The Forgotten Garden (59 page)

Done with a penknife, perhaps?

Nell checked the page numbers. They jumped from fifty-four to sixty-one.

The gap fell perfectly between two stories . . .

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THE GOLDEN EGG

By Eliza Makepeace

By Eliza Makepeace

A
long time ago, when seeking was

finding, there lived a young maiden

in a tiny cottage on the edge of a

large and prosperous kingdom. The

maiden had few means and her

cottage was hidden so deeply within

the dark woods as to be obscured from common view.

There had been those, long ago, who knew of the
little cottage with its stone fireplace, but such folk
had long since passed and Mother Time had drawn
a veil of forget around the cottage. Aside from the
birds who came to sing on her windowsill, and the
woodland animals who came in search of her warm
hearth, the maiden was alone. Yet was she never
lonely or unhappy, for the maiden of the cottage was
too busy to pine for company she’d never had.

Deep within the heart of the cottage, behind
a special door with a shiny lock, there was a very
precious object. A golden egg whose glow was said to
be so brilliant, so beautiful, that those whose eyes alit
upon it were rendered instantly blind. The Golden
Egg was so old that no one could properly remember
its age, and for countless generations the maiden’s
family had been charged with its protection.

The maiden did not question this responsibility,
for she knew it to be her destiny. The egg must be kept
safe and well and hidden. Most importantly, the egg’s
existence must be kept secret. Many years before,
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when the kingdom was new, great wars had erupted over
the Golden Egg, for legend told that it had magical powers
and could grant its possessor his heart’s desire.

So it was the maiden kept her vigil. By day she sat at
her little spinning wheel in the cottage window, singing
happily with the birds who gathered to watch her work.

By night she offered shelter to her animal friends and
slept in the warmth of the cottage, heated from within by
the glow of the Golden Egg. And she remembered always
that there was naught more important than protecting
one’s birthright.

Meanwhile, far away across the land, in the kingdom’s
grand castle, there lived a young Princess who was good
and fair but very unhappy. Her health was poor and no
matter that her mother, the Queen, had scoured the land
for magic or medicine, nothing could be found to make
the Princess well. There were those who whispered that
when she was but a babe a wicked apothecary had cursed
her to eternal ill health, but no one dared utter such
sentiment aloud. For the Queen was a cruel ruler whose
wrath her subjects wisely feared.

The Queen’s daughter, however, was the apple of her
mother’s eye. Each morning the Queen paid a visit to her
bedside but alas, each morning the Princess was the same:
pale, weak and weary. ‘It is all I wish, Mother,’ she would
whisper, ‘the strength to walk through the castle gardens,
to dance at the castle balls, to swim in the castle waters.

To be well is my heart’s desire.’

The Queen had a magic looking glass from which
she gleaned the comings and goings of the kingdom, and
day after day she asked: ‘Mirror of mine, favoured friend,
show me the healer who will bring this horror’s end.’

But each day the mirror gave the same answer: ‘There
is no one, my Queen, in all the land, who can make her
well by his healing hand.’

Now one day it happened that the Queen was so upset
by her daughter’s condition that she forgot to ask the
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looking glass her usual question. Instead she began to
sob, crying: ‘Mirror of mine, that I so admire, show me
how to grant my daughter’s heart’s desire.’

The mirror was silent for a moment, but within its
glassy centre an image began to form, a tiny cottage in the
middle of a deep dark wood, smoke pluming from a little
stone chimney. Inside the window sat a young maiden,
spinning at a wheel and singing with the birds on the
sill.

‘What is this you show me?’ gasped the Queen. ‘Is this
young woman a healer?’

The mirror’s voice was low and sombre: ‘In the dark
woods on the kingdom’s edge lies a cottage. Inside is
a golden egg with the power to grant its holder their
heart’s desire. The maiden you see is the guardian of
the Golden Egg.’

‘How will I get the egg from her?’ said the Queen.

‘She does what she does for the kingdom’s good,’ said
the mirror, ‘and will not easily consent.’

‘Then what must I do?’

But the magic looking glass had no more answers,
and the image of the cottage faded so that only glass
remained. The Queen lifted her chin and stared down
her long nose, holding her own gaze until a slight smile
formed on her lips.

Early the next morning, the Queen summoned the
Princess’s closest handmaiden. A girl who had lived in
the kingdom all her life, and who the Queen knew could
be counted on to perform whatever task was necessary
in order to ensure the Princess’s health and happiness.

The Queen instructed the handmaiden to retrieve the
Golden Egg.

The handmaiden set off across the kingdom in the
direction of the dark woods. For three days and nights she
walked east and, as dusk was falling on the third night,
she came to the edge of the woods. She stepped over fallen
branches and cleared a path through foliage, until finally,
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standing in a clearing before her, was a tiny cottage with
sweetly scented smoke pluming from its chimney.

The handmaiden knocked on the door and waited.

When it opened, a young maiden stood on the other side
and, although she was surprised to see a visitor on her
doorstep, a generous smile spread across her face. She
stepped aside and welcomed the handmaiden across the
threshold. ‘You are tired,’ said the maiden. ‘You have
journeyed far. Come and warm yourself by my hearth.’

The handmaiden followed the maiden inside and sat
on a cushion by the fire. The maiden of the cottage brought
a bowl of warm broth and sat quietly weaving while her
guest ate. The fire crackled on the grate and the warmth in
the room made the handmaiden very drowsy. Her desire
to slumber was so strong that she would have forgotten
her mission had the maiden of the cottage not said, ‘You
are very welcome here, stranger, but must forgive me for
asking whether there is a purpose to your visit.’

‘I have been sent by the Queen of the land,’ said the
handmaiden. ‘She seeks your assistance in healing her
daughter’s ill health.’

The birds of the forest sometimes sang of goings-on
within the kingdom, thus had the maiden heard tell of the
fair and kind princess who lived inside the castle walls.

‘I will do what I can,’ said the maiden, ‘though I cannot
think why the Queen has sent for me as I know not how
to heal.’

‘The Queen has sent me to seek something that you
harbour,’ said the handmaiden. ‘An object with the power
to grant its bearer her heart’s desire.’

The maiden understood then that it was the Golden
Egg of which the handmaiden spoke. She shook her
head sadly. ‘I would do anything to help the Princess,
except that which you ask. Protecting the Golden Egg is
my birthright, and there is naught more important than
that. You may stay here tonight and shelter from the cold
and lonely woods, but tomorrow you must return to the
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kingdom and tell the Queen that I cannot relinquish the
Golden Egg.’

Next day, the handmaiden set off for the castle. She
journeyed for three days and nights until finally she
arrived at the castle walls where the Queen was waiting
for her.

‘Where is the Golden Egg?’ said the Queen, looking at
the handmaiden’s empty hands.

‘I have failed in my mission,’ said the handmaiden.

‘For alas, the maiden of the cottage would not be parted
from her birthright.’

The Queen drew herself to her full height and her face
turned red. ‘You must return,’ she said, pointing a long-taloned finger at the handmaiden, ‘and tell the maiden it
is her duty to serve her kingdom. If she fails, she will be
turned to stone and left to stand in the kingdom courtyard
for all eternity.’

So the handmaiden headed east once more, journeyed
for three days and nights until she found herself again
at the door to the hidden cottage. She knocked and was
greeted happily by the maiden, who welcomed her inside
and fetched her a bowl of broth. The maiden sat weaving
while the handmaiden ate her supper, until finally she
said, ‘You are very welcome here, stranger, but must
forgive me for asking whether there is a purpose to your
visit.’

‘I have been sent once more by the Queen of the
land,’ said the handmaiden. ‘She seeks your assistance in
healing her daughter’s ill health. Your duty is to serve your
kingdom. If you refuse, the Queen says you will be turned
to stone and made to stand in the kingdom courtyard for
all eternity.’

The maiden smiled sadly. ‘Protecting the Golden Egg
is my birthright,’ she said. ‘I cannot relinquish it to you.’

‘Do you wish to be turned to stone?’

‘I do not,’ said the maiden, ‘and neither shall I be. For
I serve my kingdom when I watch over the Golden Egg.’

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And the handmaiden did not argue, for she saw that
what the maiden of the cottage said was true. Next day,
the handmaiden set off for the castle and, when she
arrived, the Queen was once again waiting for her at the
castle walls.

‘Where is the Golden Egg?’ said the Queen, looking at
the handmaiden’s empty hands.

‘Again have I failed in my mission,’ said the
handmaiden. ‘For alas, the maiden of the cottage would
not be parted from her birthright.’

‘Did you not tell the maiden that it was her duty to
serve the kingdom?’

‘I did, Your Majesty,’ said the handmaiden, ‘and she
said that by guarding the Golden Egg she was serving the
kingdom.’

The Queen glowered and her face turned grey. Clouds
gathered in the sky and the ravens of the kingdom flew
for cover.

The Queen remembered then the mirror’s words—‘she
does what she does for the kingdom’s good’—and her lips
curled into a grin. ‘You must return once more,’ she said
to the handmaiden, ‘and this time you will tell the maiden
that if she fails to relinquish the Golden Egg she will be
responsible for the Princess’s eternal sorrow, which will
cast the kingdom into an endless winter of grief.’

So the handmaiden headed east for a third time,
journeying for three days and nights, until she found
herself once more at the door to the hidden cottage. She
knocked and was greeted happily by the maiden, who
welcomed her inside and fetched her a bowl of broth.

The maiden sat weaving while the handmaiden ate her
supper, until finally she said, ‘You are very welcome here,
stranger, but must forgive me for asking whether there is
a purpose to your visit.’