Mabel nodded.
“Very good.” He pointed to the mobile once again. “Your mother called me a dragon once. She was very young then, as was I. The words stung at the time, but now I recognize them for the compliment they were.” Simon leant toward her. “I need your help. What’s your name, girl?”
Mabel longed to step away from his intense stare. “M-Mabel. My name is Mabel.”
Simon nodded. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a bottle with a strange symbol. From another pocket, he produced a handkerchief, which he held to his nose. He sauntered to the swaying decoration and removed the comb from the princess’ hair. Carefully, he poured a small quantity of crimson powder into the rectangular cavity that was revealed. As if dressing royalty, Simon placed the comb back into the princess’ flowing tresses. For a moment, his face convulsed. Was he angry or sad? Mabel could not tell.
Simon placed the bottle back into his pocket. “I knew a girl like you once. She was my sister. She was so joyful, so full of life. But she made a choice to associate with the weaklings of the world, and she was beaten for her decision.” He gazed down at his hands and flexed them. Mabel saw that his hands shook.
“My father caught her and five slaves as they were leaving the plantation one night. Janet carried a purse of stolen jewels from Father’s bureau drawer. I was twelve when this happened.
“Father told me it was time that I proved myself a man. He stood over me while I administered ten lashes across my sister’s back. He paid me for the deed with Hart’s Tears from the very purse that Janet had stolen. The slaves were forced to watch Janet’s punishment. That was when your mother called me a dragon. I was so angry! I hit her face with the whip. What does she know of anything? Do you know that the only time Father ever said he was proud of me was that night?”
Simon sighed and shook his head. “Not that it matters. People abandon you and care nothing for you. That’s the reality of this world. Only rely on the material things, the things that give you security. Janet abandoned me, you know.”
His voice had grown conversational, and a strange gleam danced in his eyes. “Slaves tended to her wounds, and I haven’t seen her since that fateful night. She left the comforts of home to wallow in the mire.” He laughed harshly. “She thinks she is strong, but she is weak. Who is living with riches, and who must struggle to maintain even a semblance of life? Last I heard, she was married to a common store clerk.”
He inclined his head toward Mabel, who had turned toward the door. “There are many dragons in this world, girl, and do you know who causes the fire within them to smolder? Every chattel who has the gall to think herself superior to her betters. Your mother was instrumental in causing my sister to betray her family. Janet is a fool! Did she honestly think that girl would even remember her after she escaped? She would only have used her. Priscilla tends to forget her place on occasion. You’ll help her to remember, won’t you?”
He smiled as he turned his attention back to the mobile. “Dragons are strong and always consume their prey, you know. Oh, occasionally someone escapes them, but so many do not.” He turned back to her.
Mabel took a step toward the door, and Simon raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop. “So anxious to leave my company? I have not dismissed you.” His voice was as gentle as ever, but Mabel had never felt so frightened.
Mabel wanted to run, but her feet felt rooted to the ground. Simon reached toward her and gently took the tureen from her hands, placing it on a table. “You work hard, my dear. You need a good night’s rest. I’ll send your mother to fetch you.” He gathered Edward into his arms. Simon glided from the room, closing the door behind him.
The apple perfume assailed Mabel’s nostrils, its scent no longer faint but overpowering. She choked on the cloying aroma. The room was so very hot! She staggered toward the door but could not move quickly enough. She collapsed. Above her head, the mobile swung to and fro, to and fro, singing a lullaby of doom.
In her cabin, Priscilla screamed. The door opened as she was bolting to her feet.
“I never fancied I’d find you so quickly.” Simon sauntered into the cabin and gazed around him in disgust. “I remember the day I summoned your brother from here,” he said. “Your mother was quite the fighter, wasn’t she? But her attack proved futile. I still got what I wanted. The world is divided into the strong and the weak, and we both know who was strongest, don’t we? He fetched a handsome price at auction.” He smiled at her. “It seems you already know what has transpired concerning your daughter. Mabel, is it? I would be very much interested in knowing how you learned of her predicament.” He approached Priscilla and stared at the mirror clutched in her shaking hand. “A trinket of some sort, eh?”
Priscilla glared at him. “You know what it is.”
“Indeed.” Simon’s smile faded. “Your mother gave it to you as a gift. It’s the same mirror in which she claimed to see my future.” He sighed. “Ignorance is a blissful state. I used to know so little. Then I learned the truth. You fail to realize that without me and others like me, you and all your kind could not survive. Are you not sheltered and clothed? You are expected only to give what is due in return. I remember when you married. Such a shame your happiness with your husband was short-lived. The mine collapse was an unfortunate accident, of course,” he said. “I do regret the death of the little girl.”
Priscilla sucked in her breath as she thought of her husband and the accident at the mine that had claimed his life and the lives of so many others. She thought of Isaac’s daughter. “Heidi was only five,” she whispered. “Isaac’s wife died from grief. You truly think obtaining the jewels from the mines is worth the disasters you cause?”
Simon languidly reached for the mirror. Priscilla tried to hold it out of reach, but his hands closed over the ebony handle. He smiled as he gazed at the image before him: the image of a girl lying prone on the ground. “Apple toxicant is quite easy to obtain. The seeds themselves contain the toxin. I have added opium to the formula. It helps a person sleep while the apple toxicant does its work. Despite what you think of me, I do not desire to cause pain. But enough of the poison will inhibit breathing. I advise you to tell me what I want to know and quickly. Where is my daughter?”
Priscilla lunged, grabbing Simon’s wrist. “Your daughter’s name is Bianca!” she hissed as she viciously yanked his arm. “I hope Mother’s vision about your future comes true. I hope your death is painful. I hope your son grows up to be stronger than you.” She released his arm and smiled as she saw the mirror crash to the floor. As the glass shattered, she caught the fleeting glimpse of a log cabin. Bianca was outside folding laundry.
Simon snarled in fury. “Tell me where that cabin lies,” he said. “Tell me, or I’ll obtain a poison far more painful. Mabel will die in agony.”
Priscilla bowed her head in defeat. “Hart Spring,” she whispered. “Bianca is in a community called Hart Spring.”
I’m such a fool! Gloria sat at her vanity and peered into her looking glass. Her features were ravaged. What she had seen in the slave woman’s mirror couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Surely Simon had been procuring medicine for his son all this time. Surely he loved Edward as much as she did.
Gloria’s chamber door opened, and Isaac entered the room. His features were carved from granite. “Your son’s in danger, Mistress,” he said without preamble. “Where is he?”
Gloria pointed a quivering finger to her canopied bed. “He’s here. Simon brought him here earlier this evening. Edward was here when I returned from the slave quarters.” She swallowed convulsively. “Do you know where Simon is now?”
Isaac bowed his head with sadness. “He’s preparing to journey to a place called Hart Spring,” he said. “That’s why I came to you. I must take Edward away from here.”
Gloria frowned. “What is Hart Spring?”
“It’s a community,” Isaac said. “Runaway slaves have established a settlement in a neighboring country where slavery is pr
ohibited. The people of Hart Spring have their own governing authorities. Hart Spring is where Bianca is now.” He stared pointedly at Gloria’s pale visage. “Surely you knew that I couldn’t kill an innocent child.”
Gloria looked at him for a long moment. “Perhaps I did,” she whispered. “I simply don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted to help my son. Do you know how hard it is to watch someone wither before your eyes, someone whom you have given life? I could do nothing for him. Perhaps I sought Simon’s attention as well.” She laughed bitterly. “Fool that I am.” She bowed her head in defeat.
“There’s an old custom of taking the essence of someone into yourself,” she continued, her voice shaking. “Edward’s so ill. I thought if I took Bianca’s gift, then I could hear where the jewels lay buried in the mines. I-I thought I could help Simon to hear as well.”
Her voice trailed away. She thought of Simon’s upraised hand and how she so desperately longed to please him. She thought of his anger at Edward’s many bouts of sickness as an infant. Gloria raised her head and looked into Isaac’s eyes. “I could have hired someone to kill Bianca, you know, someone who would have done the job without remorse. Perhaps you know me better than I know myself. I’m not a complete fool. I know how much you love her.”
She turned to her sleeping son and stared at him for a long moment. When she turned back to Isaac, her voice was strong. “Do what you must.”
Isaac approached the bed and gently gathered the sleeping boy into his arms. “I will find the place where Bianca is staying,” he said. “The family there will take care of Edward until it’s safe for him to return.” He frowned. “Simon will pursue us. If I could buy some time, we might reach Hart Spring before he does.”
Gloria nodded. She went to her vanity and opened the bottom drawer. Withdrawing a small bottle from the drawer, she handed it to Isaac. “It’s a syrup of poppy and mandragora,” she said. “I cannot sleep at night, and the physician has prescribed this. Take it and do what you have to do.” She managed a weak smile. “Simon loves apple butter. He’s been known to eat it straight from the jar.”
Isaac smiled at her. “There’s only one jar left in the cellar.” He turned to the door. “You place your life in danger by helping me,” he said.
“I will protect my son at all costs,” Gloria said flatly.
Isaac bowed his head. “I know how it feels to lose the ones you love,” he said. “I’ll take care of Edward as if he were my own. If you decide to join us, Hart Spring lies to the north across a river. Look for the hand in the sky, the hand that holds a drinking cup." He left the room.
Gloria gazed at the closed door in shock. She had never been kind to the slaves, yet they were helping her son. They were offering her help as well. How was that possible?
Gloria rang her bell. “Simon leaves for a journey tonight,” she said to the girl who entered the room. “Pack a basket of food for him. There’s a jar of apple butter in the cellar. It’s the last one. Be certain to pack it. It’s his favorite. Let me know when he prepares to leave.”
The slave girl nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”
Gloria sat at her vanity to wait.
Chapter Eleven
“Tell me she’ll live.” Priscilla stood in the stable, Mabel cradled in her arms.
Isaac solemnly placed his fingers on Mabel’s neck. He breathed a sigh of relief. “There’s a pulse,” he said. “But it’s very faint.” He gestured to a lantern on the ground. “We must go.” He gently took Mabel from Priscilla’s arms and turned to the wooden cart behind him. The conveyance was a makeshift contraption of weathered wood with rickety wheels. It was used by field slaves to haul produce to the barn. “She’ll ride in this beside Edward.”
Priscilla nodded. She reached for the lantern. “I’ll carry that.”
Isaac shook his head. “No. We’ll hang it on the side of the cart. I need your help to pull it.” He glanced at the wheels, which he had wrapped in burlap. “The cart will be quieter,” he said gruffly, “but not much.” He glanced inside at Mabel and Edward, who lay motionless. “Creator be with us,” he breathed. He gestured for Priscilla to join him at the front of the cart. They headed into the night.
Outside, the stars shone with brilliance, dancing their constant praise. When Isaac and Priscilla looked at them, they realized how small they themselves really were.
“There,” Isaac whispered reverently, pointing northward.
A group of stars stood still. The outline of a steady hand pointed ahead, its fingers slightly bent as if it cradled a drinking cup. Beams of clear light emanated from this constellation as if the cup’s liquid were being poured out as refreshment for all who would partake.
“We must follow the drinking cup,” Isaac said.
As the companions trudged along, Priscilla said, “I had to break Mother’s mirror. He’d have taken it if I hadn’t.”
Isaac nodded. “Your mother was a wise woman in every sense of the word,” he said solemnly.
Priscilla smiled. “She told me that if Simon ever tried to take the mirror, I was to break it.”
“Do you think her vision about Simon will come true?” Isaac bowed his head as Priscilla’s mother’s words about Heidi filled his mind. “ ‘A noble maiden will give her life to satisfy a dragon’s greed,’ ” he whispered. “Heidi had the smallest hands and could reach into crevasses others could not. One day, we were digging as frantically as we could while he waited outside. That’s when the collapse happened.” He choked on a sob.
Priscilla nodded sadly and gazed at Isaac with tender concern. “ ‘A dove’s tears will vanquish our fears, and a boy will grow up to become stronger than his father,’ ” she said softly. “I have to believe Mother’s visions, Isaac. I’d die if I didn’t. We have to believe, and we have to fight, or we are nothing.”
Isaac bowed his head. “I know. Do you remember when Sarah and I tried to run? We were caught.” He trembled as the memories assailed him. “Sarah was chained to an oak tree with her arms stretched to either side of her. Her back was bare. M-Master Simon forced me to whip her. He said whipping was too tame a punishment for me, that my punishment would scar my heart and not my back.” Isaac allowed the tears to come freely. “All the field slaves were forced to watch.”
He stared at Priscilla for a long moment. “I know we have to keep fighting, Priscilla, but I’m so tired.”
Priscilla nodded. She gazed at Isaac. She did not speak, but her silent empathy was enough. The journey continued, and the darkness thickened around them. Crickets serenaded the travelers, and a rousing breeze tousled their hair. The breeze carried the scent of springtime.
Suddenly, Priscilla held up her hand and gasped. “Stop, Isaac,” she whispered. “Look.” There was movement in the cart. Mabel fidgeted.
“The Creator be praised!” Priscilla gasped as Mabel slowly opened her eyes.
Mabel felt the caress of a welcome breeze. What a relief that the cloying scent had vanished! Why was the ground shaking? She felt a jarring sensation. Mabel slowly sat up.
“Mother?” she whispered.
Priscilla knelt on the ground, tears of relief coursing down her cheeks. She soothed Mabel with a caress. “I’m here, sweetheart, and so is Isaac,” she reassured the girl. “We’re taking you somewhere safe. Edward is with us too.”
Mabel turned, shocked to see Edward lying beside her on a cart of some kind. “Where are we going?” Her heart quailed in fear as she thought of Master Simon. “Will he try to find us?”
Isaac nodded. “He’ll not be far behind,” he said bluntly. “I pray I’ve managed to buy enough time.” He pointed to the north. “We’re going to Hart Spring. You’ve heard the story of the free community?”
Mabel frowned. Vague recollections surfaced of a fairy tale about a hart facing a pack of hunting hounds as frantic slaves swam across a river to freedom. “It’s just a story,” she said.
Priscilla smiled. “A story that reflects the truth.” She bowed her head in reverence
. “We must always remember those who were left behind. So many stay so that others might run.” Her voice broke.
Finally, she said, “Can you walk, sweetheart? We must go on.”
Mabel tentatively stood. Her limbs shook with weakness, but she managed to walk. “When we reach Hart Spring, will we be free?” she asked.
Priscilla nodded. “Indeed we will,” she said. “But I fear it will not happen without much pain.”
“Look,” Isaac said suddenly. “The boy’s stirring.”
Chapter Twelve
Where was Isaac? Simon surveyed the kitchen and the hallway. He had to be on his way. Retrieving his daughter would be simple now that he had discovered her whereabouts. He sighed with impatience.
“You.” He gestured to a slave girl who was passing. “Go to the quarters and find Isaac for me. I must travel tonight. Bring me my provisions.”
The girl hurried to obey. When a basket was handed to him, Simon left the house to walk to the stable.
The stable was empty, and Simon sat on a bale of hay to wait. Where was the confounded man? To pass the time, he perused the basket of food. Simon smiled as he saw the small jar of apple butter. He opened the jar and began to eat, slathering gargantuan amounts onto slices of bread.
“You’re nothing but a pig.”
Simon raised his head at the familiar voice. Gloria stood framed in the doorway. She was pale, and her eyes swam with tears. “Was there ever a time that you loved him, Simon?”
Simon blinked in confusion. “What are you doing out here, woman?” he asked. “What’s the meaning of—”
“I saw the bottle of poison in your chamber,” Gloria said. “What’ve you been doing with the medicine for Edward?”
Simon surveyed his wife, unruffled by her accusations. “So hysterical, my treasure,” he murmured in a parody of tenderness. “You’re not well, Gloria. Perhaps you need rest.”
Blind Beauty and Other Tales of Redemption Page 13
