Awaken - Sleeping Beauty Retold

by Jade

  Sir Warin called a halt, setting up camp in a clearing amid a collection of particularly bountiful berry bushes. Some of the guards had picked handfuls already, but Sir Warin called them to set up camp first. They set to work as Rosamond slid from her mount, intent on picking her own share of the red berries before her greedy guards could choose the best ones.

  For when it came to picking wild berries, a princess had as much right to them as the lowliest peasant. Her several times great-grandfather, the first King Almos from whom her father got his name, had decreed as much when he ordered the berry bushes to be planted, and no one had dared to rescind his law. Why would they? There were berries aplenty. Far more than the royal household could ever need.

  But the more she picked, the stronger the feeling of welcome became. Rosamond thrust both hands deep into a berry bush, heedless of the thorns, and grasped a branch thicker than her arm. Power surged into her – like magic, but more, somehow. It coursed through her, singing of leaves and buds and berries, sap flowing and new growth stretching toward the sky, with the thunderous percussion of the deep draught of sustenance roots drew from the rich soil. The bush lived, with as much passion as she did, and it bade her welcome home.

  "Are you all right, mistress?" Monika called, making her way over.

  Rosamond released the bush, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Never would she have thought plants could have such powerful emotions, let alone share them with her. "I'm fine," she said.

  "No, you're not. Look at your poor hands!"

  Rosamond glanced at the slight scratches on her hands, which faded even as she watched. The blood that had trickled from the cuts still looked ominous, though. "I am fine," Rosamond repeated, lifting her chin as she looked Monika in the eye. Her maid did not look fine at all. In fact, she looked unusually pale, with a thin sheen of sweat on her face. "Are you well?"

  "Of course, mistress," Monika said. "It is hot, is all. Perhaps I have been too close to the fire. Surely you are thirsty. Shall I fetch you a drink?"

  Monika needed refreshment more than Rosamond, but the princess followed her maid back to the pavilion where there was a jug of cider waiting for her. For them both, Rosamond corrected, making sure the maid poured two cups instead of one.

  She vowed to watch Monika carefully tonight. The woman was certainly behaving very oddly.

  SEVEN

  Rosamond lay in the darkness of her pavilion, listening to Monika's even breathing. Low voices outside told her that the guardsmen were still awake, sitting around the fire, she presumed. After falling asleep almost instantly for a week, she was restless.

  Perhaps it was the magic of communicating with the berry bush today, or maybe it was simply because she knew she was home. Rosamond was not sure, but she certainly did not feel like sleeping.

  The sound of Sir Warin's deep voice decided her. Her maid might sleep, but Rosamond was not ready to retire yet. She neatened her gown as best she could in the darkness, then pushed aside the tent flap to emerge into the firelight.

  Silence greeted her.

  Only Sir Warin dared to break it. "Good evening, Princess," he said. "Are we making too much noise, so that you cannot get your beauty sleep? Though a princess such as yourself has no need to be any more beautiful than she is already."

  Rosamond felt a blush colour his cheeks. She prayed it was too dark for Sir Warin to see the effect of his compliment. "I could not sleep," she confessed. "I thought perhaps a cup of wine..."

  "Ludd, fetch the princess some wine," Sir Warin said. One of the guardsmen rose to do his bidding.

  By the time the guardsman returned, the rest of the men had melted into the darkness. Once Rosamond had accepted the cup Ludd offered, he disappeared, too.

  "Where did they go?" she asked Sir Warin, who alone had remained.

  He stirred the fire. "Not far," he said. "Like every other night on this journey, they form a perimeter to protect you, Princess. Some will sleep, while others stand watch. We may be home, but it does not do to relax one's guard. There are still dangers on the road."

  "Dangers?" Rosamond swallowed. "Who would dare attack a royal travelling party in our own kingdom?"

  "Not who, but what. There are bears and wolves in these woods, and there are tales of evil witches in the world who respect no borders. It is my duty and theirs to protect you from all dangers until I return you home to the king and queen." Sir Warin bowed his head. "I will not let any harm come to you, Princess."

  His words made her feel oddly warm inside, which had nothing to do with the wine or the fire, she was certain. As though he took his responsibility for her safety personally. She like that.. Rosamond drank deeply from her cup. "Would you lay down your life me?" she asked. She licked the wine from her lips.

  "As the captain of your guard, it is my duty to do so. But it will not come to that." He laughed. "No one has seen a wicked witch in these parts for many a long year, and any one of my men is easily a match for a wolf or a bear."

  "I have never seen a wolf, or a bear," she mused.

  Sir Warin laughed again. "And I hope you never do, Princess. One day you will be queen, and you will live in your castle, ruling over all of us, and in return we will keep the castle safe from bears and wolves and even witches."

  "How do you defeat a witch?" Rosamond asked. "I thought only a more powerful witch could defeat another. There are tales of enchantresses who..." She tried to dig out the memory, but her head was too fuzzy.

  "I am but a common soldier," Warin said ruefully, touching his arm. "Good with a sword, and little else. That is why you healed my arm, was it not? So that I might wield a sword in your defence, as you practice your benevolent witchcraft for the benefit of the kingdom. You will be a powerful queen one day, Princess. It would be an honour to lay down my life for you."

  Rosamond laughed softly. "You are so sweet to say that," she said. "No man has ever..."

  He was so close. So close and warm and tempting and...

  Rosamond kissed him. For a moment, everything was perfect as her lips connected with his. Then, the moment shattered as he stiffened and pulled away.

  "Your pardon, Princess," he said. "I fear you have mistaken me for someone else."

  Rosamond licked her lips. He tasted of wine and salt, and she rather liked it. "No, Sir Warin. I gave a brave knight a kiss, as I should have when you won the melee at the tournament."

  He stared at her for a long moment, before muttering something about checking the perimeter. He disappeared into the darkness.

  For a long time, Rosamond waited for him to return. When he did not, and her eyelids began to droop, she returned to her pavilion. There were seven more nights before they arrived home, and a week was more than she would need to convince the knight that she was the woman for him.

  After all, her mother had ordered her to find a husband while she was away, and no one disobeyed the queen.

  Smiling to herself, Rosamond drifted off into sleep.

  EIGHT

  When Rosamond awoke the next morning, she couldn't smell breakfast.

  "Monika?" she murmured, but received no answer. Perhaps it was too early and the maid was still preparing it. Rising, Rosamond decided to begin making herself presentable for the day. There was still a jug of water half full from last night, so she used that to wash before hunting for a comb to untangle her night-mussed hair.

  A terribly unladylike snore made her stop, for it came from Monika's pallet. Surely the maid had not allowed a guardsman to sleep in her mistress's pavilion? She would soon feel the rough edge of Rosamond's tongue if she had. Wait until the queen heard about it.

  Rosamond marched over to Monika's bed and wrenched the coverlet aside. Monika herself lay there alone, breathing so laboriously that it sounded like snoring.

  "Monika, wake up. I need breakfast," Rosamond ordered.

  The maid slept on.

  Angrily, Rosamond shook the woman, but Monika simply fell back to her pallet, as limp as one of the rag dolls Rosamon
d had once played with as a child. She seemed unusually warm to the touch, too.

  Feeling fear for the first time, Rosamond cupped Monika's cheek so she could gaze upon her face. The maid's eyes were closed, but her skin had the same waxy sheen as Melitta.

  Rosamond tore her hands away from Monika and stumbled out of the tent as fast as she could. "It's Monika! She won't wake. She won't wake!" she shouted.

  Strong hands fastened around her shoulders, spinning her around to face Sir Warin. "What's this about Monika?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

  "She didn't wake. She usually wakes before me. I called her. I even shook her, but she won't wake!" Rosamond babbled, shaking her head. "She is ill. The same ailment as the weaver's daughter, I know it!"

  Sir Warin gestured to the nearest guard. "Is anyone else ill?"

  The man shook his head. "I don't think so, sir. I'll go check the other men." He returned a few minutes later, still shaking his head. "No, sir. Not a single man still abed, seeing as the sun is so high in the sky and all. If the princess had risen earlier, as is her usual habit, maybe one or two might have been but..." He coughed. "I'll go help saddle the horses, sir."

  "Monika usually wakes me," Rosamond said. "I don't understand. If she is so ill, why am I not ailing? She rarely leaves my side."

  Sir Warin's eyes narrowed. "What has she done that you have not since we left the city?"

  Rosamond spread her arms wide. "Everything." Princesses did not do things for themselves, Monika and her mother had told her so many times it had become a habit. "She cooks for me, packs my things, brings water to wash with, sets out my clothes and helps me dress, even mends my clothes when I tear them. When we get home, she says I must have new gowns made with the queen's gifts, because my travel-stained dresses will not be fit for anything more than rags. Those new velvets will be perfect for court..." She might have prattled on for longer, but Sir Warin held up a hand to silence her.

  "You said the weaver's daughter was ill, and Monika has the same ailment?" he asked.

  Rosamond nodded.

  "Did you touch the cloth the queen gave you?"

  Rosamond's mouth seemed suddenly too dry. "I...no. It came in so many chests, and you were angry, so Monika said...she said she would load them onto the packhorses. The weaver's daughter unpacked those chests when they arrived, at about the same time we did, but no one else had touched them..." She stopped dead, clapping her hand to her horrified mouth. "You don't think Queen Margareta gave us cursed cloth?"

  "Mayhap the queen herself did not know. Whether she did or no, the curse is undoubtedly real. We cannot take it home." Warin pointed at four guardsmen. "You! Fetch more wood. We must have a bonfire before we leave this spot."

  The men obeyed, piling wood beside the small morning cookfire. They coaxed the cheerful flames into a roaring blaze under Warin's watchful eye, until he nodded and strode off.

  "Where are you going?" Rosamond demanded, following him.

  "To the picket lines, where the packhorses' burdens are piled, to fetch the cursed cloth. I will do what I must to protect you and the kingdom." He marched grimly to the pile of bags, seizing several before heading back to camp. When he reached the fire, he unfastened one of the sacks, reached inside, and tossed the bundle of cloth onto the flames.

  "No!" Rosamond shouted. "You can't burn the queen's gifts. They are gifts. To do so would start a war." She seized the next bundle of cloth before Sir Warin could throw it into the fire. "You can't!"

  Warin wrenched it out of her grip. "Do not touch the cursed stuff, Princess. What the queen does not see, she will never know. Unless you know how to remove curses, we must destroy it with fire. Can you break curses, Princess?"

  Rosamond wrapped her arms around herself as tears sprang to her eyes. No one had ever spoken so roughly to her before. "No. I am a healer, and I help plants. Only a powerful enchantress – "

  "Then let me do my job, Princess, which is protecting you." Another bundle of bright-coloured cloth landed in the fire, sending up a shower of sparks, followed by two more.

  Realisation dawned. "If she was cursed by merely touching the cloth, then so are you." Rosamond gulped. "So am I."

  "I pray that you are not, Princess." Warin would not meet her eyes. He turned and cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting for the attention of his men. "Ride for the capital. Tell the king we were taken ill on the road. God willing, we will be but a day behind you." He gave Rosamond a hard look. "You should go with them, Princess. Monika and I are cursed, but you are surely free of such evil spells."

  Rosamond's fingers itched where she'd touched the velvet. "No, I cannot. What if you are wrong, and it is not a curse, but some plague that others can catch from me? I dare not bring it home."

  "Go with them, Princess," Warin said through gritted teeth. "They will keep you safe. When this illness takes hold, I know that I cannot."

  She lifted her chin as she glared at him. "Who will keep them safe from me if you are wrong? I am a Princess and a healer, and they will be no help to me when they are dead." She swallowed. "Or if I am dead, for surely the disease will take me first." She closed her eyes in horror. She didn't want to die. She didn't want him to die. Or Monika. Or anyone.

  "Can you heal it?" Warin demanded.

  Rosamond thought of Melitta. "Yes, perhaps. But it may take some time. We can't stay here beside the road, where any traveller might happen upon us, lest they be afflicted, too. We will need shelter while I try to heal you."

  "Heal all three of us," Warin corrected, surrendering the last piece of cloth to the flames. "First Monika, then yourself, and if you have the energy and I still live, you can heal me."

  Rosamond did not know how to heal herself, but she didn't tell Sir Warin that. She drew herself up. "Find us shelter, and I shall."

  He nodded. "There is an old convent near here that I know of. It is one of the best spots in the kingdom for hawking, but as the king and queen are not fond of falcons, we should be safe."

  "What about the nuns?" Rosamond demanded, horrified. "Their faith will not save them from whatever disease we are carrying, or a curse."

  Warin flashed a bleak smile. "The convent has stood empty for my lifetime, Princess, and that of my father. The order who built it left, and did not come back. At least if we die there, it will be on hallowed ground."

  Rosamond did not want to die, but she saw no other choice. "Help me with Monika. We must get her to this convent you speak of so that I may heal her." Before it was too late, she thought but didn't say.

  NINE

  After travelling for most of the afternoon, Rosamond wanted to scream at Sir Warin for his mistaken idea of what nearby meant. Even when they stopped, she saw no sign of any building at all. Perhaps the knight had only imagined this convent.

  "In here," he said, taking Monika in his arms. He carried the unconscious maid toward a rock covered in thick briars.

  No, not a rock. A stone wall, Rosamond realised. The briars bore so many flowers that they hid the joins in the stonework. "How do we get in?" she blurted out.

  "When I was a boy, there was an entrance here. Under the briars, it will be here still." Sir Warin glanced down at Monika. "I will set her down. Keep watch over her while I work." He placed Monika carefully on the grass, then unsheathed his sword.

  "No!" Rosamond cried out. "You don't need to cut them. I will ask the plants to move." The instant the words left her lips, she regretted them. Yes, plants usually did her bidding, but these were not the small rose trees in her garden at home. No, these were mighty monsters, wild and free. Yet she swallowed and stepped up to the tangled briar. Cupping her hands around a full-blown pink rose, she felt the sting as the tiny, needle-sharp thorns at the base of the bloom pierced her skin. "Permit us to pass," she whispered, closing her eyes.

  She felt an answering whisper of greeting as she heard the rustle of leaves, moving in the breeze and scraping against stone. Except...there was no breeze in this still hollow.

  R
osamond's eyes flew open. Before her, the briars had parted to reveal an arched portal into the building. She expected it to lead into darkness, but the ruined roof was open to the sky, letting in dappled sunlight.

  Sir Warin stared at her with an intensity that made her feel uncomfortable. "I am glad to be on your side, Princess. I would hate to be your enemy," he said. He lifted Monika's limp form and strode into what remained of the convent.

  Rosamond hesitated for a moment, before following him inside what turned out to be a chapel. Little remained except the stone altar, which was now wreathed in roses. She stepped up to the altar, brushing aside the leaf litter that had collected on its surface. "Put her here," she commanded.

  Now it was Sir Warin's turn to hesitate. "Witchcraft in a holy chapel? Won't we be struck down?"

  Rosamond made an impatient sound in her throat. "We are already struck down with a curse, remember? Perhaps the holiness will help. We will need all the help we can get, for I am but a novice at this."

  Reluctantly, he set Monika on the altar. Then he backed away, staring at the maid in horror. "She looks like one already dead, laid out for burial," he whispered. "Save her, Princess. Please, I beg you. Save us all." He dropped to his knees.

  Save them all. If only she could.

  Rosamond wrapped her hand around a tangle of briar, feeling warm blood slick her palm, before she set her other hand on Monika's breast and sent her healing magic flowing through the dying maid.

  TEN

  Three days it took her to heal Monika of the disease, for Rosamond's waning strength took its toll on how much magic she could use before she swooned. Even calling on the roses for assistance did not help as much as she had hoped...for Rosamond knew the disease coursed through her blood, too, threatening to steal her life, even as Monika recovered.

  Sir Warin had caught a plump bird, which now roasted over the fire he'd built in the old convent courtyard. "Good evening, Princess," he greeted her, wiping at the thin sheen of sweat that seemed to permanently coat his brow. He had caught the plague, too, Rosamond realised, but he would not allow her to heal him until Monika was well.