It was a short walk back to the stables where I had left Goliath. I found him just exactly as I expected, calm and well as ever.
“This may be a strange and eerie place, my friend,” I told him, stroking his back, “but we have been made most welcome.”
I noted the oats and apples provided for my gentle giant. Goliath was certainly as comfortable here as I was inside the castle walls. I wondered if the voice had spoken to him at all, though of course he could never tell me. One might suppose that things moving without the aid of human hand might startle an animal, but Goliath was as composed as I had ever seen him. Quite honestly, I think my visit meant little to him, and he seemed happy enough when I moved to leave again.
The gardens caught my attention as soon as I was outside the stable door. There was perhaps just a little more light than there had been in the middle of the night, though it’s source was not so defined as to be clear. Surely, the sun’s rays were not making each flower glow in such a way. I am sure I wore a frown as I searched amongst the blooms for some other way they might be brightened. Lanterns or candles secreted amongst the plants perhaps, and yet none were to be found.
“Magic?” I asked myself, and each bobbing flower head that seemed to turn my way as I walked by.
Certainly, there had to be some kind of mysticism at work within the castle grounds. The voice that spoke to me seemingly had no physical presence at all. It appeared to be neither male nor female, and no more human than anything else. The chairs and doors and candles seemed to possess their own ability to move and do for themselves, without the intervention of persons unseen. Unless of course that was exactly how it worked.
I turned sharply at the feeling of eyes upon me. Perhaps the castle, the gardens, every inch of the place was full of people, and I simply could not see or hear them. That particular thought unnerved me. Being here alone did not. Neither did the idea of magical items surrounding me, but gazes upon me, reaching hands and prying eyes that I could never see nor be sure of their presence, that was a source of fear, at least, for a few moments.
Just as soon as I turned back to the garden, to the flowers and leaves that seemed to reach for me and pull me closer, I quite forgot my previous thoughts. It was so simple to leave go of one’s senses within that garden, to be quite hypnotised by the sweet smell of roses, the warmth of the impossible sunlight, the sound of water running by.
Following that strange trickling sound led me to a fountain, though the spouts had long run dry. The design of it was hard to make out under years of rust, moss and lichen encrusting every edge and corner. A figure, perhaps. Male or female, it was impossible to tell. Besides which, my attention was quite taken by the water that remained, surprisingly clear and inviting, despite the fact I knew it ought to be stagnant in the pool beneath the long-dead fountain.
In the centre, as if it had been placed there by design, sat a water lily. The biggest and brightest of its kind I was sure I had ever seen in my life, it quite drew me in. I saw nothing but the purest white petals, laid elegantly on the thick green leaves. It barely moved at all at first and then seemed to spin in place, gently at first and then with more vigour. My hand reached out to it, quite of its own accord, my eyes transfixed on the centre. It was as if there was something in there that I could almost make out but not quite. I was somehow convinced that if I moved just a little closer, leaned in a little more, I might make it out. The secret, the answer, everything was there in that lily, if I could just reach it, and yet with every painful lean and stretch, it seemed to move further away.
“I... I must,” I told myself in a voice I barely recognised as my own.
My arm was pulling away from me as if trying to detach from my body. My ears began to ring and my head pounded hard, until suddenly the world turned black.
I awoke to find myself in the same bed I had slept in before, though how I had got there I could never explain. Whether it was the same day or if many nights had passed, I could not say. All I knew for the first few moments after waking was the pounding in my head, and the smell of roses and lilies still strong in my nose.
“I don’t... What happened?”
“You do not remember?” asked the voice from before. “It may be for the best.”
Scrambling from the bed onto shaky legs, I moved to the mirror and peered into it, unsure what I ever expected to see but for my own reflection, as always. My eyes widened at the sight of a welt on the side of my head. Angry shades of red and purple marring my temple that stretched up to my hairline and half way down my cheek.
“There are rules to be followed if you must stay here, stranger.”
As my foggy head tried to process the information I had been given, I came to realise the source of my wound might well be the same as the voice that spoke to me. If there was some physical presence here, besides myself and Goliath, it clearly did not approve of my activities in the garden.
The fountain, I recalled it then, and the lily that was so enticing and yet so impossible to reach.
“I fancy I have learnt one rule already,” I said, fingers hovering over the edge of the welt that would mar my face. “You are quite proprietary about your fountain.”
“You will keep your distance from the fountain and all that it holds,” said the voice sharply. “That is the first of the rules.”
Perhaps I should have run then, knowing as I did that I had been injured in the pursuit of something so simple as a flower in a fountain, but what would I have been running from? More to the point, what would I have run to? I had no evidence to suggest I had been attacked. I might easily have fallen, though I shall admit I did not like to ask for the truth of it. I would be no better off for the knowing.
“And the rest of these rules?” I asked boldly. “Come, I shall know them all now so that no further mistake can be made.”
“There are not so many laws to our land. Only stay away from the fountain, stranger, and... and do not think to look for me.”
“Look for you?” I echoed, staring hard into the glass. “I do not understand.”
“Only heed my rules, stranger. You may pass here quite pleasantly and without further harm coming to you, if you would only heed my rules.”
It was strange to realise that the tone of that voice had softened in a few passing moments. It became more as a person’s voice than some disembodied spirit or monster, something decidedly human, I was almost sure.
“I wish you would not call me ‘stranger’. My name is Beau, and the horse you keep so well in the stables for me is named Goliath.”
Perhaps it was foolish to believe I would get some answer from the voice, some name by which I might call it, and yet I hoped. As I thought of the last words said, I wondered on it’s being human, a person hiding somewhere in the castle and speaking to me by some magic or other. If I had not known it to be a ridiculous presumption, I could almost have believed it were a female voice that spoke to me now, and yet I had no real evidence to support that theory.
“You have no name to give me in exchange for your rules?” I asked, smiling because I was unable to keep from doing so in such remarkable circumstances.
On that occasion, I was more certain of what I heard, the merest chuckle of light laughter, as I had suspected before. This voice did have a presence, a mind and a soul, if not a body or physical way of being. I was so sure of that now.
“You may call me Leta.”
“Leta?” I echoed, smiling still. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Leta.”
“You are a fool to think it, Beau, and yet you are welcome here.”
Chapter 4
It was as if she would have me be afraid of her, and yet the voice I spoke to, Leta, she created no fear in me. With a name to call her by and some acceptance of my presence in her castle, I began to feel as if I had made a friend. I saw nothing of her, save for the slightest hint of a shadow in the corner of my vision very occasionally. I presume that was her. It may just as easily have been the objects in the house that
ought to be inanimate and yet catered to my every whim.
My presumption was that they took care of Leta too. Perhaps she stayed hidden because she must. Perhaps she had no earthly form at all. It was something I did not question for the first month or more of my stay in the castle.
I cannot say precisely how long I had been there. Time lost all meaning in terms of days or weeks. Hours were marked only by the lighting in the castle that seemed to regulate according to the time of day. It turned dark when night ought to fall and the candles always lit my way to bed. Not that I often strayed far from my bed chamber. It was the only place in which I might properly converse with my hostess.
Though Leta was able to speak forcefully through some means that carried her voice to any place in the castle, it seemed harsh and deliberately monstrous in any other room. Seemingly echoing through the looking glass in my chamber somehow, it became a human voice again, and she was then a person I came to care for.
You might wonder at my way of describing her and the relationship we shared. It sounds as if I fell in love with a woman I never saw, and only really presumed to even be a human female. It does sound preposterous, I grant you, and yet it was perfectly true.
There is much to be said for friendship and companionship. Whilst I do not deny that there is a tradition that certain looks are considered beautiful, attractive, desirable, there ought to be more. Someone you can talk to, that seems to understand, that will laugh when you make a joke and only listen when you need them to stay quiet. Such things can be invaluable in any type of relationship.
We spoke of much in our conversations, or rather, I spoke of much, and Leta listened. She made comments, occasionally speaking of her own experiences, though only ever in the vaguest of terms. It seemed so easy to tell her of my life, the highs and lows of it all, and never once did she judge me harshly, even in my darkest moments.
Much of the time, we spoke of simpler things. Books were a particular favourite topic of ours, for she seemed to have read almost every one I could name, and a great deal more that even a well-educated person may not have heard of.
She encouraged me to visit the library held within the castle walls and I was quite enraptured by the sight of the room the candles led me to that night. Wall upon wall of novels, and more books on history, geography, politics, and religion. It was clear to me then how Leta had come to read so much, for she certainly had the opportunity with that number of books to hand.
As I completed the final page of the latest novel she had recommended to me, closing the cover with a sigh, I was startled by her voice, so much like a favourite melody to me by now.
“How did you like it, Beau?”
I opened my mouth to speak but stopped short of making a sound. I had long since supposed that she could see me when I was in this room, perhaps through the looking glass. In other places, she would speak to me but never seemed so keenly aware of exactly where I was or what I was doing. In my bed chamber, she saw me, I was certain of it now. How else to know I had completed the book in that very moment?
“If I am to answer your question, Leta, then you must answer mine first,” I said determinedly, rising to my feet and moving with a purpose towards the mirror. “Why is it you are allowed to see me, but I may not see you?”
There was silence for a good long while, but I would not back down nor grow impatient. I bided my time, fingers reaching out toward the glass but not quite making contact, before Leta finally answered me.
“You forget the rules, Beau,” she said, almost sadly, I thought.
“The rule, as I recall, is that I may not try to look for you. If you should choose to show yourself to me, no such rule would be broken.”
The lightest laughter, like a peal of beautiful bells, assailed my ears. I did so love to hear it. There were times I would make the most foolish and ridiculous of comments just to please her, just to hear that sound. It became the most intoxicating thing about Leta, next to her speaking voice that drew me in more and more each day, with every syllable she uttered through the glass.
“Did you like the book?” she tried again, and since she had at least given some form of answer to my question, I supposed I ought to play by my own rules too.
“Yes,” I confessed. “I did like it, though I am surprised at it being a favourite of yours. A heroine so strong and sure of herself. I can only presume she is someone to aspire to, and yet...”
“And yet?” Leta echoed, prompting me to continue.
Since all I had to rely upon was the tone of her voice, I had made it a point of study. I catalogued her every inflection and shift in pitch. I knew her voice better than some would know a lover’s face, I am sure. In two words, she had conveyed so much more than she probably intended. I was making her angry, by the tiniest of degrees, but that was enough.
“And yet when given the opportunity to show strength, I am not so certain that you would,” I told her at length, proffering the book in my hand. “This is your favourite book, is it not?”
“One of them, yes.”
“And this is the only copy within the castle walls.”
My words were a statement, not a question, for I knew them to be perfectly true. The battered little volume with the tattered pages proved it had been read on a great many occasions. Besides which, I had yet to find a single title in the library repeated despite its large size.
“Beau, do not think to-”
“I am breaking no rules, Leta,” I told her sharply, growing more confident with every further spike of anger in her voice. “I have broken no rule since you laid them out to me so clearly. Though I walk and ride in the grounds, I have ventured nowhere near the fountain and have not spoken of it from that day to this. I have asked you once today why I may not see you, but have made no attempt to do so.”
“You do so now,” she countered. “You mean to bait me so that I will reveal myself.”
At that, I smiled, directly into the glass.
“Yes, I believe you have read this situation exactly right, Leta,” I confessed, holding the book high enough for her to see. “The question then becomes, of course, what shall your response be?”
Before I had hardly finished speaking, I drew back my arm as if to throw her book into the flames of the fireplace. I did not mean to do it, but she would not realise the truth until it was too late. Unfortunately, I seemed to have momentarily forgotten that the entire castle and everything within was at her mercy, under some kind of witchcraft control or mystic spell. The book flew from my hand to the hearth in a heartbeat, but the flames in the fireplace were no more.
Stumbling back, wide-eyed and startled, I am sure I must have been a humorous sight to her eyes, and yet she did not laugh.
“Do not test me again, Beau,” she said, her voice as monstrous as I ever heard it, even on that first day when I know she genuinely meant to frighten me. “I shall not be responsible for what becomes of you if you do!”
“You do not frighten me, Leta!” I cried, throwing myself back towards the glass, nose practically pressed against it. “You cannot incite fear in someone who...”
The words failed me as I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. I knew very well what I meant to say. I believe she knew it too, though neither of us would admit as much.
My pale face and blood-shot eyes, the way I was shaking proved that I was at least a little afraid, and most likely completely out of my senses. A man who had run from his home, his family, his whole life, to take shelter in a castle full of animated objects and some kind of disembodied voice in the dark, he could not be a creature of sanity, and yet, for as long as I was in the castle, I felt at peace, and as clear-headed, most of the time, as I ever had in all my days.
“Why?” I asked in earnest then. “Why do you insist on hiding from me?”
“Why do you insist on hiding from everyone?” Leta replied. “Even from yourself?”
Though I could answer her first question, and had explained all my reasons many times before
, the latter remark puzzled me more. Was I truly hiding from myself? Was I being untrue to my own conscience? I could not see it, though it was true enough that I did shy away from my reflection. Perhaps that was what Leta meant, I thought, as I did the exact opposite now. I stared hard into the glass, not in an attempt to see past it, to find her in there somewhere, but to see myself for once.
My features were neither my father’s nor my mother’s entirely, but a curious mixture of the two. It was often said that I had the eyes of a Limoges, my mother’s family, in the face of a Delacroix. The effect appeared to be something that almost everyone found pleasing, except perhaps myself.
“Every look of my mother causes me pain because I miss her so very much,” I said softly. “Every look of my father disgusts me because he is not the righteous being he believes himself to be. Anything else I see in looking upon my own face is... is merely cowardice and... and in this moment, dreadful fatigue,” I noted with a wry smile.
My eyes closed at the sound of Leta’s laughter one more time, light as sleigh bells in the faraway distance. She was no longer angry with me, nor I with her. It had been so ridiculous to challenge each other like this. In the end, nobody gained a thing.
“Go to bed, Beau. Sleep and feel better,” she urged me in her kindest, warmest tone. “The world will look different by morning.”
I thought nothing of her odd choice of words as I fell into bed that night, still wearing all my clothes, unkempt as I had ever been in all my days.
It was something that was often said, I supposed. A new day, a new start after a good night’s sleep was bound to improve one’s mood and one’s perspective on things. I had not thought that there might be any deeper meaning in what Leta had said, until I opened my eyes the next morning and found my room to be entirely rearranged.
“What in the world...?” I began to ask, rising from my bed.
No, the room had not been altered. This was a different room. Though I had fallen asleep in one room, my usual place in the house, I awoke in quite another, and this one held no mirror at all.
Fairytales Reimagined, Volume I Page 9