by Diane Zahler
I pushed down my exasperation and asked, “Mama, what is it? Why did you faint? You are not . . . ill, are you?”
“Oh, no, dearest,” Mama replied. “It is nothing like that.”
“Then tell us, please!”
Mama sighed deeply and looked at Papa as she had in the kitchen, as if for guidance.
“It is your story, my love.” He took her trembling hand in his. “You must tell it.”
“Then I shall,” she said simply, and she began.
“I have never told you much about my life. It is . . . not a happy story. I was one of two children born to my parents. My brother was very much older than I, handsome and full of life.”
Luna dropped her soup spoon with a clatter, and I gaped. Mama had a brother? There’d never been even a hint of any uncle. Why had we never met him?
Mama ignored our astonishment. “My parents adored him, but still they longed for a daughter to pamper and indulge. For many years it seemed their wish would not be granted, so when at last I was born, they were jubilant. All of our relatives, and all the important lords and ladies and dignitaries for many miles around, were invited to my christening. Of course I was an infant, so I do not remember what happened. But when I was your age, Aurora, my mother told me the story.”
Something in her tone made me shiver. I had a feeling that this tale would not end well.
“My brother was beloved by all. Many women fell in love with him. One of them was a distant cousin of my father’s, a beautiful woman named Manon. They spent time together, for she was witty and charming, but my brother made her no promises. He was young, and not looking for marriage—or even love—but just for fun. Manon attended the christening party, of course. Nobody knew, then, that she had fairy blood.”
Luna’s eyes widened at this, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Though he was so much older, my brother was devoted to me. Even at the party, with all the guests to attend to, he hovered over me, picking me up whenever I fussed.”
Mama hesitated for a moment and then continued. “Manon and my brother danced once or twice, as they had at parties many times before. Now, though, my parents saw clearly that Manon had fallen in love with him. It made them uneasy, and they planned to speak to him about it. But before they could, my brother became captivated by another who had come to the party. Her name was Emmeline, and she was my father’s godmother.”
“Your grandfather’s,” Papa corrected her.
“She must have been ancient!” Luna exclaimed.
“She was quite old indeed, but she had fairy blood as well, so her age did not show. My brother turned all his attention to Emmeline. He could look at no one else. They spent the rest of the evening together. They talked and danced and . . . kissed, as my brother held me in his arms.”
I could picture the scene perfectly: the two beautiful fairies vying over the handsome prince who held the tiny baby. “Did Manon see them kiss?” I had to know.
“Yes, Manon saw,” Mama replied. “My mother said she turned quite pale. Then my brother made everything worse. He held me in one arm and with the other lifted his goblet, saying, ‘A toast to my baby sister Rosamond, who is as lovely as the day. To Rosamond, who has brought to me the joy that is Emmeline!’”
“Oh, Manon must have been so mad. What did she do?” Luna asked.
“Nothing at that moment. Everyone laughed and raised their glasses high, and the party whirled on. Later, though, at the end of the celebration, friends and relatives approached my cradle. One at a time, they wished me well. But when Manon reached me, she leaned over me and spoke so all could hear. What she said was so terrible that it made my poor mother faint dead away—just as I did today.”
Mama paused again. The room was very quiet; even Luna was still. Papa reached across the table and covered Mama’s hand with his, as if to give her strength.
Mama went on in a low voice. “She put a spell on me, a mere babe in swaddling clothes. ‘Princess Rosamond, you shall be cursed,’ she said. ‘When you reach the age of sixteen, you shall prick your finger and die.’”
I gasped in shock, my hand flying up to cover my mouth.
“What a dreadful creature!” Luna cried. Then she paused to think. “But she cannot have been very good at curses, Mama, for here you are, quite alive and well.”
Mama smiled weakly. Jacquelle came in to remove our soup dishes and serve the meat, and we pretended to apply ourselves to our food until she departed. When she was gone, Mama laid down her fork and spoke again.
“Everyone was milling about in distress after Manon’s pronouncement. In the confusion, my brother and Emmeline stepped forward to my cradle. Emmeline said, ‘Princess Rosamond shall not die, but shall only fall into a long sleep. And she shall awaken if a prince with a true heart finds her and claims her with a kiss.’”
“That was you?” I asked Papa. He looked at Mama with an expression of such love that I knew the answer.
“So it did happen!” Luna clapped her hands. “You pricked your finger, and you fell asleep?”
“Yes,” Mama replied, “but it did not happen for many years. After the christening and the uproar that followed, the two fairies disappeared. It was not long afterward that my brother disappeared as well.” Tears glistened in Mama’s eyes. “My parents searched for all three far and wide, but they never found a single sign of them. Oh, but they were devastated!
“Having lost one child, they were terribly afraid of losing me as well. I was closely watched, but I was allowed some friends and went riding and dancing now and then. I also learned practical things—how to spin and weave, though not to sew, for my mother feared needles and pins.”
Mama’s voice faltered, but she went on. “One day when I was sixteen, my parents were away. They rarely traveled, and when they were gone I missed them very much. I sat in the tower room that afternoon, for I could see the road from its windows, and I wanted to watch for their homecoming. I was spinning silk thread, as I often did, and I pricked my finger on the spindle.”
“Oh no,” I breathed.
“It happened just as Manon had foretold. I remember staring at the drop of blood as it fell—how long it seemed to take to reach the floor! And then I felt Sleep overwhelm me.
“For a time—I could not say how long—I could still sense the world. A spider wove a web above me. A bird called outside my window. Mice skittered across the floor. But at last Sleep claimed me absolutely. And all in the castle slept with me, falling where they stood.”
We were quiet, trying to imagine this. Then I asked, “How—how long did you sleep?”
Mama drew a deep, shaky breath and whispered, “Oh, my dearest daughters, I slumbered for one hundred years.”
3
Of a Tutor and a Tale’s End
At that moment, I heard the crunch of wheels on gravel in the distance. It sounded as if a carriage was coming up the long drive—but we had visitors so seldom. I turned to Papa questioningly, and he blinked, as confused as I.
“Ah, that must be your new tutor, at last!” he said. “I had forgotten completely that he was expected today. Thank goodness—Luna could certainly do with some lessons to keep her out of mischief.”
“But—,” I started. My mind was still in that tower room, where a young version of Mama slept. Asleep for a century! It was incredible. And there was something more to the tale, it seemed to me. Mama’s uneasiness made that clear. I had to hear the rest.
Mama rose from the chaise. “My head is aching,” she said fretfully. “I must lie down for a time. Children, come to my room after you have met the tutor. I will tell you the rest then.” She left the conservatory, moving slowly, just as one of the footmen entered.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “Master Julien is here.”
Luna was on her feet immediately, but I barely heard the footman’s words.
“Aurora!” Luna pulled at my arm. “It’s the tutor—our new tutor. Come on!”
I shook my head hard to clear it
of Mama’s strange, terrible story. Yes, our tutor—I remembered now. We had been waiting for him to arrive for days. This would be our fifth—or was it our sixth? We always looked forward to getting to know them, for they were new faces to us, and we rarely met anyone new. But though they came forewarned of our isolated location, each soon decided that teaching rhetoric and Latin to two girls on a remote cliff top far from the nearest town was not to his liking. Our last tutor had left months before. I continued studying on my own, but Luna could not be forced to her books.
We started out of the conservatory. I was slow, still lost in my thoughts, so Luna darted ahead.
“Luna!” Papa called. “Give the tutor a chance to settle in before you begin to torment him!”
She laughed and sped away.
Servants were already unstrapping a great leather trunk from the back of the tutor’s carriage when we entered the courtyard, and as I watched, the carriage door opened and a man stepped out. He was disheveled, his clothing wrinkled from travel. He had reddish curls under his floppy velvet cap and a rather long, hooked nose.
Luna stepped in front of him and waited for him to bow, but he only pulled off his cap and nodded his head, as he would to any ordinary female. She bristled, and I could see that she was offended. For all her talk, she liked to be treated as royalty.
“I am the princess Luna,” she said in her most imperious voice, and held out her hand to be kissed. Appalled at her rudeness, I started to speak, but Papa shook his head to stop me.
The tutor stepped forward, took Luna’s hand in his, and shook it, saying, “And I am Master Julien, your new tutor.”
Luna glowered. “Show me some respect, sir. I am a princess!”
He smiled then, and his face became a little more handsome. “Well, I am your elder, Your Highness, and your superior in learning. If you weigh these advantages against your rank, are we not equals, more or less?”
This was so outrageous that it was intriguing. I had to hide a smile as I watched Luna trying to decide what he meant and whether she should be insulted. Then Papa came forward, and Master Julien did sweep him a low bow—naturally, for Papa was king.
“Welcome to Castle Armelle, Master Julien!” Papa said. “We are very glad to have you here at last. The girls badly need improvement.” This last, with a smile, was directed at Luna. She scowled when Master Julien laughed.
“I will do my very best, Your Majesty,” he replied.
“Princess Luna has introduced herself,” Papa went on, “and this is my elder daughter, Princess Aurora.”
I nodded my head, and the tutor did the same, saying, “Delighted, Your Highness.” Luna snorted. Obviously, this greeting didn’t meet with her approval either.
“The queen is indisposed and will meet you at dinner,” Papa told him. “We have given you a room on the family’s floor, with a view of the sea. Shall I show you there?”
Now I was surprised. Why would a mere tutor be given a room on our floor, and not with the servants?
“Girls,” Papa said, “go up to your mother. I will join you there shortly.”
Luna began to protest, but I took her arm and pulled her back into the castle. “I want to talk to the tutor!” she cried.
“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the story?” I asked as we mounted the stairs.
“What else is there? Mama slept, Papa woke her, and here we are.”
“I think there is more,” I said.
We knocked gently on Mama’s door, and at her soft “Come in,” entered the darkened room. She lay on her bed atop the covers, a fresh washcloth on her forehead.
“Oh, Mama, is it bad?” Luna ran over to the bed and took Mama’s hand.
“Not so very bad,” Mama murmured. Jacquelle had brought her a tea tray, so I poured tea, and we sat quietly beside her and sipped until Papa came in. He took a seat in an armchair by the window.
“The tutor is settled,” he told Mama. “He seems very suitable, and looks forward to meeting you this evening.”
“His nose is so long a bird could perch on it,” Luna said.
“It is not!” I protested.
“Girls!” Mama reprimanded us. “You know better than to comment on others’ appearances.”
“Aurora says the story isn’t finished. Is she right?” Luna demanded.
“Yes, there is more,” Papa said. “Rosamond?”
“This part is yours,” she said to him. Papa took up the tale, his voice weaving a spell in the dim room.
“While your mother slept, girls, the forest grew up around the castle over the decades until it was entirely hidden. Even the rumors of a castle in the wood faded over time. But then, when I was a young man of twenty, I went riding in the wood alone. I did not often ride by myself, for my friends and I loved to hunt together, but that day something seemed to call out to me. I like to think that it was your mother’s heart, ready to waken at last.” Mama opened her eyes at that, and tears spilled onto her cheeks. Papa smiled at her from across the room.
“The way grew rougher and rougher, and before long I was lost. I was in a part of the forest I had never seen, overgrown and wild. No birds called there, and strange animals rustled in the thick underbrush. I came to a barrier of vines and thorns. I started to hack my way through them and became like a man possessed. I could not tell you what compelled me to go on. My hands were soon torn and bleeding, but I could not stop. At last I uncovered a stone wall, where I found a door. I pulled aside roots and briars and forced my way in. I thought I was entering an ancient stable, or a long-deserted farmhouse.”
Luna and I sat breathless as Papa continued.
“Oh, children, you would not believe what I saw inside! I was in the great hall of a castle, its marble floor so thick with dust that mice and squirrels had left their tracks all about. I walked past guards drooped over their lances, and a cook facedown in her pastry. My boots kicked up clouds of dust as I tried to wake a servant who had sunk to the floor holding a tea tray. Mice had nibbled away the sugar, but the pot still smelled faintly like tea when I sniffed it. Down in the laundry room, maidservants slept atop piles of folded clothes, and in the hallway even the dogs slumbered with their bones in their mouths. I moved through room after room, all draped in cobwebs, all silent but for the sounds sleepers make. And then I mounted the stairs to the top of the tallest tower, and I found—”
“Mama!” Luna cried.
Papa smiled at her. “Yes, your mother, slumped over her spinning wheel. Ah, even in slumber she was the loveliest young woman I had ever seen! Her golden hair was as bright as sunlight in that dim, musty room. I went to her and raised her head, and I kissed her. And suddenly she woke.”
“Why, that means that Mama is a hundred years older than you, Papa!” Luna blurted out. Papa laughed, and even Mama smiled, wiping the tears from her face with a lace-edged handkerchief.
How romantic, and how thrilling it was! I could hardly believe that this incredible tale had been kept from us so long. Why had we never been told?
Of course Luna was first to ask. “Why have you never told us this story? Why is there no talk about it? Surely people must have known.”
Papa shrugged. “The servants who woke with your mother did talk, for a time. But who would think it true? Few believed them, and so they gave up, and moved on. The idea of a princess who slept for a hundred years—why, it’s the stuff of legends. And so it became a kind of legend. It’s a tale told to children in the nursery now, nothing more.”
“Well,” Luna said brightly, “at least it ended happily, Mama. You woke, you married, you had us.”
Mama shook her head in sorrow. “Though your father brought me great joy, it was not entirely a happy wakening,” she told us. “Think of it: A hundred years had passed. Everyone I had known, except for the servants who also slept, was dead. Most of the court was traveling with my parents—your grandparents—when the curse took hold. Manon’s cruel magic kept my mother and father from ever finding their castle again, and th
ey grew old and died searching for it, while I slept. The world had gone on without me. I had been . . . left behind.”
I tried to imagine what that might feel like, but it was too strange. Too terrible.
“And there was something else,” Mama continued, her voice quavering. She gazed at me, and I felt a shiver of dread.
“What?” I asked, clasping my hands together.
“We did not have a christening when you were born, Aurora. I was so happy then, and I did not want to tempt fate. But a fortnight after your birth, I took you for an outing in the gardens of your grandfather’s palace, where we lived at the time. As I walked the autumn paths, holding you close, I met an old woman who sat at the edge of the fountain in the garden’s center. I thought she was a tinker’s wife, come to sell baubles, or a pauper, begging for alms. Then, when she pushed back the hood of her cloak, I knew at once, though I had seen her only as a newborn infant, that Manon had returned.”
My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat. “Why . . . why did she come?” I asked, feeling my mother’s fear.
I had to lean in close to hear Mama’s anguished reply. “As she had spoken to me when I was a babe, so she spoke to you, Daughter. She cursed you as you lay dozing in my arms, saying, ‘Aurora, like your mother you shall prick your finger and sleep for a hundred years.’”
“Oh, Mama!” I cried in dismay.
Mama reached for my hand and took it in her own. “Manon was not finished,” she said, gripping my hand so tightly I flinched. “She pointed to me, as I tried to back away from her, and said, ‘But your daughter’s sleep shall be solitary. None but she will slumber. No servants, no courtiers, no family will sleep with her. She will sleep on as you live out your life and die. And she will wake entirely alone.’”
4
Of a Fate Not Foreseen
Mama could speak no more, so we left her to rest. As we stood outside her door, the hallway swam through my held-back tears. Even Papa’s arm around my shoulders didn’t give me strength. Luna, though, was thrilled by the story.