And then, even as he stood marveling, a sound reached his ears: a lilting voice, humming an ancient tune. And it seemed to be coming from that very tower.
Sir Aland ventured closer, and left his curious horse upon the bank. Then, gauging the shallowest place to cross, he waded up to his hips in the gushing, cold water, and finally scrambled out upon the bank of the tiny island.
He circled the tower twice before discovering the indentation of the doorway, for it too hid behind a veil of ivy. How anyone could be living inside this tower without ever leaving it, he couldn’t fathom—and yet the humming voice still resounded from the height of it. So he pried the ivy loose, found the door, and pushed through it.
Finding himself inside spiral stone staircase, he quietly ascended, listening all the while. And indeed, the voice grew nearer. Until at last he emerged in the highest tower room, and found the source.
A rose-draped bower, filled with fine furniture. And a young woman, sitting on a little stool before a weaving loom. She had an elegant figure, clothed in fine green velvet, and her fire-red hair fell down to the ground in burning waves. With ivory fingers she wove silks into a tapestry with tremendous and stunning detail: all figures of knights and ladies, and castle towers. And before her stood a great oval mirror, in which Sir Aland could glimpse the reflection of the very castle where he lived—the castle he had gazed upon just now, out by the river.
But then, without thinking, Sir Aland stepped nearer—and his own bright reflection eclipsed that of the castle.
The maiden started—she gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. For an instant, Sir Aland could see her radiant emerald eyes reflected in the glass…
But instead of leaping to her feet and facing him, she seemed to force herself to stay put, and stare straight ahead at her tapestry.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Sir Aland bowed, putting a hand to his heart. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“Who are you?” the lady demanded. “What do you want with me?”
“My name is Sir Aland, and I mean you no harm,” he answered. “I was curious about this tower, as I have never seen it before, and I heard your voice coming from it. What is your name?”
“I am Ellette,” she answered, still not turning toward him. “And I beg you to leave me.”
“Why?” Sir Aland asked. “Are you in distress? Why will you not turn and look at me? You need not be afraid!”
“I am not afraid of you, kind sir,” Ellette said, tears in her voice. “How could I be, after seeing into your eyes, as I have just done? Even if it is merely a shadow of them. No, I fear looking up from this tapestry, for I am under a curse.”
“A curse?” Sir Aland cried. “Tell me, what is it?”
“If I look apart from this mirror and this tapestry, and dare raise my eyes to the river and the castle beyond, I shall surely die!”
Sir Aland’s heart stirred within him, and he stepped closer to her.
“Ellette, I must help you,” he insisted.
“Sir knight, I don’t believe anyone can,” she wept.
“That cannot be true,” he countered. “For I know a very wise man who is advisor to the king himself. I will go to him and ask him for help.”
Ellette covered her face with her hands—a face Sir Aland suddenly longed to see—but he dared not. He dared not even touch her, for fear he would cause her to turn away from her tapestry.
“I promise I will do this for you,” Aland vowed. “Take heart until I return!”
And, wasting no time, Sir Aland hurried down the stairs and out onto the island, into the river, and back to his horse.
Alas, his horse still had no shoe, so Sir Aland was forced to run, with his horse following, back into the woods, away from the road, and down a winding path to a grove of oak trees. There he found a cottage—a familiar place to all the knights—and knocked upon the door.
“Yes, good afternoon?” came the creaky reply, as the door opened, and there stood a very old man with a beard white as snow, which nearly touched the ground. The old man’s bright eyes found Sir Aland, and twinkled at the sight of him.
“Sir Aland, come in,” he invited. “I have just made a meat pie I am willing to share.”
“Thank you, Merlin,” Sir Aland inclined his head. “But I am afraid I cannot spare the time. I must assist a lady I have just discovered—a lady bound by a curse.”
Merlin’s wizened face frowned.
“What kind of curse?”
“She may not turn away from the tapestry before her, or the mirror in which she glimpses the towers of the castle,” Sir Aland told him. “Lest she die.”
“Ah, the lady of Shalott,” Merlin mused. “Yes, a troubling curse indeed. One even I cannot break.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have grown too old to wander the paths of the rowan trees that grow from the roots of the earth, in the heart of which lies the breaker of all curses,” Merlin told him. “For those paths are like a maze, and many a brave man has been lost there, never to return.”
“I must try,” said Sir Aland.
“Then take this,” Merlin reached in his robes and held out a blue stone bound to a necklace. “With this round your neck, your friends will always find you.”
Obediently, Sir Aland put it on, left his horse with Merlin, and headed the direction he remembered—for he had often skirted the Rowan Wood, but never dared enter, for fear of the stories that had been told in his boyhood.
As he passed the first of the ancient rowan trees, the sky above grew darker, and fear entered him. He walked down the dusty path, but it soon branched into dozens of paths, and he could see no way forward.
Just as he stood in despair, a little flock of sparrows twittered past him—and to his astonishment, he found he could understand what they said.
“Come with us, kind Sir Aland,” they chirped. “You have never thrown rocks at our kin, nor harmed our nests! We know what you seek, and we can lead you some of the way!”
And so Sir Aland followed the sparrows deep into the Rowan Wood, until they came to another set of paths.
“Here we must leave you,” the birds said. “We dare go no further!” And they darted away. Sir Aland again stood, in fear of despair, when a fox lighted upon the path.
“Greetings, kind Sir Aland,” the fox said. “I know what it is you seek. And because you have never hunted me or my friends, I shall lead you some of the way there!”
And so Sir Aland followed the fox deeper in, until night fell, and he could hardly see him.
“I do not dare lead you any further, Sir Aland!” said the fox, and he darted away. Now Sir Aland stood in the darkness, quite without means of going forward or back…
When an owl hooted at his shoulder.
“Kind Sir Aland, you sought the council of my friend Merlin, which marks you as a wise man. Come, I will sit upon your shoulder, and I shall be your eyes until you reach what you seek.” And the owl hopped upon Sir Aland’s shoulder, and led him to the heart of the wood.
There he found a small pool bathed in moonlight, and beside it sat a silver chalice.
“Go take some of the water in the chalice, and take care not to spill it,” said the owl. “Carry it back to the Lady of Shalott, and her curse shall lift.”
And so Sir Aland did so. And with great excitement and urgency, he carried the full chalice back out of the wood in both hands, guided by the owl.
When dawn broke the next day, Sir Aland emerged from the wood. After thanking the owl profusely—and watching him fly away to roost—Sir Aland hurried onward toward the river, and the tower.
There, he found it a struggle to cross the river without spilling the chalice—but so determined was he that he did not even lose a drop. From there he climbed the stairs of the tower, and found Ellette just as she had been.
“Here, take this, and drink it!” Sir Aland said, coming near and holding the chalice round to her so she could reach it. Carefully, the lady took it, and brought it
to her lips, and drank.
After a long, breathless moment, she set it down, stood up…
And turned around, and looked at him.
Finally, his eyes met her emerald ones—and she was more beautiful than he had imagined. A beaming smile crossed her face, a delighted laugh burst from her lips, and she threw her arms around him and kissed him.
Sir Aland then swept her into his arms, carried her down the stairs and across the river, and retrieved his horse from Merlin. Then, together the three of them walked back to the castle, Ellette’s hand grasped gently in Sir Aland’s, as they gazed full and straight upon the shining towers, and the red banners caught up in the wind.
The End
OTHER BOOKS BY ALYDIA RACKHAM
The Beowulf Seeker
The Riddle Walker
The Last Constantin
The Campbell River
The Paradox Initiative
Lady Rackham
Christmas Parcel: Sequel to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Torn Page
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Scarlet Gown
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the River Thames
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Irish Gamble
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Ghost of Robin Hood’s Bay
Christmas at Pendywick Place
Dear David: The Private Diary of Basil Atticus Collingwood
Scales: A Fresh Telling of Beauty and the Beast
Glass: Retelling the Snow Queen
TIDE: Retelling the Little Mermaid
Curse-Maker: The Tale of Gwiddon Crow
Bauldr’s Tears: A Retelling of Loki’s Fate
Alydia Rackham’s Fairytales
Amatus
Galatea: A Novella of Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins
Linnet and the Prince
The Web of Tenebrae
The Rooks of Misselthwaite Book I
The Oxford Street Detectives
The Last Scene
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Camelot stifles under the tyrannical thumb of Mordred, and the entire land has been swallowed in shadow. Now, a ragtag band of knights and peasants must attempt to seize the castle and retake the sword of the true king, led only by an obscure young man who pulled a sword out of a stone, and a wizard who has been sleeping in the depths of the earth for three hundred years.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alydia Rackham graduated from McPherson College with a bachelor's degree in English. She has published 75 fanfiction stories and 27 original novels.
In addition, she is a singer (winning superior ratings at state competitions in both high school and college), an artist, an avid traveler, and has performed in 21 theatrical productions, 6 short films and one feature-length film to date (winning a Jester Award in high school for the role of Mrs. Higgins in My Fair Lady, and a gala award for Best Female Performer in a Musical for her role as Mary Poppins in Salina Community Theatre's Production of Mary Poppins.)
She wrote the screenplay for the feature-film Inkfinger, which was featured in four film festivals, including the Hollywood Dreamz International Film Festival and Writers Celebration in Las Vegas, Nevada, where it was nominated for Best Cinematography. It also won the Award of Merit at the IndieFest Film Awards in La Jolla, California.
Alydia Rackham's Fairytales Page 7
