Awaken - Sleeping Beauty Retold

by Jade

  Yet here the man was, turning himself inside out to support Siward's claim to the throne. It almost made Siward want to refuse, for Lord Vamos would as soon hand him a cup of poison as a cup of wine.

  Nods and murmurs of assent issued from the men clustered around the table.

  Lord Vamos slapped his hand on the table. "It is decided, then. Siward shall be king, provided he can produce an heir within a year of his coronation."

  Ah, there was the rub. Siward was the only man among them who did not have a son, or a wife by which he could beget more. Fortune favoured him, for that would soon change.

  Siward rose. "With a heavy heart, I accept the honour of being your king, gentlemen. Let us set as early a date as possible for my coronation. The kingdom has been without a king for long enough."

  Lord Vamos flashed a smile that reminded Siward of a snake. "It has been without a queen for even longer. Unless you have a wife tucked away somewhere secret, I suggest – "

  Siward held up his hands for silence. "I have already chosen my queen, my lords. As your king, I will do everything in my power to ensure the security and the succession in our kingdom. If the Wall ever comes down, though this summer it seemed stronger than ever, our neighbours will find us secure in our monarchy, with no need to look outside our borders for some distant relative of the late king. He named me Regent on his deathbed, as you all know, but I never thought then that I would be safeguarding the throne for myself. I thank you for your faith in me, my lords." He inclined his head, far from the usual bow he would have given these men before today, but a king bowed to no one. He might not be king yet, but in their minds, he must appear to be. With an imperious wave, he dismissed them.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Rosamond's morning sickness returned with a vengeance on the morrow, as if to punish her for spending the night in her husband-to-be's bed. She endured it, as she knew she must, until finally she managed to choke down some small cider that did not immediately come back up.

  With Agnna's assistance, she dressed in a pink gown that reminded her of the one she'd worn to the tournament on the day Warin had won the melee. A fitting gown to wear to the palace, where she would do battle with her father for the right to marry Warin.

  As it was almost noon, Rosamond decided to attempt to eat the noonday meal before she left. She would feel far better with a full stomach than an empty one, she knew.

  Feeling every inch the princess, Rosamond announced that she would take her meal in the garden instead of the great hall. Draga muttered under her breath, then headed down to the kitchen to obey her order.

  Rosamond breathed deeply as she stepped outside into the sunshine, where Warin's happy garden awaited her company. She brushed her fingers through their leaves as she passed, drawing strength from their affection. She would need all the strength she possessed to win this encounter, and win she must.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Siward stopped at the door to his grandmother's cottage to take a deep breath. She was but a frail old woman, and no threat to anyone, he told himself, but he knew it was a lie. She could flay a man alive with her sharp tongue alone, and every maiden in the kingdom was terrified of her. Some called her a witch, but never to her face, lest Lady Schutz put an evil spell on them.

  He knew there was no truth to her being a witch. His grandmother silenced him at the mere mention of magic, for in cursing the princess, the evil queen had cursed her, too. Cursed her to a life where she no longer had a position, for she had no mistress, and no other lady in the kingdom would dare to employ the lady-in-waiting who had served the princess, for how could any woman ever measure up to her? The princess was a veritable paragon of virtue, so the stories said, she had surely become a saint. The queen took pity on her for a time, and Grandmother became the queen's companion, but losing her daughter had broken the queen's heart, and she did not long survive the girl. So his grandmother, without a position once more, had married his grandfather and bore him some children including Siward's own father, which had led to the birth of Siward himself.

  Which still didn't help him find the courage to raise his fist and knock on the formidable old lady's door. Luckily for him, the door flew open and Cecilia, a maid from his own household, stepped out. She gave a little start of surprise before she curtsied to him. "Have you come to visit Lady Schutz, master? I shall tell her you are here."

  Siward nodded and followed the girl inside. He needed no introduction, after all. He would stay long enough to tell his grandmother that the Council had accepted his claim to the crown, and that he had chosen his queen. Grandmother would be too busy planning his coronation to spare a thought for Rosamond.

  Yes, that was the plan.

  She greeted him with, "So, have you come to tell me the date of your coronation?"

  Of course she already knew. Word travelled fast in a town this size, especially to a woman like her who had spent half her life in the castle.

  "On St John's Eve," Siward replied. "Soon, for the kingdom is in need of a leader, and I will not let it wait any longer."

  "You must take a bride, too," Lady Schutz said, nodding. "The sooner, the better. For the naysayers will not rest until you put a babe in her belly. And I know just the one."

  "So do I," Siward began, but she didn't let him finish.

  "Lord Vamos' daughter, Jolanka. She is young, obedient and definitely fertile." Grandmother beamed. "She will make a good wife for you."

  Lord Vamos' daughter? Now Siward knew why the man had agreed to giving him the crown. He had made some sort of deal with his grandmother so that his daughter could be queen. Yet no matter how much he racked his brain, Siward could not recall seeing a young woman any time he had visited the man's house. And the way Grandmother stressed her fertility...

  "Is the Lady Jolanka newly widowed?" he guessed.

  Grandmother snorted. "The girl is barely fourteen summers old. Old enough to be a bride. Your bride."

  But for her to be fertile... "She was his price, wasn't she? You told him I would take Lord Vamos' dishonoured daughter, perhaps even her bastard child, if he would give me the crown."

  "Everything comes at a price," Grandmother said sharply. "The girl is a small price to pay. Lord Vamos sang her virtues, swearing that he did not know how the girl had begotten a bastard, for she never left her brother's side, and Fodor would defend her with his life."

  Likely Fodor had drunk too much wine and defiled the girl himself, Siward fumed. He knew the man too well, and while Lord Vamos would not have made a terrible king, there was no way he would allow the crown to pass to a rabid dog like Fodor.

  "Her brother will, of course, come with her to the castle, to be the captain of the queen's guard," Grandmother continued.

  Even if Siward had considered the possibility of marrying the poor girl, there was no way he would tolerate her brother. Not to mention...he would have no way of knowing whether the girl's children were his or the result of incest and rape.

  No, Rosamond would make a far better queen, and he could save Jolanka from her family some other way. As king, he could arrange a suitable marriage for her to someone else on the other side of the kingdom from Lord Vamos and his odious son.

  "Thank you for your advice, Grandmother. I will consider it when I choose my bride, but I suspect I will prefer someone with a little more experience than a sheltered fourteen-year-old for my queen. I will not keep you or the kingdom in suspense, for I plan to wed the same day as my coronation, on St John's Eve. An auspicious time for fertility, or so I have heard." Siward farewelled his grandmother, telling her he had matters of state to attend to in the castle for the rest of the day, before beating a hasty retreat.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Today, Rosamond's morning sickness turned into morning, noon and night sickness. There was no way she could go to the palace in this condition, let along argue Warin's suit. She lay among the cloudberries, with scarcely the strength to sit up. Slowly but surely, her dizziness receded so that she could stare at the
nearest cloudberry bush and wonder if it had quite that many blossoms on it when she'd first lain beside it.

  When she reached out a finger to stroke the petals, she received a smug burst of satisfaction from the plant. The new blossoms were its celebration of her returning health. Rosamond couldn't help it. She laughed aloud.

  "So you are the crazy hedge witch my grandson brought home," a cold female voice said. "They say he plans to marry you, nobody that you are. He could choose any eligible maiden in the kingdom, you know. In fact, he's already all but betrothed to a lady far more highborn than you, a circumstance which he has apparently forgotten. But you shall remind him, when you break the spell you have cast on him."

  Rosamond wanted to laugh some more, for the woman's words were surely a joke, yet she sounded deadly serious. Cautiously, she sat up, praying that her morning sickness was done torturing her for today. "I don't know what you're talking about," Rosamond said.

  "Don't be ridiculous. Servants talk. Everyone in this household has seen and heard you talking to these plants. You have done something to them, just as you have magicked my grandson," the old lady snapped. "I demand you take it off."

  "Take what off?" Rosamond asked tiredly. "My gown?"

  "The spell you cast on my grandson, of course!" The woman glared. "But now I think about it, yes, you should also remove that gown. It is far too valuable for the likes of you. Why, that was worn by a princess to a queen's coronation. Look at it now – covered in dirt by some peasant woman who does not know good silk when she sees it!"

  "Tournament, not coronation," Rosamond said absently. "This is not formal enough to be worn to a full coronation in court. This is the style of afternoon gown a highborn lady wears to a tournament. Like the one where Sir Warin won the melee." She rose to her feet, not willing to face this woman at a height disadvantage. No one stood higher than a princess except the queen. Sometimes not even then.

  "I...how do you know that?" The woman peered at her.

  Rosamond flashed a brilliant, courtly smile that had all the sincerity of cesspool slime. "I know many things. And whatever spells I may have cast, I will not undo. Not for you." The only spells she could cast were healing ones, anyway. What grudge did this woman bear against Warin that she wanted him not to be healed?

  "You are a lowborn, ignorant hedge witch who has placed my grandson under a spell so that he believes himself in love with you. You shall remove it, or I shall summon the guards, and you shall be charged with treason!" the strange woman shrieked.

  Rosamond drew herself up. "You are a rude, stupid old woman who knows nothing, least of all how to behave when speaking to someone of my rank. Remove yourself from my sight before I summon the servants to do it for you." She was proud of the fact that her voice remained cold and calm to the end, without a hint of her anger peeping through.

  The rude, stupid old woman drew her hand back and slapped Rosamond across the face so hard she sent the princess tumbling to the ground.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Siward arrived home just in time to witness Rosamond's meeting with Lady Schutz. His instincts drove him to dive between the two women, defending Rosamond, but he held himself back. If she was to be his queen, she would need to know how to respond to courtiers. Plus, he had to admit, he wanted to hear her defence for himself. He knew there had been magic in the air in the ruins, but he would bet his life that it was not of her making.

  Interesting. She did not deny the charge of being a witch, or of casting spells. Neither did she confirm Grandmother's suspicions. Her regal response to the old lady's insults made him want to applaud. Oh, Rosamond was born to be queen.

  But when Grandmother raised her hand to the girl, Siward did not move fast enough to prevent the blow. When she fell to the ground, his heart felt like it had dropped right out of his chest.

  "Rosamond, are you all right?" he asked.

  Lady Schutz batted at his shoulder. "Get away from the witch. She will curse you, boy. Worse than she already has. Throw her out of your house and into a dungeon."

  Siward had no time for the old woman's hysterics.

  "This woman will be my wife, and your future queen. In fact, she's already carrying my child, the next heir to this kingdom," Siward boasted, hoping his grandmother would not spot that this last was a lie. "If you ever attempt to strike her again, I will send you to a dungeon."

  Lady Schutz gasped in horror. "Your own flesh and blood! After all I have done for you. You would not dare, boy!"

  "Try me, Grandmother. I will marry Rosamond on St John's Eve and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Now get out."

  Grandmother drew herself up. "Rosamond, is it? You don't deserve that name just as you do not deserve my grandson. Mark my words, slut: you will never be queen." She turned on her heel, nose in the air, and stormed out of Siward's house.

  Siward stared after her for a moment, before he realised Rosamond still lay on the ground where she'd fallen. He hurried to help her up, checking her for injuries, but she assured him she was fine.

  She did not look fine, though. She had dirt all over her gown and a frown that made his heart ache.

  "Tell me what is wrong!" he implored.

  "St John's Eve is so far away," she said slowly. "Almost a year. I would prefer to be wed well before then."

  Now it was Siward's turn to frown in puzzlement. "No, St John's Eve is only a few weeks away."

  Rosamond shook her head. "I distinctly remember Queen Margareta's coronation was on St John's Eve. The townspeople had bonfires burning in the town square and when I took fright at what I thought was a man ablaze on one, you told me he was made of wicker and not to worry. I refused to continue until I was certain that you were right. You were, but...I had horrible nightmares that night, of how it would feel to burn."

  None of what she said made any sense, but Siward chose not to tell her so. She must have hit her head when she fell, scrambling her wits. "I shall take you to bed," he said, lifting her in his arms.

  Those green eyes shone as she gazed up at him. "This is why I don't understand your desire to delay our nuptials. Don't you want me in your bed as much as I need you in mine?"

  His loins stirred at her words, willing him to say yes, but Siward had long ago learned to control such urges. "To rest," he said softly. "I shall take you to bed so that you may rest."

  She struggled in his grasp until he was forced to set her on her feet. "I don't want to rest. I've been doing nothing all day. Now, I need to change my gown so I can speak to my father, to prepare him before you ask for my hand."

  Ah, yes. Something else he had to do before St John's Eve. "I shall go with you," Siward said.

  She stared at him for a long moment, her lips parted as though she wished to argue. Then she lowered her eyes and nodded. "If you wish."

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Rosamond rummaged through the chest of clothes in her chamber. Before, she had given the gowns little more than a cursory glance as she dressed each morning. But now, she laid them out on the bed one by one and truly examined them. What she found frightened her.

  Mixed in with gowns she did not recognise were ones she most definitely did. The soiled gown she had worn today wasn't just like the one she'd worn to the tournament – it seemed to be the same gown, only faded from vibrant strawberry to a dusky rose. The gown she'd worn to Queen Margareta's coronation was more peach than pink now, for it had yellowed somehow. Faded, yellowed and, in one case, frayed where the lacings had come apart, as if with age. She did not understand how it was possible. How had Warin brought her things to his home while he was still in the convent with her? Where was Monika, then, and why did he not send for her? And why did he seem to think that it was still June when it was surely July?

  Rosamond sank to her knees on the floor beside the empty chest. Only...it wasn't empty yet. A box she hadn't seen before, possibly because it was the same colour as the base of the chest, remained. She lifted it out, and opened it.

  Inside lay Queen Margare
ta's rose crown, as fresh as the day it was picked, though the flowers should be long dead and dried after so many weeks of travel. First the faded gowns and now this. Rosamond didn't know what to think.

  She felt bile rise up in her throat that had nothing to do with morning sickness. Not this time.

  Rosamond did not know how long she sat there, her mind whirling with impossible explanations. No matter which one she tried to settle on, none of them made sense.

  She wasn't sure how long Warin stood watching her before he spoke. "What is that? Did you make it in the garden today?" He nodded toward the crown.

  Something else that didn't make sense. "No," she said slowly. "Queen Margareta wore this to her coronation, and afterward, she gave it to me. This travelled with us until we stopped at the convent, where I did not see it again until I found it here, in a box of my clothes."

  Warin closed the chest and perched on top of it. "I never heard of a queen by that name. Was she the one before Queen Maria?"

  "No. She was crowned only a few weeks ago. You were there. You fought in the melee and won, before you knelt before her to claim victory. Even though you had a broken arm, you still won." She stared up at him. "That's when I knew you were the only man I could trust to protect me, no matter what happened. And I healed you." Rosamond moistened her lips. "Don't you remember?"

  "You must have hit your head when you fell," he said. "Let me help you to bed, and on the morrow..."

  "Don't you remember?" she repeated, more urgently this time.

  "Rosamond, you're not well."

  She jumped to her feet. "Answer me, Warin. Why don't you remember the queen?"

  He stared back at her, impassive. "I don't remember a queen because I've never seen one. Queen Maria died soon after her daughter, nigh on fifty years ago now, and King Almos never really had the heart to replace her. And, what with the Wall and all, he couldn't really go looking for a new wife, now, could he?"