Odile nodded, and mentally congratulated Odette for her complete honesty, and for being scrupulously fair to von Rothbart. Good for you, Odette! Fair, evenhanded, there is nothing anyone could object to in what you've told him. But you can't leave it at that—you have to tell him everything!
"You—" Siegfried began in a tone of protest.
Odette again silenced Siegfried with a look. "Hear me, and judge my crimes, for crimes they are, for yourself. I broke the betrothal contract my father had made for me, I deceived one of his squires into believing that I was in love with him so that he would help me to run away. I intended to go to the Emperor's court and petition for redress, and while I was there, find a husband to my taste. So, I broke a holy vow, I betrayed my father once by running and twice by subverting his man, and I betrayed the young squire in his turn. For this, I have been cursed. Now, say what you will, and judge me for yourself,"
Odile wanted to cheer for the princess. Oh, most excellent!
Surely even Father would admit that you have exceeded his conditions! Odette had given no reasons for her actions, and no excuses; as a prince himself, Siegfried was well aware that duty came before all else, and that the vows a prince—or princess— made, were the foundation upon which the throne stood. Odette had made it even harder to win him now—and if she succeeded, no one could cry "foul."
Odile's heart leaped and pounded, and she waited breathlessly for Siegfried's reply.
"You must have had your reasons," Siegfried said quietly, as Odette also waited, her chin up, staring into his face to read what might be written there. "Why did you break the betrothal contract?"
"It was made without my knowledge or consent, and when I was told of it, I would not agree to it, even when Father raged at me. Father himself vowed to Mother as she lay dying that he would never force me to wed anyone I had not chosen." Odette seemed to relax a little; whatever she saw in the prince's expression must have reassured her. "He broke his vow first, and although that does not excuse my actions in the least, he also betrayed his trust to me. That is the main reason. As for my other—" She hesitated. "It was my conviction, not held by my father, that the man he wished to wed me to would in his turn betray us both and seize Father's crown at the first excuse."
Odile held her breath, hoping for an encouraging sign, as the prince nodded slowly. "The Most Holy Father himself has said that a vow made for someone else is not valid unless it is consented to. This is only common sense! You did not give consent; you were not even consulted, and you refused consent when you were asked. The vow of betrothal was not valid from the beginning." He said nothing about Odette's other reason, but she seemed content enough with that. "Now—what of your father's squire?"
Now she hung her head, and there was no mistaking the regret and shame in her voice. "For that, I have no excuse or reason of any kind. It was selfish, petty, and cruel. I wanted to take something from Father as he tried to take my freedom from me. I could have attempted escape alone, in the guise of a page. I could have hired a mercenary to protect me, using the jewels given me by my mother. I did neither. I caused the young man to break his sacred vow of fealty, and I used him shamelessly."
"And you have done neither more nor less than many women before you, and many who will come after you." Siegfried's voice sounded calm. "You must know that the Church holds that women are weak of will and inclined to sin by their nature." He paused, then chuckled. "All of which has always sounded rather specious to me, coming as it does from priests who keep mistresses and live as any noble."
Odette looked up, startled, and moonlight glinted from the tears on her cheeks.
No, that is not feigned, I would take an oath on it! Odile's heart ached for Odette, and yet she was nearly bursting with hope and pride. Von Rothbart had always told Odile that the only way the maidens would be worthy of release was if they showed true repentance, and if those were not tears of shame—
Then I will eat my slippers without sauce! Odile didn't think she would be dining on silk and leather any time soon.
"It was wrong of me, and I made an innocent suffer," Odette protested weakly. "That is a terrible sin, worse I think than breaking any vow."
Siegfried shook his head. "If he was the squire to a king, he was fully old enough to know his duty and take responsibility for his own actions. Lady, forgive me for playing the devil's advocate, but I am a man, and you are not, and I know full well how a man thinks. It was possible that he had designs upon you that you were too innocent to think of. If he had a dishonest hedge-priest
in his pay, he could easily have overcome you and carried you off to the altar, thus securing your hand and dower for himself! If he used you shamefully beforehand, you would have been forced to wed him! Can you vow that this was not the case?"
Another surprise to make Odile's eyes widen. Well! I had not thought of that! I wonder if the reason he thought of that is because he considered the idea at some time? She was still suspicious of Siegfried to a certain extent; after all, von Rothbart was not likely to have chosen a naive and romantic boy as the subject of Odette's trial, but someone who had plenty of experience with women and was not likely to be persuaded by tears and a lovely face alone.
Odette opened her mouth—then closed it again. "I—cannot say." Her brows creased in thought, and she blushed, her mouth pursing in chagrin, "I was so intent on my own plan, and so certain I could bend any young man to my will, that such a thing never entered my mind. It could have been. It could well have been." Only Odette knew what was going through her mind at the moment, but Odile thought that she must be reviewing some of the things her gallant squire had said and done in the light of this new possibility and arriving at an answer that she did not like. She shook her head, and her mouth twisted as if she had eaten something sour. "Oh, this does not reflect on me any better—for not only did I intend that this man break his vows for me, but I was stupid enough not to pay any attention to what he did and said! I was so overconfident in my ability to wheedle and charm that I never thought someone else might be tricking me"
There was no mistaking the chagrin in her voice, and indeed, Odile would have been just as chagrined in her place. Poor princess! Bad enough to sin deliberately, but how much worse to sin and discover that you were being played for a fool as well?
"I think you have been punished enough, my lady," Siegfried said, interrupting both of them in their thoughts. "And I, at least, absolve you. Now, who is it that holds this curse over you, and how can it be broken?"
"Baron Eric von Rothbart, a sorcerer of—frightening power." Odette shivered all over, and Siegfried caught up both her hands. She did not try to take them back.
Odile waited uneasily to hear what she would say about the sorcerer—for he would want to know if she had exaggerated anything he did, or twisted the truth in any way.
Please, please, make it the truth, and make it plain and unadorned, she thought desperately at the princess. I don't want to have to tell him something bad, not now that you've done so well this far!
"This is what he does—" Odette said slowly and carefully, choosing her words before she spoke them aloud. "He seeks out women who have betrayed the men to whom they are duty- bound, and he places this curse upon them. But we wrested from him the pledge that his curse is bound upon us in such a way that if a man be willing to take one of us to wife, pledging faith to her until death and keeping it, knowing the maiden's sin in its unvarnished fullest, the curse will be broken for all of us. But—but—" She held up a cautionary finger. "If that man betrays his bride in turn, the curse will rebound and remain upon that unhappy maid and all the rest for all time. That admitted, he laid it upon my shoulders to be the one to make the trial for us all. And I believe, although I do not know for certain, that he meant for me to meet with you, in specific. I believe that is why he brought us here, so far from his home. And if you feel that you have been entrapped—so be it. I will accept responsibility for that as well. But I never intended to lay traps f
or anyone, least of all you,"
Siegfried did not answer at once, and Odile held her breath, waiting to hear his response. "That—is a hard condition to bind a man to," he said at last, ignoring entirely Odette's words about von Rothbart's trial and possible traps.
Really? Is it so difficult, then, for a man to actually be faithful to one woman for his lifetime? Odile felt her lip curl in disgust, and she wondered just how blatant a womanizer this Siegfried was. I begin to dislike men more with everything I learn about them! How dare Father be so harsh with women, when men are so perfidious?
"I know it," Odette said—sadly, Odile thought. But if she was thinking the same acrimonious thoughts as Odile, she didn't voice any of them. Odile's sympathies were aroused by that single, sad phrase more than everything else Odette had said put together.
She sees her chance of release slipping away—and she won't run after it, because that would violate Father's conditions! She even warned him that we'd come here just for that purpose, and that wasn't strictly one of the conditions. Unfair! Odile was as angry at her father as she was with the rest of mankind at that moment; her cheeks flushed, and she longed to be able to place a curse on traitorous men to match the one her father had placed on the swan-maidens.
Worse! They deserve to be loathsome worms by day, and toads by night!
"Nevertheless—my Lady and my Love!—I will bind myself to it!" Siegfried cried, just as Odile clenched her fists in anger so hard that her nails bit into her palms. To her shock and delight, Siegfried went once more to his knee before Odette, both her hands still held tightly in his. "If you can tell me as honestly as you just proclaimed your guilt that you can love me, then I will bind myself to that pledge and to you, with all my heart and soul, and for all time! I am glad that the sorcerer chose me to be the one to redeem your curse, for otherwise I would never have seen you, and known the only woman I could ever love with all my heart!"
Odette gasped, then burst into tears. Siegfried leaped to his feet and took her into his arms, as gallantly as in any troubadour's tale.
Odile clamped her teeth on a cheer, and contented herself with dancing a little jig in place. You did it! You did it! You did it just by being yourself, without anything that Father can claim was unfair! Oh, Odette, you are wonderful!
"Odette, I believe that I loved you from the moment I saw you, and never until that moment had I believed such minstrelsy could actually be true," the prince murmured into her hair as she wept on his shoulder. "Listen; my mother has pledged that I have the right to choose my own bride. A day hence, I am to declare my choice at a fete in celebration of my birthday. If you can tell me that you return my feelings, or even that you could learn to love me, I will declare before the entire court that I will wed no woman but you, and cleave to you all my life!"
He took her shoulders, and set her a little away from him, so that he could gaze into her face, "Can you at least learn to care for me, my princess? If you do not love me now, can you learn to in days to come?"
Odette's eyes streamed tears, but she managed a tremulous smile. "Learn? May God forgive me, but the moment I saw you, I had no thought of any other but you—I would rather suffer this curse for all my days than bind myself to anyone but you!"
And that, too, Odile would swear was genuine, Odette had paced the clearing restlessly all last night, refusing offers of food; now weeping, now staring at the moon, now whispering to herself, she had given the impression of someone placed in a situation for which she had made no preparations.
And now I know what that was; the breaking of the curse did not depend on her winning the prince specifically but on winning a man. If he had renounced her and fallen short of the mark, if she had been heart-whole, there was still plenty of time for her to try with another, even the prince's friend. Last night, she realized that she couldn't bear to pursue another man, and yet all of the others depended on her to pass the test and break the spell No wonder she was agitated!
Odile felt a great wave of well-being wash over her; she could not have envisioned a more perfect solution for all of them! Within days, the swans would be free, and her father would in his own way be free as well! He would have time to turn his attention to his daughter for the first time in years, and he would find—
He will find that I am accomplished enough to satisfy even his most exacting demands! Then at last he would be proud of her; he would give her the praise that she had longed for, he would change his plans to include her as an integral part of his work!
Together, we can do so much, see so much—why stay here, when we have the power to travel to the East, to Africa, anywhere we wish? We could spend our lifetimes delving into new mysteries. . . .
She hugged her arms tightly to her chest to try to contain all her happiness, as Siegfried and Odette murmured little tender whispers to each other, exchanging vows and kisses that Odile didn't bother to note. Then, just for a moment, Siegfried left Odette alone in the clearing, coming back again quickly with his friend Benno. With Siegfried's hand in hers, Odette tremulously repeated what she had told Siegfried.
Benno frowned as he listened, and looked penetratingly from Siegfried to Odette and back again. But evidently even his skepticism was overcome, for when Siegfried again made his declaration, he threw up his hands, but his frown had changed to a smile.
"I suspected the like," he said, shaking his head. "You were entirely too well-behaved and obedient this morning, Siegfried. You are never like that unless you have something occupying your thoughts."
Odette looked limp with relief, and Odile shared her feeling; Benno represented the last hurdle to overcome. Opposition from the man Siegfried had called his best friend—
There's no telling what he would have been able to convince the prince of, and meanwhile, poor Odette is gowned in feathers and unable to speak in her own defense. For that matter, he could have made up some story that would have resulted in the prince being chained up for his own good, and then where would we be?
"There is just one thing I would like to know," Benno continued, frowning again. "Just who was that maiden I spoke to this afternoon? And why was she not a swan, if you all are bound to that form except by moonlight?"
"That—was Odile; she is in a manner our keeper," Odette replied slowly. "She is von Rothbart's daughter, and something of a sorceress herself. She sees that we are fed and protected, both as swans and as ourselves, and she has been a faithful guardian to us."
Siegfried placed his arm around Odette's shoulders, and glanced about in alarm. "Where is she? Could she be spying on us? Is she likely to harm you?'
"No, no!" Odette cried immediately, making Odile flush with unexpected shame and pleasure that the princess had defended her. "No, she is good and kind of heart; she protected us and worked herself to a wraith to see that we were sheltered and nourished on our journey here! If you had seen her, you would know how carefully she cared for us, I am sure she would never harm any of us, least of all myself!"
"Well—she didn't do anything to me, and I was—very rude," Benno replied, sounding ashamed himself. "If she's enough of a sorceress to make herself vanish the way she did, I suppose she could have saved herself the trouble and made me vanish instead. I'd be a lot of good to you as a toad."
"She could have dumped you in the lake to cool your temper and then where would you be?" Siegfried laughed, relaxing again "You cannot swim any more than can I."
He turned to Odette, looking down into her eyes, which gazed back up at him in shameless adoration. "Will you permit me to remain with you until moonset, my Lady?"
Odile chose that moment to steal away; nothing Siegfried or Odette could say would be of any interest to her father at this point, and she wanted to let the impatient swan-maidens know what had happened between the lovers. Besides, the idea of staying to spy on amorous confidences made her feel embarrassed and uneasy.
She remembered to make herself visible again before she reached the clearing; there was no point in letting anyone
know she had this particular spell, for it would only arouse suspicions she didn't want to answer at the moment.
The one called Mathilde spotted her returning from the same direction Siegfried, Benno, and Odette had gone, and pounced on her eagerly. The others followed suit as soon as they realized she'd been in a position to overhear what was going on.
"What happened? Do you know? Did you—" they surrounded her with a confused babble, and she waved her hands at them to make them calm down.
She had already decided on a harmless deception. "I've been keeping watch for trouble. When the prince passed me and returned with his friend, I guessed that all had gone well—and since it was no longer just the two of them, I slipped in to where I could hear." She smiled in triumph. "Odette fulfilled every one of Father's conditions and beyond, and Siegfried has not only pledged to wed her, he swears he will announce it to his court tomorrow night, and he has won over his friend as well!"
Never in all the time that she had known them had she ever seen the maidens really happy—and what followed her news was an outburst of joy so overwhelming that for a few moments she feared that their wits were in danger of being lost. Pairs and trios of friends hugged each other breathless; the little swans leaped about like crazed young lambs. Some clasped hands and swung each other around until they fell to the ground, too dizzy to stand, only to rise and do it again. All of them babbled at high speed, their words completely unintelligible.
At just that moment, the prince's friend returned. He surveyed the scene, hands on hips, a wry grin on his sensitive mouth, then approached Odile as the only one sane enough to speak to.
"I see that my news has traveled before me," he said laconically, raising an eyebrow at her.
Odile shrugged. "Once you joined them, they were no longer in private, were they?" she replied evasively. "I do have some interest in this, after all—and a duty to see to."
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