by Moore, John
“First of all,” said Hal, “let’s get some perspective here. Caroline is not the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. In fact, she is not even the prettiest girl in your village. I can think of someone who is a lot prettier.”
“Who?”
“Oh, come on. You know who I’m talking about.”
Emily suddenly found it hard to catch her breath. “No, tell me.”
The Prince slipped his arm around her waist and lowered his head, so his lips were next to her ear. “Surely you can guess,” he murmured.
“No.” Emily swallowed hard. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Mrs. Crossley, the schoolteacher. I think she’s lots prettier than—ow!” he finished as Emily punched him in the arm. “No, really. Ratty gray hair turns me on. Ah!” He danced back out of the way as Emily threw a fistful of leaves at him. She chased him through the woods, throwing leaves and twigs. At the stream’s edge he came to an abrupt stop and let her tumble into him, holding her up by her waist while she caught her breath.
“Furthermore,” he went on, “I have no intention of marrying Caroline. She’s already told me I’m not handsome enough for her, so I’m off the hook. And even if she changed her mind, I’m not changing mine. Who wants to marry a girl who thinks he’s not good enough for her?”
“You don’t have a choice,” said Emily.
“Sure I do. Hey, I’m grateful that she broke the spell, and I appreciate all the hard work she put into it, and I know that it’s traditional that the girl who breaks the spell marries the frog prince—if it is a tradition. How does something like that become a tradition anyway? There can’t be that many princes who have been turned into frogs. But even so, suppose I don’t marry her. What can she do about it?”
“You change back into a frog.”
“What!”
“Granted,” said Emily, “that’s still a choice, in an extreme sort of way. But I can’t really see a boy rejecting Caroline over—”
“I turn back?”
“No one told you?”
“No!”
“Sorry,” said Emily. “I guess girls think about these things more than boys. But it’s not a tradition. That’s just the way the spell works. The prince is turned into a frog. If he’s lucky enough to get out of it, he marries the girl who kissed him. Otherwise, it’s back to the lily pad. The spell really isn’t broken until the marriage.”
There was a stirring beneath their feet, and something slithered into the stream with a quiet splash. The prince looked at the water with horror. His face turned white. He took a step back. “I’m doomed, then. Caroline doesn’t want me.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem. It doesn’t count if she loves someone else. If the girl doesn’t want to marry the prince, he’s off the hook. Remember, marriage is supposed to be a reward for her. You know, a commoner marrying into royalty.”
“All right, all right.” Hal had taken his arm off Emily and was now pacing up and down beside the stream, thinking out loud. “So Caroline marries another man, and that’s the end of it. How long do I have for her to do this? Is there a time frame?”
“Um, yes. I think there is. I don’t know what it is off the top of my head. I can look it up when we get to the city. But I’d say you’ve got plenty of time. The people who originally created these spells were usually pretty sensible. They’d have known that a royal wedding isn’t thrown together overnight.”
“Or I could just make sure I turn her off. Act real mean to her, so she’ll hate me. Get drunk and threaten her. I’d never really slap a girl around, of course, but if she thought I would . . .”
“Pretty risky,” said Emily. “She might be a girl who likes that sort of thing.”
Hal laughed, then looked thoughtful. “You don’t think?”
“No. I wouldn’t try it. Caroline is too smart to be tricked. And spells like these are designed so you can’t wiggle out of them. If you don’t do your part, it makes things worse.”
“And it’s bad for you, right?” Hal looked straight at Emily, who looked away. “I can put two and two together as well as the next guy. Caroline is keeping me as a backup prince, in case she doesn’t find anyone else she likes. But if she doesn’t marry me either, she’ll get compensation from your mother’s estate. Am I right?”
For a long minute Emily looked so forlorn that Hal was ready to put an arm over her shoulders and tell her not to worry. But then she straightened her spine, turned, and faced him squarely. “True, but so what? There’s lots of boys in Melinower, so I’m told. The Council of Lords is there, with all of their families, and the city is full of aristocracy. You know that when a girl looks like Caroline, there are plenty of boys who will forgive her humble origins. What’s the problem?”
“One word,” said Hal. “Dowry.”
“Oh.”
He started pacing up and down again. “Anyway, it won’t be as easy as you think. The problem won’t be finding a boy who’s attracted to Caroline, the problem is finding a boy that Caroline is attracted to.”
“Oh well, she just wants someone handsome. I’m sure there are plenty of good-looking boys in Melinower.”
“Sure,” said Hal. “But she’s a girl. Who has ever been able to figure out what a girl likes about a boy? One girl will meet a guy and think he isn’t worth a second glance. Then the next girl comes by, sees the exact same guy, and thinks he’s the greatest thing on two legs. You know what I mean?”
Emily swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I know what you mean.”
To make up for the delays, the trio rode into the evening, and it was full dark when they reached the outskirts of the city. Here the girls began to slow their horses. Hal was perceptive enough to understand why. Caroline knew little about the world outside Ripplebrook, and Emily’s sophistication came only from books and her mother’s teachings. It was difficult enough for two young women to ride into a strange city, far more difficult to ride in at night, tired and bedraggled and grimy with road dust.
So the prince turned his horse off the main street and pointed out a tavern. It was called the Bull and Badger, and the painted wooden sign showed a small furry animal with its teeth sunk into the nose of an angry bull. It was not a friendly sign, but warm light showed from the windows and cheery conversation echoed faintly when the door opened. “I know this place. The proprietor has a couple of rooms he lets out, cheap, and you can get a bath here, and the food is pretty good, if you don’t mind pub food.”
The girls looked doubtful. The City of Melinower had the full range of taverns, from crowded dockside bars filled with drunken sailors to upscale pubs filled with potted ferns. Here a man would bring a woman so she could sip frothy pink drinks while he drank wine. Even if he didn’t like wine, he would drink it anyway because his girlfriend would make it clear that she didn’t like beer breath. (Dating can be tricky in Melinower.) And by Melinower law, all taverns were also required to provide food and lodging. Nonetheless, even the best taverns were counted among the sleazier places to lay your head. Hal saw their expressions. “It’s not that kind of place,” he said. “The rooms are clean, and they’re only used for sleeping.”
“Pub food is fine with me,” said Emily. In the darkness Melinower Palace could faintly be seen, looming sternly over the city. The tiny pub looked all the more enticing.
“How cheap is cheap?” said Caroline.
“I’ve got a little money,” said Hal. “I’ll take care of it.”
So they stabled their horses and went inside. There was a fair crowd in the pub, but all had left their tables and the bar, and were gathered around a large man who seemed to be having a loud argument with someone unseen. A boy of fourteen was behind the bar. He saw them come in and gave a wide smile.
“Hey, Hal! Your Highness! Welcome back. We haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hello, Tommy. Yeah, it’s been a long time. I’ve been busy.”
“There was a story going around that you got turned into a frog.”
“Was there really?” The Prince shook his head. “Crazy how these rumors get started, isn’t it? Is your father around?”
Tommy shook his head. “Mom and Dad are setting up the booth at the fairgrounds. I’m in charge tonight.”
“Well, good. These are my friends Caroline and Emily.”
“Hi,” said the boy. The girls murmured greetings back.
“They want to clean up before going to the palace. We’re going to need those rooms upstairs, and baths later, and some dinner.”
“Sure,” said Tommy, but he looked a bit worried. He bent his head toward Hal and spoke low so only the two could hear. “Uh, Your Highness, you know I hate to ask this, but if my father was here, you know he’d want to see the color of your money.”
“I have money back at the palace, Tommy. I’ll send a courier with payment as soon as I get back.”
Tommy looked really unhappy. “Of course we trust you, Your Highness, but the King . . .”
“My father’s debts are not my debts, Tommy. You know I’m good for it.”
“Well ...”
“We’ll be gone first thing in the morning. You’ll have the money before your father even gets home.”
Tommy made up his mind. “Okay, Hal. Give me a couple of minutes to get the rooms ready.”
“Great. And while we’re waiting, how about a couple of flagons of small beer for the girls?”
“Coming up.”
Hal worked his way back across the crowded floor, clearing a path for the two girls, shaking hands and slapping backs as he went. Everyone seemed to know him, and greeted him with a smile. They seated themselves at a rough wooden table and took in the crowd. The big man was reaching the end of his story, punctuating his sentences by waving a copper tankard, splashing beer on anyone who fell within its range. He had a dense black beard, and thick hair showed from the cuffs of his leather jacket. A heavy crossbow was slung over his back. “So the Princess says, ‘Well, is your name Gerald?’ ”
“It’s all lies,” said an unseen voice.
“She says, ‘Then is it Patrick?’ ”
“Never happened,” said the voice.
“So,” said the big man, “the Princess puts a finger to her pretty cheek, ponders for a while as if in deep thought, and finally says, ‘Could your name—just possibly—be Rumpelstiltskin?’ ”
The crowd roared with laughter. The big man spread his arms expansively, then brought his mug to his lips and tilted it. He looked surprised. “Where’s my ale?”
The crowded parted and through it came a short man. A very short man, in his early thirties, whose chin just reached the height of the tables. He stalked to the bar, climbed up on a stool with catlike nimbleness, and pounded a fist on the wood. “What’s a guy got to do to get some service here?” Tommy quickly drew a mug and slid it to him, then brought three flagons to the Prince’s table.
The dwarf was standing on the barstool, addressing the crowd. “That’s not the way it happened. She was anti-Semitic. She made up that story to make me look bad. She said I demanded her firstborn child—yeah, right. Typical slur against the Jews. Anyone can see that.”
“What I see,” said the big man, “is that you tried to con a girl with some wild-ass story about a magic spinning wheel, and she turned the tables on you.”
“That’s not true. Hey, you gonna drink or just keep waving that thing around all night?”
“Well, being as you’re buying, I’m drinking.” The big man put his mug on the bar and looked around. “Hey, it’s Prince Hal.”
Hal waved. The big man waited until his mug was filled and came over to the table, gesturing for the dwarf to follow him. “Your Highness, good to see you again.”
“Bear McAllistair,” said Hal, introducing him to the two girls. “A fine shot with a crossbow. You’re in town for the tournaments, I presume?”
“Sure am, Your Highness, and hope to take home a little prize money again. Allow my to introduce my height-challenged friend, who is named Rumpelstiltskin, as you may have heard. Recently run out of his own kingdom by an anti-Semitic conspiracy, to hear him tell it.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “Although I’m not Jewish, actually. People just think I am. I don’t know why.”
“Perhaps because your parents were Jewish,” said Bear. “I’ve often found that has something to do with such misapprehensions.”
“What makes you think my parents were Jewish? No one knows who they were. They left me on a doorstep.”
“They left you on the doorstep of a synagogue. Kind of a dead giveaway, that. Plus they named you Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Stiltskin isn’t a Jewish name. You’re thinking of Rivkin.”
“What’s wrong with being Jewish?” said Caroline.
“Aside from the persecution? I’ll tell you.” Rumpelstiltskin put his mug down with a thud, and it became clear to the three young people that he and Bear had been drinking for a while. “It’s the food. I don’t like the food. I could put up with the prejudice and the slander, but the food is awful. The matzo latkes, the kreplach, the kasha varnishkes. It’s bland, it’s fatty, and it’s tasteless.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Prince Hal. “What about the chopped liver?”
The dwarf pondered this. “Okay, the Jews make good chopped liver, I’ll give you that.”
“And the corned beef,” offered Emily. “And the pastrami.”
“Right,” said Caroline. “And the bread. A nice pastrami sandwich on rye.”
“With a slice of pickle,” said Bear.
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “I just don’t like being Jewish, that’s all. Do you spin?” He said this to Caroline in a sudden change of subject.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said the blond girl, amused at the little man’s question.
“Hey,” said Bear. “Don’t get started on that again.”
“What, what? I’m just asking. So you spin. How good are you?”
“Pretty good, actually. Not to blow my own horn, but I’m one of the best spinsters I know.”
“Okay,” said Rumpelstiltskin, “but are you fast? Because we only have from midnight to sunrise.”
“Aw, leave her alone,” said Bear.
“Can she really spin?” said Hal to Emily. That would explain something about Caroline. Spinning wasn’t exactly a craft, in the sense that it didn’t require an apprenticeship: but a good spinster was always in demand, and it was one of the few ways an unmarried woman could support herself. “I was in her house and I didn’t see a spinning wheel.”
“She sold it to pay for the frog search,” whispered Emily.
“Oh, great. I am really under a serious obligation here. How good is she?”
“She can spin embroidery thread.”
“Really?”
“I bought some from her myself.”
Embroidery thread. Even Hal knew that spinning didn’t get any better than that. Rumpelstiltskin was still explaining to Caroline. “Of course you can spin flax. Anyone can spin flax. The question is, can you spin unretted flax?”
Retting meant soaking the fibers so they wouldn’t stick together. “Why do you want to spin unretted flax?”
“I want to keep the natural color.”
“Weave it and dye the cloth later. Otherwise, it will take too long to separate the fibers. You won’t get much thread in one night.”
“Yep,” said Bear. “That’s what led to the whole fiasco.”
“What fiasco?” said Caroline. The Prince and Emily leaned in closer. “What are you talking about?”
“I have a magic spindle,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “A wheel that can spin flax into gold.”
“He says,” said Bear.
“I tell you it will work. It was enchanted by a top-drawer magician. I custom-made it to his specifications. I’m a cabinetmaker by trade,” he added by way of explanation. “But he never showed up to take delivery, so the wheel is mine.�
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“Excuse me,” said Caroline. “I’m sure this is a very nice tavern and all that, but I don’t think you’d be spending your evenings here if you could spin flax into gold.”
“He can’t,” said Bear.
“I tell you, it will work. I just don’t want to waste it.”
“Go on,” said Caroline.
“The problem is that it will only work once, for one night. And unretted flax is hard to spin. Pound for pound, you don’t end up with much gold.”
“So,” cut in Bear, “my little friend here came up with a swindle. You know what a miser the King of Mathagar is. Unlike our own dear king.”
“All right,” said Hal. “That’s enough of that.”
“Um, sorry, Your Highness. Anyway, Rumpelstiltskin finds this girl and works out a deal. He tells the King of Mathagar he’s got this girl who can spin flax into gold. If he marries the girl, the gold is his. Of course the King wants a demonstration.”
“Of course,” said Emily.
“Rumpelstiltskin arranges that he and the girl will be searched and locked in the castle dungeon. The next morning, he’ll come out with a bag of gold.
“He went for it,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “I had him in my hand.”
“Except that the King decides he doesn’t trust Rumpelstiltskin. He kicks him out and spends the night in the dungeon himself, with the girl. And guess what? The next morning, there’s no gold, but the old boy decides to marry the girl anyway.”
“What a romantic story,” said Hal. “I feel a sentimental tear welling up in my eye this very minute.”
“Some things money just can’t buy,” said Emily.
“Rumpelstiltskin goes to the girl and demands payment according to the terms of their agreement,” Bear went on.
“That seems fair,” said Caroline. “Even if things didn’t go according to plan, she’d never have married the King if he hadn’t brought them together.”
“Yes! See! My point exactly,” Rumpelstiltskin told Bear.
“And the girl tells the King some wild story and gets our friend here and his spinning wheel run out of town.”