Mother Knows Best: A Tale of the Old Witch

by Serena Valentino

  “Gothel has the key,” said Hazel.

  “The key?” asked Primrose.

  “Yes, she has the key to Mother’s fortune.”

  “I suppose it’s our fortune now.” Gothel smiled. She never paused to wonder where the money came from, and it seemed never to run out. “Don’t worry, Sisters. We will make a beautiful life here. I promise we will make this place our home.”

  Gothel walked the long winding path that led from the conservatory to the dense part of the dead woods she and her sisters called the city of the dead. It was nice to stretch her legs after many hours of reading her mother’s books, trying to find another way to get past the thicket, and something told her Jacob had the answers she needed. She walked past endless tombstones and crypts lining the little pathways and creating a sort of labyrinth. There was no breeze that day, so the weeping willows’ branches were still, obscuring the gray sky and letting in very little light. The path was littered with dried leaves and broken branches that crunched under Gothel’s feet as she made her way to the creature’s crypt. It was as if she had always known where he rested, her feet guiding her right to his doorstep. His crypt was more beautiful than the others in the city; it was larger, more like a little house with its stained glass windows and weeping angel to the right of the stone door. She wondered if he had made a home for himself in there. She wondered how he spent his time. She imagined him sitting at a little round wooden table, with a single candle, writing a love letter to her mother.

  Gods, what am I doing here?

  She knew her sisters would be upset if they found out she had come to see the creature, but something within her told her he would have the answers to her questions. And since he was now bound to Gothel and her sisters, he would have to answer her truthfully. Or at least that was what it said in her mother’s book. There was an interesting passage in one of her mother’s journals that called him by name: Sir Jacob. To know his name is to have power over him. To know his name means he can do you no harm. According to her mother’s books, he wasn’t like the other creatures that were bound to the witches of the woods. Something about him was different, and Gothel intended to find out what that was.

  Her mother had called the creature her love, and it occurred to Gothel that her mother might have actually loved the man.

  She had so many questions she wanted to ask her mother. There was so much she didn’t know. After years of neglect, leaving Gothel and her sisters to wander the woods alone, motherless while she was doing her magic, she was now gone without passing her magic on to her daughters, with no legacy of witches to take her place. Gothel suddenly felt the burden of guilt, not only for killing her mother but for sending her family and their legacy into ruins.

  Gothel stood before Jacob’s crypt, its stained glass window adorned with a large red anatomically designed heart. The angel sat before the creature’s stone doorway, splayed on the marble slab, weeping into the crook of her arm, her wings flat against her naked body, giving the poor angel her dignity. Gothel had never noticed before, but the angel looked a bit like her mother, with her long hair and slender frame. It was eerie seeing an image that looked so much like her mother weeping. She had never seen her mother cry, not in all their years, until the previous night. The night of her death. There was so much about her mother she didn’t know, even beyond practical matters like where she got their food or how she did her magic. Gothel knew nothing about her at all, unless she had read it in one of her books. Maybe her mother had slipped away in the night when Gothel and her sisters slept. She could have had an entire life Gothel didn’t know about. She certainly hadn’t spent it with her daughters, except to swoop in on them occasionally with little gifts to appease them and keep them occupied. But where had she gotten those things? Prim’s scissors and Hazel’s paper? She clearly had gone out of the dead woods often for all those little things. Could she really have been so consumed by magic there was nothing else in her life? Nothing but necromancy, cultivating the flowers, death, and resurrection?

  Gothel sighed. And she knocked on the creature’s crypt door. Maybe Jacob will know.

  “Sir Jacob, rise. Your queen is in need of you.”

  The crypt door opened slowly. The sound of stone rubbing against stone was unnerving to her; it set her teeth on edge and filled her body with a strange tingling sensation that made her feel trapped within herself.

  He stepped out of the crypt, his feet shuffling among the dried leaves and twigs. Sir Jacob was even taller than the image Gothel had of him in her mind. And his skull seemed remarkably larger than the average male’s head. He was enormous, this man; the size of his hands alone was twice that of hers, if not more. She wondered what this man had looked like when he was alive. He must have had a long narrow face with high pronounced cheekbones, and his eyes, still intact, looked as if they might have been blue, though now they were cloudy and white.

  “Yes, my queen’s daughter. How may I serve you?” said Jacob in a voice that sounded remarkably human. Remarkably soothing.

  “Sir Jacob. I have some questions I hope you can answer. My mother died before she could instruct us. We have no idea—”

  “I understand. You don’t need to go on. Your mother anticipated you would come to me should anything ever happen to her. The first order of business is to put her at rest. She is trapped within the woods, waiting to be released into the mists that are waiting for her. Your ancestors are there, waiting for you to do the ceremony to send her spirit to be among them.”

  “They’re here? Waiting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they angry with me for killing Mother?”

  “That is not for me to say, little witch. But they have agreed to exchange your mother’s spirit for the knowledge you need to survive and thrive within the dead woods. Continuing the legacy is their priority, not revenge. Your mother spent a lot of time in this world, her life was not cut short. But you do need her knowledge and you need her blood if you’re going to rule here in her place.”

  “But she was destroyed in the fire, all of her blood is gone.”

  “Not all of it, little witch. That key you have in your pocket opens the vault. Within it you’ll find more than her fortune. There is a chest that contains your mother’s blood, and her spell book with the instructions you will need to take her blood. The chest is behind a secret door that can be opened by pressing the seventh stone from the top. But the blood is only for you, Gothel. Don’t share it with your sisters. That is your mother’s command.”

  “It doesn’t matter what my mother commands!”

  The specter nodded slightly. “I am bound to you and have to serve you no matter. I can only offer my advice, you are not required to take it.”

  “What were you to my mother?”

  “That is between me and your mother, little witch,” said the creature with something that resembled a twisted sad smile.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

  “Not to worry, little witch. Do you have more questions for me?” said Jacob with the same sneer-like smile. Gothel was starting to understand that was simply what happened when he smiled. His skin was so tightly stretched across his face that it distorted when he smiled or spoke. She found it oddly charming and wondered again what the man had looked like when he was alive.

  “Do you know how Mother left the dead woods? To get things we needed for the house, like food, supplies?” she finally asked after realizing she had been staring at him for longer than would be considered polite.

  “Those things are delivered by a neighboring village. A family that has worked in the world for us for many generations. They bring the supplies every new moon. If there is something you want, you only need to tell me, and I will be sure they fetch it.”

  “So she never left the dead woods?”

  “Never. Not that I am aware of, at any rate.”

  “And you? How do you leave?”

  “Your mother created an invisible portal for
me to come and go as I please. But it only allows me access. No one else may pass through it. What is it that you need?”

  “I wanted to take my sisters into the world. To buy furnishings for the house. I want to make it beautiful so they will stay.”

  “I will take care of that for you, Gothel. I will take care of it all. Please don’t ever try to leave the dead woods. You’re not meant to go beyond the thicket. That is why I am here. Your place is here.”

  Sir Jacob’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he convulsed and started to sputter. “The station riders are far behind, the secret voices I cannot find. The stench of Hades is taunting me, and still those voices I cannot see.”

  “What? What are you saying? What’s wrong, Sir Jacob?”

  “Gothel! You betrayed me! If it wouldn’t anger our ancestors, I would make this forest rise to destroy you and your precious sisters! But I will not lose my place among my family and be forever doomed to haunt these lands. The satisfaction of seeing you and your sisters dead isn’t worth my eternal damnation.”

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, my blackhearted child.”

  “You gave me no choice! You were going to kill my sisters!”

  “There will be time enough to settle this when you’ve turned to dust and joined me and your ancestors in the mists, but that time is not now. Now we must prepare you to take my place here as queen. The first thing you need to do is replant that rapunzel flower before it dies. Then you need to release me into the mists.”

  “How am I going to explain all of this to Hazel and Prim? They didn’t even want me to call on Sir Jacob. And they’re going to be really upset when they find out I’ve spoken to you.”

  “Gothel! You are queen of this land! What your sisters think doesn’t matter!”

  “It matters to me! I want them to stay with me. I want to make them happy.”

  “So I heard. Very smart of you to make the house beautiful for Prim so she and Hazel will stay with you. I love that you are still naive enough to think you’re doing this for the love of your sisters. Keep thinking that, Gothel, and they will also believe the lies you tell yourself. And forget your plan to do the ceremony with Primrose, she doesn’t have enough of my blood to make a difference. Take my blood from the vault and use it only on yourself. If you want your sisters to stay here with you, then you will need to hide your true self from them, as you have been these many days. And you won’t be able to do that if you share the blood with them.”

  “But I want them with me forever!”

  “And they will be, with the power of the flower, Gothel. That is what keeps us alive for so long.”

  “But the necromancy isn’t powered by the flower….”

  “You’re very smart, Gothel. You have my mind. You will learn everything you need to know from my blood, my books, and the knowledge of your ancestors. Listen to me. I may be dead, but Mother still knows best.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Good. Go now and plant the flower. And let Jacob handle the mundane tasks. After you’ve planted the flower, I will show you how to return me to our ancestors.”

  Gothel took the flower out of her cloak pocket and looked at it. Thank the gods it hasn’t wilted.

  “No, it lasts longer than other cut flowers, but you can’t put off planting it for too much longer. Go on. Jacob will be fine. We will both be waiting for you here when you return.”

  Gothel turned to leave, but her mother stopped her. “Oh, and, Gothel, it wasn’t a trick of the light.”

  “What?”

  “Seeing me in my bedroom, seeing my image in the statue. If you don’t release me to my ancestors before they go, I will haunt you until the end of your days. I will make this place a living Hades. For you and your sisters.”

  “Don’t worry, Mother. I will send you to the mists.”

  “Good girl.”

  Gothel took her time getting back. She needed to think about what she was going to say to her sisters. The dead woods were so still and so close that day, the light so muted by the thick mists, Gothel felt trapped She was overwhelmed by everything she had to do. Replant the flower, send her mother to the mists, explain everything to her sisters, learn Mother’s magic…

  One task at a time. Replant the flower.

  When Gothel finally made her way from the city of the dead, she found scores of skeletal creatures tearing down the old conservatory and removing the debris from the area in wooden carts. How was she going to explain that to Hazel and Primrose? She barely knew how to explain it to herself.

  One of the creatures was looking directly at her, as if trying to get her attention.

  “Yes? May I help you?” she asked the monstrosity.

  The creature just stared at her, as if he was looking right through her. She felt stupid talking to him; as far as she knew, the creatures couldn’t speak. The creature, who was entirely skeletal, handed Gothel a note and went back to his duties without any ceremony. Gothel found herself thanking the creature, even though she wasn’t sure why. The letter was written on white parchment and was sealed with red wax. The stamp in the wax had some sort of knightly crest. She opened the letter and found that it was from Sir Jacob.

  Lady Gothel,

  I have instructed your creatures to start work on the renovation of the conservatory directly. Please give them any instructions you see fit. They will understand and obey your instructions. Materials needed for the new structure can be ordered by me and will be delivered as soon as it is possible.

  I have also sent word to our man in the world to bring all manner of furnishings, tapestries, bedding, statuary, paintings, clothing, and other items I think your sisters would enjoy. Any that are not to your taste can be sent back, and payment will not be required until you have made your final selections. The first of many wagons will start appearing at the mansion in three days’ time.

  After you have seen to the replanting of the rapunzel (which can be managed by Victor, the creature who delivered you this missive) and you have successfully given your sisters errands to occupy their time, please make your way back to my crypt, where your mother and I will be waiting.

  Eternally yours,

  Sir Jacob

  Gothel sighed. “Primrose and Hazel are going to freak out when they see this!”

  “Primrose might. How about telling me what’s going on?”

  Gothel turned around to find Hazel standing at the edge of the burnt conservatory.

  “Hazel, hi! Where’s Primrose?”

  “She’s running around like a little maniac, deciding how she’d like to decorate the mansion. I’m assuming that’s why you gave us our various tasks, to keep us busy while you were ordering Mother’s minions about? You know Prim is going to be furious you’ve awoken them.”

  “But I didn’t! Sir Jacob did!”

  “How is that possible, Gothel? Did you wake him?”

  “Well…”

  “Gothel!”

  “I didn’t have a choice! It turns out he handles everything around here, Hazel, everything!”

  “That makes sense. But I think you’d better tell me everything so I know what to say to Prim.”

  And so she did.

  After searching the entire house, Hazel found Primrose in their mother’s room. She was lying on her back, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Prim! What are you doing?” asked Hazel.

  Primrose sat up. “It’s so sad in here, isn’t it?”

  “Why don’t we go down to the library? I hate it in here.”

  “Don’t daughters usually go into their mother’s room after she dies, look through her things, and reminisce and think about how much they miss her?”

  “In storybooks, sure. Prim, no matter how many hearts you put in here, it’s never going to give us good memories about Mother, or give us the mother we deserved. Come on. I need to talk to you. Let’s go down to the library, or the kitchen.”

  “No, let’s talk here. What’s going on?”

&nb
sp; “Please don’t freak out, it’s about Gothel.”

  “Where is she?” asked Primrose.

  “She’s with Sir Jacob.”

  “Okay, who’s that?”

  “Before you say anything at all, can you just promise to listen to me, Prim?”

  “Okay…”

  “Sir Jacob is Mother’s creature. Her ‘love.’”

  “Wait. Didn’t we decide she wouldn’t talk to him?”

  “Well, it was you who decided.”

  Primrose rolled her eyes.

  “Listen to me, Primrose. If we’re all going to stay here, there are going to have to be some compromises. And this is one of them. Gothel read in Mother’s book there is no way for us out of the thicket.”

  “What?”

  “Calm down and listen to me! The only person who can leave here is Sir Jacob. He does everything around here, and Gothel knew you were going to be disappointed, but she arranged for Jacob to bring wagonloads of things for you to choose from to decorate this house. To make you happy, Prim! She’s trying to make you happy and do what’s best for this family. You’re not always going to like the way she has to do it, but I need you to trust her, Prim. And if you can’t trust her, then trust me.”

  “I always have.”

  “Come on, can we leave this room? I’m hungry, let’s go down to the kitchen.”

  “Fine! But you’re cooking. You know what I’m excited about, Hazel?”

  “What’s that, little sister?”

  But before Primrose could answer, their mother’s room was engulfed by a blinding light.

  “What the Hades was that?” asked Primrose, unsteady on her feet.

  “I don’t know,” said Hazel, using the doorway to steady herself. She ran to the window. “Prim, come here. Look at this.”

  “What is that?”

  The sky was filled with a huge swirling black vortex that was consuming the dead trees and heading their direction.

  “My gods! Do you think Mother is back?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Do you feel her, Hazel? Is it her? Come on!”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know! I’ve been feeling her ever since she died. She imbues this house, the forest, but I didn’t want to say anything about it!”