Juliet Dove, Queen of Love

by Bruce Coville

  “You mean you won’t? I thought you were immortal?”

  Hera’s smile was more rueful now. “It doesn’t seem likely. Oh, we were called the immortals. We even believed it ourselves, for a while. And I suppose to humans anyone who lives for thousands of years would truly seem immortal. But there is an end in sight. Oh, yes. There is an end.” She shook her head. “The great joke is that our lives seem to be divided out not unlike those of you humans. Which means it took us an awfully long time to grow up. Our adolescence lasted for centuries. And, like humans, we continue to pay the price for decisions we made in our youth, continue trying to straighten up the messes we created. And, alas, some of us—like my cousin Eris—have the very human trait of never managing to grow up at all.”

  “It was Eris who gave me this amulet,” said Juliet, lifting her hand to her neck.

  Hera nodded. “I was aware of this.”

  “Why?” asked Juliet. “And why me?”

  “As to why: Eris wants the amulet back in the world, where it can work new mischief. As to why you: Well, as you humans are fond of saying, ‘The gods move in mysterious ways.’ However, I suspect the truth is that you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Juliet sighed. Cradling the amulet in her hand she asked, “What is this, exactly?”

  “A prison.”

  Juliet touched the chain nervously. “Will I ever be able to take it off?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Help the story come to its conclusion.”

  “What story?”

  “The one you’re trapped in.”

  “What story is that?”

  Hera shook her head. “It’s hard to say. In some ways stories are all the same and in other ways, even the old ones are always changing. This much I can tell you: You must follow it through to the end. No one gets out of the story they’re in without doing that—at least not without paying a high price in regret and confusion.” She leaned down and kissed Juliet on the brow. “This will help protect you. Now you must go. It is not good for you to spend too much time in this realm, and I suspect there are things you still must do here.”

  Her heart filled with a longing she did not understand, Juliet watched as Hera returned to her throne. Then, Roxanne and Jerome still clinging to her shoulders, Juliet turned to go. Suddenly it occurred to her that she needed to ask one more question. But when she turned back, the throne was gone, and the goddess with it.

  “Now what do we do?” cried Juliet. “I was going to ask her how to get home!”

  “I’d say the first thing we do is get outta here,” replied Jerome. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  Juliet hurried on to the silver gate. As she stepped through, they heard a sighing sound behind them. Looking back, Juliet saw that the palace itself had vanished. Where it had stood, the path now continued on, clear and distinct.

  “Okay,” said Jerome. “I wasn’t expecting that one!”

  “Maybe we’d better start back now,” said Roxanne.

  But the path behind them, the path they had already followed, had vanished, too. The only way open to them was the path ahead, through where the palace had been. Juliet felt a moment of stomach-clenching fear.

  “Do you think we’ll ever get home?” she whispered.

  “I’m pretty sure of it,” said Roxanne calmly.

  “What makes you so certain?” asked Jerome.

  “Because whatever those goddesses are up to, they want it to happen in the real world. I mean, our world. So I figure they’re going to make sure we get back.”

  “Huh,” said Jerome. “That actually makes sense, Roxie.”

  Feeling slightly better, Juliet walked on.

  The path continued to cling to the edge of the cliff, but the cliff itself was getting lower again. Eventually it dwindled to little more than a bluff. The path went down its side, leading them to a pebbled beach.

  “Look!” said Roxanne. “Someone’s coming!”

  ELEVEN

  Field of Gold

  Walking toward them was a young woman—barely more than a girl, really—dressed all in rags. Her face was so filled with grief it made Juliet want to weep just to look at her.

  “Who are you?” asked Juliet when the woman had drawn close enough to speak to her.

  “My name has no meaning,” she replied wearily.

  “Well, you have to have a name,” said Roxanne.

  “Yeah,” said Jerome. “Otherwise how can they call you to dinner?”

  The trace of a smile curved the woman’s lips for just a moment. Then she sighed and said, “No one calls me to dinner. I gather what I can along the path.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Juliet.

  “Across the wood, through the word, around the world. I’ll travel until I find my love, though it take me all my life.” She chanted the words as if she had said them a thousand times already.

  “What happened to him?” asked Juliet. “Your love, I mean.”

  The woman—beautiful enough to be a princess in a fairy tale, Juliet realized—stared out across the waves. Gulls were circling, cawing. A salty breeze teased through Juliet’s coppery curls.

  “I broke faith,” the woman said at last. “I had been taken to his palace as part of a bargain between my father and his mother. At first I was furious and would have nothing to do with him—not that I needed to have much to do with him, for I never saw him. This was a relief, for I had been told he was a monster.”

  “Never saw him?” said Roxanne. “Sheesh, that’s a heck of a love story.”

  “Hey, if you never see someone, you can’t fight with them,” said Jerome.

  “Oh, we fought! The reason I never saw him was that he came to me only in darkness. He would sit near me and talk in a voice so sweet and soft and filled with kindness that little by little my rage began to fade. In time I no longer worried whether he was monster or man. We fell in love, and accepted each other as husband and wife. But he was steadfast in his rule that I must never see him, and I freely promised to honor him in this wish.”

  She shook her head. Her tears were flowing freely now. “I did not keep my promise. My desire to see my beloved, even if he was monstrous and malformed, grew stronger and stronger. Finally, one night I slipped from our bed and fetched a lamp, thinking to shine a light on him for the merest instant. But when the light fell on his face, I cried out and my hand shook.”

  “Because he was so ugly?” asked Jerome eagerly.

  “Because he was so beautiful,” said the woman with a sigh.

  “Men,” said Roxanne.

  “In the moment that my hand shook, a drop of the lamp’s hot oil fell on my husband’s shoulder. He sprang to his feet with a cry of pain—pain that quickly turned to horror when he realized what I had done. I blew out the lamp at once. But it was too late. He was gone and all that was left were his grief-stricken last words, which hung in the air like a lash to my heart. ‘My love, my love, why could you not be true to your promise?’”

  “That’s horrible,” sniffed Roxanne, tiny tears rolling down her whiskers.

  “What happened next?” asked Juliet breathlessly.

  The girl sighed. “His mother came to me. She was as beautiful as a statue, and just as cold, just as hard. She scolded me for breaking my promise, and when I wept and asked what I must do to regain my love, she told me I could wander in this world and out of it, but I would never find my love until the mouse had roared.”

  Juliet shivered. That weird poem Mr. Suss had recited also said the mouse must roar. What was going on here?

  “Man, that’s a tough one,” said Jerome. “I mean, we’re rats, and we can’t roar. So what’s a little mouse gonna do?”

  “I don’t know,” said the woman. “But I will not stop looking. Even so—” She paused and looked around, seeming a bit confused.

  “What is it?” asked Juliet.

  The woman shook her head. “It’s
odd. I feel as if I’ve been asleep for a long time and have just awoken again.”

  “I wish there was something I could do for you,” said Juliet softly.

  The woman started to reply, then gasped and pointed to Juliet’s chest.

  Juliet glanced down. Though she had tucked the amulet under her sweatshirt, it was now glowing so brightly that light shone right through the fabric. Instinctively, she put her fingers over the light to hide it. The spot was warm, though not unpleasantly so. Yet she was so frightened that she longed to rip the amulet from her neck and fling it away. Except, of course, she couldn’t.

  The young woman reached forward in awe. “What is that?”

  Reluctantly Juliet pulled out the amulet.

  The woman’s fingers trembled as she reached toward it. “I feel something strange about this, as if it is important to me in some way. What may I do to earn it from you?”

  “I’d give it to you if I could!” said Juliet. “But the chain is too small. I can’t take it off.”

  “Ah,” said the woman, nodding. “So you are also under a burden of enchantment. Do you have a task you must accomplish?”

  “I’m supposed to find the key that will unlock this amulet. But even if I could find the key, I don’t know if I would dare to use it. I’m afraid of what might be inside.”

  “The tasks given by the gods are often fearful. The only thing more fearful is what happens if you turn away from them.”

  “You’re saying that if I manage to find the key, I had better open the amulet, right?”

  “I cannot imagine otherwise.”

  Juliet sighed. “Right now I just want to go home. I don’t think I belong in this world.”

  The woman nodded. “I could tell you were from the other side. Well, at least I can help you with that matter.” Pointing to a spot not far ahead of them she said, “When you come to the place where the path divides, go left. In time you will come to a field of golden flowers. On the far side of the field, you will find an ancient oak that has been split by lightning. Step between the two halves of its trunk, and I believe you will find your way home.” The woman put a hand on Juliet’s cheek. “Good luck,” she said. “I hope we may meet again.” With a final glance at the amulet, she turned and walked along the beach. She had not gone more than ten steps when the mist closed around her and she vanished.

  “Well, there goes another one!” said Roxanne.

  “I wish I could help her,” said Juliet.

  “We’ve got enough to do to help ourselves right now,” said Jerome. “Come on, let’s get going.”

  Juliet started in the direction the woman had indicated. Soon enough they came to the place where the path split.

  “Go left,” said Jerome.

  “I know that,” replied Juliet.

  “There it is!” cried Roxanne a moment later. “The field of flowers.”

  Indeed, opening ahead of them was a broad meadow, filled with beautiful yellow flowers. It looked oddly familiar to Juliet, though at first she could not say why. But as they started across, it came clear to her. “This is the same meadow that’s in my attic!” she cried.

  “Oh, brother,” said Jerome. “The kid has finally cracked.”

  “Must be the pressure was too much for her,” said Roxanne sadly.

  “You talk to her, Roxie. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

  “Don’t be silly!” said Juliet. “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t mean there’s an actual field in my attic. But there’s a painting of this field. I was looking at it just before you showed up yesterday.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Roxanne.

  “Positive. I wonder if . . . no, that’s silly. It wouldn’t be possible.”

  Jerome snorted impatiently. “You just had a talk with the queen of the gods, then met some dame who seems trapped in a fairy tale, and now you’re crossing a meadow that you’ve got a painting of in your attic, carrying a pair of talking rats on your shoulders, and you think something is impossible? Geez, Juliet, I don’t think you been paying close enough attention.”

  Juliet sighed. “I just had a silly thought was all. There’s a boy in the painting and . . . good grief! There he is!”

  The rats looked in the direction Juliet was pointing. A young boy—he looked no older than Byron—was standing on a pile of rocks, scanning the horizon. He looked scared, and sad.

  Juliet hurried over to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Who are you?” cried the boy. He looked startled, and a little frightened.

  He’s got a right to be startled, thought Juliet when she realized how strange her clothing must appear to him—not to mention the fact that she had a rat on each shoulder.

  “I’m just a traveler,” she said gently. “But you looked upset, and I wondered if we could help.”

  “I’ve lost one of the small ones,” sniffed the boy. “It’s wandered off. I can’t leave the flock to look for it.”

  “Maybe we can find it for you,” said Juliet. “Which way did it go?”

  “Why would you want to help me?” asked the boy.

  “Good question,” said Jerome. “We do need to get back to our own side, Juliet.”

  And then it came to her, the idea that had been nagging at the back of her mind since they first reached the meadow. “Because it’s how we’re going to find the key to the amulet!”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Jerome.

  “It’s the poem, the one Terry Suss told me on the playground the other day.

  “Past field of gold,

  The key is hid.

  Ignore the child,

  And find the kid!”

  “At first I thought it was just some sort of joke. How could you ignore the child and find the kid? But now I understand—the kid is the baby goat. And look at all these flowers. This is the field of gold. I should have figured it out sooner. We have to go find that kid!”

  “Maybe we should split up,” said Roxanne.

  “I dunno,” said Jerome. “The way things are around here, I’m afraid if we do, one of us could end up somewhere else altogether. We might never find each other again.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Okay, let’s do it this way. Put us down, Juliet. You stay here, and me and Jerome will go check with some of the other animals.”

  Juliet scowled. “What do you mean, check with the other animals?”

  Roxanne shrugged. “We’ll just ask them if they know where the kid went.”

  “You can talk to animals?”

  “Yeah,” said Jerome. “Generally we don’t bother, on account of most of them ain’t very cultured. I did meet this sweet little rat in a museum once, but . . .” His voice faltered, and he glanced at Roxanne, who had crossed her arms and was looking in the other direction. “But that was a big mistake,” he finished lamely.

  “If you’re quite finished,” said Roxanne, her voice icy, “let’s go do some work.”

  Juliet watched the two rats scamper off among the flowers. She suddenly felt very alone. She would have liked to talk to the goatherd, but she was too shy to speak first, and he appeared totally terrified by her presence. She brushed off a rock and sat down to wait in silence. As time went on, she began to wish she had brought her watch. How long had Roxanne and Jerome been gone? Just as Juliet felt the stirrings of panic, something rustled in the flowers at her feet. Looking down, she saw Roxanne.

  “We found him!” said the rat. “You’d better come along. Bring the boy, too.”

  “Why?”

  “ ’Cause he’s stuck in a cave, and we can’t get him out on our own. You’re going to have to move a rock, and it’s pretty big.”

  Juliet went to the boy. “My friends have found your lost kid,” she said. “He’s stuck in a cave. If you come with me, we might be able to free him.”

  The boy stared at Juliet for a moment, his dark eyes wide. “You are very beautiful,” he said at last. “I will follow you anywhere.”

  Juliet
sighed. Then, reminding herself that the boy was just another victim of the amulet, she said, “Thank you. Now let’s go get your goat.”

  As they followed Roxanne across the field of golden flowers, Juliet felt a great sense of rightness. The world was beautiful, and she was in the right place, doing the right thing. She had never experienced such a feeling of peace.

  But when they came to the stony hill that rose at the far side of the field and Roxanne stood on her hind legs and pointed at the dark mouth of a cave and said, “In there,” Juliet’s feeling of serenity vanished. Well, at least she had the flashlight—though when she turned it on, the boy cried out and stepped fearfully back from her.

  “It’s all right,” she said gently. “Light is a gift from the gods.”

  The boy smiled, and followed her into the cave.

  “Back here!” called Jerome when he saw the light. “It’s back here!”

  They picked their way over the stony floor, bending low, for the cave was no more than four feet high. Jerome was standing next to the young goat, which had caught its leg in the space between the rock and the cave wall.

  “Oh, foolish kid,” murmured the boy tenderly. “What brought you to such a place?”

  He bent to move the rock but could not budge it. Juliet put down the flashlight and bent to help. Heaving and pushing together, they managed to shift it slightly—enough so that the kid, with a “maaaa” of relief, could pull itself free.

  The goatherd gathered the stray in his arms. As he did, Juliet caught her breath. Where the rock had been, shining in the beam of her flashlight, was a tiny key.

  She knelt to pick it up.

  The instant her fingers touched it, the world began to dissolve around her. She heard the boy cry out—and then there was nothing but silence, and blackness.

  TWELVE

  Prisoner of Love

  Juliet’s heart was pounding. “Roxanne?” she whispered. “Jerome? Are you still with me?”