Beck: a fairy tale

by Nina Clare

  The Key

  Felix awoke early next morning. Shula-Jane was already awake; she was stood at the window gazing out. She turned and smiled at him as she heard the creaking of the bed.

  “Aren’t you cold?” he said.

  She nodded. “I have never known such cold. But the snow – oh, it’s beautiful! The whole land is white – it looks so pure, it is more beautiful than I even imagined it would be.”

  “Come back to bed and get warm, there is still so much I want to know. Tell me about your little servant girls and your dog and what happened to you on your journey.”

  She crossed the chamber and allowed herself to be enfolded in Felix’s warm arms.

  Felix had something pressing on his mind that day, and he could not feel at peace until he had resolved it. The day following the weddings had been declared a holiday for the servants of the estate, but when Felix went to the cottage of Master Digby he found that he had ridden off on his daily check of the estate anyway. Felix took Duco and set off to find him.

  A week passed and the snow had melted away to Shula-Jane’s disappointment. Felix was restless that week; there were still unresolved matters. He could not sleep that night. He tossed and turned. He listened to the quiet breathing of his wife. He listened to the wind gusting and then dropping with a sigh as it danced circles about the house. He felt as though something were calling to him – he had felt such a sensation before – it had come to him the night before he left Foxeby to travel to Portgua. It was the pressing feeling that he must do something, must go somewhere, and it was something to do with that strange old woman.

  He slipped out of bed, wrapped a woollen blanket about his shoulders and stirred up the fire. By the flickering light he found his little box, inlaid with enamel work in which he kept small items. From the box he took out the small, black key the old woman had given him. He frowned at it, thinking his eyes must be deceiving him in the unsteady light. He turned to the fire so he could see more clearly – no – he was not imagining it – the small, black key was now golden and shiny; it was no longer plain and worn, but gleaming and intricately patterned with a moon and stars on its shank. It was a beautifully fashioned key, the like of which he had not seen before.

  He moved to the window, pulled aside the heavy drapes to look up at the night sky. There was only the faintest sliver of a new moon to be seen. The key glowed brighter as he stood in the dark of the window alcove.

  Shaking his head in wonder, he put the key back in the inlaid chest. Either he was dreaming, and it would return to its usual form when he awoke, or he would be riding over to the old woman’s house to find out what he was supposed to do with it in the morning. With this resolution made, he found he was at liberty to sleep.

  The key was golden in the morning.

  Felix asked Bellchior to accompany him to Mistress Wheedle’s house. He remembered he had been unable to see the path to her house through Wilder Woods, but Bellchior’s well-trained eye had known the way. They took Ned to watch the horses for them. Ned set off in good spirits, pleased he had a morning off mucking out the stables, but his good mood evaporated as they reached the furthest border of Foxeby village, and it dawned on Ned where he was being led.

  “We’re not going into Wilder Woods, are we, milord?” he exclaimed, as the bare beeches and ash trees began populating the wintry landscape before them.

  We are,” Felix called back.

  Ned’s face filled with dismay. “But – milord – they say strange things live in there. They say a witch lives in its heart with great, white wolves about her!”

  “I have been before,” said Felix, “there were no wolves, and no witches!”

  “But...milord...” Ned hung back as Felix and Bellchior turned their horses into the woodlands, Bellchior picking out a faint trail.

  “Come on,” called Felix, “that’s an order.”

  Ned seemed to shrink down in his saddle as though he were trying to make himself less noticeable as he followed after his master.

  Felix thought of the last time he had made this same journey, travelling with Uncle Lopo and Bellchior on their way to Portgua. He thought how full of youthful optimism he had been, how impatient he had been to see the world. Now he was grateful to be at home, with all his loved ones about him. He had no desire to leave home any time soon.

  Last time they had made the journey the trees had been green and full-leaved, now they were bare and emptied. When the way became dense with great oaks and hornbeams, they tied their horses to a young oak tree and left the frightened looking Ned to watch over them. Felix felt some pity for him, for he had the nameless fears of the woods on one side and the hostile snorts of Duco on the other, warning him to keep his distance.

  Once again, Felix wondered at Bellchior’s ability to trace a path that Felix could not see. The light grew gloomier as they neared the heart of the wood. There was a rustling from the bushes and trees beyond, and Felix felt the same sensation he had done the first visit – the sensation of being watched, of being followed, though by what he could not say.

  The rustling and movement followed near to them all the way of their journey, until the ground began to open up into a clearing. A one-legged chicken met them with a squawk, followed by three more, their yellow-ringed eyes fixed upon the approaching strangers whom they greeted with a fluffing out of white tail feathers and a flapping of wings. Whatever the creature was that rustled and followed through the undergrowth, it was not one that ate chickens, Felix concluded.

  The ramshackle hut looked more precarious than he remembered. It looked as though it were about to collapse at the next gust of wind. How ever did that little old woman survive the winters in such a poor shelter?

  They rapped on the grey-weathered boards of the door. There was no reply. Bellchior rapped again. When no voice answered, he pushed the door, but it held fast.

  “Try again,” said Felix, “she may have frozen to death in there.”

  Bellchior used his shoulder to force the door, but the rickety looking door would not budge.

  Felix put his hand inside his cloak and pulled out the key. It gleamed bright and golden, the stars and moon engraved upon it seeming to glow. He stretched out his hand and slotted the gold key into the rough-hewn hole in the door.

  There was a sudden flash that blinded Felix and a sound like a roaring wind that filled his ears. He staggered back, almost falling to the ground, he could not say how long it lasted – his senses were completely overwhelmed.

  The roar died away, the blinding light faded; Felix recovered his sense of orientation and could see Bellchior was likewise regaining his balance. They stared at one another, and then they stared around them with open mouths.

  Where there had been dark, gnarly oaks, and hornbeams stretching out long arms and fingers of bare branches, where there had been dense undergrowth of ivy and bramble branches – there was a garden. A garden of short, winter grass, but grass – not the brown mulch of a woodland floor. Instead of oak – there were slender willows, instead of hornbeam – apple trees, instead of brambles – climbing roses, well-trained to clamber across a garden boundary of wrought iron fences – such as no blacksmith in Foxebury or Lucklow could have made, so intricate was their design.

  Where there had been four chickens scratching and scrabbling, there were three white peahens, trailing their feathers, and a single peacock, strutting ahead of them, his feathery coronet held high.

  They turned round to see the dilapidated hovel – it was gone. And in its place stood a house of light coloured hewn stone. A house with windowpanes and a door of studded oak and a golden doorknocker in the shape of a star. Felix stepped toward the house, feeling as though he were in a dream. The golden key was still in the golden lock. He turned it, stepped inside and gasped.

  A great hallway paved in light stone – walls hung with tapestries that gleamed with golden thread – furniture better carved than any Felix had ever seen – stone fire places carved with stars and moon –
beds with velvet canopies – and through the windows, at the back of the house – a thatched stable, a dovecote, gardens, and beyond them fields as far as could be seen.

  Felix and Bellchior did not speak one word. They were truly speechless as they wandered from chamber to chamber. Felix’s silence only broke when he descended the staircase to see a figure standing in the entrance hall. A woman stood there, tall and slender as a willow tree, her hair glowing silver as starlight, her face of such unearthly beauty that Felix had nothing to compare it to. She wore a gown that shimmered as she moved, and in her long, silvery hair were stars like diamonds.

  “Who are you?” Felix said, in a voice so faint with awe that he barely heard himself. But the lady heard him. She smiled, and then she laughed, as though she were playing a joke on them and was much amused by the looks on their faces.

  “Welcome!” she called out in a silvery voice. “Come and take a cup with me.” She gestured towards the great hall. Felix somehow managed to make his legs walk down the remaining steps. He followed her and saw that the fireplace was now glowing with a hearty fire. Before the fireplace was a round wooden table, its legs made of unicorns, carved in white wood, and the tabletop carved with rambling roses. Two golden goblets sat upon the table. The lady gestured them to take the cups. Felix felt a mixture of fear and fascination toward this beautiful, strange lady. She could not be earthly, that much he knew.

  He and Bellchior took up the cups and sipped. An explosion of sweetness and fragrance filled Felix’s mouth and nose from one sip – honey and rose and summer peaches, and the scent of lily and pine and nameless herbs and tastes and perfumes he could not identify. He had never tasted anything so sweet and fragrant. He gulped another mouthful and had drained the large goblet greedily before he could restrain himself. He put down the goblet and laughed – a deep laugh that rose up from deep inside his belly, and he could not stop laughing. Bellchior was laughing too – he realised in a fleeting fragment of thought that he had never seen Bellchior laugh before – they could not stop - and it felt so good! As the ripples and waves of laughter flowed up from his belly and out of his mouth Felix felt as though something were lifted from him and carried away – sadness, grief, pain – all was released and floated away in the sound of deep and full joy.

  When the laughter abated, Felix felt emptied of something heavy, he felt strangely light and free. He could not repress a rippling chuckle from escaping intermittently. He looked at Bellchior and thought how young and happy he looked, as though years had fallen from him.

  “That little taste was to thank you, my child,” said the lady, her eyes radiating delight as though she took great pleasure in their laughter. “And now I will be on my way – one hundred years I have waited to take this journey – at last it has come!”

  “But – wait!” cried Felix, another chuckle rolled out from him. “Wait – who are you?”

  “Do you not remember me?” she said with another gleeful smile. “You do not recognise me in my true form?”

  Felix stared at her and shook his head. “I have never seen you before!” Another laugh escaped him. “I think I would remember you!”

  The lady laughed back at him. “You knew me as I was under the curse, as Old Mother Wheedle you knew me.”

  Felix could only laugh again. But he shook his head at the same time. “No!” he cried between laughter. “It cannot be!”

  “It is so. I failed as guardian to one young maiden, and my sentence was to live without beauty, without grace, without joy, until I had brought one hundred newborn maidens safely into the world, and blessed one hundred maidens more, and brought their circumstances out of sorrow and into joy. And now that my charm has been returned to me after the one-hundredth maiden was helped, now my curse has ended.”

  She touched a shining star that rested on her forehead as she spoke of her charm, and Felix, looking at the star could see that it was a piece of stone, like a piece of quartz, that was glowing on her brow.

  “It’s a star?” he said in amazement. “The stone I had was a star?”

  She laughed, and he laughed with her.

  “As my final blessing to you I leave all this in your hands,” she said, sweeping her arm about her.

  “You have the key, and this also is for you,” she held out a scroll. Where she had produced the scroll from Felix could not say, but he was beyond surprise now.

  “I trust that you will know what to do with it,” she told him. “But remember, you cannot hold on to a blessing – it must be given away to be received.”

  “What do you mean?” said Felix.

  “And in that chest,” she said, pointing a long, glowing finger in the direction of an enormous wooden chest, “is all the wealth I amassed. I was rich, yet cursed to live in poverty, but now it is yours. You will know what to do with it.”

  “But, what do you mean?” Felix asked again, looking from the chest back to the lady. But she was gone.

  He rushed to the open door and looked out. He could see her gleaming form crossing the garden. He saw a movement in the trees beyond the iron gates, and a white horse stepped out from between the trees. There was a haze of light – through the silver cloud Felix could make out the form of the lady sitting on the back of the horse, but it was not a horse – it was a unicorn. The forms blurred and the silver cloud of light moved away and was suddenly gone. She was gone. Where the unicorn had stood there was a cluster of white flowers in the winter grass. And where the unicorn had touched the empty, wintry stems of the climbing rose, there were white roses and glossy leaves spread across the iron railing.

  Felix looked at Bellchior, and they both laughed. The scroll Felix held was sealed with an image of a star in silver wax. He broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. It was a deed to the woodlands of Wilder Woods, Wildrose Manor, and its estates. There was a blank space where the name of the deed holder’s name was to be written.

  Felix locked the door of the house, took his dagger from his side and cut three clusters of roses. They walked back to their horses, laughing at the clear, wide path that was wide enough for a team of horses and carriage to pass along. They laughed at the orchard they passed through, and they laughed at the flowing stream that ran alongside the path. They found Ned looking relaxed, and more remarkably, he was patting Duco who stood calm and patient for the first time in his long horse-years of life. Felix laughed out loud to see them – and Ned, not seeming in the least bit surprised by their strange hilarity, grinned back.

  “Don’t know why I ever thought these woods were scary,” he commented. “I think it’s quite nice here really.”

  Felix and Bellchior still laughed as they rode home, their laughter was infectious, and the newly relaxed Ned joined in. And Felix knew exactly what he would do with the key he had been entrusted with. And he laughed with joy some more.

  Roses

  “Oh – I have never smelled anything so beautiful! Wherever did you get roses in February?” cried Cicely.

  Shula-Jane had tucked her cluster into her dark hair, and Felix held the third bunch out to his mother.

  “And they do not even have thorns!” said Cicely in surprise. “Where did you get them, Felix?”

  “And why can you not stop laughing?” said his mother, finding a bubble of laughter rising up inside her at her son’s joyous face.

  “Your face is glowing!” said Shula-Jane.

  “Have you been drinking?” asked his mother.

  Felix could only laugh in reply.

  “These roses truly do smell heavenly,” said Cicely. “I have just recalled where I have smelt this scent before – from the rose petals in the little bag you gave me, Mama, the one you told me to keep under my pillow.”

  There was a rap at the door to the hall where they were gathered near the fire. Red Harry announced that Master Digby was at the door.

  “Tell him to come in by the fire,” Felix said.

  Some moments later the door opened again. “Master Digby, milord,” announced
Red Harry.

  Felix turned to greet the steward. But it was not the elder Master Digby – it was Myles Digby.

  Cicely turned as white as the cluster of roses she held in her hand when she saw him. Their eyes met and their gaze locked.

  Felix looked from one to another, stifling the desire to laugh again, for he could see that both Myles and Cicely were profoundly moved.

  “Myles, good to see you, come this way,” he said, steering him to the gallery where they could talk privately.

  “Your father sent my letter on to you?” Felix asked.

  “Yes. He did, milord. And I thank you for it. But...do you think it wise?”

  “Do I think what wise?”

  “Me being here? I can’t see how there can be any hope for me and Lady Cicely, even if she is free from her father’s plans. No doubt he’ll be wanting to arrange another suitable marriage for her in the near future. She’s still young. I shouldn’t have come.” He ran a hand through his waves of golden hair. “I’ve upset her letting her see me, I saw it in her face just now.” He began pacing up and down.

  “And what do think Cicely’s father would require of a husband to his daughter?” asked Felix. “What would a suitable man need?”

  Myles gave a laugh with a bitter edge. “Money. Land. An income to support the daughter of an earl. I’ve saved a bit these past years, but I’ve no fine house or acres of land. Why do you mock me? Why did you ask me to come?”

  Felix was finding it nearly impossible to hold back his laughter.

  Myles glared at him. “You are mocking me!”

  “No – no, I am not!” said Felix, a laugh escaping him despite his best efforts. “Truly I am not. I have something for you, Myles,”

  Felix held out a golden key. Myles stared at it.

  “Take it, it is for you, and for Rosie.”

  “What is it?”

  “It is the key to a house fit for the daughter of an earl, with land to work and bring in income from. And there’s money to be had too.”