The Tangled Forest

by Marion Grace Woolley

  It hit me like an oxcart.

  “You’re the Woman in the Woods?”

  “Well, I’m not Cinderella,” she said, frowning as she reached for her tea. “Love, fetch her some food. The girl looks half starved. And take that hide outside. It’s not been scraped proper, and it’ll need treating if it’s not to go brittle as an autumn leaf.” The man came to me and took my donkey skin without a word. “So, you’ve come from the castle tonight, have you?”

  “Yes. I fear I’m being pursued.”

  “By this Tovenaar fellow? Well, if we see him, we’ll send him down a different path. It’s surprising how easy it is to get lost in these woods, and I never much cared for roughians who throw their weight around.”

  “What about my father? Can you undo the Potion of Forgetting? Can you give him back his wits?”

  “Can you pay?”

  I frowned and shook my head. “No. I didn’t think to bring any money. Wait,” I took off two of my rings. “Are these enough?”

  “They’re worth a lot, but not a king’s memory.”

  “But I’m the princess. Isn’t it your duty to do as I ask? This is my father’s kingdom.”

  The woman snorted as though amused. “Your father inherited a kingdom, but I inherited the earth. Even a king doesn’t walk into the woods and demand the trees listen.”

  “I’m not talking to the trees. I’m talking to you.”

  She looked at me, and I didn’t understand her expression.

  “Be careful my girl. Like I said, it’s easy to get lost along these paths.”

  Was she threatening me?

  And if she was, what was I to do about it? I had no guards to call, no father who would see my honour protected. I didn’t even have a horse.

  “I don’t have the money, but it is possible to bring back my father’s sanity?”

  “What fate takes one way, it’s hard to pull another.”

  I was too exhausted to riddle with her any longer. When her husband returned, he poured me a bowl of stew and took one for himself, slurping in a comfortable chair by the flames. At first, I simply stirred mine, hoping that if I could show how upset I was, the Woman in the Woods might deign to help me. Before I knew it, I had a lump of meat in my mouth and I was chewing as though I hadn’t eaten in weeks. The woman lay blankets beside the fire and, for the first time in my entire life, I slept on the floor.

  It was almost noon by the time I woke. The awfulness of the past few months had caught up with me. Nightmare after nightmare swooped upon me in my sleep. One minute chased, the next drowning, another, screaming to a father who couldn’t hear me through a thick sheet of ice.

  Stumbling outside, I found the Woman in the Woods by a large frame in the garden. My donkey was stretched out and she was rubbing salve upon it.

  “Stinks something rotten,” she said, “but it’ll keep the skin supple. You’ll be able to bed down under it in any weather. Planning to live in the woods, are you?”

  “I don’t think so,” I replied. In truth, I hadn’t really thought what to do beyond my escape.

  The woman looked me up and down as she spread the salve. “If I were you, I’d keep travelling.”

  “To where?”

  “There’s another kingdom out the other side of these woods, over to the east. Stay the night with us and rest, then Meryl will show you the way at first light.”

  “Meryl?”

  “I have a girl comes to help sometimes. Takes care of the house.”

  “That’s nice.”

  The woman shrugged. “Well, my man and me have grown old. We’ll both be journeying west soon, by different paths. When I go, someone’ll need to stay behind to tend the flock.”

  I glanced around for sheep, but saw none.

  The look of sadness on the old woman’s face forced a change of subject. “Keep going, to the east, you say?”

  “Yes, all the way east. You can’t miss the castle.”

  “Thank you,” I said, turning back to the house.

  “And, if I were you, I’d do something about that hair?”

  I pulled my braid over my shoulder and asked what she meant.

  *

  That night, I sat quiet as a lamb as the old woman cut off my hair.

  Snip, snip, snip went the shears.

  I thought that I might cry as strands fell like feathers, but I didn’t. I watched as in a trance until the last snip faded and I felt the night air against the nape of my neck.

  “Here,” the woman said, passing me a mirror. “Not too shabby, eh?”

  “I look like a boy!” I said, eyes wide.

  “This way you can pass as anything. A boy in trousers and shirt, a girl in wig and dress.”

  “I suppose,” I said, never having worn trousers in my life.

  “Best you check out the royals over yon before announcing yourself to ‘em. Never know what blue-bloods might do if they sniff an opportunity. Might be they’re a sensible lot, or might be they’ll ransom you back to Tovenaar for a tidy sum.”

  The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until she spoke it. No one from other kingdoms had ever come to our fortnightly balls. Either they hadn’t been invited or they grew tired of the invitations. What would we have thought if a woman, looking as I did, entered the palace claiming to be a princess in trouble with her family? Would we have taken her in and treated her well, or would we have placed her in a barred room and sent riders to learn the truth?

  Fear washed through me. To ride all this way only to be returned to Tovenaar and a father who thought me an absconding bride.

  The next morning, I was woken by the sound of sweeping. When I opened my eyes, there was a young woman with red hair and freckles, brushing around me with a broom.

  “You’ll have to move, if you don’t mind. I need to get underneath you.”

  I sat up, rubbing my eyes, my shoulders sore from the hard earth.

  “Are you Meryl?” I asked.

  “Yes, and you’re the princess. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  I stood up, wincing as my bones cracked.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “They left early. Had to go into the Darkwood for herbs. Mrs. Lacklustre isn’t feeling well and the only thing what will cure her is a long way by foot.”

  “I wish I had kept my horse, they could have used it.”

  “Wouldn’t worry about that. They like walking. They walk everywhere together through these woods.” In the midst of that sweet thought, I felt sad, for my mother and father had loved to walk together also. “Once you’re washed, I’m supposed to take you walking myself. I’ll show you the road to the Eastern Kingdom.”

  Meryl kept sweeping as I left to find the water butt. Tired of all the things I’d forgotten to bring, I simply stepped out of my dress and scooped water over myself with a chipped clay bowl. I lathered a sliver of soap in my hands, rubbing the suds over my face and under my arms. Shuddering at the feel of it, I circled the bar through my hair. That’s when I truly understood it was gone. That it would never need brushing or braiding again. I couldn’t tell whether I wept for pity, or for the soapsuds in my eyes.

  Leaving my dress in the mud, I walked naked into the house and reached for my sack of clothes.

  “Here,” Meryl said, resting her broom against the wall. “Mistress said to take these, in thanks for the hair.”

  The girl tossed me a bag containing a pair of stockings, britches, a tunic and a cap.

  “I don’t know how to—”

  “Just pull them on. You think common men care how they dress?”

  There were no laces, girdles or stomacher, nothing that had to hang in precisely one position or the other, yet I found the clothes more confusing than anything I had ever worn before. The stockings were straightforward, as I’d worn similar beneath my dresses, yet my breasts hung loose beneath the tunic and the hem of the britches felt like they were pinching my legs.

  “Lift your shirt. Com
e on, your highness, we’ll have to be going soon.”

  Reluctantly, I lifted the tunic and held it up whilst Meryl wrapped my breasts with a length of cloth. I watched in horror as she took my silk slippers and crushed them in the ashes with her boot. They came out black.

  “There,” she said, placing the cap on my head. “You look like a proper cocker.”

  Uncertain what that meant, I followed the girl into the yard and waited whilst she removed the donkey skin from the rack. Dragging it across the garden, I helped her to wrap the front legs about my shoulders.

  “You’re right, your highness, you should have kept hold of your horse. It’s a long way to walk to the Eastern Kingdom and you’ll struggle beneath this burden.”

  “I’ll cope,” I replied, through gritted teeth.

  By the time we reached the crossroads, I was drenched in sweat. My britches chaffed between my legs and the stinking salve the witch had used on the donkey now covered my own skin. When Meryl handed me her water, I almost drank the lot.

  “Slow down,” she told me. “That’ll need to last you till you get there.”

  “How far is that?”

  “About two days. But there is a stream halfway.” She handed me bread and cheese and biscuits, then told me to take the road to the right and follow it straight. “Whatever you do, don’t leave the path. If you hear someone coming, hide behind a tree or up it, but don’t go taking no other roads. People get lost out here so easy.”

  Heeding her advice, I began my long journey to the next kingdom. No one came my way, either into or out of the woods, though it took me three days not two beneath the weight of my donkey skin. I slept the night by the side of the road, behind a tree or covered by fern. The fur, though heavy, was warm and comfortable to sleep on. By the time I found the stream I was gasping with thirst. I fell to my knees to drink. The water was so cold I could hardly stand it against my skin, and a quick wash was not enough to remove the stench.

  When the woods finally ended, my heart sank. The road continued a little way across flat fields, then wound steeply up the side of a mountain. Whereas my castle back home had been solid and square, this one was white and turreted, nesting like a bird against the rock. There was another road leading to it along the top of the mountains. I could see carts and horses going that way. If I were up there, perhaps someone would have given me a lift, but I wasn’t. I was down here, with nothing but my two aching feet.

  7

  If you’ve ever grown old, you’ll wonder where the time went.

  It was the same for me. I felt like I had only just arrived in the town, yet two moons had already passed. It is hard to explain what I’d done with all those hours. The first few days were spent looking for somewhere to sleep. I wished I had paid more attention to the beggars in our own streets, so that I understood how they lived. I was chased from doorways, dragged by guards from Fountain Square, and woken by a dog cocking its leg against the tree I slept beneath, urine spraying into my face and adding to my pungent scent.

  I pawned a ring for money. It made me a fair amount, enough to keep my stomach fed for half a year so long as I wasn’t greedy. My other rings, I wrapped close to my breasts so they wouldn’t jangle. Beady eyes were everywhere at night, hungry mouths and fidget-fingers. I kept to myself, speaking to no one.

  By day, I wandered the streets along the castle. It was a magnificent building, half in the light, half built into the mountain. There were many homes scooped out of the rock with death-defying steps beneath. The people of this city were like mountain goats, dancing up and down with no care for falling, carrying heavy loads upon their heads.

  I watched to see who came and went. Many lords and ladies, many knights on tall horses, many guards, kitcheners and scullery maids running hither and tither. I listened in taverns and beside the water pumps. The women of the east were as free with their gossip as the west.

  “She’s going to have to show her face soon enough,” one woman said, wringing out her cloth in the washtub. “What we need is leadership, see. We’re all sad about it, but we need leadership.”

  “Aye, but it’s been a shock for the lass. She’ll need time,” another woman replied.

  It was all the talk of the taverns. A year just past, the king and queen of the castle had gone on a journey deep into the mountains, to visit the king’s brother in the next kingdom over. Apparently, there had been a terrible storm. The horses had lost their way and taken the carriage over a cliff. The princess had been the sole surviving heir, her brother dying in infancy. Since becoming queen, she had locked herself away in mourning, rarely showing her face.

  My heart sank to hear this. Being a princess myself, I knew how hard it was to see one at the best of times. This sounded like the worst of times. How would I ever get to speak with her?

  I thought perhaps I could find employ at the castle. If I could work in the kitchen or the yard, perhaps I could slip inside one day when no one was looking. But people took one look at me, soot-stained and stinking, and turned me away with a shake of their heads. Even when I tried to talk, it was as though my words held no weight, vanishing in the thin mountain air without even reaching their ears.

  I caught a cold from sleeping rough. The donkey skin kept me warm, but lying so low to the streets, breathing in dirt between the cobbles – it soon took its toll.

  “Hey, would you stop your coughing?” a woman’s voice came, with a boot to follow.

  I was lying in an alley and couldn’t understand why she was standing over me.

  I coughed again.

  “Right, move yourself or lose an eye. You’re scaring off customers. They think we’ve got plague.” I glanced up and realised the woman had come from the brothel over the street. She was a large woman, folds of fat draped in red lace. A fistful of parrot feathers pinned to her hair. “I mean it, your coughing’s keeping us awake.”

  “Yeah, we don’t want your sort round here. We’re running a reputable establishment,” another girl said, standing behind the first, wearing pink stockings.

  “We can smell you from the door,” the fat woman said.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, struggling to sit up with another cough.

  “Don’t be sorry, just move your arse.”

  “Yeah, decent people like us got a business to run.”

  “I haven’t got anywhere to go,” I said.

  “Well, that ain’t our fault,” Pink Stockings said.

  “Less talking, more moving.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand and fell to coughing so hard that I couldn’t speak.

  “Right,” Parrot Feathers screeched, “I ain’t got all night.”

  She grabbed one hoof of my donkey skin, half choking as she dragged me towards a pump. She thrust my head under the faucet and Pink Stockings held me there whilst she started jacking the handle. My mouth and eyes filled with icy water. I tried to scream, but almost drowned.

  They left me there in the street, laughing as they returned to their den. It sounded lively in there, someone played a piano and the songs drifted drunk. They couldn’t have heard my coughing over that, and I realised they’d done it for fun.

  I lay beneath my soaked skin and fought back tears. What had I become? Once upon a time I was a princess, sleeping on the softest bed, eating the richest food, living a happy life until my father lost his mind. Now I was sleeping in the streets, measuring each mouthful of food, uncertain how I could ever return home.

  Perhaps the witch had been right. Perhaps I should have stayed in the woods amongst the wild beasts.

  “You should have told them to fuck off,” a voice came.

  I raised my head, but all I could see was darkness, until a woman came from the alley opposite. She wasn’t much better clothed than me, a patchwork dress of sacking, hair a mess, but at least long.

  “What?” I asked, as she knelt beside me, her expression neither one of malice nor of pity.

  “If they had been nice people, they would have invited you i
n rather than moving you on. That should have told you all you needed to know. Tell them to fuck off and they’ll leave you alone. Tell them you’re a beggar with nowhere to go and they’ll know you’re weak. That’s why they knew they could do this to you.”

  “Fine, then—” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it. “Go away.”

  I rolled onto my side, a trickle of water running from the pump onto my face. I didn’t care anymore. This was my life now. Today, tomorrow, for eternity.

  “Fine. I’ll leave you alone. If you’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “You wouldn’t rather go somewhere and get dry?”

  I remained with my face against the wet ground.

  “Hey, look here,” Parrot Feathers squawked, stumbling back out of the whorehouse.

  “Look at that! He’s got a friend,” Pink Stockings said.

  They started walking towards us and I braced myself for another boot in the back.

  Shwung.

  “Uh, all right. We’ll leave you to it then, shall we?”

  “Yeah, we didn’t mean nothing by it. Just having a bit of a laugh.” Pink Stockings sounded nervous.

  I rolled over to see the two women backing away. The girl from the alley remained where she was, looking down at me, one hand grasping a vicious-looking blade.

  “Let’s go,” she said, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.

  We walked along the dark streets of the city, water trailing behind me like a slug. At last, we came to a dead end where the road ran straight into the mountain. The woman pulled back a piece of wood to reveal a cave. It was so small that we had to stoop to enter, but there were candles and a small fire resting in a hole in the wall, the smoke sucked out through an unseen vent.

  “Rest the fur against the fire, it’ll be dry in no time,” the woman said, lifting a kettle from the embers and replacing it with a log. She poured hot water into two cups and handed me one. “A little tea to warm you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, glad to find shelter.

  “What’s in that?” She was looking at my tattered bag of clothes.

  “Nothing much,” I replied.