by Susan Kohler
Margaret silently admitted defeat. With a great deal of willpower she put her resentments firmly behind her. She was simply and completely outnumbered. Her oldest son, Tom, respected the Beast. He had not completely overcome all his old resentments of the Beast yet, but he had begun to sing the young lord’s praises on many matters. Her youngest son, Nate, now owed his very life to the Beast. Her only daughter loved the man with all the depth and passion a loving mother could pray her whole life for her daughter to find.
The manservant, Seth, and the girl, Claire, stood off to one side. Seth had come to a grudging respect for the young lord, and though he would rather die than admit it, he would fight to the death to defend him. Claire was a different matter altogether; she was there more because she hated to be alone than because she was worried over the Beast. She still felt adrift and clung to Beauty. She was curious, both about how the mighty warrior came to be injured and about Beauty’s knowledge of healing.
Claire still feared all men to some extent but she was even more terrified of one so strong-willed who could be so loud, so demanding and full of bluster. She had learned well what there was to fear from the harsh brutality of men but had yet to learn what tenderness could be hidden inside a strong, rough man like the Beast.
Seth ordered two of the servants to help him place the Beast on the long table, then to boil water with which to cleanse the lord’s wounds. The bleeding was terrible and seemed unstoppable. Beauty could see a vessel deep inside the wound spewing blood. All three women fought desperately to figure out a way to stem the steady flow of blood.
“Seth, bring me some silk thread from my sewing kit!” Beauty commanded, inspired by a distant memory.
When the manservant quickly returned, she threaded the needle and then, without fully knowing her reasons behind her actions, she ordered the nearest servant to pour some of the steaming water over the needle, thread and her hands. She grimaced as she washed her hands with the scalding water.
At Margaret’s quizzical look Beauty shrugged, “There has to be a reason I learned to sew, something more important than making countless tapestries. I think I can patch that vessel with some good stitching. Cleanliness might not help, but it can’t hurt. There’s no other possible way to save him.”
“The barber... ” Gwyneth began, protesting.
“The barber always wants to open a vein and bleed a wounded man,” Beauty said curtly. “It makes no sense to me. It never has. It seems to me like it’s the loss of blood that’s likely to kill him. And a dirty wound seems to me to heal slower than one that is kept clean, contrary to what the healers and barbers believe.”
Quickly, she stitched the vessel deep in the wound and then, using a new piece of silken thread, she put a few long stitches in the Beast’s skin to hold the wound closed. The women mixed a poultice of hot water and mouldy bread. They kneaded it into a thick paste and applied it to the wound before binding it with strips of clean white linen. Finally, they had some of the servants carefully move the Beast up to his bed in the master bedroom.
For the next few days, the three women kept a constant vigil by the Beast’s bedside. They spent the long days continually putting cool cloths on the Beast’s forehead only to change them as soon as his hot skin warmed them again. They were kept busy ceaselessly changing bandages and striving to revive him enough to force a little bitter herbal tea, cool water and clear broth down his throat. They held his hand and talked softly to him when he seemed delirious.
Sometimes, in his delirium, he talked about Beauty. She smiled sadly at his words though, for while they were alternately passionate and tender ramblings praising her beauty, her warmth, passion in bed and even her fire and temper, the Beast never spoke of love. Surely if he did harbour some trace of love for her he’d mention it in the throws of his delirium while his guard is down, she thought ruefully. It didn’t help matters that her mother heard these ramblings, some of which were very personal and sensuous.
Nate stayed close by ready to help Beauty much of the time since he felt responsible for the Beast’s injuries. Tom, nearly recovered from his own injury, sat on a chair in the Beast’s room watching the women and Seth while they tended to the Beast.
A tiny miracle happened in that room although no one noticed it at the time. The small group began to grow together, to almost become a family. Tenuous bonds were forming even as they fought together to save the wounded warrior.
Even the girl, Claire, began to lose her fear of the Beast. She saw him for the first time as a man, not a monster; a man who could be wounded just like anyone else. And for the first time she fully realized that just like he had saved Nate from Gerrin, he was the one who had saved her from the murderous band of thieves. Slowly she began to help the others take care of the Beast.
She would take turns with them, forcing liquids down his throat and wiping his forehead. She even helped Beauty with bathing him and changing his sheets. She saw some of the wounds, both new and old on his body, and began to realize the extent of the perils he had faced and the battles he had fought before coming to rule these lands. The scars that horrified her also served to remind her that he was very human and very courageous. They gave her a glimpse of the reason behind his cold, rough facade. Hearing him speak so tenderly about Beauty, even in the throes of delirium, also gave her a hint as to the true nature of the man inside the armour.
Finally she opened up enough to discuss her fears with Beauty. Slowly, as they sat alone by the Beast’s bedside, the source of her fears came out. It seems she had known of the Beast’s reputation long before she received her injuries. When she had been raped by the thieves after witnessing the murder of her grandmother, she had partly feared that the Beast himself was behind the attack. He was always rumoured to be behind anything bad that happened in the village. He was a convenient scapegoat for the villagers’ complaints. That he had rescued her and brought her to the castle had mattered not one whit to the girl. She had simply assumed he would wait until she was stronger before he forced her into his bed. Due to his reputation, in her mind, he was a vicious monster.
Even though he never made a move towards her or even said an unkind word to her, she had been deathly afraid and still suspicious of him. She was fearful, unwilling to believe in the real motive behind his kindness to her.
Now, seeing him injured and perhaps dying, she finally came to see the Beast as a man. She finally knew he had saved not only her life but also Nate’s.
Sometimes when they were both caring for the Beast, her small hands and Nate’s would meet and they would look shyly into one another’s eyes. If anyone watching had beheld those gazes they would have seen how touching and innocent those gazes were, but everyone who could have seen was too busy or too preoccupied to notice.
Once, standing side by side at the Beast’s bedside, as their hands brushed not completely by accident, they locked their little fingers together. For long minutes they stood there, silently, with only their little fingers entwined. With his heart beating fast, Nate gently slid the palm of his hand over hers until she turned her hand palm up in his and their fingers interlaced. They stood there, still side by side and silent, but now they were looking at each other and smiling.
Seth, too, seemed to be overcome by some long repressed emotion. The servant, a man of just fifty years, walked over and stood firmly by Margaret’s side. Much closer than he’d ever dare come to her before. He fixed a steady gaze on her, watching her every movement with what seemed like a calm resignation. She noticed and flushed, but she said nothing. However she often looked into his patient, dignified face and smiled softly and sadly.
Sometime during one of the long nights when Beauty was alone with Nate, she asked the lad, “Nate, why is it so important to you to save the Beast? I know he took you to the dungeon to punish you. I worried that you’d come to hate or resent him.”
“So? You knew what he had planned for me.” Nate hung his head but grinned ruefully. “I deserved it.”
&nbs
p; “You were playing some dangerous pranks and I knew he was going to punish you,” Beauty replied quietly. “And I must admit that I had some idea how he would go about it. I thought perhaps he would use his belt on you.”
“You knew?” Nate blushed. “How did you know?”
“Let’s just say that I had given him some suggestions on how to deal with you,” Beauty told her brother with a small shrug of her shoulders.
“Beauty! You suggested to the Beast that he tie me down to the chopping block?” Nate was shocked.
“Heavens! That must have been frightening. I know well how terrifying M’lord Beast can be when he acts so fearsome,” Beauty smiled. “But the block was his idea, I just suggested a tour of the dungeon and... ”
“And the belt,” Nate finished for her. “Did you have to be so blessed helpful, Beauty? The strange thing is he didn’t really hurt me with it. Not very much. I’ll admit it was no more than I deserved. Everything was fine, at least until that guard, Gerrin, attacked me. The Beast punished me using my mind, my own fears, much more severely than he punished me by using the belt on my body.” The lad paused, and then blurted out, “Beauty, he could have let me be killed by Gerrin and he probably should have. I’ve been nothing but trouble to him since I came to the castle, yet the Beast defended me. He even told the guard that I was part of his family. He risked his own life defending mine. Now I owe him my life and my loyalty.”
“As do I, Nate,” Beauty said gently, hugging the lad. “He saved my life today also, for I could not bear to lose you.”
“Beauty, what do you think he meant when he said I was part of his family?” Nate asked her quietly.
“I’m not sure, Nate,” Beauty said softly. “I think he’s beginning to regard you as a younger brother. I think he cares very much for you in spite of your pranks, mayhap even because of them. He’d never admit it though because he doesn’t want to seem soft or weak. That’s part of the secret of the Beast, Nate. His one fear, from what I can tell, is to be seen as cowardly or overly weak and tender hearted.”
“How could that be? His ferocity is legendary.” Nate was surprised. “As is his courage.”
“It goes far back to his childhood,” Beauty smiled softly. “If indeed you’d call what he had a childhood. That’s part of why your pranks intrigued him so much.”
“How do you mean that? That’s what you said before wasn’t it? Mayhap because of my pranks? And I’m not really his brother,” Nate said. “I wouldn’t really be his brother unless you married him.”
“I imagine it’s because you’re the only one who’s ever been bold enough to play pranks on the Beast. I think it showed him a piece of the childhood he missed. I also think it made him feel a certain admiration for you and your nerve. It might even have made him feel like you had seen the real man inside the warrior and accepted him as a man and not a beast or a monster. As for marriage between us, I fear that it’s never going to happen, Nate,” Beauty sighed. “Even if I do want it to with all my heart.”
“He’s not a beast at all, is he Beauty?” Nate asked softly.
“No, love. He’s no beast at all, just a very strong, obstinate man with a great heart buried deep inside a fierce exterior.” Beauty hugged her brother.
She laughed in sheer relief as the Beast stirred on the bed beside them and groaned loudly, finally showing signs of awakening. “He does growl a bit like a beast though doesn’t he, Nate?”
“Sometimes, but usually only when he’s awake.” Nate hugged her back.
Later that night, with Nate finally in bed, Margaret came to stand bedside watch with Beauty. It was a quiet, private time for the two women; a rare thing ever since Margaret had arrived at the castle.
Margaret met Beauty’s gaze directly and spoke her mind without equivocation. “You love him very much, don’t you daughter?”
Beauty stood still and silent for a long time before she answered softly, “I do, Mother. It’s strange, I’ve fought so long against admitting my love for him, even to myself, that it’s hard for me to say the words, hard to even think them, but yea, I do love him.”
“He’s not an easy man to love, is he?” Margaret asked. But she continued without waiting for Beauty to answer, “He is a good man though, deep inside.”
“Yes, he is, Mother,” Beauty replied. She then asked curiously, “Then why do you treat him so poorly? He oft says he’ll have to take to wearing his armour inside the castle if you sharpen that tongue of yours any more.”
“For several reasons: First, to see if he really has learned to control his temper. Also, there’s still some resentment at seeing any man reign as lord of the manor. Then again, I begrudged him any happiness for not allowing you to visit with me for so long.” Margaret paused before continuing, “Finally, I held him in great disfavour for destroying your chances at making a decent, worthy marriage, and giving me lots of grandchildren.”
“I see,” Beauty said softly, “‘tis truly a host of sins and grievances you’ve laid at M’lord’s feet. Some of them, nay, most of them are even deserved. It matters not, Mother, I love him.”
“Will you two ever marry?” Margaret asked.
Beauty smiled sadly, “I doubt it. He once told me he would marry me, that one woman was as good a wife as another, so as long as that woman had a title and a dowry.”
“And?” her mother almost shouted. “Beauty... ”
“And I have decided that I want to be married to a man who cares not if I have a title or a dowry,” Beauty told her mother. “A man who cares only for me.”
“You... ” her mother started again.
“Nay, Mother. Do not even suggest it. I have some pride,” Beauty said with quiet dignity.
“Doest your pride warm your bed at night? Comfort you? Give you pleasure and love? Children? I urge you, tell the man all your secrets,” Margaret argued.
“Nay, Mother. I will not, at least not yet.” Beauty firmly ended the conversation, although she knew her mother would never let the matter drop so easily.
Beauty sat down on the bed beside the Beast, slumping against a feather pillow she had leaned up against the carved wooden headboard. Margaret decided to bide her time. She kissed Beauty’s forehead and left the room without another word. She had a plan forming in the back of her mind though, and a new goal firmly planted in her thoughts.
It was a long time before anyone realized that as he drifted in and out of consciousness, the Beast heard pieces of the conversations going on around him. He heard Beauty’s admission of love for him, but there was something at the edge of his consciousness that told him to keep the information to himself. He was strangely pleased to hear it though. A rare contentment filled him and he drifted off again into a peaceful slumber. By the morning after Beauty had the conversation with her mother, he was awake and slowly becoming more fully aware of his surroundings. He sat up for the first time and even managed to eat some of his morning meal. He was still very weak but already showing definite signs of improvement.
By chance, the first person the Beast saw when he was fully awake that morning was Claire. The girl was sitting on a chair by his bed, frowning over some stitches on the small piece of tapestry she was sewing. It seems Beauty was still very determined to teach the girl some genteel skills. Claire looked up and saw the Beast watching her and gave him a wide smile.
“Oh good, you’re awake, M’lord,” the young girl gushed. “We’ve been so worried. I’ll fetch Beauty.”
The girl threw her arms around the Beast’s neck, hugging him briefly and quickly kissing his cheek before she ran from the room. It was a shocked and bemused Beast that Beauty found when she reached the warrior’s bedside.
“M’lord, I must admit, I’m very pleased to see you awake. How do you feel?” Beauty fussed over him.
She felt his forehead, checking for signs of fever, before fluffing his pillow and smoothing and straightening his sheets. Then she lightly but lovingly kissed him on his lips. It was one of the few times s
he had ever initiated a kiss on the Beast’s mouth, and both of them realized it but neither of them made any comment on it.
“I feel like someone almost cut me into pieces. I’m weak and sore but I’ll live I think,” the Beast muttered wryly. “I fear for my sanity though, for I could swear Claire kissed my cheek before she went to fetch you.”
“Weak?” Beauty teased gently as she changed the bandage on his wound. “M’lord actually admits to being weak? It only took an axe to his side to force the admission from him.”
“How’s Nate?” The Beast worried in his fever that Gerrin had injured the lad.
“He’s fine. I expect he’ll be here shortly,” Beauty said. Adding in a whisper, “It seems there are now two people he tries to stay close to.”
At Beast’s questioning look Beauty continued, still whispering, “You, M’lord, and the girl, Claire.”
“What do you mean?” the Beast questioned, his mind a little slow still.
“He wants to stay near you because you saved his life,” Beauty smiled as she drew up a chair and sat by the Beast. “And he wants to say near Claire because he’s smitten with her. I think a romance is brewing. It’s really sweet. It’s a good thing the girl’s finally decided she can stand to be near you. Now Nate doesn’t have to try to split himself in half between the two of you.”
The Beast snorted, “Women!”
“Nate said something to me while you were unconscious, M’lord, something that touched me deeply.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes full on before she continued, “He said that you claimed him as part of your family.”
“Part of our family you mean, Beauty,” the Beast gently corrected, reaching out and taking her hand.
For her answer she only smiled, not wanting to trust her voice. Soon Margaret came in with some hot broth, milk and a small portion of roasted chicken for the Beast.
“Well, it looks like you’ll live, more’s the pity. I guess you’d better eat then and get your strength back,” she snarled at him, showing no sign of her recent acceptance of him.
