Spider-Ella

by Ebony McKenna

“Just do your best,” Mother Raven said.

  This time Wilona was ready for any strange, well-dressed customers who chatted to everyone yet didn’t buy anything. She even set aside some spider-free apples on the off chance the prince and his friends came back.

  Alas, no princely visits. Not even some well-dressed ladies. The days were getting shorter and the weather was getting cold. And rather wet.

  A group of men and women wearing the grand duke’s coat of arms on their hats turned up. Wilona was ready to treat them as if they were royal – but they didn’t talk to the traders. Instead they applied glue to the wall of the community board and stuck posters to them.

  People jostled to read the news.

  The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Brugel were hosting a Christmas Ball for their son the prince. The ball would showcase the Grand Duchy’s finest produce to all neighbouring royalty, who were invited. Traders were encouraged to provide their wares in the interest of fostering greater co-operation between the kingdoms.

  The Ball itself was not going to be held at Christmas, but in a few weeks. If it were held at Christmas, everyone would be snowed in and unable to get there. Brugelers are practical like that.

  “Sounds like a big deal,” Wilona said.

  “It is a big deal. We shall need to provide the very best apples and cheeses.”

  “But we’ve nearly sold all our apples.”

  “Then we shall pack up and take them home and store them in the cool room, so that we have the very best apples for the ball.

  “Do we get to dance?”

  Mother Raven looked thoughtful. “Probably not in the main ballroom, but I’m sure there will be plenty of room for us to dance the night away in the gardens or some such.

  A heavy voice boomed out, cutting through the chatter.

  “Hear ya’ll! Hear ya’ll!” It was the town crier, and she was in fine voice today.

  “Let it be known that the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess will be hosting a Christmas Ball where all neighbouring royalty will be in attendance.”

  Wilona was sure she’d just read that. She knew how to read. Her family were clever. Then again, maybe everyone couldn’t read as well as she? If they did, the town crier would be out of a job.

  “Let it be known!” the crier cried out, “That the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess will also seek to find a bride at the Christmas Ball for the Crown Prince.”

  That hadn’t been on the notice. Wilona wondered why.

  Mother Raven said, “Seems a strange way for a bachelor to find a wife; one man and a stack of single women, played out in front of everyone.”

  “I should probably detest the idea, shouldn’t I?” Wilona said. “But I just know I’m going to love it.”

  ~~~

  The D’Arella family spent the next few weeks in a flurry of activity. The mothers gathered the very pick of the harvest and stored it in the cold cellars. The fathers measured everyone and sewed new clothing they could wear to the ball. Nobody was under any illusion they would be attending the really royal part of proceedings – that would be for other people – but if they were well-dressed enough and presented beautiful food, they were sure they’d be allowed to watch.

  The night of the ball came. Wilona and her sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers and cousins and what-have-yous each walked with a small cart or barrow laden with the very best produce. As they walked, Wilona and her sisters traipsed through the fields, gathering spider silk onto their dresses, making them shine in the moonlight.

  By the time they arrived at the palace, their gowns were glistening and luminous. Wilona took the extra step of walking close to the low branches, adding sparkly fresh spider silk to her hair.

  Other farmers had gone to great lengths to show off their produce decorating their wagons and carts in fruit and vegetable themes. There was even a carriage decorated to look like an enormous pumpkin, a fruit from the new worlds that had recently become popular.

  Wilona and her family gathered near the palace entry gates, watching the parade of royals from neigbouring principalities, duchies and grand duchies arrive. Their clothing glistened as they climbed out of their carriages – but not because of spider webs. They had real jewels sewn into the fabric of their clothes!

  Once all the visiting dignitaries were inside the castle, the staff opened the gates so the farmers could set up their displays in the gardens.

  Sneaking away from her family, Wilona jogged up the castle steps to catch a glimpse of the ball through the enormous windows.

  There was the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess, wearing the finest clothes Wilona had ever seen. The town crier – using her less deafening inside voice – announced the arrival of each guest.

  The Crown Prince – well, who else could it be – stood there and smiled and shook everyone’s hand, then triple-kissed their cheeks to welcome them. Triple kissing was a long-standing Brugel tradition.

  Nearby, someone cleared their throat.

  Wilona looked up, it was the young prince.

  “Pray tell, why are you not inside dancing?”

  “Oh! You startled me.” Remembering her manners (a rare thing) she made a short curtsey and explained. “I don’t belong in there.”

  “But you must be a visiting Princess or daughter of someone important. At the very least a Lady of some established family.”

  “You’re teasing me, My Lord. It’s good to see you again since you last visited the appelry.”

  His jaw dropped open as he recognised her. “It’s the girl who loves spiders!”

  “The one and only. Wilona d’Arella.” This time she made a more elegant curtsey, her silk-covered skirts sparkling as she did so. “And I know you’re the youngest son, but I do not yet know your name.”

  “How very informal of you to ask. But since you have, it’s Iosef.”

  2

  “I’m pleased to meet you, My Lord Iosef.” For some reason, Wilona found herself grinning. Overcome with self-consciousness, she curtseyed again.

  The music from the ballroom inside struck up, the familiar tune so rich it permeated the walls and filled the front garden. People in the forecourt stopped setting up their wares for a moment and began to dance.

  Iosef smiled at Wilona and bowed politely, extending his hand. “My lady, may I have this dance.”

  A giggle slipped out and Wilona took his hand. “Why certainly, My Lord.”

  They danced and twirled and kept time with the beat. Naturally he’d had dancing lessons and stepped lightly around her. Not having the same advantages, Wilona was not as light on her feet, but the music filled her with confidence and sure footing. Plus, Josef proved such a natural leader she easily followed the steps.

  The atmosphere proved intoxicating as everyone outside the ballroom danced with joy, with as much freedom and spirit as those inside. Perhaps even more so, not being restricted to expectations of behaviour and decorum as those inside.

  Every now and then when the music stopped, and Wilona caught her breath, she caught a look inside at all the proper-people. They weren’t smiling as much. Well, the crown prince was smiling for sure, as was the woman he danced with.

  “He keeps dancing with the same lady,” Wilona said. “I thought he was supposed to dance with everyone and then choose a bride?”

  “That was the plan,” Iosef said, an endearing furrow of concern forming at the top of his nose.

  “Who is she?” Wilona asked.

  Iosef stared and made that furrow again. “I don’t know. She is not wearing any house colours that I recognise.”

  “Well, your brother certainly seems to have made up his mind about her. He’s not even looking at anyone else.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Why is that bad? I thought the whole point of The Christmas Ball was so he could choose his wife?”

  “He was supposed to choose one of the sisters from the House of Slaegal. To make an alliance between Slaegal
and Brugel.”

  “What about your other brothers, can’t they make an alliance instead?”

  While they were dancing, her body had warmed, but now a chill settled into Wilona’s neck. Gentle snow began to fall, casting the palace grounds in a fairytale picture perfect atmosphere.

  “Second sons aren’t worth as much.”

  “I guess that’s why you can sneak out here and not be missed.”

  “I don’t sneak.”

  Wilona smiled broadly. “My deepest apologies, My Lord. All the same, you didn’t deny you’re not missed.”

  “This is my brother’s event, not mine. In the grand scheme of things, I will be little more than a footnote in history.”

  The music struck up again. Below the stairs, the farmers and producers returned to setting up their displays, but they swayed to the music and tapped their feet as they worked.

  Wilona turned to Iosef and made a curtsey. “Perhaps you need to get back inside and dance with the other ladies, so they don’t feel left out.”

  “That would be the sensible thing to do,” he said. Although he didn’t move.

  Wilona smiled. “Something tells me you think being sensible is overrated?”

  He smiled again and held his hand out to take Wilona’s. “You would be correct. However, it would be prudent if I returned to assist my family in this most delicate matter of my eldest brother casting his heart in the wrong direction.”

  Wilona curtseyed again, because he brain had gone blank and she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Then he kissed the back of her hand and her body heated so much it virtually melted the snow off her shoulders.

  Iosef went back inside and Wilona watched him re-enter the ballroom a few minutes later. She should get back to helping her family, but something caught her eye. A group of people huddled together near a doorway, and then some of them slipped out. Rushing towards the bannister, Wilona leaned over to see seven or eight men and women mount waiting horses. As they flicked their cloaks back, she saw the lining underneath.

  Decorated with the flag of Slaegal.

  This definitely looked like something she should tell her family about, so she dashed down the stairs and soon found them.

  “To the fields,” Mother Raven said. “We need more spider silk.”

  They raced off with cloaks of their own and made their way to the open fields, where spider silk draped between spears of winter wheat grass. Wilona draped her cloak across the grass, covering the fabric in layers and layers of strong spider silk.

  Satisfied at the thick coating, she and the rest of her family returned to the palace grounds.

  My now it was getting very late. Wilona checked through the windows to see what was happening inside. The music was still playing, and the people inside were still dancing. The crown prince still danced with the same woman, who was utterly lovely and danced divinely. It was painfully obvious that no other lady would get a look-in.

  The clocks chimed. Midnight already?

  Something strange happened in the ballroom. The woman dancing with the prince pulled back, her hand over her mouth in shock.

  Then something really strange happened.

  She ran off.

  Why would she do such a thing when she clearly had him all to herself in a crowded ballroom.

  Had the prince said something wrong?

  Uh-oh, the lady was running towards the balcony exit.

  Wilona hid behind a Brugelian column to keep watching events as they unfolded.

  3

  The lady cast a longing look towards the ballroom, then turned and fled down the steps.

  The prince followed a few heartbeats later, and called out, “Wait! I don’t even know your name!”

  Rookie mistake, Wilona thought.

  The lady had fled though, through the front garden, past the traders who had finished setting up, and out the front gates. As far as Wilona knew, she’d kept right on running.

  The prince made it a few steps down, then stopped to pick something up.

  By now, everyone was looking at the prince, so it made no sense for Wilona to remain hidden. She stepped out to see the crown prince holding an ornate shoe that the lady had lost on the stairs on the way down.

  “I must find her,” the prince said as he saw Wilona approach.

  “That should be easy. She’s left pretty distinctive footsteps behind her.”

  Indeed the fresh footsteps in the newly fallen snow would be easy to follow, as they had one shoe print and one bare footprint in a strong pattern leading directly out the front gates and away towards the village.

  The crown prince rushed off to follow.

  The moment the prince vanished, the traders started chatting about what was going on. Wilona didn’t have time to join in, as at that moment she saw Iosef on the top of the stairs. He looked panicked.

  “That can’t be good,” Wilona rushed to his side. In doing so, she saw and heard the commotion from inside, as the doors were open and the music had stopped.

  Things were getting pretty dramatic all of a sudden.

  Rushing to Iosef’s side, Wilona said, “She ran off, dropped a shoe, your brother picked it up and ran after her. As long as the snow doesn’t fall too thickly, they should be pretty easy to follow.”

  “Thank you. I’ll send his personal guard to follow.”

  Which he did.

  “Something else happened while you were in there. A group from Slaegal rode away. I don’t know where to.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Wilona repeated herself.

  Iosef turned pale. “But I’ve just sent our guards away, to chase my brother. The palace is defenceless.”

  “We’ve thought about that. My family and the traders have coated themselves in spider silk on the off chance–”

  The sound of thundering horse hooves filled their ears.

  “Shut the gates!” Iosef cried out.

  The traders and staff below worked hard to bring the gates together to lock them, but the snow drift and cold made it a difficult exercise.

  Suddenly arrows flew through the air!

  “Get down!” Wilona yelled, throwing her cloaked arm out to protect Iosef.

  Everybody ran screaming back into the ballroom for safety.

  Iosef either didn’t hear, or was too slow as another arrow flew close to them. It hit Wilona in the forearm. She howled in pain. Arrows really hurt!

  But it hadn’t pierced!

  Iosef’s face beamed in surprise as he examined Wilona’s spider-silk covered arm. The arrow had bounced off.

  “What sorcery is this? You are unharmed.”

  “It’s not sorcery, it’s spiders. And I’m going to have a massive bruise there tomorrow.”

  “Come with me, we must coat ourselves in spider silk.” Iosef and Wilona crawled away, back into the ballroom, where they found people cowering in fear at the sudden invasion.

  They collected a few dozen fighters and raced out another door, all of them following Iosef, who was following Wilona, to the farming fields where they could cover themselves with protective spider silk.

  Mother Wren, despite her bad leg, was busy coating scarves with spider silk, turning them into make-do gorgets to cover their throats.

  As soon as everyone was properly protected, it was time to storm the castle.

  The arrows bounced off their protective clothing, but they still made a walloping impact that had the power to slow Wilona right down. Until now, Wilona had thought herself reasonably fit. She climbed trees and worked long days, but she wasn’t battle-fit. Not by any stretch.

  Thankfully, Iosef was. He borrowed Wilona’s spider-silk covered cloak and charged at the enemy. In a few moves he ripped a bow out of their hands and used it to jab and stab at them. Others followed his lead and rounded on the invaders, overwhelming them with their sheer numbers – and weaponised fruit and vegetables, which they threw at their he
ads.

  Outnumbered and close to defeat, the attackers fled.

  A rousing cheer erupted in the gardens. Their displays and carefully arranged produce were scattered all over the ground, but they’d won.

  The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess stepped out from the ballroom and cheered the result, realising what a close-run thing it had been.

  Iosef rushed back to Wilona’s side and returned her cape, now splashed with myriad colours from the chunks of fruit and vegetables that had rained down on the enemy. “Thank you for the incredible, life-saving fabric. I felt invincible under this . . . well, it was nothing short of a dreamcoat.”

  The King and the crown prince are saved.

  The King makes the youngest prince a duke and gives him a castle.

  The young prince proposes to Wilona, and they live messily ever after.

  From that day on, Brugel changed its flag to that more resembling a six-point spider web. Over time, this grew into a more-easily printed hexagon, but historians have always seen the spider web origins there.

  Copyright © Ebony McKenna 2018.

  Notes

  [←1]

  Unless this is the very first book you’ve ever read (in which case, thanks for choosing this one!) you’ll know this colourful entrance marks a turning point in any fairy tale.

  [←2]

  Iosef is old Brugelish Latin for, ‘I have yet another son and we were trying for a girl.’

  [←3]

  A Brugelian column is similar to a Corinthian – same overly decorative capital with leaves and scrolls, but with a smooth rather than fluted column. This style developed because an earlier Grand Duke didn’t want to offend any of his stone mason suppliers, so chose the columns from one trader and the capitals from another.

  Table of Contents

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