The Heart of The Beast

by Susan Kohler

  “Beauty!” Nate was gasping from his desperate run, tears streaking his freckled face. “Tis awful! The Beast is going to hang Tom!”

  “What?” Beauty shrieked. “Nate, quickly tell me what’s happened.”

  “The Beast has learned that someone’s been stealing from the grain in the barn. Two of the stable lads were accused and the Beast couldn’t decide which was guilty, not that he tried very hard.” Nate took a deep breath, trying to choke down his tears. “Beauty, he’s already had them both beaten and whipped to bloody pulps. Now they say he plans to hang them both from the castle gates at sundown.”

  “No!” Beauty’s soul seemed to shatter within her and she screamed the single word as she dropped to the stony ground, sobbing.

  “I’ve got to save him!” Nate choked out, his young chin trembling as he struggled to hold back tears. “Beauty, I have got to, but how?”

  Instinctively, Beauty knew Nate had no chance at all of saving Tom. Terrified and grief-stricken, she tried to think. Before long, a faint thought came to her and a frightening plan formed in the back of her befuddled brain. She worked almost desperately to think of another plan. She tried to hide from the very idea, tried not to hear her innermost soul whispering the plan to her, but she knew deep in her heart there was only one chance to save Tom.

  All her fears seemed to crowd at her, like a pack of wolves circling a spring lamb, and she wondered if she had the necessary nerve to follow through with her plan. She would need all the courage she could muster to do what had to be done but she could see no choice, no other course of action.

  “No!” Beauty said firmly, gripping her younger brother’s arms. “There is no chance. You cannot hope to save him, but mayhap I can. Go to our mother. Stay with her and comfort her. However this ends, she will truly need both your strength and your support.”

  “But Beauty, what will you do?” Nate sobbed, fearing the worst. “The Beast will never listen to you! He’ll kill you… or worse.”

  “I have to try,” Beauty said, her voice sounding strangely calm in spite of the terror beating like a second heart in her breast. “It would kill Mother if Tom were to be hung. Go to her, Nate, and pray. Pray very hard for Tom and for me.”

  “Beauty, you cannot go to the Beast. He’ll rape and murder you and still hang Tom,” Nate sobbed, giving voice to his inner fears.

  “Mayhap Nate, but he would certainly murder you and still hang Tom. I have the better chance,” Beauty said sternly. “Remember how desperate this is; without Tom, you and our mother would surely starve. I have to go save not only Tom but all of you. Now honour my wishes and give me a kiss before you go to tend to our mother.”

  When the boy opened his mouth to speak again, Beauty stopped him. “Promise me that you will not attempt to interfere or to rescue me, else what I am doing will be for naught, and the three of you will surely die along with me.”

  The boy flung himself into his sister’s arms and both stood locked together for a long, timeless moment before he kissed her cheek and reluctantly left, headed for their primitive hut.

  Beauty took a few seconds, drawing several deep breaths and watched Nate run home. She spent the brief time gathering her wits and courage before she resolutely began the long hike to the castle. She did not even think to take time to wash her face or to change into a clean, more flattering dress. In truth, if she had taken the time to do so, her meagre courage would have deserted her completely.

  An all too short time later, she stood at the huge, wooden castle gate fearfully asking the fierce, grizzled soldier who stood guard there for a word with the Beast.

  The guard leered as he looked Beauty over, noting her bulky, shapeless form and the dirt covering her hair, face and dress. “His strumpets dinna usually come here unless they’ve been dragged here. As a rule, they’re brought here with their hands tied behind their back and their shoddy clothes ripped almost completely off. Unless they’ve been tightly bound and gagged, the dirty sluts are generally kicking and screaming their heads off,” the guard sneered at Beauty.

  “Then mayhap they’re not sluts but were in fact pure maidens seeking desperately to preserve their decency,” Beauty shot back, angered by the man’s callousness.

  “Tis highly unlikely, but of no real import.” The guard snarled before he asked crudely, “Tis very strange for one of the local sluts to just walk up to the gate as ye did. Did the Beast summon ye?”

  “No, but he will wish to see me,” Beauty replied with all her dignity wrapped around her like a cloak sheltering her soul.

  “Just how would ye be so certain of that?” The huge man leaned over to ask her, his foul breath hitting Beauty in the face. “The master likes his sluts to be beautiful.”

  For her answer, Beauty silently pulled back her hood, letting him see her face for the first time. Without another word or question the shocked guard admitted her and summoned the nearest serf to take her to the Beast.

  Walking behind the skinny, young peasant, a youth Beauty recognized vaguely as the son of one of her neighbours, she was led through the cobbled courtyard. She tried to ignore the catcalls and crude remarks the knight’s men directed her way. She kept her head high but her eyes lowered to avoid stepping into any of the filth, mud and horse manure thickly scattered on the smooth, worn cobblestones around the courtyard. Silently, much too frightened to speak, she held her head erect as she followed the lad into the castle, into the very lair of the Beast.

  In spite of the day’s heat, Beauty shivered as she was led into the great hall, a huge, drafty room with high stone walls, huge beams in the ceiling, and straw strewn on the stone slab floor. There were various carved wooden chairs around the sides of the room, some with dirty brocade seats. In the centre of the room there was a long wooden dining table with great long benches along both sides. There was plenty of room around the great table for servants to move around freely when serving the soldiers and guests who dined there. A smaller, more ornate table and two large, wooden chairs, both carved intricately and having padded brocade seats were set on a raised platform near the end of the room. Iron stands with candles and wall-mounted torches provided faint, barely adequate illumination. An empty fireplace took up most of the end of the room, next to a long, winding, stone staircase.

  Tapestries sewn with great detail and care by the former lady of the castle were hanging on two walls. They depicted either hunting and forest scenes or Biblical stories. Seeing the tapestries brought tears to Beauty’s eyes until she remembered her quest. The youthful serf quickly left the hall and Beauty stood, quaking and silent, before the great warlord himself.

  The Beast stood, still and distant, leaning casually back against the end of the great table. He seemed relaxed as his arms were casually crossed and one knee slightly bent, but instinctively Beauty knew his careless demeanour was deceptive. He was as ready for action as a wolf was ready to spring on its unsuspecting prey. Beauty well knew she was that prey.

  He wore a plain, white shirt of soft linen; it was loose with a soft open neckline that showed his lightly furred chest and billowing sleeves gathered at his wrists. The shirt was long, hanging almost to the tops of his thighs, and a wide leather belt circled his waist. He had leather boots that reached his knees. The thick leather gloves he used for fighting and his brown doublet were on the table beside him.

  Although Beauty had seen him from a distance, she’d never been close enough to the Beast to make out his features or even his build. Beauty was shocked down to her bones at the sight of him. The man who ruled the land with such brutality, wielding his power with an iron fist and legendary cruelty was not ugly. He bore no resemblance to the ogre or monster he was said to be. To the contrary, he was very handsome! Breathtaking!

  Tall and well formed, he was very muscular, without a trace of fat. He had long deep chestnut hair pulled back at his neck. His eyes were a deep, vibrant green, although they were cold and emotionless. He had a surprisingly young face with firm even features, and
such a full sensuous mouth that in spite of her terror, Beauty felt a quiver run down her spine, a quiver that was not entirely born of dread.

  The Beast never even looked at her; he stood motionless, seemingly at ease, waiting for her to speak before he finally barked, “Who in hell are you and what do you want?”

  “M’lord, I am the sister of one of the lads you propose to hang this evening, and I have come to ask for your mercy,” she replied with deceptive calm.

  “Haven’t you heard, lass? I have no mercy,” the Beast said coldly. “The two lads are thieves and deserve to die.”

  “I don’t believe you. They’re just two lads who were accused. There’s no evidence, there’s been no hearing. You don’t even know which one is guilty, or even if either one is. You are sentencing two innocent young lads to death. It’s not right.” Beauty’s voice quivered. “And my brother Tom is so young, barely more than a boy.”

  “I am the sole judge of what is right. The lads are both over twenty, certainly old enough to know the penalty for theft is death and they will indeed both hang as I have ordered.” The Beast was implacable.

  “But, M’lord, I know my brother well. I swear before God, he is no thief,” she said meekly as tears formed in her eyes and ran silently down her face.

  “Your brother is naught but rabble and all the rabble steal or would if they did not fear me enough and that is why the two lads will make such a good lesson. I care not which of them stole from me, or even if neither of them did the deed. They will serve me well as a warning of my justice and that is reason enough for me to hang them.” The Beast looked at her for the first time noticing her covered face and bulky, dirty clothes. “You’ll have to give me a better reason than your cries and protests that he is innocent to persuade me to show mercy.” His eyes raked insolently over her body, concealed as it was. “A much better reason.”

  Beauty dropped to the floor and sobbed aloud for a while before gathering her wits. In an act of desperation, she reached out a hand and grabbed the Beast by his ankle.

  “Please M’lord, I beg you. I will do anything, I will give you all that I have to save him. I need him, else my mother and younger brother will starve and also… ” her soft voice faltered, “I love him. What can I do?”

  The Beast sneered at her pleading, but he reached down and pulled her roughly to her feet. “Love? What is that but a soft women’s word? I have never known of love and I do not believe in it.”

  “You’ve never known love? Not even from your parents?” Beauty was so shocked she forgot herself, looking him straight in the eyes for a quick moment before lowering her gaze and adding, “M’lord.”

  The Beast thought of himself as a very private man who had long closed himself inside a wall as thick and solid as those enclosing the castle grounds, and nearly as impenetrable. In truth, deep in the core of his soul, he hungered with an ache he would never acknowledge, even to himself. He hungered for just one person to see past the stern warrior to the man buried deep inside.

  To be certain, he was not thinking of the peasant girl before him as that person. He thought of the girl as being worthless, of no more importance or intelligence than one of his dogs, but she was the first person ever to pose such a question to him, and almost against his will he answered her truthfully, surprising even himself.

  Mayhap a dam broke deep inside his soul releasing a flood of buried emotions or mayhap he was angered by the nerve of the girl and just wanted to let her see herself as the weak fool she was, speaking of wasted emotions like love and mercy.

  “I very seldom saw my parents when I was an infant,” the Beast scoffed. “From what I’ve heard, they hired a nurse to care for me. If care is what you’d call it.”

  “What do you mean, M’lord?” she asked quietly, sensing that he was telling her things he had never spoken aloud before.

  Beauty felt a pain coming from within this proud man and knew she had to tread lightly, not letting him see any trace of sympathy. Sympathy that he was sure to take as pity or weakness that he could use to his advantage.

  “The nurse kept me swaddled. I was bound so tightly I could barely breathe, or so I’ve been told, and left hanging from a nail on the wall in filthy rags until I was thought old enough to begin learning to walk and talk. I remember naught of it, of course, but whilst I was in the King’s guard I learned that most infants are cherished and well cared for.” The Beast paused and shrugged, “It probably did me no harm, and mayhap it even strengthened me.”

  “And when your parents felt it was time to begin teaching you?” Beauty prompted, heartsick at this tale of abuse.

  “All my memories of my parents are the lessons I learned from their fists or their whips. Is that love? Sometimes, if they were too tired or busy to whip me properly when they thought I needed punishment, they had their executioner do the task. A man known far and wide for his brutality. Is that love?” the Beast sneered, not even fully realizing why he was telling her this story. “They fostered me out to another knight for training at the age of seven. He beat me even more often than they did; was that love? I was told constantly that to show any hint of mercy or tenderness would make me seem weak and foolish, that I would be judged not worthy to be a warrior, a knight, or to rule a castle such as this. The lesson was beaten into me daily. And since I’ve grown up I’ve seen the truth of their teaching. I have seen naught to change my mind. I’ve seen the hopelessness of life and the cruelty of war, and I’ve known men so depraved as to make me seem a weakling, but I have never, ever seen love. I do not believe it exists.”

  “You have seen love, M’lord. You see it now. It’s standing here, now, before you, begging with you,” Beauty said proudly. Then she paused and lowered her voice, “I fear you as I have never feared any man before. I have been raised hearing tales of your heartless cruelty, and I have known of women who have been brought here against their will. They’ve been murdered or killed themselves both before and after submitting to your cruel and lustful attentions. They died in pain and disgrace. With all of that, and knowing full well the risk I take, I stand here offering you anything I can give to save my brother. Is that not love?”

  The Beast did not let her see that a touch of her reasoning had struck a spark deep within him. A trace of wonder and a hint of admiration for her courage.

  “Why would any woman kill herself after I honoured her with my attentions?” the Beast puzzled out loud, ignoring the shock that threatened to ruin his composure.

  Could it be true? Gathering himself, he shoved off the uneasy feeling. Certainly spending a night in his bed, even by force, was not enough to cause a woman to take her own life in despair. What disgrace could there be in pleasuring the lord of the castle?

  “It’s only a wild story, made to frighten young girls into obedience. It can not be real.” He then asked bitterly, “Who told you these tales of my cruelty? I should have him hung as a traitor!”

  Beauty saw the trap but knew not how to avoid it.

  She dropped her head and whispered softly, “Many have said it, M’lord, tis common talk in the village.”

  “Including your brother?” the Beast asked quietly; he was no fool.

  “Yea, M’lord,” Beauty admitted softly, her voice barely a whisper. “Including my brother. He is the one who suggested I dress like this to avoid catching your attention.”

  “I gave him a decent job and a chance to earn a little money to help his family. Does that not warrant some loyalty? Why should he spread these tales to you? ‘Tis nigh treason? You have not helped his cause by telling me thus,” the Beast roared.

  “There was a lass in the village who he was fond of, he might have even married her until you… took her,” Beauty said meekly. “She was a virgin.”

  “It is my right to claim the maidens. What harm did that do? She could still marry your brother.” The Beast was unconvinced.

  “She was beaten so badly that she was crippled when you let her return to the village, M’lord, and soon
found herself to be pregnant with your child.” Beauty met his cold stare head on. “My brother still would have wed her, I think, but she killed herself in despair. Please, M’lord, understand that he did not tell me these things to be disloyal to you but because he fears for me, that I might meet a similar fate.”

  “Yet you stand before me, having come here on your own accord, offering yourself to me. What would he think of that I wonder?” the Beast taunted her. “Would he be pleased that you offer to give yourself to me?”

  “He’ll know why I did it, and understand, I pray, but he will still be furious.” Beauty swallowed before she continued, “And I will be, in truth, eternally dishonoured. If I can save his life, it will be well worth the price.”

  “And will he not try to take vengeance for you?” the Beast sneered and wondered aloud. “Against me? I would, for a sister well loved, if I believed in love at all.”

  “He will not. I swear it,” Beauty said steadily. “I have a mother and a younger brother for him to protect. He would not abandon them or put their lives at risk to save me.”

  The Beast paced the room, agitated at this glimpse of the girl’s mind. Finally he paused, tamping down his fury before continuing, “What exactly are you offering? For all your fine talk, so far as I can tell, there’s nothing at all about you to interest me in the least.”

  Beauty silently pushed her hood back, letting him see her face for the first time. She reached up and pulled the leather thong, releasing her dirty but long, flowing hair.

  The Beast stared at her, amazed and stunned. He struggled to maintain his icy demeanour, to hide his disconcerting reaction from her. Beauty was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, at least her face was, even covered as it was with dirt. She was young, maybe eighteen, barely more than a girl, and seemed very petite. She had clear blue eyes, perfect cheekbones, a generous mouth with even white teeth, smooth clear skin and thick dark blond hair.