Eventide

by Celia Kyle

  The prince was awake, but again feigning sleep when Angr intoned the call of their enchanted goose. “Sing, my geese, with strains so deep, that Lin, entranced, may remain asleep."

  As soon as Sigyn believed it safe to emerge from her hidey-hole, she awakened Prince Lin. “Sing, my geese with cheer and glee that Hlini from sleep aroused may be.”

  “Sigyn, did you bring me a potato?” Lin asked.

  “To the devil with you, sire. Have you no manners?” Sigyn asked.

  “Ask me after I eat a roasted potato,” Lin remarked, taking the blackened purple potato from Sigyn as she removed it from her pocket. “Oh, dear Lord in heaven there is nothing richer than your potatoes. I am a new man. Revived and saved.”

  “Quit the poetry and let’s away before your lovers return and roast my head.”

  “It’s too late for that, garden wench.”

  Sigyn didn’t need to turn her head to know which ogress had caught her helping the prince to escape. She knew their voices and their body odor all too well. “Ama Silver Mask.”

  “And her sister,” Angr added.

  Sigyn stood. “So, here you have it. The prince is coming with me. Now.”

  “Bravely spoken for a human,” Angr replied. “But the prince is ours and he stays until we tire of him. We are not tired of him.”

  “Lin,” Ama began. “Do you wish to be freed of our love? I can’t believe you are unhappy in any way.”

  Lin swallowed the last of his potato. Should he be charming or forthright? “A man imprisoned in a comfortable cell is still a prisoner. I am a prince of the kingdom and have duties beyond your sweet lips.”

  Sigyn thought she might vomit. “There, you have it. The prince will take his leave now.”

  Angr shook her head. “No, he shall not. Tell me sister, how do you think she will taste if we stew her with exotic herbs from the East Indies? A little red pepper and saffron, perhaps?”

  “She has nice skin tone and not too much fat. I think she’d be lovely in a stew. Good idea, sister,” Ama replied. “Goose!”

  The grey goose waddled forward.

  “Sing, my goose. Sing them to sleep,” Ama ordered.

  The goose looked up at Sigyn, then leapt with cat-like precision at the ogresses. Honking wildly, the goose flapped and bit, slapped and attacked, giving Sigyn the opportunity to ensnare the sisters in a fishing net she’d rigged to drop from the ledge.

  Twisted up and trapped, Ama and Angr calmed themselves, the goose biting at them whenever they moved so much as a fingertip.

  “Thank you, spirit,” Sigyn said to the goose. “Now, listen to me ogresses…I shall not hesitate to burn this cave and everything in it to ashes…”

  Lin interrupted. “No, please…”

  Sigyn silenced the prince. “Unless you meet my demands post haste.”

  “What are your demands, clever girl?” Angr asked.

  “Remove the enchantment upon this fine goose here. Give her freedom.”

  Fuming mad—literally—for the smell of brimstone had filled the air, Ama spat at the goose, then said quietly, but clearly, “Goose of slumbering mist I release you.”

  Angr turned with some difficulty to face her sister. “Is that it? Why do your spells never rhyme?”

  “A good spell is powerful in as few words as possible,” Ama replied.

  In a flurry of goose feathers, the spirit encased in the honker’s form rose up in her delicate ethereal beauty. Sigyn approached the spirit and kissed her gently on the lips. “Thank you, spirit of fog and mist. You shall always be welcome in my kingdom.”

  “Your kingdom?” Angr protested. “Has our prince agreed to marry you in return for his rescue?”

  Sigyn laughed. “I would no sooner marry him that I would that rotting deer carcass hanging from your ceiling hook—which, incidentally, is where I got the idea to string up your fishing net.”

  “Then why risk your life to rescue him if not for love?” Ama asked.

  “Oh, I am taking him away in the name of love. But he is not my love,” Sigyn replied. “And, sisters, never once have I believed my life was in danger while in your presence.” It was an insult and she knew it.

  “You do find us terrifying?” Ama asked.

  “No. Make yourself comfortable on the bed, Prince Lin. We’re off,” Sigyn replied.

  Holding back tears, Lin approached the netted ogresses. “I must leave you for now, my lovelies.”

  “Do not use a flattering tongue on us, Hlini! We know what you really think of us,” Angr replied.

  Lin wiped away a single tear. “No, you do not, I’m afraid. Let me prove it.” Lin reached for the roasted venison, still sitting at his place at the table. He lifted the joint and took tore off a large piece of the charred, juicy flesh.

  “No! Do not eat!” Sigyn screamed.

  But it was too late. The deed was done. Lin had swallowed.

  He reached for a cup and filled it from the wine skin hanging off the table’s edge. He drank the contents, letting if trickle down his chin. “There, does this not show you how I feel?”

  “You have bound yourself to these beastly women,” Sigyn gasped.

  “And they are bound to me, for, if God is merciful and willing, they each carry my child. They shall be my wives,” Lin said proudly. “I shall return for you. I shall return for you and our spawn.”

  Reaching gnarled fingers through the netting, Angr and Ama touched Lin’s fingers, sealing their love.

  “All women wear a mask, Sigyn. All men become blind to the truth at times. I see beyond the foul fetidness and illusions cast by their masks, and even beyond my own ideals of what true beauty is, to see that true love does exist for everyone,” Lin said, making himself comfortable on the bed.

  “I am so going to wretch!” Sigyn gagged. “Comfortable bed, I command you hold us fast during flight! Roll, my bed, roll quickly on--whithersoever I wish thee,—be gone. Take us home!”

  Chapter Nine

  It caused quite a commotion when a flying bed landed in the King’s courtyard, a smiling prince in his underwear and the garden corner wench sitting under the blankets as if waiting for their maid to serve tea.

  “Your majesty?” a guard asked, poking the bed frame with his spear.

  “It is I. Please, have my father come to the throne room that I may greet him properly,” Lin bade.

  “Yes, sir. Shall I send your dresser?” the guard asked.

  “No need for formalities. My father has seen me in my hunting underwear before,” Lin replied. He leapt from the bed and offered his hand to Sigyn. “Come, my lady. Let’s crown you king.”

  “No need for formalities. Just sign the deed and hand me the keys.”

  *

  The king and queen tripped over themselves rushing to greet their son. “Who is our hero? Who has returned our son to us?” they cried.

  The king dashed into his throne room, half-dressed and crumbs in his beard. “Which courtier or countryman is our nation’s hero? Someone, say his name!”

  Prince Lin stepped into the throne room. Standing tall and proud, he walked to his father, bowed, then embraced the old man lovingly. “Father, it is not a courtier who came to rescue me. It was Sigyn of the garden corner.”

  The queen gasped. “A woman left the city walls unaccompanied?”

  “Hello, mother,” Lin said, hugging his mother. “She is a unique woman and worthy of the privilege of traveling alone.”

  “Where is the garden corner wench?” the king asked.

  “I am here, sire.” Sigyn stepped out of the shadows. “I’ve returned your son, now please…half your kingdom is rightfully mine.”

  “The deed, councilman, if you please, sir,” the king requested.

  A white-robed officious-looking man removed a parchment from up his sleeve and offered it to the king.

  “This deed entitles the bearer to half of my kingdom and all goods and chattel contained therein,” the king said.

  “May I see the deed, sir
?” Sigyn asked.

  “You do not trust your king?” the prince asked.

  Sigyn stepped forward and extended her hand to receive the deed as regally as she could. She’d never been to court. She didn’t know how to behave—not that this was a normal day in the presence of the king. He and his son were barely dressed! She opened the deed and read it carefully. Read every word. It took some time. A long shadow moved across the floor from east to west before Sigyn refolded the parchment.

  “Well?” Prince Lin asked.

  “This deed is for your eastern regions, sire. And those regions are mostly swamp land,” Sigyn said softly. “What good is swampland?”

  “Hectare and acre, it is exactly half my kingdom,” the king replied.

  “Obviously, I am no fool, since it is I who returned your son to you. I understand that when you made the proclamation of reward for your son’s return, that you stated you would give up your throne and castle for his return. I want no less than that,” Sigyn stated.

  The gathering subjects in the throne room went from hushed presence to excited chatter.

  The king turned to the royal scribe. “Did I say that?”

  The scribe nodded.

  “It was an excited utterance and means nothing. Take the deed to the eastern regions and be on your way!” the king commanded.

  “No, sir. I will take your throne, this castle and the land upon which the castle sits. All of it. Half your kingdom is rightfully mine, or I shall use enchantments so powerful you cannot imagine their effects and return your son to his captors,” Sigyn replied.

  Lin turned. “Really? I’d rather like that.”

  Sigyn shot Lin a disgusted look.

  The queen stepped forward. “I say take what you will, Sigyn of the garden corner. Nothing is more sacred to us than our son. Castles and thrones mean nothing when your child is not with you.”

  The king’s shoulders slumped forward. “Take it. Take it all.”

  Sigyn dashed forward to stand before her throne. “I accept.”

  She turned and sat down with the regal nature of a true monarch.

  “Where will you send us?” the king asked.

  “The eastern regions are available,” Sigyn replied.

  “You know I will try and take back what is mine by force,” the king said.

  Sigyn laughed. “With my armies?”

  The king turned and left the throne room in a huff.

  “Don’t worry, Sigyn—father will calm down. There is a fortress in the eastern region that is quite well-equipped, and he and mother said they wanted to spend more time there, anyway. Something about the moss being good for indigestion,” Lin said.

  Sigyn smiled. “Councilman?”

  “Yes, my lady?” the white-robed man replied.

  “I command that a new villa be built just outside the city walls where the four cedar trees stand in a circle. The trees shall be incorporated into the design. In fact, the trees must become the pillars of the royal bed. Am I in any way unclear?” Sigyn asked.

  “No, ma’am,” the councilman replied.

  “Sir, you should address me informal while I am in my throne room,” Sigyn said firmly, but with a touch of gentle persuasion in her voice.

  “How shall we address you, madam?” the scribe asked.

  “As King Sigyn, ruler of the western kingdom.”

  Prince Lin clapped his hands. “Long live the King!”

  The chamber audience applauded and chanted in unison, “Long live King Sigyn!”

  “Scribe, take this down,” King Sigyn ordered.

  “I am ready, your majesty,” the scribe replied.

  “I hereby adopt Prince Lin as my son and rightful heir to my throne. Furthermore, there is to be a royal wedding. Gather the best seamstresses in the kingdom, for there are two brides for our prince and no expense shall be spared to make this event a glorious one, for the prince, his wives and the people of this kingdom. In honor of his wedding, all subjects shall receive new shoes, a cart of potatoes and one gold and one silver coin. Oh, and the wedding shall be a masked ball!”

  “Is that all, your majesty?” the scribe asked.

  “No. I wish a tent set up between the cedars posthaste. I am expecting company. My betrothed. My lover. Move my enchanted bed to the tent as well, for my intended and I will sleep in among the stars tonight.”

  Sigyn rose from her throne and took Prince Lin’s hand.

  And they lived happily ever after.

  About the Author:

  Darragha Foster is the author of a myriad of strange and wonderful romance novels featuring such unique heroes and heroines as shape-shifting orca whales and vampiric bed and breakfast owners.

  She lives and loves in Bellingham, Washington, a city with a claim to fame for having had way too many serial killers visit due its proximity to the Canadian border. She thinks the best place to get fried oysters is, unfortunately, the local establishment known to have served drinks to at least three notorious murderers. Got to be a story in there somewhere!

  Darragha lives outside the city limits with her husband and several animals, and that includes the teenagers.

  http://darragha.com