The Woodcutter (18 page)

The Woodcutter placed his pipe back into his mouth and stared at the rings. They never lied.

“Well, you have made a promise. And that which you promise, you must perform.”

And he would say no more.

Chapter 52

The Woodcutter stood beside the King in the courtyard. Flowers and ribbons adorned every arch. A long red carpet marked the wedding party’s path to the church.

The King pounded the Woodcutter’s back, “We are honored, so honored, and pleased to have you bear witness to the wedding of our daughter.”

The Woodcutter bowed his head, “The honor is mine. This is a blessed day. Your daughter is lovely indeed and it is well time that she should come home to her true family.”

The King sighed and placed his hand upon his heart, “If only her mother were here to see this day. It killed her, the changeling did.”

“I imagine it was quite a shock,” said the Woodcutter.

“No,” said the King, momentarily flustered. “I mean, the changeling killed her. Happened while she slept. It was quite tragic.”

The Woodcutter looked at him sharply, “Why did you not send for me?”

The King shook his head, “After my wife died and the unpleasantness of disposing of the creature… It was just too much…” His brow became furrowed, “Actually, I have no idea why we never sent for you. It seems like something we should have thought to have done.”

The Woodcutter caught the smell of something, just the smallest breath of dark magic. There was just the slightest glaze to the King’s eyes. To the casual observer, they might have thought that the King was merely exhausted.

But the Woodcutter was not a casual observer.

“How were you reunited with your daughter?” asked the Woodcutter, warily.

The King’s round face lit up, “She appeared on our doorstep, bedraggled and soaked to the bone. She passed the pea test and had the mark upon her arm. Besides, a father knows his own daughter.” The King began patting his doublet, “Speaking of…where did I put my glasses…”

They hung from a chain around the King’s neck.

Two trumpets blared, interrupting the conversation.

The Duke from the Kingdom of the Ordinary entered the room. His eyes met the Woodcutter’s and his face flushed with excitement and hope.

The King let out a happy sigh, and then noted to the Woodcutter with a touch of pride, “That Duke sent word far and wide, looking for his true love. Did you know my daughter could spin straw into gold?”

The Woodcutter watched Maid Maleen as she stepped across the courtyard, “Yes, yes I did.”

She was dressed in the finery of the bride, face covered in a white veil. Jewels upon her dress glistened in the light, but the Woodcutter noted that on her finger, she wore her old ring, and upon her neck, she wore her golden necklace.

There was a moment when time stood still.

The Duke’s eyes fell upon Maid Maleen and her eyes fell upon his.

The Woodcutter felt the wild magic build as the two walked towards each other. He felt it build as one hand reached and the other hand reached back. He felt the wild magic sigh at the contact.

But just as the wild magic should have been quieted and tamed, he felt the tension build once more as a sad tear slid down Maid Maleen’s cheek. He felt her withdraw her feelings.

She believed she and the Duke could never be joined.

The Woodcutter hid his smile in his beard.

He followed the wedding party closely to the chapel. They marched throughout the city, so to give the populace a view of the festivities.

Maid Maleen stared straight ahead, not daring to look at the Duke. Her face was sad and her footsteps slow.

The Woodcutter closed the distance between them as her lips began to move.

Instead of words, she began singing to the plants along the path. Her voice was heavy and sounded like her heart might break. “Oh, nettle-plant, little nettle-plant, what dost thou here alone. I have known the time, when I ate thee unboiled, when I ate thee unroasted,” she sang.

The Duke turned to her, “What is it that you sing?”

She immediately stopped and cast her eyes down to the ground, “Nothing, just thinking of a girl called Maid Maleen.”

“But you are she,” said the Duke, searching her face.

“No, you are mistaken. You marry the Crown Princess,” she replied.

A few minutes later, Maid Maleen began singing once again, a wandering tune of no matter. As they passed over the footbridge to the church, she sang, “Footbridge, do not break, I am not the true bride.”

Once again the Duke stopped her, “What is it that you sing?”

Maid Maleen stuttered, her face drained of color, “I speak nothing. I sing a song of nonsense. I was only thinking of one I once knew named Maid Maleen.”

He touched her hand gently and they continued on.

They stepped up the stone stairs to the church. Cheers erupted from the crowd. Inside, the waiting guests came to their feet.

But Maid Maleen paused. She ran her fingers across the oaken door of the church and sang quietly, “Church door, break not, I am not the true bride.”

The Duke turned, beckoning her to join him inside the church. She did not move, but kept her hand upon the door.

The King squinted at Maid Maleen and looked at the Woodcutter, “I say, the blushing bride is a bit reluctant.” He toddled over to her, “Come now, sweet daughter. All brides are a bit frightened on their wedding day. In you go. You look more radiant than I have ever seen. Don’t be shy. The Duke awaits.”

The Woodcutter stepped behind Maid Maleen and placed his hand upon her shoulder, “That which you promised, you must perform.” Then he whispered, “Do not fret. True love shall conquer all.”

She smiled sadly, looking at the Duke, “You know not whom you wed.”

The Duke touched the delicate golden chain that hung around her neck, “The woman who wears this necklace is indeed my true bride.”

Maid Maleen offered no more resistance. She stepped slowly into the church.

The Woodcutter took his place in the procession down the aisle.

Heads bowed in respect as he walked by, his father’s ax hanging from his belt for all to see.

But he felt the same dark taint, a sense carried on the wind that all was not as it seemed.

Then he saw in the gallery of honored guests the shapes of the Queen and the Gentleman. Surrounding them were eleven Dancing Ladies, dressed in the colors of the rainbow.

The Queen’s white skin flushed red as she stared at Maid Maleen.

And the Woodcutter smiled twice in one day.

The wedding went quickly and the party returned to the castle. The Duke left for his chambers to dress for dinner, his eyes never leaving his bride. Maid Maleen, still veiled as tradition dictated until the bride’s wedding night, walked like a woman condemned towards the chambers of the Purple Dancing Lady.

Chapter 53

The Lead Player clapped the Woodcutter on the back, “I had no idea we shared the road with royalty. You should have told us, Woodcutter.”

The Woodcutter smiled, “I am only a servant.”

The Lead Player leaned forward and peered at the Woodcutter’s waist and whistled, “So that is the ax of the Woodcutters.” He stood back up, “Thought it would be bigger.”

The Woodcutter laughed, “I have often thought so myself.”

The Turquoise Acrobat interrupted their conversation, “Anyone seen Maid Maleen? She’s supposed to sing tonight.”

The Woodcutter placed a hand upon the Turquoise Acrobat’s shoulder and pulled him in conspiringly, “Just a request, from one traveling partner to the other. Tonight, let Maid Maleen sing last for the wedding party.”

The Turquoise Acrobat looked at the Lead Player for approval. The Lead Player shrugged his shoulders, “Seems we’ve been royally commanded. She goes last.”

The Woodcutter shook their hands in thanks.

The Woodcutter was sitting in the hallway, looking at the smoke rings from his pipe, when the Duke bowed before him.

“Woodcutter, I beg your humble pardon. I did not know who it was that visited me that day so many weeks ago,” the Duke said.

The Woodcutter grunted and patted the bench beside him, indicating that the Duke should sit down.

The Duke rubbed his stockinged legs nervously, “I do not know how, but you found her. You found my love. I knew I did not believe you could, but you did. But of course you did, you being the Woodcutter…”

The Woodcutter took his pipe from his mouth and pointed it at the Duke, “Now, you may have married your true bride, but there is more going on here than meets the eye and reason enough to worry.”

The Duke’s face flashed of confusion.

“But I have a plan,” said the Woodcutter.

The Woodcutter walked into the banquet hall.

The Purple Dancing Lady’s face was veiled.

The Woodcutter walked up to the head table. Representatives from all of the other Twelve Kingdoms stood, bowing as he passed. The Queen and the Gentleman inclined their heads, but their eyes spoke that only the crowd in the room kept the Woodcutter safe.

The Woodcutter sat himself at the King’s right hand.

The King leaned over to the Woodcutter and whispered, “Is my daughter not just the loveliest you’ve seen? Takes after her mother’s side of the family, she does.”

The Duke’s face was taut as the Purple Dancing Lady leaned against his arm, “And didn’t we just have the most wonderful wedding? I can barely believe how happy I am. I will never forget taking those vows with you. Those vows were wonderful. And the church. It was such a lovely church with all of those people there. What lovely people.”

The Duke turned to the Purple Dancing Lady, “And I, too, feel a deep sense of contentment, being joined at last with my true bride.”

She tried to rub her nose against his, but he pulled back.

“Just one moment, my dear,” he said. He placed his hands to his lips and winked, “You were so charming as we walked to the church, singing those songs so sweetly. What was the one about the nettles?”

She looked down at the Queen and the Gentleman, but they were too far away to offer any help. She turned back to the Duke, “A song about the nettles? Oh my. My mind has forgotten in all of the excitement of the day. Let me just get a quick drink to wet these parched lips and then I’ll answer.”

The players came into the Grand Hall and the Turquoise Acrobat stepped onto the stage.

The Purple Dancing Lady clapped her hands, “Oh, look! The entertainment has begun! I chose them myself as a wedding gift to you, my love.”

The Duke took her hands in his, “Darling, what was the song?”

She waved him away, eyes fixated on the stage, “Oh, I don’t remember. Something silly I made up. A song from my childhood.”

“What you sang,” said the Duke, “was ‘Oh, nettle-plant, little nettle-plant, what dost thou here alone. I have known the time when I ate thee unboiled, when I ate thee unroasted.’ Don’t you remember?”

The Purple Dancing Lady shifted uncomfortably, “I remember it now.”

Her eyes flashed angrily across the room, looking, the Woodcutter was sure, for Maid Maleen.

The Duke stroked the back of her hand with a finger, “I was meaning to ask you about that. You ate nettles unboiled and unroasted?”

She looked at him warily, “Indeed. It is one of my favorite foods.”

The Duke smiled, “How fortunate! For your song inspired me so, and this night is so special, I took it upon myself to prepare you such a dish.”

He motioned to a servant, who uncovered a tray full of nettles and set them before the Purple Dancing Lady.

“Oh my. Nettles. What a…delicacy. Unfortunately, I am so full I couldn’t possibly…” she said with discomfort.

The Duke’s eyes flashed dangerously, “You will eat your nettles or, indeed, you are not my true bride.”

The King harrumphed, “Now, what sort of behavior is this. Making my daughter eat nettles at her wedding feast?”

The Duke stilled him, “But she says they are her favorite and I want my true bride to have her deepest desire.”

The Purple Dancing Lady locked eyes with the Duke, but lost the battle of wills. So she took one and popped it under the veil and into her mouth.

Open mouthed, she chewed it, spitting out the spikes as she could. Blue-flecked spittle stained the veil.

The Duke bit into the rich, juicy steak on his plate, “And what was it that you said at the footbridge?”

She choked upon the hard flesh of the plant, “Footbridge? I don’t seem to remember. A drink. I must have a drink.”

The Turquoise Acrobat was finished and the Lead Player was upon the stage announcing the next act.

The Duke lifted his glass to the players as the Purple Dancing Lady called for a servant, “Surely you remember. You said, ‘Footbridge, do not break, I am not the true bride.’ Now, why did you sing that? You said you would tell me later.”