She nodded. “I suppose it will be.”
The ogre ran at her, with an ax that was bright and looked sharp enough to cut stone. Elinore didn’t wait, but closed her eyes immediately. Somehow dying from a fall, or a club, had seemed less awful than being chopped about by an ax. She did not want to see it, and tried desperately not to wonder how much it would hurt.
She had her eyes closed for a very long time, but no ax came. She opened her eyes, and found herself staring into the hairy, warty chest of the ogre. His great, gleaming ax was limp by his side. He was staring at her, intently, out of eyes that were almost as blue as her own.
“Are you not afraid of me, girl?”
“Yes, I am,” she said.
“Then why do you not fight me, or scream?”
“I am no fighter, and if I am to die this day, I will die without screaming.”
He leaned forward with his tusks and teeth, and growled, “I can make you scream.”
“Yes, you can. I’m sure you can.”
“You say you are afraid, girl, but you do not act it.”
“I am Elinore the Younger, and I have come to rescue Prince True or die in the effort.”
The ogre gave a harsh snuff, and his breath was not pleasant, as if he’d eaten too much garlic for dinner, but it was not the breath of a monster, just of a very large man. His eyes were not as kind as the giant’s, but they were not cruel either.
“You may pass me, Elinore the Younger. My aunt waits for you in the next room. I would have cut you up and eaten you for supper tomorrow. My aunt will eat you while you are still alive.” And he leaned in close to add menace to the threat.
Elinore felt her pulse in her throat, because being eaten alive sounded even more awful than being cut up by an ax and cooked later, or knocked off a bridge by a giant, but she couldn’t go back. She had to go forward. Surely, eventually, someone would kill her and it would be done.
She curtsied to the ogre. “Thank you, ogre. I hope you have a pleasant supper tomorrow, but I am glad it will not be me.”
“You will not be glad,” he called after her, “once you see my aunt.”
Elinore went to the end of the stone corridor, and found a much smaller door. She hesitated with her hand above the curved metal of the door handle. She really did not want to be eaten alive. That seemed a worse fate than marrying the Earl of Chillswoth; didn’t it?
She stood there so long that the ogre came at her back, and asked, “Why do you hesitate, girl?”
“I am afraid,” she answered simply; “I do not want to be eaten alive.”
“You can go back,” the ogre said. “As you passed me and my cousin the first time, you may pass the other way.”
She turned and looked at him, and she could not see that her eyes were very blue and very wide, and full of a trust that was rare in one her age. The ogre saw.
“I may truly leave, and you will not harm me?”
“I have said before, you have passed our tests. My cousin and I will not harm you now.”
“But your aunt, behind this door, may eat me alive,” Elinore said, and she did not try to keep the fear out of her voice.
The ogre nodded. “She will if you fail her test.” He touched her yellow cloak with one dirty finger. “Who dyed this cloth for you?”
“I dyed it myself, with the help of servants, but I gathered the herbs for the dye.”
Elinore wasn’t certain, but she thought the ogre smiled around his mouth full of tusks. “Go forward, girl, if you have the courage. Go back, if you have not, but whatever brought you to us is still waiting for you on the other side of the bridge.”
She nodded. “The Earl of Chillswoth,” she said.
“I do not know that name.”
“If I fail your aunt’s test, will she really, truly eat me alive?”
The ogre nodded. “She will. She has. She likes her meat fresh and wriggling.”
Elinore shuddered, and swallowed hard enough that it hurt her throat. Was marriage to the earl truly a fate worse than that?
She remembered his hands on her. The moment in the dance when he had not just brushed her breast, but held it, caressed it. Her father would have had any of the young nobles beaten for such liberties, or at least thrown out of the banquet. She remembered how her skin had crawled, and her very being had shrunk from the touch, and the look in his eyes. Was it a fate worse than death? Perhaps not, but Elinore had come to die rather than marry the earl. She would do it. Even if the death were horrible, it would last only moments, and then she would be free. Marriage to that man could last years. She shuddered again, but not from fear of what lay behind the door.
She wrapped her hand around the handle, and said, “Thank you, ogre. You have been kinder than I would have ever dreamed.”
“You are welcome, Elinore the Younger.”
She let go the door long enough to give him a curtsy; then she opened the door, and found herself in an empty stone room, where the only light was a great fireplace against the far wall.
She hesitated only a moment, then stepped through in her impractical dancing slippers. She closed the door firmly behind her, and faced the empty firelit room. Her moment of fear was past. She was calm again.
“Your nephew the ogre has sent me,” she said to the emptiness. “I await your test.”
“You sound very brave,” said a woman’s voice from the shadows.
Elinore swallowed hard again, and could not keep her pulse from racing, but she answered firm enough. She would die bravely for the song they would write about her. It would be a shame to have them write a laughing ballad like they had for the one princess who died screaming.
“I am not certain I am brave, but I am here for your test.” She peered into the shadows, trying to see the woman, or ogre, for there was no room for a giant.
There was a shape in the dimness, but it was not a woman’s shape. Elinore’s eyes could not make sense of it, at first; then the voice’s owner stepped into the firelight, and Elinore did scream. She clapped her hand over her mouth to hold in the sound, but never had she dreamt of anything like what stood before her. It was worth a scream, or two.
It was a great predatory cat, the color of ripe wheat, glowing and golden in the light. It padded toward her on huge cat feet. But it wasn’t a lion, or even a cat, for the upper part of the animal had breasts and arms, and a woman’s face with long, wavy brown hair. Her eyes were the yellow slits of a cat’s, but if you hadn’t seen the lower part, you’d say she was beautiful.
Elinore stood, her hand to her mouth, and watched the woman-cat pad toward her, in a graceful walk that reminded her of the kitchen cats.
“Do you know what I am?” she asked.
Elinore shook her head, and finally forced herself to move her hand from her mouth. She tried to stand like a lady, and not a frightened child.
“I am a sphinx, and my kind loves to ask riddles and questions. I will ask you three questions, and if you fail to answer correctly, I will kill you.”
Elinore’s voice came out, breathy and afraid, but she could not help it. “Your nephew, the ogre, said you would eat me alive. Is that true?”
The sphinx smiled, and though a lady’s mouth did the smiling, it was the smile a cat would have, if it could. Elinore knew the answer, and it was not good.
“I am part cat, and we like our meat fresh.”
Elinore nodded again. “Ask your question, and when I fail, I would ask only that you kill me before you start eating me. Surely, I will be freshly dead, and that is fresh enough. I ask this one thing, dear sphinx.”
“I am not your dear anything, girl, but I will think upon your request.” She sat back on her curved haunches, so that her human upper body was very visible. “Here is my first question to you. Get it wrong, and I will kill you. Answer correctly, and you will have two more chances to die.”
“Or to live,” Elinore said, in a voice that sounded squeaky as a mouse, even to her.
The sphinx laughed, head ba
ck, face sparkling with joy. “Only two in fifty years have gotten past me, and I do not think it will be three before the calendar doth turn again.”
Elinore nodded. “You are quite right. I am not bright enough to answer questions from such as you. But ask, sphinx; ask and let me die.”
The sphinx turned her head to one side, the way a cat will when it’s trying to judge a thing. “I thought you were here to rescue Prince True and become queen of all.”
“That is supposed to be the goal, yes, but in all honesty, I came to die, rather than marry the Earl of Chillswoth. If I commit suicide, then my family is disgraced, but if I die trying to rescue the prince, then I am dead, and my family can go on.”
“Is the earl such an odious man?”
“Yes, I believe he is, or I would not be here.”
The sphinx looked at her. “What is your name?”
“I am called Elinore the Younger.”
“Who is the elder?”
“My grandmother.”
“Does she yet live?”
“No.”
“Ah, then they will soon need another Elinore.” The sphinx began to pace around her. She tried to hold still, but finally began to turn to keep the monster in sight. She could not fight it off, but at least she could see it coming. It was the best she could think to do.
“What was used to make the dye of your cloak, Elinore the Soon to be Dead?”
Elinore frowned at her. This couldn’t be the first question, because it was too easy. Was it a trap? “Is this the first question?”
“Yes, unless you want a different one.”
“No, this is a lovely question. Yarrow. Yarrow made the dye.”
“Hmm,” said the sphinx, gliding around and around her. “The ingredients for gingerbread, what are they?”
Gingerbread was a rare treat, very expensive, but Elinore’s family had money enough for such luxuries. “Butter and sugar, spices and flour, eggs and molasses and milk.”
“Did you supervise the baking at your home?”
“No, I would never dream of supervising our head cook; she would not tolerate it, not from me.”
“Then how did you learn to make such a delicacy?”
“She allowed me to make it last Winter’s Moon.” Elinore almost reached out and touched the sphinx, then dropped her hand. “You must not tell Mother, for Cook would get in trouble for risking such expensive ingredients with me, but Cook says I have a good hand and eye for the kitchen.”
“Indeed,” said the sphinx. She looked Elinore up and down, and then said, “Let me see your shoes.”
Elinore did as she was asked, because she was certain that now there would be some question of history or mathematics that would be too hard to answer, though she could not fathom what her slippers had to do with mathematics.
She raised her party dress and showed her dancing slippers with their jeweled embroidery. “Did you think dancing slippers were the thing to wear to fight monsters?” the sphinx asked.
Elinore hesitated, and then said, “No, ma’am, I did not.”
“Then why did you wear them?”
Elinore almost pointed out that wasn’t that a fourth question, but it seemed impolite to say that to someone who could gut you and eat you alive.
“I had to leave as soon as I announced I would rescue Prince True. If I had waited, even to change my slippers, my father would have found a way to detain me. Also, in truth, I wanted to be pretty when I died, so they would sing of it.”
“Is it better to be pretty or brave, Elinore the Younger?”
A fifth question. Should she point it out, that she’d answered four already? “It is better to be brave, but since I am not, I thought I would be pretty for the bards and musicians, and jeweled slippers are prettier than muck boots.”
“You own a pair of muck boots?” the sphinx asked.
“Well, yes; you can’t wear dancing slippers to gather herbs and things for dyes. Also, how do you know the kitchen boy is giving you the best vegetables unless you go out into the fields for yourself?”
“Do you garden, then?”
Finally, Elinore braved the question, “That is the sixth question you’ve asked me, ma’am. Have I passed your test?”
The sphinx waved a careless hand. “Yes, yes, you pass. Go through the door by the fireplace and you have but one more task to complete.”
“Only one more?” Elinore asked.
The sphinx nodded.
“Then I will live?”
“We shall see.”
“I never really expected to succeed.”
“Perhaps that is why you are doing so well.” The sphinx walked back into the shadows and vanished.
Elinore was left with another door, and another challenge, and no hint what lay ahead, but she had survived, and only one more task lay before her. She might actually rescue Prince True. All the stories made him out to be a womanizing bounder, and a scoundrel. Had Elinore run from one bad marriage into another? They never tell you in fairy tales that sometimes the prize may not be worth the effort. But she went for the last door, because what else could she do?>
It was a throne room, bigger than the king’s room. The throne at the end of that long walk gleamed silver, and was studded with pearls and soft, gleaming jewels. A beautiful woman sat in the chair. Her long yellow hair lay in heavy, straight folds, like a second cloak to decorate the black dress she wore. The underdress was silver thread, and as Elinore got closer, she saw embroidery at the sleeves and collar. The bright colors contrasted with the silver and black starkness of the rest of the dress.
She kept expecting there to be guards, or servants, or someone, but the woman sat alone on the throne. This had to be the sorceress, didn’t it?
When she was almost touching the steps that led upward to the throne, Elinore dropped a curtsy as low as any she’d given at the courts of the king.
“You may rise,” the woman said in a deep, pleasant voice, as if she would sing low, but well.
Elinore stood, hands clasped in front of her. “Are you the sorceress?”
“I am she.”
“I have come to rescue Prince True.”
“Why?” the sorceress asked.
Elinore frowned at her, and then answered truthfully. She told of her father trying to marry her to the earl, and her decision.
“So, in truth, Elinore the Younger, you do not wish to rescue the prince at all. You merely wish to die in such a way as to free yourself from the earl, and not disgrace your family.”
“That is true, but I have come so far through all your challenges, it has made me wonder if perhaps I might live, after all.”
“So you do wish to try to rescue the prince?
“If that is the only way to free myself, yes.”
“I will give you three choices, Elinore. I can offer you a quick and painless death. Does that please you?”
“You said there were three choices. I would like to hear the other two, if it’s all right. A quick and painless death is not a bad choice, especially since at one point today I thought I would be eaten alive, but I would like to know my options, please.”
“You are most polite, child.”
“My mother would be pleased that you say so.” The sorceress smiled, a small smile, and then continued. “The second choice is to show you a secret way out of my lair. You may go forth and never see your father or the earl again. You can make your way in the world, Elinore.”
“I suppose I could do that, but I have never been out in the world. I’m not certain I would know how to make my way. What is the third choice?”
“That you try to rescue the prince.”
“What happens if I fail?”
The sorceress clapped her hands, and two young women walked out, one from each side of the room. There must have been doors there that Elinore couldn’t see, or was it the same kind of magic that had made the sphinx able to vanish and appear?
The women took up their posts on either side of the thron
e. One held a bowl of fruit, the other a jug of wine, and a goblet. The sorceress took the wine but did not touch the fruit.
“This is Princess Meriwether”—she pointed at the tall one with wavy brown hair—“and this is the Baroness Vanessa,” she said of the raven-haired one.
Elinore gaped at them. “The Princess Meriwether and the Vanessa from the songs?”
“The very same,” the sorceress said.
“The songs say they died valiantly.”
“No. They failed to save Prince True, and as punishment they have served me these long years.”
“So if I fail, then I will become your servant?”
“Yes.”
Elinore thought about her options, and then asked, “Could I meet the prince before I decide?”
The sorceress smiled, and waved the two failed rescuers to posts at either side of her throne. “That is a wise question, Elinore. You wish to see if he is worth the risk, eh?”
Elinore nodded. “I do.”
The sorceress drew a silver chain out of her bosom. There was a silver whistle on the chain. She blew it, one clear, birdlike note.
A man walked out of the wall just behind the throne. Were there no normal doors in this room or were they all bewitched so that Elinore could not see them?
The prince, for he still looked like his portrait in the great hall at court, knelt before the throne. “My mistress calls and I must answer.”
“You have another rescuer, but she wished to see you first.”
The prince looked over his shoulder, still kneeling, but definitely looking at Elinore. His brown hair was cut short, but still had tiny curls in it. His eyes were a blue as deep as her own. The brows that curved above those eyes were graceful and a little darker than his hair. He was pale of skin, though in the portrait he was tanned. But then, he had not been outside of this place for more than fifty years. He had grown pale in his long years of captivity. But beyond that, he looked as if he had just ridden through the doors. As with the two women who had come and failed, they had not aged a day.
“Stand up; let her see you better.”
The prince came to his feet and faced Elinore. His face was arrogant, defiant, and almost angry.
Normally, she would have lowered her eyes from such a stare, but this was too important to look away. She studied his face, and found him handsome enough, and his spirit was not broken. So many years, yet he still stared out like that. This was a strong man, not just of arm, but of character, as her grandmother had said.
Never After Page 2