The Wilful Eye

by Isobelle Carmody

  Such a strange, exhilarating motion it was. She could feel his muscles coiling and uncoiling beneath her, a liquid surge of force and power. She held the bony spikes of his head in her fierce grip. She did love him. She would love him. And she would marry him as human to human, man and wife.

  He had told her the story of the deal with her father – far more complicated than she had guessed, and far more extraordinary. Magic mirrors were nothing by comparison. She could hardly take it all in.

  Dawn broke as they approached Belle’s home village of Rainsey. She saw the trunks of trees flash past; then open fields and paddocks; then trees again. Everything was alive and sparkling with dew.

  They passed through the village like a visitation from a nightmare. The sight of the beast with Belle on his back sent early-morning labourers and errand boys scurrying for shelter. The women round the village pump picked up their skirts and ran for their lives. The beast let out a great roar, and sped on.

  Belle’s home was on the far side of the village at the end of a long lane. A sense of warm familiarity engulfed her as they came up to the cottage and garden. Yet the place itself had gone sadly downhill. The hedges were unkempt, the vegetable plots overgrown with weeds. No smoke rose from the chimney and the curtains were drawn. Belle might have wondered whether her family was still living there, had she not watched them yesterday in the mirror.

  She directed the beast round to the back door. By the outhouse stood a fine open carriage – no doubt the vehicle that her father had driven away from the chateau. Spider webs beaded with dew draped its wheels and underframe, like glittering necklaces in the morning sunshine. A starved-looking horse grazed in the distance.

  The beast didn’t bother to knock. He reared up, planted his paws against the door and smashed it wide open. Belle let go and slid from his back as he passed in under the low lintel.

  Following him in, the first thing she noticed was the stifling heat. Compared to the freshness outside, it was like being buried under a dozen blankets. When she had left in the middle of winter, the cottage had been as cold as an icebox; now the fug was almost sickening.

  Her father stood by the kitchen sink, unshaven and bleary-eyed. He had been drinking milk straight from the milk jug, which he still held in his hand. The violence of their entry left him transfixed and gawping.

  ‘Wha-a-a?’

  Belle stepped out from behind the beast. ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me, Father?’

  A crafty expression came over his face. ‘Belle. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to stay. Aren’t you going to welcome me home?’

  Her father addressed himself to the beast, whose huge head towered above him. ‘You can’t do this. A deal is a deal. It’s too late to change your mind.’

  The beast opened his jaws, letting his long red tongue hang out.

  ‘What deal was that?’ asked Belle. ‘My marriage to a prince?’

  Her father ignored her. ‘I fulfilled my half of the bargain. You can’t say she’s not a beauty. Every bit as beautiful as I promised. And yours to do with whatever you want. You can’t back out now.’

  The beast merely growled. Belle, who could read his face, saw an expression of utter contempt.

  She turned on her father. ‘You never cared what happened to me, did you?’

  He pulled himself together with a scowl. ‘Don’t speak to me like that, girl. Show some respect to your father.’

  The beast swung a claw and knocked a pile of unwashed plates from the kitchen table. ‘You don’t deserve respect,’ he snarled. ‘You’re no proper father.’

  Belle’s father stared at the shattered fragments of china on the floor.

  ‘What are you, then?’ he spat. ‘You’re not anything. You’re a fool.’

  He retreated into a corner as the beast made a move towards him. He was vicious now, cringing and defiant at the same time.

  ‘The greatest fool on God’s Earth.’ He turned to Belle. ‘Do you know what he did? He was once a great scholar and magician. He could have done whatever he wanted. And instead he went and turned himself into a beast. He told me himself.’

  ‘He told me too,’ said Belle quietly.

  ‘Look at him now! So big and strong, but no brains, no brains. He swapped brains for body.’ He addressed the beast directly. ‘Are you proud of yourself? You ruined your life and now you must live with the consequences. Don’t expect pity from me. A deal is a deal.’

  A voice called out from the parlour. ‘What’s going on in there?’

  It was Belle’s sister, Elise. Delphie chimed in a moment later. ‘We don’t want visitors. Send them away, Father.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ their father shouted in reply. ‘They’re about to leave.’

  But Belle and the beast stayed put. Her father’s eyes darted this way and that, vainly looking for a way to escape.

  ‘I’ll never return it,’ he snarled. ‘Never.’

  Then Delphie and Elise appeared in the doorway. At the sight of the beast, they shrieked. Elise disappeared instantly back into the safety of the parlour. Delphie took shelter at the side of the door. She stuck out her head and peered round the doorpost.

  ‘What is that creature?’ she hissed.

  ‘Prince Arrol Torayne de Lanceray,’ said her father.

  ‘Prince? Don’t be ridiculous.’ Delphie’s saucer-eyed gaze took in the figure standing beside the beast. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Hello, Delphie,’ said Belle.

  Delphie snorted. Her skin was ruddy and her cheeks were flushed. ‘Did you bring this – this thing into our house?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yes, and I’m going to marry him,’ said Belle. ‘But first he has to take back something that belongs to him.’

  Delphie looked from Belle to the beast to her father – and a flash of understanding came over her face.

  ‘The bride price,’ she said. She turned to her father with her mouth crinkling like a spoilt child’s. ‘He can’t have it back. Don’t let them take it away.’

  ‘It was never a bride price,’ said Belle. ‘I was sold, but not to be married.’

  ‘No? Oh, well.’ Delphie didn’t care to hear the details. ‘No business of mine.’

  ‘You know what it really is, don’t you?’ Belle insisted.

  ‘No, and I don’t want to know. It heats up our house, that’s all. We can’t live without it.’ Her gaze focused suddenly on the unusual decoration that Belle wore pinned to the front of her chemise. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This?’ Belle smiled. ‘Oh, just an old rose stalk.’

  Her father let out a sudden gasp.

  ‘Ask Father about it,’ said Belle with a wave of her hand.

  The beast wasn’t listening. He grunted and raised a paw to his chest. Belle glanced at him with concern.

  ‘Enough talk,’ she said, and turned towards the parlour.

  Her father guessed her intention, sprang forward and darted through the doorway first. Belle strode after him, with the beast following.

  The parlour was even warmer than the kitchen, though no fire burned in the grate. Instead, the mirror-studded casket stood open in the middle of the hearth, next to the poker and tongs. Very little light entered through the drawn curtains; the room was illuminated by a red glow emanating from the casket.

  Belle’s father barred their way to the hearth, his arms raised in a fighting stance.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ His face was working, his eyes bulging. ‘It belongs to us now!’

  Belle indicated the beast behind her. ‘You don’t think he can take it by force?’

  ‘I’ll have the law on him. I’ll charge him in the King’s Courts. I’ve got rights.’

  ‘It’ll be your word against his.’

  ‘His word.’ Her father sneered. ‘He can’t even speak like a human being.’

  ‘The King’s judges will give us justice.’

  ‘Justice is for humans not animals. They’ll only need the evidence of th
eir eyes to decide against him. He’s a monster.’

  ‘He’s a monster!’ echoed Delphie, who stood with Elise next to the sideboard at the back of the room.

  ‘Monster! Monster! Monster!’ screeched Elise.

  The beast let out a roar, though not at them. Louder and louder he roared, until the windows rattled.

  It was too much for Belle’s father. His courage evaporated. With a curse, he scuttled away on all fours. The beast stood over him and watched him go.

  Belle headed straight for the casket. The lid was tilted back, the red glow pouring forth from inside. She couldn’t yet see what was behind the glow, but she could feel the heat of it on her skin. It radiated out in waves, pulse by pulse by pulse.

  She shielded her eyes and knelt at the edge of the hearth. The glow eddied like a vapour. Now she could see right into the casket.

  At the bottom lay a single perfect bloom: the bright red rose of his heart. Its petals seemed to swell and contract, open and close with every pulse. She gazed, enchanted.

  So this was the beast’s half of the bargain with her father. This was what he had traded away for her.

  It was a rose like any other rose, but it was also his human heart.

  Wails sounded from the back of the room. When Belle glanced over her shoulder, Delphie and Elise were wringing their hands.

  ‘Please don’t take it,’ Delphie pleaded.

  ‘Doesn’t our happiness count?’ Elise put on her most cajoling tone.

  ‘You can live happily in your chateau.’

  ‘Let us live happily here.’

  ‘Don’t be selfish.’

  ‘We need it.’

  ‘We’ll die without it.’

  Belle shook her head. ‘No, you won’t. He will.’

  A low moan from the beast confirmed her words. He was clutching again at his chest, lips drawn back over his teeth in a rictus of pain.

  ‘Rubbish.’ Belle’s father spoke up. ‘He’s an animal. A strong healthy animal. That’s what he wanted to be. By his own free will. He told me so himself.’

  Belle rose to her feet. ‘That was before,’ she said.

  ‘Before what?’

  ‘Before he met me.’

  The beast grimaced and clashed his jaws. ‘Hurry,’ he groaned.

  ‘It won’t do you any good,’ said Belle’s father. ‘What use is a heart in the form of a rose? Think about it. How are you going to put it back in his chest?’ He pointed to the beast and let out a derisive cackle of laughter. ‘The fool has lost his magician’s powers. He did the spells as a human being, but they were the last spells he ever did. He can’t undo them now he’s a beast.’

  ‘No, he can’t.’ Belle fingered the rose stalk pinned to the front of her chemise. ‘But I can.’

  The only sound in the room was the harsh, ragged breathing of the beast. Belle stood facing him. She unpinned the stalk from her chemise and held it between thumb and forefinger. Without its rose, it looked a poor and sorry thing.

  Belle’s father and sisters made no move to interfere. Her father watched with a sneer on his face, still quite sure that the spells couldn’t be undone. He didn’t know that the beast had coached Belle in every syllable and gesture of the ritual before setting out. As for the necessary state of mind, she could only trust that her own love and compassion would make up for her lack of training.

  The beast stared at the rose stalk with yearning intensity. He had the same expression when he turned to Belle. ‘Begin,’ he rumbled.

  There were two stages to the ritual. The first was to reverse the deal and return the rose-heart to its stalk. This was the easier task, so long as Belle could remember the exact syllables.

  She passed her hand over the top of the stalk while murmuring the incantation. The words were in an ancient language that had no meaning for her. She recited them seven times over, and made seven passes with her hand. Then she snapped her fingers.

  A flower appeared on top of the stalk: a magnificent red rose. It cast its glow and warmth over Belle’s face and chest.

  ‘Oh, it’s gone out!’ cried Delphie in dismay. She wasn’t looking at the flower but at the casket in the hearth. There the glow had vanished.

  Belle rotated the rose between her fingers. ‘Just as it was when he saw it in the vase.’ She nodded towards her father, whose mouth hung open.

  ‘You can’t do this to us,’ whined Elise, and shivered at the thought of the cold to come. ‘It doesn’t belong to you.’

  ‘No, it belongs to Mr Beast,’ Belle agreed. ‘But I have it in my keeping. And now to finish the magic. Stay back.’

  The warning was hardly needed; Belle’s father and sisters were rooted to the spot. She faced the beast again and raised the rose so that it was directly in line with his eyes. This was the difficult part. She mustn’t fail him now.

  She looked past the rose and into his eyes. She thought of her feeling for him and how much he needed her. Deeply, deeply she looked into his amber eyes . . .

  Then she pursed her lips and began to blow. Breath after breath she directed onto the petals. The rose grew brighter and hotter.

  She concentrated so hard on his eyes that the rest of the world seemed to fade into the distance.

  One petal vanished.

  Then another. And another.

  Petal by petal, the flower diminished to its innermost bud. What remained was almost incandescent. Belle was sure she was lighting it up with the strength of her feelings. She could hardly hold the stalk, it was so hot. Still she kept her eyes locked on the eyes of the beast.

  She took one last breath and blew as hard as she could.

  The bud vanished and the stalk was bare once more. The beast gave a great cry as the transformation began.

  For Belle, everything was happening at a distance. She heard grinding and ripping sounds, and the hysterical screams of her sisters.

  ‘Stop!’

  ‘He can’t . . .’

  ‘It’s impossible!’

  ‘What is he?’

  It was all a blur except for his eyes. Dimly, Belle registered that his crown of bony spikes was diminishing. And his face seemed more like a face, not an animal muzzle.

  She broke out of the trance, shook her head and rubbed at her eyes.

  He was standing on two legs, not a beast rearing up but a tall young man. His thick yellow and brown fur was peeling off him, as though the pelt had split at the seams like a velvet coat. There was smooth bare flesh underneath.

  Belle felt dizzy – dizzy from staring into his eyes and dizzy with elation. They had done it! He had his own human heart back!

  He was deep in the chest and broad in the shoulders, with untidy brown hair, square jaw and heavy eyebrows. He stood awkwardly, as if unsure of his own body, as if fearful of tripping over his own feet. The one thing that hadn’t changed was the amber colour of his eyes.

  His shaggy mane peeled away all in one piece. He caught it before it fell to the floor and wrapped it round his waist to protect his modesty.

  Belle grinned. After the intense intimacy of that last ritual, it seemed almost incongruous that he should think of covering himself up before her.

  ‘So.’ She recovered her equilibrium. ‘Prince Arrol Torayne de Lanceray. Now you have a place to put your feelings.’

  ‘Yes.’ He was very solemn and serious. ‘My feelings for you.’

  She was glad that his eyes were still amber. She became aware of the rose stalk in her hand.

  ‘What about this?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d like it to remain in your keeping. Will you look after it for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  While the prince watched, Belle pinned the stalk to the front of her chemise again. It was like a third stage of ritual, but not one to be found in any spell book.

  They had forgotten all about Belle’s family until they heard voices raised in the kitchen. The three of them had slipped away unnoticed and were now arguing among themselves.

  ‘You silly old
fool . . . You should’ve stopped him . . . Why didn’t you hide it?’

  That was Delphie and Elise accusing their father. The prince turned to Belle.

  ‘What do you want to do with your family?’ he asked.

  The carriage rolled off down the lane, with Belle’s father on the driver’s bench at the front, Delphie and Elise sitting behind. They were still arguing and snapping at one another.

  Belle and the young man who had been a beast stood at the window and watched them go. Belle had opened the window to let the morning sun in and the fuggy warmth out. It was good to inhale fresh air again.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked. ‘Will they make a life for themselves in the chateau?’

  ‘They’ll have all the comforts.’ The prince’s voice, though fully human, retained a deep reverberant quality. ‘Since you don’t want me to remove my invisible servants.’

  ‘No, I don’t want to punish them that way. If there’s a punishment, they make it for themselves.’

  ‘One another’s company.’

  ‘Exactly. They can either behave like a proper family or be at each other’s throats all the time.’

  Belle didn’t bother to wave as the carriage swung round a corner and disappeared from view.

  ‘I’m glad we’re staying here,’ said the prince. ‘I like your cottage better.’

  Belle surveyed the parlour floor, which was littered with strips of discarded fur. ‘Needs cleaning, though,’ she grinned. ‘Look at the mess you’ve made.’

  The prince nodded, and moved forward to start tidying.

  ‘Wait,’ said Belle. ‘I have a question to ask first.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My father made a trade to get the rose, but it must have been sitting in the vase a long while before that.’

  ‘Four years.’

  ‘So you chose to put your human heart into a flower of your own free will. Why?’

  His brows came down and he dropped his eyes.

  ‘My father said you wanted to be an animal.’

  He nodded, reluctantly. This was obviously one revelation he shied away from.

  ‘Tell me,’ Belle insisted. ‘You’ve told me everything else.’