Briar Rose - Part 2 of 4
“There is candle wax on the floor,” one of the maids reports this morning.
Chapter 9
“There is candle wax on the floor,” one of the maids reports this morning. But she is alone, save for my ghostly self, and my body sleeping in the glass coffin.
I wonder what His Grace would think of his mistress visiting his impending bride in the dead of night. And what would his opinion be on my wandering spirit? Would he care at all, or would he order a binding spell to keep me in my body?
When my ladies-in-waiting come I drift about the chamber listening to their talk. I soon learn that the name of the Necromancer is Isabella and that her mother and grandmother were witches before her. Some of the women in the palace visit her for powders and potions for all manner of uses: to conceive, to prevent conception, to arouse a man’s passions, to render him impotent. At least two of the ladies present had use of this: to have some peace, as one explained.
“I’m surprised you trust her,” the painted lady declares.
“We are not saying we trust her in all things,” another informs her, “but the witch knows her business.”
“One day, she may take it into her head to tell your husband.”
“She converses with spirits. She already knows all manner of things. Better to keep on her good side. I’d not make an enemy of her.”
“No, because she would take her revenge and give you the wrong powder,” a young woman laughs. “And then you would have an end to your peace.”
The painted lady seems thoughtful. “I wonder if she has been feeding His Grace any powders these past months. For it surprises me that he has not visited his betrothed.”
“Perhaps he has,” says the youngest of the women. Her voice falls into a whisper. “I heard today from the maid that there was candle wax on the floor. Beside the casket.”
The ladies exchange meaningful looks.
There are things to be said for passing through the company of others as a ghost. I leave them and seek out my future husband.
On the banqueting table in the great hall, sketches are laid out of the new casket and the platform on which it will rest. There is still some discussion on the matter of the chamber to be used. The Duke is turning against the idea of the great hall.
“I will not have all and sundry passing through to look at her. I intend to exercise some restraint. Mystery is a powerful thing. Allowing men access to the mystery is a sign of power and favour.”
“She shall stay in her chamber?”
“Unless you can think of a better place to store her.”
“No, Your Grace. Being her bedchamber, it might add to the, ah, mystery and exclusive nature of the display. Perhaps the chamber could look precisely as it did when she fell into sleep.”
The Duke studies the vaulted ceiling as he ponders this.
“We could say that we have kept her chamber in the style of her time so that when she awakens, if she awakens, and here you might offer a sorrowful look, Your Grace, she should feel reassured and perfectly at peace with her surroundings.”
“You are conjuring up quite the romantic myth.”
“Oh, the visitors will like it, sir. A tale of romance, mystery, sorcery and tragic love. It will bring them from far and wide.” The man rubs his palms together.
“Not too many, I hope,” mutters the Duke. “We don’t want the palace over-run with them.”
“There are local craftsmen working on miniature models of the sleeping princess. As near to her likeness as it is possible to achieve, without the use of sorcery. Speaking of sorcery, Your Grace,” and the man’s voice drops to a whisper, “is there any sign of the Lady Isabella moving into the tower? She surely doesn’t mean to stay camped out there forever?”
“When her chambers are ready, and not a moment sooner. I’m merely repeating her words, you understand.”
“Of course there are some who are happier to see her out there than in here. Sorcery is a dangerous thing. Magic is very unpredictable.”
“Are you telling me you don’t want her to move into the tower?”
“No. No. I merely wished to point out that there are some superstitious folk here. Among the servants in particular. One or two of the maids have complained of a ghost wandering the palace.”
“And what am I supposed to do about it? Perhaps I should call on the Lady Isabella to chase it off with a spell. Go on! Leave me be to study my plans.”
Chapter 10
My idle tour of the palace takes me into the grounds and through the great corridor in the hedge. On the other side I see pennants flying above pavilions. A soldier canters into sight on a great white horse before vanishing again.
Why am I here? I ask myself.
But I know the answer. Now that I have someone to speak with, I cannot stay away. And there are things I must know: what she means to do with me, what she means to do with the Duke.
When I pass through the walls of her pavilion, she stands, smiling in welcome. I cannot tell if it is a false smile. On this occasion her gown is dark blue embroidered with silver. Her skin is milky white. She seems a creature of night, of the moon.
“I am pleased you have overcome your dislike of me enough to pay a visit,” she says.
Her tone irritates me. “Curiosity, nothing more, brings me here.” I study the interior of the pavilion. There is the place where she sleeps, and a table, two chests, but very little to mark her out as a witch. “Where are your instruments of magic?”
She taps a single finger against her temple. “This is where I keep them. What did you expect? A boiling cauldron?”
“Well, I have satisfied my curiosity, and now I must return.”
She seats herself at the table. “If you wish.” She casts her eyes over a book.
I want to step closer, examine the pages, but I remain where I stand.
She sighs, closes the book and taps the chair next to her. “Can you sit?”
“Of course.”
“I am not your enemy.”
I consider her words, and her expression, which seems honest, and venture over to the table where I seat myself cautiously, avoiding her skirts even though they can only pass through my own. I fold my hands in my lap, conscious that our clothes are of a different fashion and time.
“How lonely it must be to have not another soul to talk to for a hundred years.”
Her tone is one of sympathy and suddenly I want to weep. Instead, I straighten my shoulders. “I am still alive. The only one to survive the slaughter.”
“Am I to be held accountable for that?”
“Your influence with the Duke, your magic, could have prevented it.”
“You misunderstand the nature of my relationship with that gentleman. In the beginning, I was his hostage. I have been useful to him, and I have aided him for my own reasons. True, I am no longer imprisoned. The guards protect me from those who think my assassination would be his downfall. But there is no emotional bond between us, and my influence outside the magical sphere is limited. He wants me to foretell the future he desires. And I do.”
“You lie? You make false predictions?”
“If it suits my purposes.”
“Are you a charlatan then?”
“No.”
“What is your purpose? For I know you have one.”
“I do. But I prefer to let it unfold in its own time.”
“You won’t tell me.”
“Why don’t we talk of other things. Are you not curious about the world outside? Do you not wish to know of all that has occurred in your land since you fell into sleep?”
“Very well. We shall talk of history if it pleases you.”
Her expression darkens. “I would not thrust a topic of conversation upon you.”
“No, I want to hear it. Who rules these lands now?”
“The Duke’s father. They are distant cousins of yours.”
“Our misfortune was their gain.”
“That was their plan.” And she proceeds to recount how my relatives brought about our downfall by placing a spinning wheel in a room in the tower, knowing I would find it.
Chapter 11
It happened like this. My parents, the King and Queen of this land, had waited many years for an heir. Time was running out for the Queen who decided to seek magical help to conceive a child. She travelled to the house of a powerful witch. Gold was offered but the witch wanted only an invitation to the child’s naming and every great occasion of her life thereafter, for the child, the witch foretold, would be a girl.
The Queen blanched at the idea of the witch in their midst, for she was not a comely woman this creature. Nevertheless, she agreed to the woman’s conditions. The witch boiled her potions and sent the Queen away with a box of her medicines to make her conceive. And conceive she did. Nine months later I was born.
The King and Queen drew up a list of those persons invited to my naming, but the witch’s name was absent. In due time the guests arrived at the palace, ready to present their gifts: money, jewels, fine clothes, and expensive trinkets. And when the last gift was given, and the King stood to thank the assembly, the doors of the Great Hall flew open, and in strode the witch, dressed as a woman on her way to a ball.
“I too have a gift,” she proclaimed. “On a day years from now the child will prick her finger and fall dead. And your line will die with her. For you cannot cheat a witch, Your Highness,” she said to the Queen.
The King ordered that the witch be seized, but she had vanished into the crowd.
A voice broke out of the hubbub, the voice of a woman who announced herself to be versed in the ways of magic.
“I cannot banish this witch’s curse,” she told the assembled guests, “for she is a powerful magician. But I can alter it so that the child falls into sleep, not death. A great briar hedge shall surround the palace to keep out those who would rob or kill her.”
“Then she will sleep for a great many years?” the King asked.
“At least a hundred, Your Highness.”
The King fell into mourning.
“You have eighteen years to enjoy her company before she falls under the spell.”
“She cannot wake up to a world in which she knows no one. You must put the entire palace under this spell, so that we might all awaken when she does.”
“Very well,” the woman said. “Then I will do my work and it will be done.” And as the royal couple wept for my fate, the woman went about her business. She brought a small rose bush which, she said, they were to plant outside the walls of the palace. Then she left and they never saw her again.
Hopeful that the curse could yet be averted, the King ordered that I be confined to a part of the palace where no sharp instruments were left lying.
And so I grew up to love books and paintings and I never once took up a needle. But on the morning of my eighteenth birthday, a cousin led me up to a room in the tower to show me a curious object he had discovered there.
“I believe it is a spinning wheel. For spinning yarn. Shall I show you how it works?” he asked. His expression was curious, and I suspected him of some mischief, but he denied it. “The thread winds on there,” he said.
I drew closer. Reaching out my hand, I ran my fingers over the rod. It was sharp at the top. I could see where flakes of wood had been carved out to sharpen it. It was then that the sharpened end bit into my hand.
I cried out and fell into a swoon.
“They laid you out in your chamber inside a glass case,” the Necromancer tells me now. “The next day, the palace fell into sleep, and the hedge sprang up.”
“And if my cousin had not tricked me?”
“It would have happened another way.”
“And the Duke? Is he of my uncle’s line?”
“He is. A very ambitious man. He means to return the centre of power to this palace after his father and brother are dead.”
“His brother is ill?”
“Not yet.”
I get to my feet, wander about the tent, thinking over what has been said. At last I turn to her. “If I cannot awaken and escape I would sooner die. Every night I fear he will visit me.”
“I have given him a powder that ensures he has little interest in such things.”
“Really? And you can be sure he takes it? You slip it into his drink when he is here? Does he visit you each day?”
“No, but its effects take many days to wear off. I only need slip it to him twice each se’ennight.”
“And if you fall out of favour and he banishes you, I will be helpless. No, I want it to end.”
The Necromancer’s face is calm. “It shall.”
“Then you will help me? I don’t care how it is done. Only make sure it is quick.”
“I am not going to kill you.”
“Then what else shall you do?”
She smiles. “I am already at work on it.”
Image by Aleksandra at Fusion Dreams. This is part two of four parts.