Princess Beatrice ran and ran and ran until she could run no more. She crawled into the shelter of thick hedgerow and hid there for a night. When she was sure that there were no signs of soldiers passing her way, she crawled out again.
The Black Mountain loomed overhead. Not one to be discouraged easily, Princess Beatrice continued on her journey, making her way towards the foothills of the Black Mountain and then through the wilderness of briars and brambles and vines and mosses and bracken and dense vegetation up the mountain slope.
The Black Mountain had appeared forbidding and dark and mysterious from a distance. The peoples of neighbouring kingdoms traditionally avoided the Black Mountain, being fearful and superstitious about its inhabitants and the enchantment and dangers said to reside within the mountain. It was said that even the wild animals feared to venture there.
At close quarters, Princess Beatrice found the dark tangled wilderness of the Black Mountain strange and beguiling, unlike any place she had ever seen before, although it presented many challenges for a traveller. The plants grew in peculiar formations and sizes with foliage and stalks and branches and tendrils and flowers of gleaming jet black, like the austere cliffs and the rocks scattered about the mountainside, and they were curiously unmoving as if they had been crafted from stone. The princess found that she had to revise her first impressions of her surroundings when the sun broke through the overcast sky and lit up the gloomy tangle around her. In the rays of light cast by the sunburst, the wilderness of plants revealed its true nature, the jet black of each surface pierced to a dark and shimmering jewel green, like the lights in the depths of the ocean. Lush and spare, stone-like and viridescent, still and wavering—it could have been a different sort of earthly paradise.
The princess trudged on, trying not to be distracted from her quest.
After several days’ journey and no luck searching for food and water, Princess Beatrice stumbled across a clear spring where she drank and washed and foraged for wild berries in its vicinity and ate what was left of the hard cheese in her pouch. While she was resting by the spring, she took out the sword and fashioned a slingshot from the remains of her broken bow. From the ground beside the spring, she selected some choice stones for the slingshot and placed them in her pocket.
As Princess Beatrice was rising to her feet to continue her journey, she saw something scurry across her path.
It looked like the field mouse from the village—although the princess could not be certain of being able, on such short acquaintance, to recognise or distinguish that particular field mouse from its fellow mice. Notwithstanding this, Princess Beatrice hurried to follow after the mouse.
Princess Beatrice clambered over and around the rocks and wild vegetation of the mountainous slope, trying to keep up and not lose sight of the nimble mouse but she could go no further when the mouse ran up to a solid cliff face and seemed to vanish into it. The princess walked around the base of the cliff, poking at its smooth surface, trying to no avail to find the opening where the mouse had vanished. The rock was solid, without cracks or fissures. She walked around the bottom of the cliff face again in the hope that she would find something she had missed on her first inspection. It was during this second turn about the cliff that she noticed the scattering of ladybirds on a thicket of briar growing tightly over one side of a boulder at the base of the cliff. The boulder was massive and smooth and seemed immaculately cleaved to the cliff.
Princess Beatrice attempted to slide the point of her sword along the line where the thicket appeared to be growing out of the boulder. The thicket’s roots must go somewhere, reasoned the princess.
Surely enough, the blade slid inside an inch. Princess Beatrice pushed harder at the sword hilt and felt the rock give way. She placed a hand on the boulder and pushed. The boulder groaned and rolled aside to reveal a cave with a dark tunnel leading somewhere deep within the Black Mountain.
‘Oh,’ said the princess.
She picked up the sword and stepped into the cave.
The City of Stone
Princess Beatrice began to examine the interior of the cave. The cave and the tunnel appeared to be hewn out of the same black rock as the exterior cliffs of the Black Mountain. She had been considering what to use to light her way into the tunnel when the boulder rolled closed of its own accord with the same slow, grinding groan, and shut out the sun.
‘Oh,’ said the princess, staring into the unrelieved darkness.
Gradually, as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, the darkness seemed to lessen. Princess Beatrice saw that there were small lights on the walls of the cave which she realised were glow-worms. Then she saw that along the floor of the cave there was also a trail of curious black glass-like stones that seemed to glow with a kind of reflective light. The cave must have had an opening somewhere letting in the outside light, thought the princess.
Princess Beatrice felt about the surface of the boulder and the walls of the cave around it. Once she assured herself that she could, with strenuous effort, push at the boulder to roll it aside again so that she could exit the cave, she returned her attention to the cave’s interior, the black glass-like stones, and the connecting tunnel.
Princess Beatrice followed the trail of black glass-like stones into the tunnel. From time to time, she stooped down and picked up small loose rocks from the floor of the cave and put them in her pocket in readiness for her slingshot, should she ever meet the need to defend herself.
Princess Beatrice followed the labyrinthine passage, sometimes walking upright, sometimes crawling when the tunnel narrowed. She wondered how long was the tunnel and where it led. She studied the trail of black glass-like stones, noting the variations in pattern and number, and wondered if they were markings or directions.
Presently, the darkness of the tunnel began to lighten. The diameter of the tunnel widened and came to a parting of the way in nine directions.
‘Oh,’ said the princess.
The black glass-like stones to each tunnel were different. Princess Beatrice thought for a moment and, since she could not decide for one tunnel over another, she decided to be methodical and took the first one on her left. This tunnel wound for a long time and emerged out to a ledge.
‘Oh,’ breathed Princess Beatrice.
Laid out beneath her was the expanse of a vast city within the mountain built out of stone and obsidian with gleaming black halls and soaring vaulted ceilings and wide avenues and black marble terraces and squares and fountains and temples and trees of onyx, jasper and quartz, and streams gleaming with black diamonds, and an arcaded palace of jet and agate, and a great stone amphitheatre, and watch towers and balconies carved into the sides of the mountain, facing in each of the four cardinal directions, their balustrades lined with stone gargoyles glinting in dark splendour, ready to greet the sun or moonrise.
Princess Beatrice peered over the ledge. Where in this city of stone would she find the magic jewel? And how would she get to the city from the ledge? It was a long way down for a human without wings.
Princess Beatrice crawled back inside the tunnel and returned to the parting of the way. This time, she chose the tunnel in the middle.
The middle tunnel snaked downward and then levelled out and came to an abrupt end in a dark recess with only a tiny peephole looking out from an elevated position onto a large stately hall. The princess had to stand on her toes to reach up far enough to see out of the peephole. She saw rich black drapes and marble pillars and a stone throne. The throne was occupied by a winged beast—a living gargoyle—of monstrous stature whose imposing presence was rendered more terrifying by the waves of his deep thundering wrath vibrating through the hall.
‘Useless! Useless!’ raged the gargoyle. ‘I am surrounded by imbeciles! What use are any of you if you cannot get a word out of Melchior?’
‘Your Highness!’ pleaded a subservient gargoyle.
‘He dares to remain defiant, does he? Obstinate, self-righteous fool!’ continued the ga
rgoyle on the throne. ‘Very well. Let us see if he maintains his silence after a trial by combat.’
‘But your Highness,’ cried the second gargoyle.
‘I will not be defied!’ roared the gargoyle on the throne. ‘Your minions have had him for all this time to play with and what have you got to show for it? At least a trial by combat will give us some sport.’
‘Your Highness,’ protested the second gargoyle.
‘Send him to the arena, Godric,’ said the gargoyle on the throne in a silky purr. ‘Or would you prefer to go in his place?’
‘No, your Highness,’ said the gargoyle Godric.
‘He will speak,’ said the gargoyle on the throne. ‘Send Melchior into the arena, Godric. Let him have a nice conversation with our champions.’
‘As you wish, your Highness,’ said Godric, hastily bowing, and left the hall.
‘He will speak,’ repeated the gargoyle on the throne to the empty hall. ‘The jewel is my birthright. I will not be defied.’
The gargoyle on the throne glared down the length of the hall as if he desired to subjugate the inanimate stone with the force of his intense displeasure. His form might have borne a closer resemblance to the stone gargoyles that Princess Beatrice had seen on the castle and abbey rooftops in Trasimene if his features had not been marred by an ugly, brooding expression of ferocious cruelty.
Princess Beatrice sank back down from the peephole onto her heels and thought vigorously.
Could the jewel that the gargoyle spoke of be the same one foretold by the oracle? If this enthroned gargoyle was the ruler of the kingdom of the Black Mountain—if he was the one who had sent all the beasts into Trasimene to wreak havoc and destruction—it seemed unlikely that he would be agreeable to yielding the jewel to her. But Princess Beatrice noted that although the gargoyle sat on the throne, he wore no crown. Nevertheless, he appeared to have the kingdom at his command while she had a sword and a slingshot and some loose rocks in her pocket.
It was all very troubling and disheartening.
Princess Beatrice got up and went back along the tunnel to the parting of the way. She chose the last tunnel on the right this third time. The tunnel descended deeper into the bowels of the mountain and became heavy and stifling and uncomfortable and foul-smelling, but the princess felt it more easily bearable than the time she had spent eavesdropping on the unpleasant and vile-tempered gargoyle on the throne.
The tunnel led into a pitch black place. With no light to reflect, the glass-like stones vanished from view into the darkness. Princess Beatrice could see nothing in the blackness ahead of her and had to feel about her with her hands to make out the way. She found a heavy metal ring attached to the stone above her. Pushing against it, she felt the stone slab slowly give way. She pushed again with the weight of her shoulders pressed up against the stone and felt the slab, no more than a foot square, edge away, sliding against another stone surface. She gradually managed to make enough of an opening for her to hoist herself up and climb out of the tunnel.
Princess Beatrice found herself no longer in complete darkness. She saw that she stood on the stone floor of a large dungeon cell. The dungeon was wide and had dark unfathomable corners and no window. The bars of the dungeon were thick but, in the dim light of the wall torches in the corridor beyond the cell, Princess Beatrice saw that the space between the bars was wide enough for her to squeeze through—but not for a larger being, such as a gargoyle.
This thought brought to Princess Beatrice an unsettling awareness of the silence and stillness in the dungeon. Her senses became alert with fear. Although nothing stirred, she could suddenly sense a near and powerful presence. She knew that she was not alone in the stygian darkness of the dungeon.
The Prisoner
A low threatening growl came from a corner of the darkness.
‘Who are you?’ demanded a harsh, deep voice.
Princess Beatrice held on tightly to her sword.
‘Come out of the shadows. Show yourself,’ said the princess.
Two glowing jet black eyes suddenly appeared. A dark hulking form emerged slowly from the blackness.
Princess Beatrice came face to face with a towering horned beast with gnashing fangs and razor-sharp talons, sinewy muscle and menacingly splayed wings, and features as harsh and frightful as his voice. The beast’s arms and feet were bound in heavy chains attached to the stone floor, and his body and limbs bore many fearful disfiguring scars and lashes and other marks of torture. He must have been of the same kind as the enthroned gargoyle that Princess Beatrice had seen earlier but the terrible wildness of this beast’s appearance made him seem to be of a different species. The princess stood her ground and met his baleful black gaze.
The beast’s terrible stare turned into disbelief.
‘A human girl!’ exclaimed the beast. ‘How did a human come into the dungeons of the Black Mountain?’
‘I have my means,’ said Princess Beatrice.
‘Well, you should use those means and spirit yourself out again if you know what is good for you,’ snapped the beast.
The princess was taken aback by the vehemence of the beast’s words. He reminded her of a dog that had been chained up and badly-treated, snarling and biting at anyone who came near.
‘The folk of this kingdom appear to be have a hospitable nature,’ said the princess, peering at the beast’s rattling chains.
‘You would count it sufficiently hospitable if you left with your life,’ said the beast. ‘Go on—leave before the guards come!’
Princess Beatrice lowered her sword.
‘Do you not want to leave too?’ asked the princess.
‘Are you not frightened, little human, that I will kill you and eat you if you set me free?’ asked the beast, taking a step forward and looming over her.
‘No,’ said the princess.
‘Then you are very foolish,’ said the beast.
‘You could easily have killed me already instead of warning me to leave. Your arms are long enough to reach me from where you stand, despite your chains,’ said the princess. ‘I do not understand why you should decline my offer to help.’
‘It is dangerous to meddle in matters that you do not understand,’ said the beast.
‘I was born meddlesome,’ said the princess, repeating a childhood catechism. ‘How did you become a prisoner in this dungeon?’
‘If you have seen anything of the kingdom of the Black Mountain or of the one who now rules it, you would not ask such silly questions,’ said the beast.
‘Oh, I see,’ said the princess. ‘The cruel one on the throne.’
‘You have seen Caspar in the royal hall?’ exclaimed the beast. ‘How is it that you are undiscovered and still alive?’
‘He did not see me. I was very well hidden,’ said the princess.
‘You were lucky. Escape now before your luck runs out,’ said the beast.
‘There is something I must find first,’ said the princess.
‘Are you in a hurry to invite your own death?’ asked the beast. ‘Leave the kingdom of the Black Mountain now before it is too late.’
‘Your chains are too thick to be sliced through by my sword,’ said the princess. ‘But I am small enough to slip between the dungeon bars. If you can tell me where the keys to your chains can be found, I—’
‘How did you get into this place?’ asked the beast. ‘One moment there was the long stretch of familiar blackness, the next moment you appeared. It must have been a powerful spell to break into the kingdom of the Black Mountain.’
Princess Beatrice looked at the chained beast in the dungeon and thought of his gaunt frame and his many wounds and the great solitude of the darkness.
‘How many years of imprisonment have you endured?’ asked the princess.
The beast stared at Princess Beatrice.
‘If you are wise, you would return the way you came,’ said the beast finally.
‘There was no spell. I found a cave behind a boulder out
side the mountain. I followed the cave to a tunnel which led me here,’ said the princess.
‘So that was how Balthazar used to come and go undetected,’ murmured the beast.
‘Who is Balthazar?’ asked the princess.
‘Which kingdom are you from?’ asked the beast.
‘Who is Balthazar?’ repeated the princess.
‘An errant cousin who flouted the laws forbidding the gargoyles of the Black Mountain from having any contact with the outside world. He was too fond of travelling to other kingdoms and observing humans,’ said the beast. ‘You must have stumbled across his secret passage out of the Black Mountain.’
‘Had your cousin ever been to the kingdom of Trasimene?’ asked the princess.
‘Many times,’ said the beast. ‘Balthazar was fascinated by the minute goings on in that kingdom. He often spoke of a child who liked to climb the trees in an ancient forest on the edge of an abbey and who was always running into mischief, getting into fights and rescuing stray animals.’
‘Oh,’ said the princess. ‘You disapproved.’
‘Our close neighbour, the kingdom of Ossaia, is a fine example of the depraved depths to which humans can plunge,’ said the beast. ‘No good comes of gargoyles mixing with humans.’
‘But,’ said the princess. ‘King Eldred—’
‘What do you know of King Eldred?’ asked the beast.
‘Very little,’ said the princess. ‘Except that he was good and kind and did not seem to mind humans much.’
‘Balthazar was also far too soft-hearted to recognise the evil dwelling in the hearts of others,’ said the beast. ‘It was far too easy for my cousin to allow his curiosity and kind heart to overrule his judgement.’
‘Do you dislike humans more than you dislike this Caspar?’ asked the princess.
‘That is not possible,’ said the beast. ‘I do not dislike all humans.’
The Princess & the Gargoyle Page 5
