The Kingdom of Little Wounds (56 page)

So, back to that syphilitic fairy tale. Does Isabel really have the disease, and is she responsible for passing it on to her children? I’m not quite sure myself. What I do know is that she’s highly impressionable, due in part to a lifetime of prescription drug taking, and that the theory of Italian Fire makes a compelling explanation for her sorrows.

History is whatever we believe; history itself is a fairy tale. Story and truth can be anything we dream of.

In the end (this ending), any philosophy of truth is like a fountain flowing with mercury, a quicksilver distraction that reflects whatever the individual wants to see in it. It is intoxicating and it is dangerous, and it goes beyond concrete facts to lift us out of ourselves.

And, yes, Renaissance lords really did create fountains that ran with quicksilver. They did so because the mercury was beautiful.

A peasant who spends seven years upon a story cannot finish without the help of a village, and I thank them seven ways:

Sugared cherries, cheeses, and plums to my oldest friends, who’ve never forgotten or flagged: Leslie Hayes, Stanley Walens, Marjorie Darraugh, Steve Darraugh, and Trixie Rummell.

Amber beads to my first readers, who generously advised and prodded: Tom Fahy, Colleen Curran, Fred R., and Virginia Pye. The amber must hold insects and flowers for two final fairy godmothers, Gretchen Comba and Gigi Amateau, whose insights set the heart beating.

A seaweed garland to each cousin of the needle, sword, and pen: Sherrie Page Najarian, Kristin Swenson, Julie Anderson, Jo Park, Siouxie Lee, Mindy Daniels, Donna Sanna, Emyl Jenkins, Lee S., Panthia K. Buck, John Vernon, and the members of James River Writers.

Buckets of herring to colleagues at VCU who have supported oddities and ruins, especially Nick Sharp, Richard Fine, Bryant Mangum, Sachi Shimomura, Kathleen Graber, Margaret Vopel, Ginny Schmitz, Katherine Bassard, and James Coleman.

Perspective glasses for my tour guides through light and darkness: Gunver Hasselbalch never tires of palaces (or never admits to it); Ole Hasselbalch showed me my first witch’s hollow. James Ker did all the clever Latin, though any mistakes are mine-all-mine. Participants in a springtime writers’ workshop grew preoccupied with STDs and led me gently toward syphilis — thanks, y’all. I’m grateful to Robin Selby and Lydia Morris, and they know why.

A quicksilver crown to my longtime friend and magical editor, Liz Bicknell, who makes a point of popping up every few years to turn my straw life into gold. Her like-minded familiars should get a swan each: Erin DeWitt, Nicole Raymond, Andrea Tompa, Kathryn Cunningham, Sherry Fatla, Angie Dombroski, Hannah Mahoney, Martha Dwyer, and Pier Gustafson.

Finally, simple gratitude to Weatherford.

Health to your souls!

For information about the history and culture of 1572 Scandinavia, plus information and reflection on fairy tales and writing in general, please visit
susanncokal.net
.