“Thief!” the woman shrieked. “Thief!” I ducked as she jabbed at me again. “Thief in the castle!”
She lunged with the poker until I was pressed up against a window. A window! I hadn’t gone up any stairs, so the ground must be just below. I fumbled behind me until I found a latch. The window flew open and I tumbled out, landing flat on my back. All the air was knocked out of me and sparks flew in my eyes, but I had to run because the maid’s bellowing was sure to bring the guards after me any moment.
I ran along the castle walls until I found some bushes to hide in, then dove in. Aargh! They were full of thorns! I held still and didn’t breathe. Thorns stuck in me everywhere, but I bit down on my tongue and watched as guards came to the window I’d fallen out of. A few jumped out and walked around, searching. One came to the very bush I was hiding in, but it was so dark and I was so still, he didn’t see me. Soon, they were all gone.
I forced myself to wait in the bush a little longer, and while I did, all my pains sank in. My head and back were sore from the fall, and my shoulders stung from the maid’s whacks. I had needle thorns sticking in my head and arms, but most especially in my bottom. Destiny can be so cruel.
I looked to the sky, wondering how long before dawn. The sky was still dark, but there couldn’t be more than a few hours left, maybe even less. How much straw had the king given Opal to spin? And how long did she have to spin it? I’d better find her fast.
Slowly, I crept out of the bush and tried to remove all the thorns. The earth was wet and squishy beneath my feet, so my steps made squelching sounds. I froze and waited for movement or noise. All was still. Heroic rescues are not as glamorous as people imagine, I thought as I squished along in the muck.
The next step was to find a tower—I was sure Opal would be locked up in one. In Gran’s stories, damsels in distress were always trapped in towers. That was the point of towers, so no one could rescue you unless your hair was a mile long. Opal’s hair wasn’t that long, so how to get in?
There were many towers in the castle. Which tower? Think, think. Most of the windows were dark, but two towers had lights in them that I could see. I considered the location of each tower. They were on opposite ends of the castle. On one end was the main gate to the castle, where the king and queen and other royal guests made their grand entrances. On the other end were the stables and blacksmith, where there were piles and piles of straw. If you needed to fill a room with straw, it would be better if the room were near the straw.
I approached the tower on the stable side. There was no one around, not even guards, which seemed odd. I put my hands on the tower wall, feeling around. A few stones budged. I could fit my hands easily in the cracks. I pulled one stone completely out. You’d think someone as rich as King Barf would keep his castle in better repair, there were so many holes and loose stones. But I suppose King Barf didn’t worry much about the outside of his castle. He probably paid more attention to the inside, where all the gold was.
I started to climb. It wasn’t so difficult, almost like climbing a tree. I just had to test each hold to make sure it would support my weight. Being small and skinny was really working in my favor. If I were a hulking, armor-clad hero, the tower would have crumbled like dry bread.
Tired and out of breath, I finally reached the window. Mercifully, it was open. I heard whimpering, and sniffling. Someone was crying. It had to be Opal. With the last of my strength, I pulled myself up, slid over the windowsill, and flopped on the ground like a giant slug.
“Oh!” Opal rushed to the fireplace and grabbed the poker. She stood over me, the poker raised over her head. I flinched. Opal lowered her weapon and stared at me with her big blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to rescue you,” I said.
She stared at me blankly, so blankly I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me, and then she laughed. She laughed and laughed, high and shrill, and finally she snorted.
“Aren’t you the one called Butt?”
It wasn’t exactly the heroic welcome I’d hoped for.
“Rump,” I said. “They call me Rump.”
“Rump,” she said, holding back a laugh. “Rump, my hero.” Then she burst into more laughter. She leaned over, holding her stomach. She hee-hee-ed and ha-ha-ed and giggle-gaggled and fell into the straw, rolling in it like one of her brothers. And then suddenly she was crying. Not just whimper, whimper, sniffle, snuffle crying. Her whole body heaved with sobs and snot ran down her face and she didn’t even bother to wipe it off.
“Hel-elp m-m-me? Y-you?” she sobbed. “I’m supposed to turn all this straw into gold because my f-father told the king I c-could!” I was getting nervous about all the noise she was making. What if someone came into the room to see if she was all right? Opal sobbed again, “Why did he do that?”
“Because I can spin the straw into gold,” I said. “Your father knows I can. I think that’s why he told the king. He didn’t think he would take you away. He thought the king would just ask for more gold.”
Opal stopped crying and wiped the snot from her nose on her sleeve. “Y-you? Th-the gold? You can spin the gold?”
I was surprised that she was so surprised. Had she never seen the gold before? Hadn’t she wondered what I’d been trading for food all these months?
“Yes. I can spin the gold.”
Opal wrinkled her nose as if I smelled rancid.
“Prove it. Spin all that to gold.” She pointed to the heaping pile of straw in the corner. It was more than I had ever spun at once, maybe three or four mattresses full. In front of it was a spinning wheel, big and shiny, the wood freshly carved and polished.
“Well?” said Opal. She was tapping her foot impatiently. “What are you waiting for?” She didn’t look so sweet or innocent anymore.
I sat down at the wheel and took a few straws in my hand. I could see things through Opal’s eyes now, how ridiculous this seemed. Me spin straw into gold? How could a small, foolish boy possibly do such a thing? I had thought myself a great hero, but now I saw how silly I looked. With shaking hands, I fed the straw through the wheel and spun, holding my breath, ready for it to break and fall to the ground, just to mock me.
Whir, whir, whir.
Gold wrapped onto the bobbin. I released my breath.
Opal gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. Her eyes showed that same greedy gleam I knew so well from the miller. She reached to touch the gold, but my hand came down over the bobbin.
“What will you give me?” I asked.
“Give you? I have to give you something?”
“You want me to spin a pile of straw into gold for nothing?”
“What do you want?”
I thought of all the things I wanted—more food on The Mountain, a horse to replace Nothing, more hens, a family, my whole name. But the mere thought of asking for anything made my tongue swell and my mouth clamp shut. Just as the witch had said, I could make no requests, only beg and take what was offered. “What will you give me?” I asked.
Opal wound her tongue around her mouth, eyes blank. She put her finger to her lips and then her hands on her waist. Oh, bother, what was going through her mind? I was beginning to suspect that the name Opal bestowed a destiny that gave you lots of looks but maybe not so many brains.
Finally, she felt at her neck. “I will give you my necklace,” she said, and relief washed over me once again. “My father gave it to me, and it’s made of pure gold.”
Probably gold I spun. I took the necklace and stuffed it in my pocket, breathing deeply. That wasn’t so bad.
“Shut the windows,” I said, getting down to business. They were still gaping open from my arrival.
“I like the fresh air. This straw makes me sneeze.”
“I’m going to make a pile of gold. Every pixie within a mile of here will be swarming this room if you leave those windows open, and that will probably be worse than a sneeze.”
She scowled at me and shut the windows. I began to spin aga
in.
Whir, whir, whir.
Bit by bit, I worked on the pile of straw. As it dwindled, a stack of gold took its place. Opal watched, transfixed for a while, and then fell asleep on the floor, a skein of gold clutched in her hands.
I spun the last of the straw just as the sky turned purple. I crawled out the window, my eyes so heavy and my limbs so tired, I had to concentrate extra hard just to make my fingers grip the wall.
I had done my duty and now I could go home, but first I needed to eat and rest a little. I made my way across the castle grounds to the stables, where I ate the rest of the bread from my satchel. I was so thirsty I drank water from a horse’s trough. The horse didn’t seem to mind. Then I found an empty stall and made myself a nest of straw. I was becoming quite fond of straw. It’s comfortable to sleep in and pixies don’t like it. Straw is better than gold, I thought.
Just as I was drifting to sleep, I swore to myself that I would never spin again. Never. And I didn’t want to look at gold ever again. But I was very tired, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Straw, Straw, Straw
I woke to the sound of horses braying and geese honking. When I opened my eyes, I found I was in a dangerous position. A horse’s rear end loomed right above my head.
People shouted back and forth, opening stalls, grabbing buckets and ropes. Someone came to my stall and removed the horse, which was a great relief, but then another person came and stuck a pitchfork into the pile of straw, narrowly missing my eye. I squeaked and quickly covered my mouth. The servant muttered something about rats and left.
I didn’t know what to do. If I walked out of the stables, would someone stop me? Were they still searching for the thief from the night before? I decided that it would be better for me to stay still until things were quiet, maybe until dark even, and then I could go home.
I waited. I counted bits of straw, guessed how much gold it could all make. I wished for food. I wasn’t used to being hungry for very long anymore, since I had been trading the miller for food whenever I wanted. I was so hungry I sucked on bits of straw, and then I was dying of thirst. My mouth was hot and woolly, so I drank from the horse’s trough again.
It’s difficult to tell how much time is really passing when you’re hungry and bored. They say that a minute is a minute no matter where you are or what you’re doing, but my brain could never grasp that. I think time is a trickster. When I have a lot to do, time shrinks, but when I want something over with, it stretches and yawns, and laughs at my torture. Sometimes the minutes hold hours inside of them. This was one of those times.
I fidgeted and worried. I wondered what had happened to Opal. Had the king come for the gold? Would Opal go home then?
Finally, the setting sun, reddish orange, was filtering through the stable. The stable was loud and busy again, with servants unsaddling horses, feeding and brushing them. They all chattered idle gossip loudly. I was bored by what seemed so interesting to them. Lord So-and-So is to marry Lady Such-and-Such. A maid spilled a glass of wine on somebody. Baron Something-or-Other is raving again about trolls in The Eastern Woods.
“Come help me with the straw. The king wants it all in the west tower.” A pitchfork plunged into my pile of straw.
“What for? We just put new straw in the beds.”
“Don’t know. He wanted a pile of it in there last night, and now he wants all the straw from the stables up in the west tower, every last bit.” Their pitchforks jabbed into the straw one after the other, and I had to shift and twitch so I wouldn’t be stabbed.
“Is the king weaving baskets?”
The servants laughed. They filled a cart full of straw and left. Luckily, they didn’t notice my head sticking above the rest of the pile.
I hid behind some large pails until it was dark and quiet. I was shaking. I couldn’t go home. Not now that I knew Opal was still in trouble. Oh, I almost wished I hadn’t overheard them talking! But why was I surprised? Why hadn’t I thought of this? Last night was merely a test. Of course King Barf would order more straw, all the straw he had, and make Opal spin him more gold. But even then, would he be satisfied? Would he ever stop demanding more?
I didn’t want to answer these questions about the future. I had to think about now. Opal was still in trouble, and it was more my fault than ever. I couldn’t just leave her.
It was back up the tower for me.
When I plopped through the window this time, Opal seemed expectant. “Oh, I knew you would come, Robert!”
Robert? “It’s Rump,” I said.
“Oh, never mind that. I know Frederick and Bruno call you silly names. But I won’t. I shall call you Robert. A proper name.” She smiled as if that were the kindest thing in the world, but I couldn’t smile back. I was gazing openmouthed at all the straw. There was twice, no, three times as much straw as before, all piled along the walls and halfway up to the ceiling.
“Troll’s breath,” I muttered.
“Oh, it’s not so bad, is it?” said Opal. “You can spin this in a wink, you’re so clever.”
I felt ill and must have looked it. Opal’s eyes brimmed with tears and her chin quivered as she spoke. “You must! The king says if every last straw isn’t gold by morning, I’m going to die! They’re going to k-kill me!” And she wailed, though I didn’t think it was quite as sincere as the night before. There wasn’t any snot. But sincere or not, what choice did I have?
“What will you give me?” I asked.
Opal folded her lower lip down so that she looked like a large toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “I already gave you my necklace. That was made of pure gold, you half-wit! Do you realize how much that’s worth?”
“That was for last night. You have to give me something for tonight, and besides, I’m making you a mountain of pure gold,” I said impatiently. Who was the half-wit here?
Opal looked around desperately. It made me nervous to watch her think. She looked so blank and mystified. She brushed her hands down her hair, licked her lips again, fiddled with her dress, and finally fumbled with her fingers.
“I will give you my ring,” she said as she pulled a little ring off her finger. It was not gold or silver, probably cheap tin, but it had a small stone in the middle, shiny white with swirls of purple and blue. An opal.
“My mother gave it to me,” she said, “before she died.” She dropped it in my hand, and I felt a stab of guilt. I didn’t think there was anything she could give or promise me that would be worth more than a hulking pile of gold, but I could see this was probably close, a priceless token. I was starting to really dislike this whole binding bargains and promises thing. Still, it wasn’t anything horrible.
“Close the windows,” I said, and started to spin. My limbs still ached from the previous night’s work. My leg pulsed with pain every time it pushed down on the treadle. But I kept going.
Whir, whir, whir. Gold, gold, and more gold. I had searched for it my entire life, and here it was, pouring out like water. I hated the sight of it.
Opal fell asleep faster this time, one hand twined in the gold, the other clutching some straw. As the first rays of morning light reached the sky, I grasped the straws from her hand and spun them too. The gold was piled all around me now, and to me it just looked like heaps of shiny straw. I didn’t see why people loved it so much.
Just as I was descending the tower, the door unlatched and King Barf said in his nasally drawl, “Ah, my sweet girl, you are a treasure beyond compare.”
My fingers were stiff and sore. My leg was cramped, and my back and head ached. Climbing down the tower was agony, but all I could think of was going home. Home and food. My stomach rumbled as I touched the ground, but then I heard another rumbling. It was growing louder, and it was definitely not my stomach.
I stood in the middle of the castle grounds, not bothering to hide myself. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak, even though my mouth hung wide and my tongue wagged. I started to drool.
&
nbsp; A procession of wagons rolled through the gates and up to the doors of the castle. One, two, three … more than a dozen cottage-sized wagons.
Wagons stacked high with straw.
I sat against a tree and watched as the servants unloaded the straw, bundled it up, and hauled it inside. With each bundle they carried in, I felt weight pressing down on me, heavy as gold. I had a hard time breathing, and I realized what should have been obvious to me from the beginning. This was my destiny—to spin gold at the whims of a greedy king for the rest of my life.
I thought that when you found your destiny, you were supposed to be happy about it. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was something you just had to accept. Succumb to. Hadn’t I seen the villagers on The Mountain succumb to their fates all my life? They accepted it because they had always known their name and the destiny that came with it. And they knew those things couldn’t be changed. Maybe I just needed to accept what was in front of me.
I felt very heavy and sleepy. There was so much spinning to do. I should go right back to Opal now, but I needed to close my eyes just for a little while. I moved in the direction of the stables, but someone stopped me. “Ho there, boy, where are you going?”
“To the stables,” I said sleepily. I didn’t care what he thought.
“Not now, lad, we’ve got work to do,” and he dropped a bundle of straw at my feet. “Take it inside and follow the rest.” I looked up and saw a procession of people carrying straw on their backs into the castle.
With a deep breath, I swung the straw onto my back. My knees buckled under the weight. I followed the line, into the castle, up some stairs, and into a chamber. We must have been in a different tower, because this room was three times the size of the last one. The straw was piling up in the corners and crawling up the walls, covering the tapestries, the paintings, and the windows. This would never stop. As long as there was straw in The Kingdom, King Barf would want it spun into gold.
I fell helplessly into the straw and buried myself under it. No one noticed me as the workers piled straw higher and higher until it covered the windows and all the light was shut out.
Rump: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin Page 8
