Grimm's Last Fairytale by Haydn Middleton

Author:Haydn Middleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466874824
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

SIXTEEN

The horse, like its rider, sensed a longer journey ahead. The prince was glad of the slower progress. He knew that his mother was right to send him out again, but he was worried almost as much by what he was leaving behind as by what he was going back to. Her disproportioned look still haunted him: she seemed to have been pumped up like a pig’s bladder, with different parts of her inflating to different degrees. If she had not been his mother, he would have found her grotesque. And still he was unsure whether it was she who had changed, or just his view of her.

Whenever she came into his thoughts as the horse led him on along paths he had not seen before, he tried to think only of the svelte princess. Even this did no good. His shame at the way he had treated the king’s daughter now confused him so much that at times he imagined her bloated out of all recognition too, there on her bed in the garret.

Days went by. For all he knew the horse was leading him in circles. The forest was so dense that he was rarely able to glimpse the sun to work out his direction. But however slow his journey seemed, he sensed time racing past. He felt afloat on the horse’s back, swept along by sudden currents over which he had no control. And although he had not planned to break his journey, in the end he had to stop and try to find out why he had become so disorientated.

Towards dusk he reined in the horse in a lumber yard at the edge of a sprawl of pines. The easy-going woodman was just a little older than himself. He was happy to take in a traveller for the night, share his solitary supper by the trivet over his outdoor fire, then talk good-naturedly afterwards.

‘Tell me what you know of the Rose King,’ the prince said after a while.

‘Ah, there’s no Rose King now, not since the enchantment.’ The woodman smiled, as if he were joking. ‘Or not since the enchantment took effect.’

‘Tell me about that.’

‘You probably know it better than I do. The story has been around for as long as I can remember. The king and queen had a daughter, and they invited twelve wise women to the celebratory feast, to bless her with their gifts.’

‘Wise women?’ The prince had never pressed his mother on exactly what that meant.

He shrugged. ‘Guardian spirits? It was a long time ago. The language of these things changes. Some people, as I understand it, used to call them fairies. And twelve were invited, but a thirteenth arrived, and when she saw that no place had been laid for her at the feast, she cursed the princess.’ He held up a thumb to show where the poisoned spindle would eventually prick her. There were odd little nicks on his hand, and also on his neck, cheek and arm. From where the prince sat they looked, rather forbiddingly, like very old toothmarks.

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