"What are you doing in my son's bed, slut? And who is this vagabond? Is his chamber your whorehouse now?"
Abraham lifted his eyes from the flagstone floor to meet the gaze of an angry old man. An old man wearing a robe woven from gold thread.
The mad king. If it had not been for him, Molina would have told Abraham the truth long ago, and neither of them would have spent the summer locked in a barn, spinning their fingers raw.
If not for this man, Abraham might have had the time to find a way to save his son.
"Get out. Both of you!" the king snapped. "Guards!"
Abraham pulled off his gloves. "Are you the one who wanted straw turned into gold?"
The king looked smug. "I have all the gold I need. We are now the richest kingdom on the continent. But if I need more, my son's wife will provide. Which is why this slut will get out of his bed, for that is where his wife should lie, while he begets an heir on her!"
The mad king did not even recognise his son's bride. The girl who had almost died for his greed. As Isaak would die for it.
Abraham let his fury rise up, his blood heating to boiling until it felt like molten gold in his veins. Perhaps it was.
"The princess will spin no more for you. Take your gold, and I hope it makes you happy in hell!" Abraham laid his hands on either side of the king's face, and the king began to scream. The sound still rang in Abraham's ears, long after it had stopped, and he opened his eyes to view his handiwork. The king was surely the ugliest statue Abraham had ever seen, and that was with his clothes on. Abraham touched the king's robe and boots, until they, too, were solid gold.
He turned to find the princess standing on the bed, backed up against the wall, her eyes wide with terror. "You…you killed the king!" she breathed.
"He deserved to die," Abraham said simply. "My son will be avenged."
He heard the clatter of running feet on the stairs. The guards the king had summoned, he guessed. Abraham knew he had little time left, and he had no intention of spending it in a prison cell in this castle for killing the king.
Abraham stamped on the floor three times, then touched the spot with the toe of his shoe. The flagstones opened up, and swallowed him.
Forty-Four
Lubos had hoped to find Molina asleep, but she sat up the moment he entered their chamber. "Where is Tessarina?" she demanded.
"Who?" he asked. Grief and a long day's ride had surely addled his wits.
"Our daughter," she said. "You said I might name her, and I thought…"
"It's a lovely name," Lubos soothed her.
"But where is she?"
Lubos swallowed. This was the part he'd dreaded most. "She is with the witch who saved your life when you were so sick. She swore she would protect her, keep her safe, and treat her better than any princess. A witch who can defeat death itself will protect her far better than you or I could, especially against a man who can walk through walls and turn things to gold at a touch. When your strange man comes – "
She cut him off. "He has come and gone, stamping a hole in the floor through which he vanished. I have never seen anything like it. I know not where he has gone, but I hope he never returns. When I told him he could not have her, he flew into such a temper, I was certain he would kill me." She smiled wanly. "But instead, he saved me from your father."
Lubos did not believe what he was hearing. "My father? The king?"
"The late king. Abraham von Rumpelstiltskin killed him." Molina pointed at the door. No, at a statue by the door.
Lubos swallowed. The man had turned his father into a statue? He didn't want to get closer, but he had to be sure.
The statue appeared to be a perfect replica of his father in one of his most violent rages. Bulging eyes, mouth wide open as he spat vitriol based on the delusions of his own mad mind, with his finger pointed at the long-gone target of his rage. Not the way he would want to be remembered, and definitely not the way Lubos wanted to remember him, yet here he was. It looked like Molina's strange man had encased his skin in bronze. No, gold, like the thread he'd helped her spin.
"Is he truly made of gold? We should try to get him out of it, to see if he still lives," Lubos said. But how did one extract a man from his own gold skin?
Molina shook her head. "He is solid gold right the way through, and much too heavy to move. Just as the thread von Rumpelstiltskin spun was pure gold."
Rumpelstiltskin? He had heard of such a place. A barony he'd visited, surely. Lubos racked his brain, searching for the memory. A castle on an island, in the river close to the western borders, protecting the richest trade routes to the west. Its owner was a wealthy man, one of the few who had turned in his regular tithe this year, the last man likely to be making a nuisance of himself here in the capital. Even his father had no quarrel with the man or his ancestors, loyal since the days of Charlemagne.
Well, he'd had no quarrel before. If he'd still lived, Father might not be so peaceable toward the family now. Now it would fall to Lubos to exact justice for regicide. To think Molina had been alone with the man…he should have been here, protecting her, instead of riding around the countryside meeting with witches.
He cupped Molina's face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. "My queen, can you ever forgive me?"
She blinked several times in surprise, before she responded, "My king, there is nothing to forgive. If you swear our daughter is safe, then I must trust you. I will miss her, but she will never be safe here while von Rumpelstiltskin lives. You must do as you think best. Such is the burden of a crown."
A crown. Thank the heavens his father had not been wearing it when he entered Molina's chamber. "A burden we shall share. With my queen at my side, we will rebuild this kingdom from the ruins my father left it in. Together. With spinning wheels, waterwheels, and my best men scouring the country for the villain who killed my father, for I will see justice done for such a heinous crime."
"Call the guard captain. You will need his help in this. And…together, maybe you can take the body out of here." She eyed the statue of the late king and shivered. "The king would have killed me, if he had laid hands on me. When you find your father's killer, be merciful. He deserves a quick death, with as little pain as possible. For all his faults, he saved me from your father's wrath four times."
Lubos seized her hands and kissed them. "It shall be as my queen commands. My father might have lived for many years longer, letting his madness ruin the kingdom completely. Von Rumpelstiltskin has done us a great service, taking matters into his own hands. Fate has the strangest ways of making things turn out well. Now, rest, for I have much to do, including planning our coronation in the cathedral. I will be the happiest man in the world when I place my mother's crown on your head."
He helped her lie back on the pillows, then rushed from the room, shouting for Schuttmann.
Forty-Five
Chase heard the horse approaching, and he headed outside to meet Abraham. He had to see for himself if the man had really stolen the crown prince's child.
Abraham slid down from his horse, then fell to his knees in the snow. His arms were empty.
"So you are not as much of a fool as I thought," Chase said. He took the horse's bridle, intending to take the animal to the stable.
Abraham seized his cloak. "I am a fool. Such a fool. The princess is his only hope. Isaak's only hope. When I am gone, you must take the boy to her and tell her. The king is dead. And the princess…the princess…the seer was right about the boy. She cannot be wrong about the princess. She is Isaak's only hope."
Chase shook himself free. "Go inside, and warm yourself before the fire. I will see to the horse, and you should see to your son."
He took the animal inside the tiny barn that passed for a stable, and removed the saddle and bridle before brushing the mare down. No matter how hard Abraham tried to hide his ill-health, Chase knew him too well for that. Abraham was dying, and the sickness had taken his mind already. His body would be next. Thank the
heavens Maja had not lived to see the man she loved go mad.
When the horse was properly cared for, Chase returned to the cottage. Abraham sat on the chair by the fire, holding out his bare hands to the flames to warm them. His fingers were perpetually blue these days.
"Oh, Maja," Chase heard Abraham say.
Chase turned away, giving Abraham the privacy to mourn.
Isaak's wet nurse, Ida, slept in the loft above, but Isaak's cradle was here where it was warm. The boy was the very image of his brother Heber's children, even sucking his thumb like Aran, the eldest, had. "Come and see, Abraham. Doesn't he look like Aran?" Chase asked, beckoning.
But Abraham did not answer.
Chase turned to see what had distracted his brother in law, only to find his chair was empty. A pair of dark shoes lay on the floor, full of gold coins that spilled out in a puddle on the flagstones. A pile of coins sat on the chair, too, topped by a pair of familiar golden brown, fur lined gloves. Of Abraham, there was no sign.
Forty-Six
"Your Majesties, we've found him," Captain Schuttmann announced. He lowered his voice so only the king and queen could hear. "And he had a child with him."
Molina half rose from her throne, before Lubos' hand on her shoulder gently pushed her back into her seat. She shot a glance at the packed court – would she ever get used to having an audience for everything she did? – and made a show of adjusting the cushions beneath her before planting her bottom firmly on them.
Most of the court knew nothing of Tessarina, or her pregnancy, and if anyone did, they'd probably heard the same story that circulated among the castle servants: she'd lost the baby. So if the queen wept, the servants knew the reason for her grief, or at least they thought they did.
Two guards marched a man between them, dropping him to his knees before the dais. Another guard came forward with a peasant woman, carrying a squirming bundle in her arms. The child's wet nurse, Molina guessed. Could it be Tessarina? She hardly dared hope, and yet…
"You won't find him." The kneeling man's voice was harsh as he gazed unflinchingly at Lubos, though he knew better than to rise with two guards standing over him.
Molina's breath hissed out of her. She did not know this man. They hadn't caught him after all, and the child could not be her daughter. The witch still had her.
"Find who?" Lubos asked.
"Sir Abraham von Rumpelstiltskin, the man who put down your father like the mad dog he was." The man glared. "Your Majesty," he spat, as though the title was an insult. Perhaps it was to him.
"Where is he?" Molina asked.
The man's pale eyes turned to her in surprise.
When he did not answer, Lubos said, "Your queen asked you a question, and you will answer it. Where is von Rumpelstiltskin?"
"I do not know. Out of your reach, far beyond your borders."
Lubos nodded. "Then who are you? His squire? His servant?"
The man spat on the floor. "I am Sir Chase of…of nowhere now. I left my lord's service to escort my sister to her new home, where I thought she would be safe. Alas, Maja is dead, and my former brother in law decided to commit regicide, and catch some of the old king's madness, it would seem."
"And what of the child?" Lubos asked.
"The boy is Maja's child by Abraham, her husband. Before the madness took him, he swore to give his life for the boy, for he would let no harm come to him. The last thing he asked me to do was to ensure the boy was cared for, to take him to the princess." He jerked his head toward Molina. "That would be you, I guess. If he ever regains his senses, I am certain he will come for the boy, if only to check that I kept my word."
Lubos met the man's eyes, and it seemed to Molina that he gave the tiniest of nods. He raised his voice. "The child will be placed in the royal nursery, and raised as a ward of the crown. If he shows promise he will be allowed to become a page, then a squire, and perhaps even a knight, like his father. I will keep his lands in trust for when he comes of age to be one of my loyal barons." For as a hostage in this household, he would have no choice. "Does the child have a name?"
"Maja called him Isaak," Sir Chase said. "I believe she would thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty, if she could."
"If you swear fealty, I may allow you to take him as your squire when he is of an age to do so," Lubos said.
His tone was careful, calculating, with no emotion in it at all. The tone of a monarch, Molina realised with a shiver.
Sir Chase smiled faintly. "I thank you for the offer, Your Majesty, but we both know that is not a good idea. If Abraham were to return for the boy…ah, tell him I am far away, serving some foreign lord or court. It shall be the truth." He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and threw them down on the steps. "He wanted the boy to have these. The queen will know when the time is right, I think."
Molina recoiled. She knew those gloves well, for von Rumpelstiltskin had worn them, only taking them off when he wanted to touch something to turn it to gold. Yet she nodded curtly, and gestured for a servant to pick them up and bring them to her. She didn't want to touch them. "Bring the child to the nursery. I shall…inspect him there." She beckoned to the guard with the wet nurse, as she rose from the dais and made her way out of the throne room.
Lubos found her in the nursery later that evening, watching the boy sleep. They were alone, for she'd sent the wet nurse down to the kitchen for dinner.
"Did I make the right decision?" Lubos asked. "Or did I mess up?"
Molina smiled. In court, he was every bit the king his father had trained him to be, but in private he was the same man she'd met by the millponds. "I don't know. I don't want to ever see him again, and if we have his son, I imagine we will. Yet the boy has no one, and if he grows up, he will inherit what I understand are prosperous lands. It makes sense to raise him under your roof, so that he will see you as more of a father than the man who deserted him. And there is the matter of the princess Sir Chase spoke of. Von Rumpelstiltskin could not have meant me, for he knew I could not break his curse. Perhaps he believed Tessarina could. If his father never returns and the boy becomes a knight, you can send him out to find her."
Lubos hung his head. "I sent guards back to the witch's cottage, but they found nothing and no one. Not even the garden I saw. As if somehow…magically…it all vanished. The walls were broken ruins, yet I remember climbing them. If I had known the witch would take our daughter and disappear, I would have…"
"You would have done exactly what you have done. You have not lied to me yet, and you will not do so today. You pledged her to save my life and hers, just as I did. We are both equally culpable in this, and will suffer for it, as we deserve. Perhaps, one day, there will be other children."
Lubos blinked. "Other children? You mean…but the midwife said…"
"To wait until I am ready," Molina finished for him. "It has been some weeks since she was born. I believe tonight I might be ready to take you into my bed, so that you can fondle these before they return to their normal size." She cupped her breasts through her dress.
"Will the boy be all right alone here?" Lubos asked, casting a longing look at Molina.
She shrugged. "I have never cared for a child before, so I have no idea. The wet nurse will return soon, and he's asleep now. If his lungs are as strong as Tessarina's, he will soon wail loud enough to let someone know if he wants something."
"Then let us go to bed, and see if I can give you an heir by morning," Lubos said eagerly, taking her arm.
"Or tomorrow night, or the night after," Molina said.
"Or any night after, for I swear I will make you happy again, Molina, happy ever after."
And she smiled, because she knew he spoke the truth.
Forty-Seven
Chase sold Abraham's horse for a good price, and tucked the coins into the pouch at his waist. He had enough money to get him to almost any kingdom in the civilised world, and for the first time in his life, he was free to choose who he served.
King Erik's court in Aros was famed for its tourneys, and he could win any archery contest with his eyes closed. Perhaps it was time to aim high and attach himself to a royal court, to see how his fortunes fared there. Better than his brother's fortune, he'd wager, for Heber's land was not so fruitful of late, or so his last letter had said.
Yes, he would go to Aros.
There was nothing left for him here. His beloved sister was dead, and his brother in arms was gone. Time he was gone, too.
Sir Chase mounted his mare, and set off on his quest for fame and fortune.
The next tale in this series will be Kiss: Frog Prince Retold, which you can get HERE (http://www.demelzacarlton.com/fairytale/#Kiss)
If you'd like to read Sir Chase's tale, it's in Hunt: Red Riding Hood Retold HERE (http://www.demelzacarlton.com/fairytale/#Hunt)
If you'd like to read the tale of Xylander, Lubos' half-brother, check out Reflect: Snow White Retold HERE (http://www.demelzacarlton.com/fairytale/#Reflect).
If you're looking for more of Demelza's medieval fairytales, including the other couples Briska played a part in matchmaking, you can find the rest of the series HERE (http://www.demelzacarlton.com/fairytale/).
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today Bestselling author Demelza Carlton has always loved the ocean, but on her first snorkelling trip she found she was afraid of fish.
She has since swum with sea lions, sharks and sea cucumbers and stood on spray drenched cliffs over a seething sea as a seven-metre cyclonic swell surged in, shattering a shipwreck below.
Demelza now lives in Perth, Western Australia, the shark attack capital of the world.
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