The Golden Princess and the Moon

by Anna Mendell

  “Princeling, have you learned nothing from my stories?” Ninny Nanny said with exasperation. She hobbled over to her bubbling pot over the fire, muttering as she stirred. Erik caught the word “backwards” in her grumblings. She then shuffled back to her chair and heaved herself down with a grunt.

  “The Princess Rosamund also needed to learn how to listen so she could face her curse,” she said.

  The prince curled up to the fireplace next to Ninny Nanny’s chair and looked up at her hopefully.

  “’Tis not time for stories,” she said firmly. “They will be looking for ye back at the castle. And ye haven’t explained to me yet how ye was lost in the first place.”

  The memory of the burning sticks returned to him in a flash. He had forgotten all about them in his excitement over the princess. Erik cautiously studied Ninny Nanny and realized that her eyes were also keenly studying him. He explained about the burning sticks and the cloud of ash, while Ninny Nanny listened in ominous silence.

  “Someone must have replaced my sticks. They would not have misled ye so. Ye must go home, but be careful, princeling, someone wishes ye harm.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “That I do not know. You must be watchful, princeling.”

  The prince nodded reluctantly and stood up. “But how will I find my way to the castle and then back again, now that your sticks are gone?” He looked with worry at the old woman. It dawned on Erik that someone could use the stolen sticks to find Ninny Nanny’s cottage.

  His fear must have been plainly written on his face, for the old woman struggled to rise from her chair and then patted the young prince on the head.

  “There, there. Ye will see me again. Follow ol’ cat here and she will lead ye to the castle and bring ye back again and make sure no one follows. Only it may not be as regular as ye like. She has a mind of her own. And worry not over the stolen sticks. No one keeps my bones unless I give them to him.”

  Erik knelt down by Mnemosyne and stroked her smooth grey fur, scratching her behind the ears.

  “I will meet you deep in the forest, friend cat. I would not have you at the castle grounds, where you might be caught again.”

  Mnemosyne purred, and the old woman grunted. “Now off with the both of ye. Ye will have to explain how ye got lost in the woods. Be watchful, princeling.”

  After the boy left, Ninny Nanny muttered to herself, “No wonder I felt my bones rattling.”

  THE SHARP COLD WOKE Rosa from her trance, and she writhed in panic. Strong, visor-like arms wrapped around her waist and dragged the girl down into the sea’s depths. The plummeting speed froze the princess’ heart, and she could not breathe. When they reached the bottom, two strong hands grabbed her face, and the strange woman kissed the princess’ mouth with her coral lips. Rosa found that she could breathe again and gazed in awe at the woman before her and at her glistening tail, which undulated with the current in the water. A cloud of dark hair encircled the sea woman’s face and breasts, and she was unclothed except for a girdle of coral and pearls wrapped about her waist. Rosa opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out save unintelligible gurgling, and the sea woman simply stared at the princess with her unblinking eyes.

  The sea woman then gently but insistently wrapped her arms against the princess’ waist, and Rosa allowed herself to be pulled through the water. Her heart quickened in fear when she realized that the sea woman was pulling her into the gaping, black mouth of a tunnel in the underwater cliff side below the palace. She closed her eyes and clutched at the sea woman’s girdle, but, when she finally worked up the courage to open them, she was amazed to find the walls bright with encrusted gems and the tunnels lit by flitting, phosphorescent fish.

  Rosa saw that there were pictures glowing with an inner light carved into the tunnel walls. There were images of sea creatures and underwater chariots pulled by dolphins and sea-dragons, sea-palaces carved from coral reefs, with sea people swimming through their knobbly pillars. As they swam through the long tunnel, Rosa became gradually aware that the images were depicting a story, and not just of events in the watery realms, but also on shore under the sun. And, as they passed the pictures by, Rosa wondered if the stories depicted in these underwater tunnels had ever been told to the people above or if they would forever be unknown to those on the surface under the golden sun.

  A shining golden figure caught her eye, and she pulled on the sea woman’s girdle, begging her to stop. The sea woman halted before the picture, and Rosa saw that it depicted a battle, savage and cruel. Two massive forces clashed with shining swords and gleaming helms. The golden figure she had noticed stood with his men in the front ranks, wearing a crimson cape of coral and holding aloft a silver sword. The faerie were with him, riding chariots with swift archers, their showers of arrows carved from silver veins in the rock. Shining blue sea people were there as well, riding fierce dolphins to battle monsters of the deep or casting off their tails to join the fray on land. The golden figure’s opponents were mortal men, led by a tall, dark figure wearing a silver circlet about his head that shone like a star. He held a leaden staff in his hand, and above the staff soared a dragon with red, ruby eyes. The dragon battled with a mighty gryphon streaked in gold, the two great beasts intertwined like two winged serpents in the air.

  The princess could not tear her eyes away from the gleaming picture, so the sea woman put her hand on Rosa’s shoulder and gently cupped her chin with her other hand. She opened her mouth, and her voice sang out low and sweet with the melody of the sea. Then she wrapped her arms about the princess, and they continued on through the gleaming tunnels, until they began to rise and their heads broke the surface of the water.

  Rosa saw they were in an immense cavern with torches that cast dancing shadows on the rocks. The sea woman lifted the princess out of the water and onto the cavern floor blackened by the wet. The princess nervously looked about the cavern and started shivering.

  The sea woman then opened her mouth, and two sounds simultaneously emerged, one deep, the other high and crystalline, and Rosa felt the pearls on her chest waken and hum in response. Leaning forward, the sea woman held out her hand, and Rosa pulled out her silver pouch and took out the luminous pearls and held them in her palm. The woman took the white pearl and placed it in the princess’ mouth and motioned her to swallow. Rosa did so, and the sea woman cradled the princess’ head in her arms and laid her down on the cold, wet rock. Rosa closed her eyes and fell asleep, listening to the sea woman’s song.

  ALL was darkness, and then there was a tiny flame. The tiny flame grew into a roaring fire, until Rosa realized she was staring into one of the fireplaces in the castle. She was not alone in the room. Her Uncle Stefan was sitting in a chair opposite her, though he looked younger and did not have his yellow beard. Next to him was a lady with dark hair and grey eyes, very beautiful, but also cold and distant. At their feet was a curly-headed, baby boy playing with his toy soldiers.

  Stefan and the lady were staring right through Rosa and absently into the fire. The princess realized they could not see her, but still shifted out of the way, uncomfortable in their unseeing gaze. She sat near the little boy. Even though they were beside a fire, the boy seemed to be the only warm thing in the room.

  Presently the lady spoke. “Did you invite her?”

  There was a long pause, but then came “Yes,” heavy and low.

  Another long silence.

  “What did you promise her?”

  This time Stefan did not respond, and the crackling fire was the only sound in the room. The lady shifted, stood tall and straight as a column, and then sat on Stefan’s lap, coiling her arms and legs around him.

  “This is what you wanted,” she whispered. “This is for our son. It curdled my blood with fury to watch the princess’ christening in the cathedral this morning. Why should the barren queen dash all of our hopes with a child? Why should that fool of a king produce an heir? You are far more deserving.” She spoke in a low whisper, and Stef
an closed his eyes.

  “What did you promise?”

  He opened them again. “Something I cannot live without,” he said hoarsely. “Iseult,” he held his wife’s gaze, “she promised our son the crown.”

  She flashed him a cold smile. “I would have spared you the promise if I could. But I do not have the blood of the golden kings to call her. The Dark Lady has never before stepped within the castle walls, though her influence has weakened them through the years. She will not give us anything for free, and promises are powerful. I ask you again, what did you promise her?”

  He could not tear his eyes away from hers. “I cannot speak of it, or it will be undone.”

  She swiftly stood up and bent over to clutch the little boy in a fierce embrace, passionately covering the top of his curly head in kisses. “This head, my little Edmund, will wear the golden crown. The princess’ christening is the birth of your kingship, and what should have been the door to new life will bring about her end.”

  Iseult left the room with her son. Stefan smiled grimly after his wife and heaved a great sigh. He too then left the room.

  Rosa shivered and thought, That was Edmund’s mother, and the baby was Edmund. This is a dream, but a dream of the past, and the day is my christening day. What does this mean? Edmund cannot become king unless, unless…

  Rosa dashed out of the room, but instead of entering the hallway as she had expected, she was in the banquet hall. Her father and mother were seated splendidly in their ceremonial robes. Celebration filled the room. Minstrels played on the lute, mandolin, and the flute amid laughter and cheers. The table was heavy with roast goose and venison, and there was pile on top of pile of fruits and tarts, jellies and spiced cakes, and cups overflowing.

  She saw the Green Lady sitting by the king and six other faerie seated in a row, some of whom she had met and some of whom she hadn’t. They were dressed each in their chosen colors. The Lady of the Hawthorn Wood wore flaming red and the princess’ faerie tutor wore a robe that shifted in the light. The Golden Piper was dressed as the sun and a silver lady sat beside him. There were two other faerie ladies, both tall and regal, one garbed in the royal blue and the other in a sober, grey robe, her eyes like diamonds.

  As if on cue, the Master of Ceremonies beat the ground with his staff. When the laughter and chatter had died down, he announced, “Our Royal Princess Rosamund, firstborn child of King Aurleon IV and Queen Eleanor, heir to the seven faerie gifts, and the future Golden Queen of the Golden Throne of Aurlia.”

  Alice entered the banquet hall, bearing an infant dressed in white christening robes. The king rose from his seat, and the nursemaid handed the sleeping infant over to him. King Aurleon lifted the baby aloft, high over the festal table, crying, “Behold your princess!”

  A loud cheer erupted throughout the court and drowned out the cries of the wailing infant. The king handed the baby to the queen, who soothed the child with gentle smiles and caressing whispers. When the baby calmed, the queen and king walked over to the dais prepared for the gifting ceremony. Rosa felt tears come to her eyes as she watched her mother smiling so radiantly at the infant lying at her breast.

  The trumpets blew, and the Green Lady stood. “We will now bestow our gifts on the princess,” she said. “May she ever rule in justice and peace according to the decree of the Golden Kings and fully recognize her role as protector of the kingdom and mediator between the faerie and mortal realms.”

  The Green Lady then walked up to the dais and smiled upon the infant with her youthful smile. She bent over and kissed her softly on the lips and whispered something in her ear. Each faery, in turn, rose and did the same, until it was the seventh faery’s turn.

  Tall and fair, the faerie lady’s flaxen hair was almost white, and her gown rippled like silver water as she glided toward the baby in her mother’s arms. She halted before she could give her faerie kiss, however, and grew pale. She held her hand to her throat and opened her mouth, but not a word could she speak. The room grew heavy with a silence that swallowed up sound. Nothing could be heard, not a breath, not the rustle of a skirt, or the shifting of feet. The Silver Lady turned, and, as she did, the gaze of the crowd followed hers.

  A magnificent woman stood in the doorway at the other side of the hall, opposite the queen and her baby. She stood heads taller than the tallest of them, robed in black with a leaden staff gripped by her long fingers. Her face was chiseled and as bloodless as a stone, and her expression was as hard. Soundlessly she walked toward the princess, and everyone in the room felt their strength sapped by fear. The black robed woman stopped a few paces away from the queen, whose eyes were wide in terror, clutching the baby desperately to her breast.

  “I am here to bestow the seventh gift to the child,” said the Dark Lady, and her voice split the silence like a crack of thunder.

  The six other faerie stood and the Green Lady spoke, her eyes blazing. “What claim have you on the seventh gift?”

  The Dark Lady smiled, her lips red and cruel. “I have a claim in blood and sacrifice.” She dropped her leaden staff on the floor, and the sound it made was heavy but muffled. “The seven of you combined could not stop me, and six of you have already used up your gifts.”

  Rosa shivered and hid behind one of the pillars as the Dark Lady stepped over the leaden staff onto the dais and clutched the baby’s face in one of her long, powerful hands. “You, my golden princess, have been given six of the seven gifts due the Golden Kings, precious beyond measure. I now bestow on you the seventh and final gift,

  The kiss I give claims ownership of the span of thine years.

  On the eve of the sixteenth day of your birth

  when you were twice born and gifted by faerie kind,

  you will prick your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel

  and so receive your seventh gift.

  Death.

  Thus may you harden your parents’ hearts.”

  The Dark Lady bent down and placed her lips over the baby’s mouth. The baby’s face was stained red, and her chest heaved a silent cry, but nothing could break the heavy silence, nor could anyone move.

  The Dark Lady smiled a cold smile and then withdrew to pick up her staff. She then unexpectedly turned toward the long banquet table and hissed, “I demand my price.”

  Iseult swiftly shot up from her seat, mouth opened in a soundless shriek. Her eyes, wide with terror, never left her husband’s face. Rosa watched in horror as Iseult grew longer, thinner, and paler, until she stretched across the table and slithered across the floor, a white serpent. She glided over to the black faery and coiled herself around the leaden staff. Without another word, the Dark Lady departed.

  A tumult of sound broke upon the banquet hall. Women screamed, chairs were overturned, and baby Rosa’s howls carried throughout the hall.

  “Silence,” the Green Lady commanded. “It is not finished.”

  “Is there something that you can do?” the king cried, wrapping his arms around his wife and daughter.

  “Can you undo the curse?” the queen pleaded

  “That we cannot do,” the Green Lady gently said. “A faerie gift once given cannot be taken away. But it can be transformed.”

  At this, the seventh faery once again approached the dais and looked sadly down on the little infant. “The gift I was to have given you has been stolen, but I will diminish the cruel curse laid upon you.” She laid her hand on the baby’s face, and the infant Rosa’s wailing subsided.

  The sweet blessing of sleep I grant unto thee,

  to soften the cruel curse of death.

  Akin to death, a hundred years

  of Time’s turning wheel will you slumber.

  But Love’s star will shine bright,

  and its kiss will redeem the kiss of death.

  And from enchantment will you waken

  to the glory of the sun and the moon and the stars.

  The queen’s face crumbled as the slow realization of the spell’s words pierced her
heart. She buried the child in her breast and sobbed, “A hundred years.”

  Rosa watched behind the pillar and blinked back tears. Her sight grew blurry, and, when it cleared, everything was black. She stood high up on the castle parapet, and it was night, the stars shining brightly above her. Below the castle walls was a huge bonfire made up of wooden wheels consumed by flames in the darkness.

  Rosa whispered aloud, “Spinning wheels.”

  About the burning pyre were women crying and wailing, clutching their children and looking up beseechingly at the king, who stood high on the parapet gazing down below on the flames. His face was stone and his lips set hard and straight.

  Everything around Rosa again grew blurry and dissolved into darkness. Half-awake, Rosa was hazily aware that she was in the underwater cavern, but she felt warm and was dimly conscious that her head lay in a lady’s lap. A dark face, out of which shone eyes as bright as diamonds, hovered her, but she knew no more and fell into deeper slumber.

  WHEN Rosa next awoke, she was in her bed in the summer palace. She sat up and pulled out her little silver pouch and dropped the pearls into her hand. There were only two of them.

  “So it wasn’t a dream,” she whispered softly to herself.

  Rosa got out of bed and dressed before Alice woke up and stole out of her room. She wandered through the hallway and saw the morning breaking through the tall windows and reflected in the long mirrors. She fell to musing over last night’s vision and shivered as she thought of Iseult’s metamorphosis into the pale serpent. Edmund! Should he be told? Rosa shook her head, banishing the thought. No! It was an unspeakable horror.

  But as the day went by, her thoughts continued to return to Edmund. Surely she should tell him something. He was obviously haunted by the past, a dark and obscure past told in whispers and half-truths. He believed that he was the one who was cursed. But no, Rosa came to a startled realization. The one who was cursed was her! She let the thought slowly sink in. The curse was to fall on the eve of the sixteenth year of her christening. Somehow that felt far away, even though it was just in a few years’ time. The princess wasn’t frightened, for she felt in her heart that her faerie godparents were watching over her. Were they not taking special care of her even at this very moment, showing her the past that everyone else kept secret from her? Instead, she felt sorry for Edmund.