"What's this?" Gregory asked.
"Duh," Carleen said in that infuriating way of hers. "Well, it sure isn't straw." She was pretty—not the most beautiful girl in the country, but pretty. Except, of course, when she stood with her hand on her hip, rolling her eyes and saying "Duh."
"I don't understand," Gregory said.
"I spun straw into gold last night. This is the gold."
"There was straw in here last night?" Gregory asked, for straw wasn't normally part of the castle's decor.
The servant woman said, "Yes, she asked for a bale of straw to be sent up, and it was."
"And," Gregory said slowly, noticing that the tapestries on the walls were all lumpy, and that there were little bits of straw on the floor beneath those lumps, "you spun that straw"—Carleen nodded enthusiastically—"into ... this little knobby thing that looks..."—he didn't point to the dresser that was missing a handle—"something like a ... furniture handle?"
"Yes," Carleen said.
"Well," Gregory said, unwilling to call her a liar. "That is a very clever trick. And I want to thank you—and your father—for showing me, and I hope you have a good trip home." He hurriedly added, before she could think of sore feet as an excuse, "You can even use one of the royal carriages. Won't that impress your neighbors?"
"But," Carleen said as he turned to leave, "but it's raining."
"The carriage is covered," Gregory told her.
"But the road will be so muddy, and everybody will be inside, and they won't see the carriage, and nobody will believe me when I tell them I rode in it, and I traveled so hard to get here..." Carleen looked so sad, Gregory felt sorry for her.
With a sigh he said, "You may stay another day."
"Thank you, Your Highness!" she said. But as he turned to go, she called after him, "But, Your Highness!"
When he turned back—and he did manage to do it without sighing—she indicated her dress, which was clean and tidy, though nothing elegant, and she said, "Of course, I wouldn't dare leave my room, for shame of my simple peasant's clothes."
If she didn't leave her room, Gregory could be certain he wouldn't run into her, but it hardly seemed fair to invite her to stay, then not let her see the sights. He said to the serving woman, "Find our guest a suitable gown."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Carleen said, curtsying just as the servant had done.
For the rest of the day, every time Gregory looked up, there was Carleen—walking as though she just happened to be passing through the room he was in, or peeking in the doorway to wave at him, or turning her chair at dinner so that she could watch him eat. And it rained all day, so there wasn't even the chance for him to try to lose her in the gardens. Not only that, but each time she saw him look her way, she would give a little jump as though she had just happened to notice him, after which she would give an energetic wave.
This must be what a rabbit feels like, he thought, when it's being stalked by a wolf.
But then he told himself not to worry about her. What he needed to worry about was King Norvin, who was so greedy he wanted to add King Gregory's lands to his own. That, he told himself, was a much more serious problem than the miller's daughter. Besides, tomorrow she would be gone.
***
The following morning at breakfast, Gregory once more heard a commotion from the direction of the guest rooms. When he stepped out into the hall to investigate, one of the serving women came bearing a message from Carleen. The message was: "I'm waiting." Gregory could imagine the impatient tapping of her foot.
"Waiting?" Gregory asked the servant.
"For you to see the straw she's spun into gold," the servant said, all the while looking at a spot three inches above the king's head rather than face him directly.
"Of course," Gregory said with a sigh. "But while I'm seeing to our guest, please notify the grooms to ready the royal carriage so that she may return to her own home."
The servant shuffled her feet.
"What?" Gregory asked. "What's wrong?"
"The captain of the guard came in earlier, sire," the woman said, "bringing news that the rain has washed out the bridge to the town of Roxburough."
"Tell the captain of the guard," Gregory said, "to get that bridge fixed as quickly as possible." But meanwhile he went to Carleen's room.
"Well!" Carleen said, jumping to her feet when he came in. "A bit of a slug-a-bed, aren't we?" She smiled brightly, evidently being one of those people who believe you can say anything if you say it with a smile and pass it off as a joke. "Good thing you were born to be king and didn't have to work to get the job."
Gregory only said mildly, "Good morning."
"I spun this for you," Carleen said, handing him a golden doorknob. "Now you don't have to chop my head off."
Gregory could see that the door to the room was missing its inside knob. He could also see that the drawers in the various chests and dressers weren't closed all the way because they were so stuffed with straw that bits were dangling from the corners. He didn't point any of that out. He said, "Really, Lady Miller's Daughter—"
"Call me Carleen," she told him with a wink.
"You don't need to spin—"
"No, no!" she insisted, holding her hands up as though to stop him. "I understand about kings and gold."
"And I never said anything about—"
She shuddered and covered her ears. "Don't even say it! My head hurts just thinking about it!"
"Well," Gregory said, seeing he was getting nowhere, "thank you for the gold." He looked at the doorknob in his hand and hoped that the bridge could be repaired before there weren't any more fixtures left in the castle.
Throughout the day, Carleen once again always seemed underfoot, waving and blowing kisses every time Gregory glanced in her direction. She began to order the servants around, and made suggestions about the way the rooms were decorated and how things should be done, and dropped hints that she would be very good at running the country.
Gregory suspected he wasn't the only one to be relieved when the captain of the guard sent word that the bridge should be fixed and ready for traffic in the morning.
In the morning, Gregory asked for breakfast in bed because the royal bedchamber was far enough away from the guest rooms that he knew he couldn't hear Carleen, no matter how loud a fuss she made. He was seriously considering staying in his room until she was safely on her way home.
But as he was eating his poached eggs, a servant knocked at the door and said, "Sire, the miller's daughter requests you to come see the straw she has spun into gold."
"Again?" Gregory asked. Surely, he thought, a king has more important things to do than entertain a miller's daughter. But he went.
Right away Gregory noticed that the bed was mounded high and lumpy, with straw showing from under the covers. Carleen was wearing the same dress the servants had provided her with, but the long row of golden buttons was gone, and today the gown was held closed by laces. There was a bit of straw showing between the laces, too.
"I spun these for you," Carleen said, holding out to him—surprise!—gold that had apparently been spun to look like buttons.
"Well, thank you," Gregory said, accepting the buttons from her. "Now, much as I hate to say good-bye—"
Carleen burst into tears. "Don't abandon me!" she cried. "The little man will get me and my baby!"
"What little man?" Gregory asked, surprised by this new development. "What baby?"
"The little man who taught me how to spin straw into gold. For some reason he wants me to marry the king." Then—she obviously had no confidence in his ability to reason—she added, "That would be you. He insisted on it. He said if I didn't marry you, he would come and get me. And if I ever tried to marry someone else, he would come and get my baby. So, you see, it's all your fault. And if you don't marry me, my baby and I are both doomed. And people will talk badly about you forevermore."
"And why would this little man want us to be married?" Gregory asked.
How, King Gregory asked himself, ant I ever going to get rid of this awful girl?
"Now, I don't believe in long engagements," Carleen said, "but don't you worry your little head about getting everything done in time because—just by chance—I've always dreamed of a big wedding, so I do have everything written out, exactly the way I want it, and with just a little bit of urging I'm sure your servants—"
Gregory wasn't paying attention to the droning voice. His concentration had been caught by movement on that part of the front lawn he could see through the window. It could only be the captain of the guard, but he was coated from head to foot with thick mud from working on the bridge repairs all night. He looked, Gregory thought, barely human—like a primeval earth creature. By the way the officer waved jauntily as he approached the castle, the king deduced he must have succeeded in getting the bridge back into working order. Gregory interrupted Carleen. "This little man who threatened you," he said, "he might be the same creature we've heard legends about for as long as this castle has stood here."
"Oh, yes?" Carleen said, obviously relieved that the king didn't require convincing. "Probably."
"Kind of a ... brown ... muddy-looking fellow?"
"That's him," Carleen agreed readily.
"Fear not," Gregory told her. "I know how to get rid of him."
"Oh," Carleen said, "I don't think—"
"All we have to do is name his secret name." He leaned forward and added as though sharing a secret, "That's another of those silly rules of magic you were just talking about." Then, before Carleen could complain or object, Gregory said, "Look! That must be him, come to inform me of your bargain." He cranked open the window and called out to the captain of the guard, "Man! Little man!"
The captain of the guard stopped, found the window at which the king was standing, and bowed.
"I will now guess your name," Gregory told him.
The captain of the guard did not point out that, after all the years he had been captain of the guard, the king should already know his name.
"Is it," Gregory asked, "Seymour?"
"No, sire," the captain of the guard answered hesitantly, sounding puzzled.
"Is it Dudley?"
"No, sire."
"Then," Gregory said triumphantly, "could it, by chance, be Rumpelstiltskin?"
"Yes, sire," the captain of the guard answered, by now sounding very puzzled indeed.
"Ha!" Gregory said. "In that case you may go on your way, if you promise to leave alone any child this young lady may ever have."
Captain Rumpelstiltskin, who was married and had more than enough children of his own, held his arms out, dripping little globs of mud. "Certainly, sire," he said, sounding entirely befuddled. "If that is your wish, Your Highness." And he headed off toward the bathhouse.
"See," Gregory told Carleen, "nothing to worry about."
The miller's daughter stamped her foot but had no answer.
Then, knowing he was taking a terrible chance, Gregory said, "But, even though the danger is now gone, would you still be willing to marry me?"
Carleen still had her face screwed up into a disappointed scowl. "What?" she snapped. Then his words must have sunk in. She wiped the sulky look off her face. "Oh," she said. "Yes. Yes, that would be very nice."
Gregory bowed and kissed her hand. "Then I will leave the arrangements to you, my precious. Just be sure you invite King Norvin to the festivities. He is our neighbor to the west, and he is very, very, very wealthy. We certainly don't want to slight him."
"Certainly not," Carleen said. Then she asked, "Very wealthy?" She smiled tightly. "How nice for him. Though surely he is not so wealthy as you, my sweet?"
Gregory made an airy gesture of dismissal. "Oh, very-much more so," he said. "I am doubly fortunate to have found you because, in truth, this kingdom is rather poor, and your being able to spin straw into gold will come in very handy."
"I..." Carleen said, "hadn't realized you'd intended me to keep on spinning straw into gold after we were married. I assumed, as queen, I'd have other important duties."
Gregory said, "Well, of course King Norvin's wife—if he had a wife, which, naturally, he doesn't—King Norvin's wife could concentrate on more frivolous queenly duties such as hosting parties and arranging charity balls and socializing with the nobles, but naturally you won't have time for that lesser kind of responsibility." Gregory smiled encouragingly and added, "Though I'll certainly do my best to see that you have a day off from spinning every once in a while, say on your birthday, maybe, or Christmas." He frowned as though deep in thought. "Well, maybe not every Christmas." He kissed her hand once again and said, "So I thank you for your generous offer to help out my kingdom, and you can go ahead now and start the wedding arrangements, if you think you have time."
Carleen was fanning herself with her hand. "Certainly," she said, "certainly. The first thing I need to do is see about getting the invitations, but I'll need to borrow the royal carriage to go to town to order them."
"Of course," Gregory said. "Take as long as you like to choose just the right ones. There will be plenty of time for spinning straw into gold after we're married."
"Yes," Carleen said. "I can see that."
She seemed in an incredible hurry to get started, so Gregory didn't delay her.
But the funny thing was that she never came back from that shopping trip.
The footman and the driver went into the printer's shop looking for her after she'd been gone for more than an hour, but the printer said she'd gone out the back door, and she was last seen heading off toward the west.
By coincidence, within a month King Gregory was invited to the wedding of King Norvin, who was marrying—according to the invitation—a foreign princess by the name of Carleen.
"I'm so sorry matters of state prevent me from attending," Gregory wrote to the happy couple. But as a wedding gift he sent a golden handle, a golden doorknob, and ten golden buttons.
The Rumpelstiltskin Problem Page 8