There is much murmuring among the villagers, and Mother Mudge cries, “You’ll really care for the sick and the widows and orphans? Do you swear it? Now, in front of all your people?”
“From my own riches! On my life I swear it!” the king replies, his hand on his thawing heart.
“We’ll remember this, word for word, and hold you to it!” says Mother Mudge. Suddenly it is as if a great weight has been lifted from the poor villagers. The hall is filled with a communal sigh of relief, and then cheers of victory. Their every wish has been granted, and they have become buoyant.
“And you, young lad Jack,” says the king. “In recognition of your extraordinary service to a grateful kingdom, you are from this day forward Lord Jack, Earl of— well, I shall grant you some lands for you to be earl of, just as soon as I think of them.” The queen chooses this moment to whisper something in his ear, and he nods a little reluctantly. “And here,” the king says, picking up the hen that lays the golden eggs and holding it out to Jack, “is a token of our personal appreciation and gratitude. May it reward you amply.”
It is Jack’s turn to be flabbergasted. For him, his wildest dream was to defeat the giant and live to tell about it. This extraordinary change in his fortune is almost too much for him to take in. Mother Mudge is equally dazed, while Briar looks on, bursting with pride. Jack stutters a gracious, “Th-thank you, Your Majesty,” and steps back.
Before anything more can develop, the pompous King Udolf, seeing the dramatic improvement in the kingdom’s fortunes, shoves his way forward to address King Warrick. His deep voice demands attention as he presents himself, in all his dirty finery, insisting that King Warrick announce him to be Princess Rose’s intended bridegroom, then and there—before Warrick can change his mind. “You have said as much to me, and so I will have satisfaction!” His eyes seek out Princess Rose, and he smiles unctuously at her, all the more eager as he thinks of the kingdom’s new and fantastic prospects. Rose shrinks closer to Lan’s side and tries to make herself invisible as several fights break out among the other nobles over who is worthier of her than Udolf.
Meanwhile, lost in the crowd, Hilde is fuming. She watched while Briar took control of the room, watched while the villagers listened to her with respect. Anyone can see that the girl was born to rule! But still, it is Rose. Beautiful Rose. All about Rose! Even now, the fools are squabbling over Rose’s beauty. Even when it is painfully obvious that the girl wants none of them! Hilde has kept her silence through the rioting and then the rejoicing and now the indecent lust after the princess. Now she herself has come to the end of her tolerance. The imp, who has been hovering just above her shoulder, gives her one strong push toward the dais, and something snaps inside her.
Hilde reaches into her store of lightning powder, rubs a little on her fingertips, and pronounces the incantation:
“When circumstances grow too frightening,
Change this powder into lightning!”
There comes the sound of a thunderclap, and everyone jumps. Hilde marches forward through the still-warring nobles, jolting them out of the way with small bolts of lightning. She reaches the dais, her purpose throbbing in her heart and making her strong, and she plants herself firmly in front of the king and queen. Turning to address King Udolf and the other suitors, she raises her hands and roars, “Enough!” as lightning shoots from her fingertips, illuminating the deadly serious expression on her craggy face.
The crowd quiets at once.
“You! And you! And you!” Hilde cries, pointing at the nobles. “You’ve all been lied to! And you! All of you!” she adds with a broad sweep of her arm at the villagers. “For sixteen years, you’ve been lied to!”
The king and queen grow suddenly pale, afraid of what she will say next but too frightened of the lightning bolts she wields to try to stop her. The crowd gasps.
And then it comes. “Princess Rose is not the rightful heir to the throne! I tell you this, though it may cost me my life!”
There are cries of dismay, disbelief, from the audience. A few shrill screams. And then voices erupt into a confused babble. Hilde flashes more lightning to silence them, and then she continues.
“I, Hilde, was there at the princess’s birth. I tell you there were twins!”
There are howls of shock and surprise. The king and queen hold on to each other, paralyzed by the truth, looking as if they are barely able to stand. Princess Rose, more shocked than anyone, looks questioningly to her parents, but they do not meet her eyes. Lan takes her hand and squeezes it in support.
Hilde continues. “I delivered the firstborn babe myself and held her in my arms. It was not Princess Rose. It was . . .” Here Hilde takes a few steps closer to Briar and puts her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It was Princess Briar! Burn me at the stake, and I will scream it to the skies with my dying breath! Princess Briar!”
Briar is stunned. She looks at Hilde in astonishment and then out at the villagers, many of whom are cheering and applauding and calling out her name. Suddenly she hears some otherworldly music, music so beautiful it brings tears to her eyes. This, she thinks, remembering her inchoate longing at the waterfall. This was the thing I could never grasp. She turns to the king and queen, looking for confirmation, but her eyes well up so that she can barely see. Still, she knows it’s true. This was the terrible secret about the heir! But to speak of it would mean death! Briar is suddenly filled with an intense fear for Hilde’s safety, but Hilde surges on.
“Princess Rose was the second born,” she declares, “but with a beauty so great that it changed men’s hearts. What came next is a sad episode in our kingdom’s history. Those in power believed that you, the people, would never accept Princess Briar as the heir to the throne. The king was told that she was defective, and evil, and incapable of rule! Her fate was cast. It was given out that she was the noble orphan of the house of Wentmoor, and Rose, the beautiful babe, was named the heir in her stead. For sixteen long years Princess Briar has remained ignorant of her own parentage, until now, the day after her sixteenth birthday, she is learning the truth for the first time!”
Rose, upon hearing this, runs forward and throws her arms around Briar, who hugs her tightly as the crowd virtually explodes with approval. All the resentments and disagreements that have stood between the two young women melt away as Briar and Rose realize that they are, and have always been, sisters. Suddenly their shared memories of happy times together take on a new meaning and a glow of benediction. They are greater than two together; they are ascendant, indomitable, shining! They part and, turning to the people, raise their clasped hands in unity.
For once, the king does not know what to do. His royal edict has been flouted, and yet he has just received the gift of the return of his firstborn daughter. Anger, relief, and, yes, even love flicker on his face. To erase all doubt, the queen comes forward. “Hilde speaks the truth!” she declares. “Princess Briar and Princess Rose are both our daughters, and Princess Briar was the firstborn child!” She puts one arm around Briar and says, “Forgive me, my dear. I did the best I could for you. I have watched your progress proudly from afar.” She puts her other arm around Rose and says, “Your graciousness becomes you, my dear!”
Then the king, feeling that something official is expected, steps forward, announcing, “I hereby proclaim that Princess Briar is my firstborn child and the rightful heir to the thro—”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I must object!” comes a voice from behind him. Bishop Simon steps forward, seething with malice. It was he, more than anyone, who had declared the disfigured infant unfit to be the heir, implying to the other counselors that she was a demon, a changeling, a punishment to all of them. For years he has been forced to observe her terrible imperfection with loathing and condemnation in his dried-up little heart. Now he sees her being hailed as royalty—his own pronouncements being questioned and ignored—and it is too much for the old hypocrite to bear.
“I must protest!” he declares, his double
chins quivering in outrage. “I have had the sorry task of attempting to shape this girl’s character and educate her for the past ten years, and I tell you, she is unfit to rule! Her outward appearance is but a sign of her inward foulness! Besides being wicked and deceitful, she is dull in her wits! Ignore my warning at your peril!”
Princess Rose and Princess Briar look at each other. Rose steps forward and, taking Briar’s hand, speaks to her father and the entire assembly. “These accusations are untrue and unjust!” she cries. “Lady—Princess Briar has been the victim of this man’s baseless hatred from the beginning! He deliberately misinterpreted her every word, even though she was in the right! He punished her so often for imagined infractions that we realized he was jealous of her quick wits. So she and I came up with a plan, that she would pretend to be dull in order to avoid his wrath! And it worked! His beatings became less frequent, and he was more often satisfied to merely make her wear the donkey ears as the sign of a dimwit. But she is sharp-witted and wise beyond her years. She can do calculations without the abacus, and she can translate Latin faster than he can, and she knows all about astronomy and history, and even about Hilde’s herbs and cures! Test her, if you don’t believe me! And she is neither foul nor deceitful—except in his eyes!”
“Preposterous!” cries Bishop Simon. “Jealous, indeed! The girl was born wicked! I myself have been forced to beat the wickedness from her for the good of her soul, but to no avail! Obviously, Lady Briar has worked her malign influence on our young Princess Rose! The demon must be banished from the kingdom before she corrupts her utterly!”
There is angry murmuring among the villagers, and someone shouts, “Innocent! Briar is innocent!” The cry is taken up by the others until the room resounds with it.
The king, quick to sense which way the crowd has turned, has listened to Bishop Simon with a show of outrage. He feels no compunction against turning the tables on the bullying bishop. No longer can the bishop claim to save them from the marauding giant, and suddenly the king is less worried about his immortal soul and more concerned about preserving his own skin. After all, how better to shift blame from himself than to rouse the throng against the unpopular bishop? “My firstborn a dimwit? A demon?” he cries. “My daughter Rose corrupted? You overstep the bounds, Bishop! Take care you do not malign the royal princesses. They are my progeny, after all!” he announces, as if this is all the proof needed.
Bishop Simon, much taken aback, stands with his mouth open, but no words come out. The king has never spoken to him this way. Finally he says, “But . . . but . . . but I have been your chief adviser for nearly twenty years! And I am the head of the church! How dare you oppose me? And think! Who will root out evil if I do not?”
Now the queen steps forward. “Perhaps,” she says, “the evil is in your own eyes and heart! Perhaps it is time we had a new head of the church. One with compassion in his soul!”
Cheers erupt from the assembly, for many have felt the sharp edge of the bishop’s invective. This is all the king needs to spur him on.
King Warrick points directly at Bishop Simon. “You have been the cause of all this!” he thunders. “You poisoned my mind against my own daughter! You have tormented and abused her ever since! I accuse you of plotting against the royal family! I will send a petition this day for a new bishop to be head of the church in this kingdom!”
Bishop Simon freezes, his eyes bulging in disbelief. He cannot accept that the king has questioned his authority and turned against him. “Your Majesty, surely you cannot mean—surely she has not worked her evil spell on you too—”
“Enough!” roars the king. “You have said more than enough!”
At this, the bishop attempts to slink away. He is grabbed by the bystanders, who hold him, pale and trembling, while the king considers what to do with him. The queen whispers in his ear, and he nods. “It is my royal wish that Bishop Simon shall depart this day on a long pilgrimage . . .”
The queen adds, “And he shall go barefoot—for the good of his soul!”
There is cheering as Bishop Simon is assisted on his way by the crowd.
Then the king puffs out his chest and loudly resumes the announcement that he acknowledges Princess Briar to be his firstborn child and heir. He grasps her hand, forgetting the fears and prejudices that led him to disown her so long ago, and he proudly says, “Well, of course she’s fit to rule! She’s my daughter, after all!”
In a gesture that moves everyone present, Princess Rose, with a barely noticeable tear in her eye, lifts the coronet from her own head and places it on Briar’s.
To Briar, King Warrick says, “I see, my daughter, that I have done you a great injustice. Allow me to offer a small gesture to make it up to you. I shall grant you three boons. Anything your heart desires that a king can obtain for you, ask and you shall receive it.”
Briar is dumbfounded. As if anything can make up for the difference it might have made to her to have a sister and two parents, to be the king’s daughter and the heir! She can’t begin to calculate the loss. But this is a majestically generous offer! Can she think, right now, of what she most wants? As Briar considers the possibilities, the hall becomes so quiet that even a cricket chirp can be heard. Looking about her at the poor, hungry, desperate villagers, the first request takes form in her mind.
Summoning her courage, she faces the king and says steadily, “You are my father, but you are a bad and selfish king. From this day forward, I want Mother Mudge to be your chief adviser. You shall do nothing without her approval.”
King Warrick nearly chokes as his eyes start from his head. “Well I didn’t mean anything—” he begins, but an angry buzz comes from the crowd.
“We want Mother Mudge!” someone calls out, and others follow suit until the whole contingent of villagers is chanting, “Mother Mudge! Mother Mudge! Mother Mudge!”
The queen takes his arm and says, “You had best keep your promise, my dear. This mob is turning ugly again, and a much worse fate may await you!”
All eyes are on the king, who stands speechless, turning at first nearly purple with apoplexy. But as the crowd becomes even louder and more enraged, he begins to pale. At last, realizing he has no choice, he splutters, “It shall be done.” Mother Mudge comes forward and takes her place next to the king, nodding and waving amid wild cheering from the audience.
When the noise finally abates, the king, looking much subdued and apprehensive, asks, “What next, daughter?”
Briar knows what she wants next, something that will give her happiness all the days of her life, but she puts that off till last. Then, imagining the one place where she has always gone to mend her broken heart and lift her spirits, she says. “There is a tract of land, deep in the Enchanted Forest, by a waterfall. Might it be set aside as my own?”
The king, relieved that it wasn’t something worse, says, “It shall be yours. The royal surveyors shall be at your service to map out the land.”
Her next request, the one she has saved for last, seems even more obvious than the first, though it takes her a minute to figure out how to word it. “What I’d like most of all,” she finally says, “is for you to enact a law proclaiming that royal princesses in our kingdom may marry whomever and whenever they please!”
At this King Udolf cries out angrily, still hoping for the beautiful Rose as his bride. King Warrick has to swallow hard before he replies, but after a slight hesitation he says, “It is done!”
Rose, her lovely face suddenly flooded with relief and delight, throws her arms around Briar once again, saying, “Thank you! Oh, thank you! I shall thank you till the end of time!” Then she turns to find Lan, and they stand contentedly, arm in arm.
Jack smiles at Briar with a twinkle in his eye. Then Zane comes up behind them and, taking Briar’s hand, puts it in Jack’s hand and raises the clasped hands high above their heads.
“Blessings on you, my little dumplings,” he says. The villagers respond with wild acclamation. Basking in their appro
val and in Jack’s loving gaze, Briar suddenly feels blissful.
Hilde hugs herself delightedly and melts back into the crowd, her work done, the danger passed. Slowly she makes her way to her tower room, the imp following after, and begins once again with her alchemy. This time, though she’s not sure how, she actually succeeds in turning a pan of unlikely ingredients into gold. She stares at it for a moment, enjoying her success. Then, quickly growing bored, she dumps it out and decides to try something new, turning a toad into a small dragon, perhaps, or changing a feather into a hummingbird.
EPILOGUE
NIGHT FALLS IN THE KINGDOM of Wildwick. The sunset has spent itself in a glorious display of color. The portcullis is up and the drawbridge is down, while the courtyard is thronged with satisfied villagers. The rebels, having won their demands, have turned into revelers, singing and dancing away the agonies of yesterday. The giant is dead, their stomachs are full, their children will not go hungry, they have Mother Mudge now to look out for them, their favorite son is a hero, and their benefactress has been crowned a princess. The king and queen have gained back a daughter, and they rejoice. Rose and Lan can look to the future, surrounded and immersed in their art, and they rejoice. Briar and Jack, given the best seats next to the thrones, are content to let the merrymaking go by. They are rather tired.
Briar sighs happily. “This was a day well spent,” she says.
“Yes,” Jack agrees, yawning. Yes.
Yesss . . . High above the castle and the great forest, a full moon rises in the sky, spilling its lambent light on an ocean of treetops. Some gaiety borne on the wind inspires the sea of leafy limbs to dance and sway, murmuring softly to one another of new beginnings. Massive oaks and chestnuts, a thousand years old, catch the whispers in the wind and feel their sap rise. They sigh to their neighbors, passing on the sibilant message, Yesss. Small silver birches, glowing white in the moonlight, slap their round leaves together in excitement, while the towering beech trees, the sentinels, watch and wait.
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