two of them looking deep into each other's eyes. "And now--"

"Dear Father," the Princess said with a sigh, her smile sharpening. "He can pass on to the next world. We'll--"

"We'll tell him about our brother together. He'll cry--"

"He'll howl."

They shared a smile.

"He thinks he's forgotten," the Prince said. "But we'll--"

"We'll make him remember." The Princess sat up, pushed her hair back and stood, spun around in joy. "Now," she said. "Let's do it now."

"Not yet," the Prince said, and she stopped moving, a small frown crossing her face. He took her hand. "Soon," he said. "Remember the woodsman and his task?"

"You want to go now," she said, and linked her fingers tightly around his. "You don't want to wait."

"And you know we should," he said, and tugged her down next to him. She smiled at him.

***

His brother and sister came into his room in the morning, the familiar white-eyed servant trailing behind them.

"We came to make sure you were ready to leave," his sister said briskly but not unkindly.

"Where are your bags?"

"I just need--" David said, gesturing around the room. "I have to take my nurse's shawl with me."

"Anything we can do to help," his brother said, an amused drawl in his voice, and clapped his hands at the servant. "By all means, make sure to find and pack the--your nurse's, was it?--

shawl."

"What a sweet thing you are," his sister said. "It's almost a shame to see you leave." And then they both smiled at him, broad satisfied smiles that David wasn't sure he liked. But they'd arranged a trip for him and they'd noticed him and that was enough; that was amazing. David smiled back and they both blinked at him and then looked at each other.

"He might not have to go just yet," his brother said and placed one hand on his sister's shoulder, sliding his fingers under the robes she was wearing to trace over the gilt trim that framed her collarbone.

"That's what I was thinking," she said, a tone too rich and satisfied to be surprise filling her voice. She looked around the room, eyes darkening as she took in its small size, the lack of furniture, the pile of David's nurse's belongings still stacked neatly folded, as if she might be coming back to claim them at any time.