He bowed low, then straightened, his glance somehow managing to linger on Maman and slide over me entirely. This, though she and I were sitting in my father’s private audience chamber, side by side on the same straight-backed sofa. A piece of furniture I was usually careful to avoid because it was so incredibly uncomfortable. That night, however, anything I might do to demonstrate the strength and straightness of my spine had definitely seemed to be in order.
Le Renard had been clever to address Maman, I had to admit. She was well known to appreciate flowery words in matters of protocol. I doubted she would be swayed by them tonight, but the Fox was apparently taking no chances. He has used his hour to regroup, I thought.
“But when, in great agitation, the royal soothsayer came to me with what he had learned, I thought it best to bring the matter before you without delay,” he went on, switching his attention to Papa who stood just beside us.”In this…”
“You are all agreed,” my father broke in.”I know.”
At this, le Renard bowed again, though I could see an angry red blush begin to creep along his cheekbones. Don’t antagonize him, Papa, I thought. A cornered animal is almost as dangerous as a wounded one. Did you not teach me this yourself?
At that moment, I caught a strange, intent expression on Oswald’s face out of the corner of my eye. He was standing to one side of the room, before the fireplace, a location that put him almost precisely halfway between the groups comprised of our immediate family, and that of le Comte de Renard and his allies. A position I couldn’t help but notice was ambiguous at best. Though we had never spoken of it again, I was certain neither of us had forgotten what had passed between us the night of my birthday party. I had not forgotten the words of Marguerite de Renard. Was he already in league with the Fox? Did that explain his absence from the fields today?
“Duty and honor,” he had said on the night of my party. Could he speak so and then betray us?
No, I thought. Please, not Oswald.
But when I followed the line of Oswald’s eyes I discovered a curious thing. It was not le Renard he studied so intently. It was the men who stood behind him.
Select those you trust the most, my father had commanded. Apparently, they were five in number. Between them, they represented some of the most powerful families in all the land. At the very back stood the royal soothsayer, looking as if he’d rather be somewhere else. And suddenly, as if Oswald’s attention had shown me the way, I saw what it was that Papa had done. He had forced le Renard to make a choice.
If the Fox brought men below him in birth, he would be proclaiming himself the clear ring-leader of whatever this was. If he brought his peers, he would be revealing his closest allies. He had chosen the second course, and had thereby given my father the advantage. For the fact that le Renard was the spokesman had already revealed his prominent place. Now my father knew the identities of his key supporters as well.
“Naturally, we must appreciate the swiftness of your actions and the depth of your concern for our daughter as well as our kingdom, Monsieur le Comte,” I heard my mother say to Renard, and, at this, I pulled my attention back to the Fox himself. “Perhaps you will begin by explaining why the royal soothsayer felt unable to come to me with what he learned.”
For this is what he should have done, the thing that made le Renard’s actions smack of conspiracy as much as anything else. In my father’s absence, it was my mother who stood for him, not le Renard. A thing the royal soothsayer, indeed, the whole kingdom, knew perfectly well.
“It was considered a matter of some delicacy, Madame,” le Renard replied, and he did glance at me now. As if trying to calculate my strength, my weakness.”It was felt, perhaps, a mother’s love…”
“Would make me blind to the needs of my country, while you and these others, having only love for country and none for my daughter, must be considered neutral?” queried Maman. “An interesting contention, Monsieur le Comte,” she went on, not allowing le Renard to respond. “And one I will not soon forget. On this, you have my promise.”
I saw Oswald’s eyebrows raise in appreciation even as I bit back a smile. The Fox was learning that it was not so easy to sway my mother with pretty words.
“Let the soothsayer come forward,” my father said. “I will hear what he has determined from his own mouth and no one else’s.”
There was a moment of shuffling feet, and then the group behind le Renard parted. He stepped back and the soothsayer stepped forward. He was dressed in a long black robe which concealed everything but his hands and face, making him look like some enormous and bizarre puppet. His hands were long and very white. His eyes were huge and watery. As if the years he had spent interpreting signs that no one else could even see had stretched him, pulled him out of focus.
“Well,” said my father.”What is so important you must tell others before waiting for my return when you know full well where I am?”
The soothsayer’s huge eyes darted from side to side, as if seeking for a means of escape. Not finding one, they came to rest upon me as he answered:
“You must send the princess Aurore away. As far away as possible.”
For an instant, no one spoke.
“Your reasons?” said my father. Not because he wanted to, of this I am certain. But because he felt he had no choice. It was a king’s job to get to the bottom of things. To ask questions others would not.
“But surely the reasons must be obvious, Sire,” said the soothsayer, relaxing a bit now. Perhaps he felt relieved that my father had not simply ordered his head lopped off at once for daring to suggest that the king send away his only child. Not that there had been a beheading in more years than anyone could remember. Still, a custom that has not been strictly outlawed may always be revived.
“You have only to think of the great calamities which have lately befallen our kingdom,” the soothsayer went on. “The signs have shown me that they have the same root, the same cause. Furthermore, they suggest…”
“Are you by any chance trying to say,” my cousin Oswald interrupted in a very soft voice, “that the dreadful hardships that have lately come upon us are because of the princess Aurore?”
Now a second silence filled the room, even longer than the first. Of course that is what he is trying to say, I thought. Someone had been bound to say it, sooner or later. It had been only a matter of time.Had I not told myself the same thing in the dead of night, when the sleep I so desperately needed had refused to come?
“Augury is not an exact science,” the soothsayer blustered, wringing his long, white hands.
“True,” Oswald responded.”In fact, I think we may safely say that it is not a science at all. But surely you must have some basis for what you have come to believe.”
“Of course I do,” the soothsayer snapped.”My reasons come from the very events themselves. Wet contends with dry. Fire with ice. Predators give birth to prey and are devoured by it. Lightning strikes out of a cloudless sky.”
“Opposites,” I said, speaking aloud for the very first time. Slowly, I rose to my feet and faced the soothsayer. “You mean opposites contend, just like the spells spoken over me in my cradle. You mean that they are the root of our present calamities, and I am their cause.”
“No!” Oswald said swiftly. Vehemently.”You must not say such things, Aurore.”
But the soothsayer never took his eyes from my face.”I am afraid the princess is correct, my lord. For remember this, also. It was when she turned sixteen that the calamities began.”
“The year the spells will be fulfilled,” I said.
And the soothsayer answered:”Even so.”
“Why should I send Aurore away, then?” my father asked.”Will she not simply carry calamity with her wherever she goes? Or are you suggesting I set out to conquer what few enemies I have by sending my daughter to visit them, one by one?”
“Let her at least go from the court,” le Renard spoke up.”She enjoys the outdoors, does she not? Perhaps a habitat
ion in the countryside could be found.”
“A fine suggestion,” Oswald put in.”I’m sure she’d enjoy your properties, my lord, particularly the ones nearest the ocean. Unless you fear she’d cause too many storms and sink all those ships of yours with their fine, rich cargoes.”
“If I might suggest,” the soothsayer murmured, as le Renard stepped toward Oswald, his color high. “There is another course of action we might pursue. Though I fear, Majesties, it will be even less to your liking.”
At these words, a third and final silence fell upon us. A terrible silence. A silence like a blight. In it, I seemed to feel all joy within me wither, as the crops that should have grown and sustained our people had so lately done. I sank back down onto the straight-backed couch.
I knew what the soothsayer meant. We all did. If the spells spoken over me in my cradle were fulfilled, the war within me would be over. The calamaties which threatened to destroy us all would stop. All it would take was the prick of a finger. Followed by one bright drop of my life’s blood.
I heard a rustle of garments as my father moved to stand behind me and my mother. Exactly between us, framed by the curve of our heads and necks as we sat upon the sofa. Connecting us, turning the three of us into one as he laid a hand on each of our shoulders. Though I could not see him, for I did not turn, I had some notion of what was in his face, for I saw it in reflected in the eyes of those who stood before us.
And the thing in my father’s face was so pure and fierce that, strong though they were, the noblemen cried out and shielded their eyes, all save the soothsayer and le Renard. Oswald stood to one side as he had throughout, so still it seemed to me he had been turned to stone.
“We will speak no more of this,” my father said, in a voice that I cannot to this day describe. For it contained so many things it was like a thousand voices speaking all together. A single voice and yet a chorus. “Leave me now, if you value your lives.”
At this, even le Renard looked shaken. “Your Majesty, we only meant…”
“Oh, keep talking. Please,” said Oswald.
At this, le Renard’s face blanched. Without another word, he and the nobles with him bowed as if they had a single body, then backed out the audience-chamber door. As if they feared my father might yet change his mind and slay them on the spot if they turned their backs upon him. The royal soothsayer scuttled out behind them all.
“Well,” Oswald said when the door was safely closed.”Something tells me that little worm will soon be looking for another job.”
“You can’t call him little,” I contradicted, though how I managed to speak through a throat that had suddenly become so constricted I could hardly breathe I do not know.”He’s way too tall.”
“True. But let us both at least agree that he is low.”
“Oh, how can you?” my mother exclaimed suddenly.”How can you joke at a time like this, the two of you?”
A sentiment that was somewhat undermined when my father laughed aloud. Not that he sounded all that amused.
“Let them joke, Mathilde,” he told Maman.”They remind me to keep my perspective.” He moved to the front of the sofa and knelt down before me, taking my hands in his, rubbing them when he found that they were cold.
“I want you to go back to your room and get a good night’s sleep, Aurore. Don’t let the ramblings of frightened fools keep you awake. In the morning, we will decide what must be done.” Then he released me and stood.”You will see her to her room, Oswald.”
“With pleasure, Uncle.”
“Good night, then,” said my father.
And though he turned away swiftly, he was not swift enough, for I saw the thing that was in his heart. The thing that the others had seen in his face. That had made them cry out and cover their eyes.
Grief.
For his own fate. But even more, for mine.
NINE
By the time Oswald and I reached my rooms, I had made up my mind. Not that I mentioned this to him, of course. Some things are best kept to yourself. Particularly when you’re not sure whether or not other people will approve, but you’re pretty sure they won’t.
So I simply thanked him for seeing me safely to my room, went inside, then dismissed my nurse, who had waited up for me as she always did, drowsing in a chair before the fire. Though my heart hammered that I should hurry, hurry, hurry, for a moment I stood still in the center of my room. As if the rules of the universe had suddenly changed and the racing of my mind and heart had unexpectedly resulted in my limbs becoming frozen.
And then I realized that the reason for my paralysis was this: I had absolutely no idea what I was about to face. I only knew that, for the first time in my life, I would be all alone.
Though I might need new skills, there would be no one to teach them to me. No one of whom I could ask questions, from whom I could learn, as I had done for so long. I would have no mentors. No teachers. No one to guide me. What I was about to attempt was a thing that only I could do. And I would do it on my own.
And so, even as my mind and heart raced on ahead, my body paused, wanting one last moment in familiar surroundings before embarking into a great unknown. One last moment of solid ground before leaping straight out over a bottomless abyss. Then the moment passed, and my limbs began to obey the dictates of my heart and mind.
Near the alcove where my bed lay were two identical wooden chests, sitting side by side. The right one held what Nurse referred to as garments befitting a princess. Of the contents of the left chest, she preferred not to speak at all. It was this chest that I now opened, for it contained clothing much more suited for what I was about to attempt.
From this trunk, I selected a homespun shirt, a leather jerkin, and my favorite pair of breeches. Followed by warm socks and my sturdiest, most supple pair of boots. These I put on, being careful to fold the garments befitting a princess I was taking off and put them in their proper place. Nurse was going to be upset enough as it was. There was no sense in adding to her distress by not taking care of the things she valued.
Then I took out a second set of work clothes nearly identical to the first and put them in a knapsack I could carry upon my back, leaving both my arms free. To this, I added my knife in its sheath, though, after a moment, I took it out again and strapped it to my right leg so that the hilt just protruded above the top of my boot. I didn’t know into what kind of danger I might be going, and I could hardly defend myself with a knife safely tucked away in a knapsack on my back.
From the kitchens, I could acquire provisions. From the stables, my bow and arrow, which I kept hidden behind a bale of hay in my horse’s stall so Maman would not come to know about them. My mind whispered that I should take the horse as well, for I would make better time if I did. But my heart rebelled. I had no wish to take him into unknown danger, for I loved him well.
So I would go alone, and go on foot. Go without further delay. Go now. Out through the kitchen gardens, I thought, as I hoisted the pack upon my back, then covered it by tossing on my warmest cloak. A thing that seemed right and fitting, for had I not taken my first steps into the world through the same door?
Not only that, if I went that way, I could stop at the healer’s cottage on my way to the stables. She slept in the palace, so she would never know until after I was gone. And taking with me what I might need to bind a wound or treat a fever seemed a wise and sensible thing.
If I was going to go haring off, I ought to be wise and sensible about one thing at least.
Sucking in a breath, I blew out my candles, then waited until my eyes had adjusted to the room being lit by the firelight alone. The palace corridors would be much like this as I made my way along them, illuminated by torches set at regular intervals along the walls. Earlier in the evening, they would have blazed brightly. But by now, they would have burned down low. When I was satisfied that my eyes would serve, I moved to my door and eased it open, then leaped back, startled.
Oswald stood on the other side.
Arms folded tightly across his chest as if to keep his heart from bursting out of it. His eyes hot and furious, a thing I could have discerned even had the room been much darker than it was.
“I knew it,” he said.”You’re going to run. You’re so predictable, Aurore.”
Before I quite realized what I intended, I took two steps forward, seized him by the front of his shirt, yanked him over the threshold, and closed the door behind him. How I managed not to slam it, I have no idea.
“I am not running,” I hissed.”At least not running away.”
“What does that mean?” he shot back, though he did keep his voice down.”That you’re running toward? Don’t be stupid. Running is running. Don’t do it. You’ll be giving that weasel le Renard exactly what he wants.”
“So what if I am?” I said.”Even a weasel is capable of seeing the truth, Oswald. If they have nothing else, they have sharp eyes.”
“And teeth,” said my cousin.
“It doesn’t matter! Don’t you understand?” I cried. “He’s right! You know it. I know it. Even Papa knows, though he doesn’t want me to see that he does. All the terrible things that are happening to us—they’re all my fault. They’ll keep on happening as long as I stay. I have to go away. Don’t try to stop me. Please, Oswald.”
We stared at each another, and I realized both of us were breathing hard.
“I sincerely hate it when you do that,” Oswald said at last.
“Do what?”
“Say please. Appeal to my better nature.”
“It shouldn’t. I’m not so sure you have one.”
“Oh, Aurore.” As if suddenly incredibly weary, Oswald crossed the room and sat down on the edge of my bed. After a moment, I went to sit beside him. “You really don’t think very much of me, do you?”
“It’s not that,” I protested. “It’s just—I don’t understand you, Oswald. I never have. Not really.”
“What’s so mysterious about me?” he asked, his voice as sad as I had ever heard it. Actually, I don’t think I’d ever heard Oswald sound sad before.”Why should we be so different, you and I? Do you think I don’t want the same things you do?”
Beauty Sleep Page 7