Pulchritude

by Ana Mardoll

  Why hadn't he changed back? Bella had announced her love for him. Even in her sleep, she had spoken with a strength and determination that had never before accompanied her declarations of love. He believed her, and he believed that she believed it as well. Wasn't that enough? Was there some rule of magic he didn't understand, some trick or final condition that needed to be fulfilled? Did he need to fall asleep, or be woken with a kiss? Did he have to walk through fire or pass through a hedge of thorns?

  His musings triggered a distressing realization: the hedge of roses would soon be nothing but a hedge of thorns. When he had left Bella to her bath, he had been disheartened to see that a fair number of the roses were wilting or withered, significantly more than the amount he had come to expect per day. He didn't know if his own tardiness had caused the roses to sicken, or if the heavy weather was to blame, or if the culprit was merely the inexorable passage of time, but one thing was clear: he only had a few more weeks before his fate was sealed. "And now Bella wants to go back to her village."

  Ezio rocked back and forth on his slender legs, feeling the anxiety course through his veins and through his stomach. He'd had to tell her she could go. If he had denied her the right to say a proper farewell to her family, she would have been lost to him forever. He knew that, and should have known since she first asked if she were his prisoner. Her love for him was utterly dependent on her perception of her own freedom.

  He blinked slowly at the flames that danced in the fireplace as a thought worked through his mind. "Her love for me ... depends on her freedom?" He glanced back at the sleeping girl. She was so lovely in sleep, even as she snored softly into the pillows. The light from the fire flickered over her pale face, etching her delicate features into deep shadows. She looked fragile, yet Ezio knew she was strong to have adjusted so well to this situation.

  The fata had said he needed to find a love who would sacrifice everything. If Bella loved him, but only as long as she were not his prisoner, would that be enough to break the spell and return him to his human form? Ezio stared for a long time at his hands, furry and gnarled in the dwindling firelight.

  "I have to talk to Guerrino," he decided, and with a heavy heart he pulled himself to his feet and slipped out the bedroom door.

  Chapter 16 - Guerrino

  Guerrino leaned against the stone frame of his tower window as he watched the stars. The constellations in the sky were lately his silent companions, and he was faintly sad to see the spring patterns slowly giving way to their summer cousins. Since the girl's arrival, he had become nocturnal in his habits, renewing his spells on the orchard and fence at night and sleeping through the day. Time was starting to weigh heavily on him, and he felt increasingly restless and confined.

  "Who'd have thought I could be lonely?" he thought wryly. His one source of conversation -- his mornings with the prince -- was rapidly becoming something to dread. He had nothing left to say to the young man except his repeated assurances that everything was going as well as could be expected. When the prince had failed to knock on his door this morning, Guerrino had been almost as pleased as he was surprised. He only hoped that the prince's uncharacteristic absence didn't bode ill for their futures. "Maybe he doesn't need my encouragement anymore," Guerrino thought, but he wasn't hopeful.

  His own assessment of their situation wasn't rosy. He had known it would be easy to obtain a woman: once the fence was in place, it was only a matter of time before a woman could be coaxed into the trap. But he wasn't certain that a woman could be persuaded to fall in love with her captor, at least not the kind of love the fata would demand. Curses were shaped by more than mere words; if the woman didn't love the prince in precisely the manner envisioned by the caster, then the condition would not be fulfilled.

  The prince seemed convinced that the girl they had was perfect for the situation and was encouraged by her compliance, but Guerrino wasn't so sure. Once or twice he had followed the girl invisibly through the castle corridors, watching her burrow under beds and dig out cutlery from behind dusty cabinets. He thought he recognized in her a survival instinct that mirrored his own, an almost feral sense of self-interest that precluded genuine, sacrificial love. "Or perhaps I'm so desperate for companionship that I'm imagining a connection with the girl," he thought wearily.

  It was time to think about leaving. During his nightly inspections of the fence, Guerrino had noted the roses dying at an alarming rate; he guessed the prince only had a month or two left. He couldn't plan to stay that long if the girl wasn't going to break the spell. He was as ready now as he'd ever be, and delay at this point would just worsen his situation. The spells on the gate and the garden were a constant drain on him, and the supplies that they had brought up from the castle pantry for him to live on would not last forever.

  Guerrino mentally sized up the remainder of his supply of dried meats, hard cheeses, and preserved vegetables, trying to calculate how much he could carry away with him. "I'll set aside a full pack now," he decided, "and at the very latest I'll leave when that's all I have left." He felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning his former student, but he'd done enough for the boy to pay his debts. He would feel foolish if he left and the girl ended up breaking the curse and bestowing Ezio with riches after all, but in the unlikely event of that happening, he could always come back and lay a claim on the prince for the aid he rendered in securing the girl. "He'll be happy enough to pay me to go away," he thought. Ezio wouldn't want him around as a reminder of his embarrassment, and Guerrino would be only too happy to be bought off.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the muffled pounding that signaled the prince's arrival at his tower door. Guerrino sighed. "It was too much to hope to go a full day in peace," he thought sourly. "I'm coming," he hissed softly, but the prince continued to beat urgently on the door until Guerrino pulled it open. "Come in," Guerrino said wryly, but Ezio was already striding in with the same unconscious arrogance that he always carried with him.

  "Is something wrong?" Guerrino asked, eyeing the prince cautiously. The young man looked haggard; his ears drooped low and he kept rubbing his palms together in a nervous motion.

  "She loves me!" Ezio blurted out, but his voice sounded miserable. "She loves me, but I haven't changed back yet!"

  "Then she doesn't love you, Your Highness," Guerrino said patiently, fighting the urge to press his fingers to his throbbing temples. "Best to be encouraging," he thought. The faster he could calm the prince down, the faster the young man would go back to bed. "But it's very promising that she says so. It's just a matter of time now." He tried to smile reassuringly.

  "No, you don't understand." He was pacing anxiously in front of Guerrino's work table. "She loves me, I'm certain of it. I just don't think it's enough. Can you open this?"

  Guerrino narrowed his eyes at the young man; his clawed hands were poised in mid-air as though to touch Guerrino's grimoire. Cautiously, he walked over to the table, speaking casually as he moved closer to the prince than he would have liked. "If you are thinking that we should try another candidate, we could perhaps use her to bring back Flavio. If romantic love isn't working, perhaps brotherly love--"

  "No, no," Ezio cut him off impatiently. "I need to see the curse." Guerrino hesitated, and then gently turned to the relevant page. The prince stared at the words for a moment before sighing and slouching to Guerrino's bed to sit dejectedly with his head on his hands.

  Guerrino glanced down at his own handwriting in the grimoire, wondering what track the prince seemed to be on. His mouth moved as his eyes followed the words:

  You shall take a form as beastly without as you are within.

  You must find that love which is willing to sacrifice everything.

  Without such love made manifest before the estate-roses die, a beast you shall remain.

  "How important is the wording of the curse?" Ezio asked, staring intently at him.

  Guerrino hesitated. "The wording is the verbalization of the caster's intent." He watched the princ
e wrinkle his nose in concentration. "It's not enough to satisfy the letter of the curse if the intent is not fulfilled," he explained, fighting the instinct to back away from those bared teeth.

  "I think ..." The prince spoke slowly, working out his thoughts as he talked. "I think the problem is that she loves me, but she doesn't love me enough. I think she has to love me enough to 'sacrifice everything'." His shoulders slumped. "But I don't know what that means, exactly. Her dreams? Her family? Her life? She's already done that."

  "She did that for her father," Guerrino corrected, his eyes narrowing in thought. "She loved him enough to sacrifice everything. But perhaps she doesn't love you enough for that." He shrugged and tried to look unconcerned. "Still, we know she's capable of that sort of love, so it's just a matter of time."

  Ezio looked down at the floor. "We don't have time," he moaned miserably. "More roses are dying every day, and now she's planning to leave for a week to see her family."

  "What?" Guerrino asked. He blinked incredulously at the young man. "And you told her she could go?"

  "Well, I could hardly say 'no', could I?" the prince shot back angrily. "That will make her fall in love with me, won't it? 'I'm sorry, dear, but you're a prisoner here and forbidden to leave.' I'm sure she'll unreservedly fall for me then." The prince actually snapped his sharp teeth angrily on the last line.

  "Couldn't you have--" Guerrino bit back the rest of his response. There was no point in arguing or telling him that he should have invented some excuse; it was too late now. "It's not my problem," he thought fiercely, but he knew he was lying to himself. If the girl left, he wouldn't have a clean hope of escaping while the prince was distracted.

  Guerrino walked to the tower window and stuck his head out into the thick night air. He could sense the energy of the storm gathering. He felt trapped, claustrophobic. He wanted to climb out the window and scale the tower bare-handed; he wanted to rush past the monstrous beast that blocked his way to the door and fly from his tower. "I want an end to all this," he thought with a shiver.

  "You're sure she loves you?" he asked sharply, not looking back at the prince.

  "I know it."

  "Fine." Guerrino strode over to his workbench and started pulling herbal components from their bottles. He felt energized by the decision, and buoyed by his conviction that one way or another he would soon be free of both curse and castle.

  "What will we do?" The beast was at his shoulder, watching his movements with those bright black eyes.

  "It's simple, Your Highness," Guerrino said coldly. "She was willing to give her life to save her father from a beast. Now we'll see if she's willing to do the same for you."

  Chapter 17 - Bella

  "You're sure you'll remember the way?" Ezio was staring at her with such sad eyes that Bella wrapped her arms around his bony form.

  "You worry too much," she said sweetly, trying to inject as much lightness as she could into her tone. "I hate to see him so miserable," she thought. Bella hoped that her light, happy tone would erase some of Ezio's obvious anxiety. "You've told me three times now, and I'm sure I won't get lost once I'm on the main road." She stroked his arm gently, hoping her touch would reassure him. "I'll only be gone a few days, long enough to pick up a few things and say goodbye to everyone. Come here."

  She tugged on his arm, and he bent down uncertainly until his face was just level with hers. She stood on tiptoe and carefully kissed his feline nose. When she pulled away, she was surprised to see that his black eyes were wet with tears. "Please don't worry," she said quietly, cupping her hand to his neck. She gathered up her skirt in one hand and turned towards the gate, signaling that she was ready to leave.

  "Bella ..." Ezio's voice trailed off, and she glanced back at him. He looked unsure of himself.

  "Yes?"

  "No ... nothing," he shook his head and stepped forward. When he touched the gate latch with his claw, it gave an audible click and the latch came open easily in his hand. Ezio opened the gate wide and Bella stepped through with one last smile before heading resolutely down the road.

  Once in the forest, and now that she no longer needed to be brave for Ezio's sake, she felt less confident. The wind was chilly and whipped at her hair. Ezio had tried half-heartedly to convince her to stay until the coming storm passed, but she was anxious to get on the road. The prospect of traveling in bad weather frightened her, but she hoped that the rain would keep the roads empty of troublemakers. She clutched at her sleeve where she had tucked a silver spoon and three gold coins, and mentally rehearsed her strategy. If she saw anyone threatening on the road, she would throw the money as a distraction and run in the opposite direction.

  Despite the chill wind, Bella was happy to be on the road. For many days, she'd been convinced that she might never leave the castle, and now that she was free she felt an elation of spirit that lightened her every step. She walked quickly, wondering if she could reach home by nightfall and anxiously making lists of things she wanted to do and say. "I need to thank Venizia," she thought firmly, "And I want to apologize to Marchetta." Most of all, she wanted to see Fiorita again, and to reassure herself that the girl had arrived home safely. "I'll never forgive myself if she didn't," Bella thought, quickening her step.

  What she was less certain of was her feelings towards Father. Whenever she allowed herself to think of their last day together, she found herself more and more angry, and this reaction made her feel guilty. "I didn't have to offer my freedom for his life," she reminded herself, but a part of her always countered rebelliously, "But he didn't have to ask me to, either." She was glad that Father hadn't died, but sad that he had been able to give her up so easily. "Would I have done the same?" She wasn't sure of the answer.

  The wind had picked up and was whipping her hair sharply across her face when she heard the first scream. It reverberated through the forest, high and painful and completely inhuman. She jerked her head back to stare fearfully down the road behind her; the howl had come from the castle, she was certain. The trees around her shook loudly in the wind, and above the noise she heard a cacophony of sharp, angry barks and a thick, wolfish howl. Another inhuman howl of pain and outrage ripped through the wind, and she knew the voice was Ezio's.

  Bella caught her breath, and she felt her stomach churn sharply. She hesitated for a moment, her mind frozen with fear and confusion, but one thought won out over the clamor in her mind: "Ezio is hurt!" She dug her heel into the dirt road and ran back towards the castle, pushing her hair away from her eyes and blinking back the sting of the wind in her eyes.

  Howls and screams reverberated through the forest around her, mixed with the sounds of the worsening storm. Rounding the top of the hill, she saw the silver gate before her, as closed to her as it had ever been. Panting, she skidded to a halt in front of the gate. She picked frantically at the latch with numb fingers, but the gate remained stubbornly closed.

  Another howl, sharp with pain, ripped through the air, and Bella stared helplessly about her. "I have to get inside the gate!" she thought, her panic rising. She placed her hands on the slender silver bars and pulled in frustration, but the metal refused to bend even a little to the pressure.

  Inspiration struck her. Turning sideways, she slid a leg between the bars and solemnly gauged the tightness of the fit. "It'll be close," she thought anxiously, but then a low moan of pain carried on the wind, and she knew she had no time to waste. Sucking in her breath as tightly as she could, she pressed her way through the bars, wincing at the pain as she squeezed through to the other side.

  Once inside the castle property, she was suddenly gripped with indecision. The howls were Ezio's, and she knew that he needed help, but where was he? "He'd be checking the roses," she thought frantically, "but which side?" Would she find him on the inner circuit of the castle, or in the outer space between the hedges and the gate? "He always does the castle side first," she remembered, and set off at a breakneck run alongside the hedge, calling his name as she ran.

&
nbsp; "Ezio! Ezio, where are you?"

  A low growl and a deep moan brought her to a halt by the hedge. Looking around, she could see nothing, but when she turned to her left, she could see movement distantly through the sparse hedge branches. "He's on the other side!" she realized, peering anxiously through the gaps in the thorny hedge.

  Her eyes widened with fear as the scene resolved before her eyes. Ezio lay stretched out on the grass, unmoving. His hair and clothing were matted in dark, wet blood, and Bella felt her stomach churn at the scent of it. The biggest wolf she had ever seen stood over him; its muzzle was red with blood and he chewed fiercely at a deep wound in Ezio's shoulder. For a moment, she was certain that Ezio was dead and the thought left her numb, but then she heard a low moan escape from his lips and relief washed over her.

  "I've got to scare that wolf away," she realized, "and then ..." She wasn't sure. "He's losing so much blood ... and I don't know if I'll be able to drag him ..." She felt paralyzed with indecision, but through the turmoil of thoughts, one thing was certain: she could not stand by and watch him die.

  "You! Wolf! Go away!" Her shouts sounded soft in the roar of the wind, and the animal only paused to give her a single moment's glance before continuing to worry at Ezio's bleeding shoulder. Bella clapped her hands helplessly, feeling foolish, and cast about her looking for some kind of weapon. Several fallen tree branches lay scattered on the ground, knocked there by the force of the wind. She grabbed up a thick branch and turned back to the hedge but then hesitated.

  She needed to get to the other side of the hedge, but the only gap in the hedge was at the gated entrance to the valley. She could run there and back in a few minutes, but she was already trembling with the stress and exertion. Beyond physical considerations were her emotional ones: she blinked back tears as she gazed at Ezio's motionless form and realized that she couldn't leave him, even temporarily. "If I leave, he'll die." A superstition, she knew, but a powerful one. Her hands tightened around her makeshift club, and the rough bark cut into her palms. She hesitated, rocked lightly on the balls of her feet, and then held her breath and plunged into the hedge.