The Eye of the Beholder (7 page)

"A beast!" Thomasina shrieked. "He will come here and kill us all!"

"No, I do not believe so," Papa said, patting her shoulder in an awkward gesture of comfort. "I believe he had no wish to be seen and only made his presence known to me because…" His voice trailed off, and I could see that he did not wish to continue.

"Why, Papa?" I asked, gently. "Why did this beast menace you after feeding you and allowing you to stay in his castle?"

"I could never have conjured such a horror, not even in my worst nightmares," Papa said, as if he had not heard my question. His eyes took on a far-away look. "How can this monster be? He walked and talked and stood like a man, but looked and moved and sounded like a beast. He must have been eight feet high as he stood over me, and I was certain he would kill me.

"He had a wolf's body; a lion's head, with round, alert ears; and he was covered head to foot with a thick tawny coat. His paws were three times larger than any beast I have ever seen, and they ended in long, fearsome claws. His maw was full of sharp, pointed teeth. And those eyes…"

Rowena whimpered and Papa seemed to recollect himself, looking at her with a stricken glance. I felt every bit as frightened as my sisters seemed to be, but I did my best to master it. There was more to this story, much more, and I knew that Papa did not wish to tell us.

"Why did he threaten you, Papa?" I asked once again, my voice little more than a whisper.

"I bought the satins for your sisters," he said, indicating the parcels I had brought into the cottage. "But the trader and his books had left days before I arrived. I could find nothing that would suit you. And then there it was, right before me, and I knew you would love it." His words puzzled me and I opened my mouth to question him further, but he reached into his cloak and drew out the largest, most beautiful crimson rose I had ever seen. He held it out to me and I took it from him with trembling fingers. The scent of the rose filled my senses and it was several moments before the import of his words became clear to me.

"You took this from the beast's castle," I said.

"He said he cherished nothing but the roses." Papa's voice broke and he buried his face in his hands.

"Why did he release you?" I asked. I hated to make him speak. It was clear that it pained him, but I had to have the full story, had to understand what had happened to him.

"He gave me a fortnight. I must leave here in ten days."

Thomasina and Rowena knocked me aside as they rushed over and threw their arms around Papa, weeping and wailing that he could not go. I sat quietly, my mind in a whirl. My sisters did not know our father as I did; there was something he continued to conceal. I absently stroked the velvet petals of the rose as I thought, and as its perfume beguiled my senses, I knew what he had failed to say.

"The beast did not say that you must return," I said, speaking loudly and clearly so that I would be heard over the great noise my sisters were making. The room suddenly fell silent, and all three of them turned simultaneously to look at me. "He gave you a choice. He said that I could return in your place."

I knew immediately from the despairing look on my father's face that I was correct. Thomasina and Rowena exchanged glances, looked at Papa, and then looked at me. Comprehension dawned, and they both studied me with narrowed eyes and malevolent gazes.

"What she says is true!" Thomasina exclaimed. Papa did not speak, but his silence was confirmation enough.

"I will go, Papa. You are needed here," I said.

"Certainly not," Papa said, loudly. "I will go."

"She must go! This is all her fault!" Rowena cried.

"Her fault! She did not ask me for the rose! It was I who cut it from the vine. I will not give my daughter over to that monster!" Papa roared, leaping up from his chair.

Rowena and Thomasina stared at him in shock. He had never before raised his voice at them, and I was every bit as astonished as they were. I curled my hand tightly around the rose stem and felt a sharp pain as one of the thorns pierced my palm. I gasped, and Papa turned to look at me.

"I will go," he repeated. Thomasina made a sound of protest and he rounded on her. "Silence! How dare you even suggest that your sister should go in my place! She will remain here where she belongs and I will pay the price for my own folly!" Trembling, he strode from the sitting room into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

There was a stunned silence for several moments, my sisters and I staring at Papa's door. I felt a warm trickle in my hand and looked down to see the blood flowing from the puncture wound caused by the rose's thorn. I gazed numbly at the red stain, starting as the blood dripped from my palm and onto my ink-stained apron.

"If you dare let him go…" Rowena said, her voice soft but menacing. Her back was to me, and I could see the tension in her shoulders.

"Do you honestly think I will if it is in my power to stop him?" I hissed, keeping my voice low lest Papa hear.

Thomasina turned and looked at me with a withering, scornful gaze. "Who will miss you? We cannot do without Papa."

"You care nothing for Papa," I said, jumping up from my stool and facing her. "You care only about yourselves! You want Papa to stay so that he can continue to supply you with satins for gowns and a generous dowry so that you can marry yourselves off to some poor, unsuspecting fool of a local lord. But I will go to this beast, and I will do it because I love Papa and will not allow him to sacrifice his life for mine!"

Rowena strode over to me and drew her hand back, slapping me hard across the face. "How dare you speak to us like that, you filthy, pathetic nothing. I almost feel sorry for this beast," she spat.

She and Thomasina strode over to the ladder, clambering up it and out of my sight. The fury I had felt rushed out of my body, and I raised my uninjured hand to my stinging cheek. I began to weep silently, staring at Papa's door. He had already lost his wife. How unfair that he would now also have to lose his daughter, for there was not the slightest chance that I would allow him to return to the beast. It did not matter what happened to me; I would not allow the beast to imprison or murder my father. I loved Papa more than any other being in the world, and I would gladly trade my life for his.

I stood staring at his door for some time before finally climbing up to the loft. I dropped the rose upon my work table, where it created a startling contrast against the parchment it landed upon, and then I fell into my bed. There was no rest for me that night as I stared at the ceiling and plotted how I would go about leaving the cottage without my father's notice.

Chapter 7: Preparations

The more I thought about it, the worse an idea it seemed. I had become very accustomed to the silence and isolation over the years, and the prospect of an addition to the castle's population--whether that addition turned out to be the plain man or his daughter--had the servants in an uproar. Had I allowed them, they would have cleaned the castle from top to bottom, but I absolutely forbade it. Of course I knew enough to understand that it was important to make the castle inviting in the hopes of winning over the maiden, but I refused to go as far as to compromise my own comfort. My servants and the maiden, if she came, would have to content themselves with order and beauty in her chamber and nowhere else. I was master of this castle.

But what if the maiden did not come? What if all the flurry of preparation was all for naught? What if her father decided to do the noble and stupid thing and sacrifice himself for his daughter? It would be the bitterest of pills to lock him up and let him rot away in my dungeon while I slowly faded away, knowing that I had come so close to holding the key to breaking this wretched curse.

However, in moments of utter honesty, I knew that I feared the possibility of the maiden's coming far more than I feared the possibility of her not coming. If she arrived, how could I fail to feel a glimmer of hope, after centuries of despair? And how terrible would the devastation be if the maiden failed to deliver me from my torment? The thought that she might destroy what little peace I had managed to obtain almost made me wish her father would return and she would remain in her home.

At night, when all the servants had disappeared into their quarters, I silently stole through the corridors and into the chamber that the maiden would occupy, if she did come. The door was pure white, gleaming with a fresh coat of paint. A highly polished, elegant silver handle graced its surface. I stood before that door for some time until I finally summoned the courage to seize the handle and open it.

Carefully, I stepped inside and drew a deep breath before allowing my gaze to travel the length of the chamber. I had to admit that my servants had worked wonders, and being inside the chamber caused me severe pangs, for it reminded me of what the castle had once been, hundreds of years ago, before that accursed enchantress had destroyed my life.

The servants had covered the floor with thick, plush rugs in soothing shades of tender green and pale blue, and the walls were clean and white, hung with richly detailed tapestries woven in spring colors. Elaborately worked silver sconces were spaced along the walls, tall pure white tapers arranged in them. To the left of the bedchamber door stood an imposing desk and a delicate chair with a blue silk cushion. Upon the surface of the desk, my servants had left a neat stack of parchment, an assortment of quills, and several silver ink pots.

Floor to ceiling windows across from the door created the illusion that there were only three walls in the chamber. Gauzy curtains covered the glass, but I caught glimpses of it gleaming in its silver frames. A sudden remembrance of the scrolled accents of the window frames' startled me with its clarity. In the midst of the windows were two matching doors that opened out onto a balcony. I stepped out onto it and saw that, though its white marble surface had been cleaned and polished until it gleamed, the prospect was most dismal, for it overlooked the ruined garden. In spite of this, my servants had placed two outdoor chairs with soft lavender cushions and a small table on the balcony. The jarring contrast of the inviting balcony against the bleak view made me avert my gaze.

I turned and stepped back inside the chamber. To my left was an enormous canopied bed, its carved headboard flush with the wall. The bed was hung with pale blue curtains that matched the canopy. My servants had made the bed with a lavender and green silk coverlet that was nearly concealed by a mound of pillows in blue, lavender, and green silk. On the left side of the bed was a beautiful table with delicately carved legs, upon which stood a silver pitcher and goblet. On the right side of the bed was an elegant dressing table of highly polished wood, its surface covered with cut crystal scent bottles and a silver brush and comb.

Directly across from the bed stood an enormous marble fireplace with a carved mantle upon which my servants had placed many beautiful objects. It puzzled me to see such lovely objects, for I was certain I had destroyed almost everything of beauty within the castle, and I realized with a combination of surprise and displeasure that the servants must have hidden the objects in order to protect them from my wrath. The fireplace was flanked by bookcases, empty now for evidently no one had yet made a trip down to the library to choose books to fill them. Next to each bookcase was a door. An exquisite settee upholstered in blue velvet and two matching wing chairs had been arranged in front of the fireplace.

The right door led into a large dressing room in which stood a massive polished wardrobe. I pulled it open and saw that it was filled to bursting with gowns in silks, satins, and velvets in every conceivable color. Matching slippers were lined neatly along the floor of the wardrobe. There was also a large chest, which held an astonishing array of ribbons, lace, and other bits of trimming, and a gleaming case filled with an impressive collection of jewels. On one of the walls hung the object of my dread: a large looking glass in an intricately carved and gilded frame. I kept my gaze carefully averted lest I catch an unwelcome glimpse of myself.

A second door opened from the dressing room into the bathing room, which was large and airy, but warm, due to the enormous marble fireplace. There was a large silver tub and many wooden cabinets stacked with towels, soaps, and fragrant oils. I turned left and exited through the door, which led me back into the bedchamber.

Closing my eyes, I blocked out the sight of the chamber. I was assailed by a wave of memories, by visions of the splendor and the beauty that had once adorned every last corner of the castle. With an impatient growl, I hurried from the chamber and back into the dank corridor, feeling an enormous sense of relief as I was once more surrounded by darkness and gloom.

The chamber had been far too light, a chamber fit for the presence of a vibrant, lively soul. This was a threatening thought, for the castle had long been inhabited solely by shadows. Light had been banished, lest it make visible the hideous beast and wraith-like servants who scurried around it corridors, eager to avoid their master.