Stepmothers and the Big Bad Wolf eARC

by Edited by Madeline Smoot

  “See, the chimney is cool. It’s Roman build, big enough for a bear to fit through. This will take us into the kitchens, which are in the center of the Fort. We’ll be among them before we even know they’re there.”

  The Wolf grunted. “I’ll be right behind you. Let’s make sure you don’t get too far ahead.” He tied a rope around him, just below Portius’s armpits, and yanked on it once for emphasis.

  The chimney was slick, and the rope helped slow Portius as he descended. He could hear but not see the Wolf descending above him. It was dark below, and he had to guess his position until he came to the narrower section before the fireplace opened. At last his feet reached the bottom, and he jerked twice on the rope.

  Rovena was standing beside the fireplace, a single candle just enough to show the smile on her face, the blade in her hand. The blade struck out, severing the rope, and then she looked up into the darkness above. A sudden thump showed when the Wolf reached the narrow part—the only part of the chimney where a bear, or a Wolf, could not pass.

  Curses were coming down as Rovena lit a torch from the candle and touched it to the oil and twine that ran up the chimney and beneath the oil soaked rushes above. The burst of flame illuminated her face, cheerful as she listened to the screams of her former husband and of his men above.

  “I swear I will never underestimate a Briton woman,” Portius breathed, and she laughed.

  “And I’ll swear to never underestimate a part-Roman architect. How long do you think it will take to clean the cisterns, after?”

  “A few good rains will do it.” They listened to the sounds of chaos above, as ladders toppled beneath the frantic men trying to descend them. “We’ll need to clean the chimney, after it cools.”

  Rovena nodded, building up the fire in the chimney to finish what they had started. “Welcome to Caer Caradoc, Portius. Health to our friends, death to our enemies, and farewell to the Wolf.”

  C. H. Spalding has been writing short stories since the 1980s or before. Only claim to fame: having dinner with Anne McCaffrey in 1992, then nervously pushing her in a wheelchair around the Atlanta airport to get her to her flight. She wanted to take the escalator at one point. Oh God, the terror.

  Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a pretty village beside a chuckling little river. The river was known for its clarity and sweetness and its occasionally magical healing properties. The villagers were very proud of their river, and that their king and queen had chosen the village to be their summer home. During those long, warm months each year it was common to see young princes and princesses riding through the fields and forests, their lively voices carried gaily on the air.

  Legend had it that the little river had been blessed by a fairy who lived at its source. As long as no one lived further upstream than the little village, the water would continue to be sweet and pure and occasionally healing. Legend also told that once, the river always healed, but when word spread the village had been mobbed, the river sullied, and the waters nearly drained full away. That was when the fairy came and cleared the river, returned the water, and dammed the magic away so that it could only be used with her permission.

  No one knew where the fairy lived. Many had sought her. Very few had found her, and those few had long since gone to their rest. The legends continued and grew in the telling, but the river remained pure and protected.

  One day, an older man with three children moved to the village. He was a sophisticated man, accustomed to living in the King’s City. He lived in a fine house with his daughters and his son, with a grand garden and many servants. He hosted teas and balls and invited everyone in the village. It did not take long for Lord Gavin to become as beloved as the king and his family in the little village.

  His daughters were shy young ladies, dressed in pretty dresses and given everything they wanted. They moved with delicacy and grace, and seemed innocent and kind. They served tea to the village children and shared their satin ribbons. They taught the dance steps to the girls and blushed when the young men smiled at them.

  His son, the eldest of his children, was not expected to have such fine sensibilities. He was rambunctious and adventuresome. He played pranks on his sisters, spent his days riding through the countryside and his nights carousing in the local tavern. He was popular with the other young men of the village and if the lasses sighed over him more than the other lads, well, where was the harm? Young Lord William had a bright future as the sole heir to his father’s fortune.

  A few weeks after their arrival in the village, a young woman considered well past the proper age to marry, but certainly far from her thirtieth year, caught Lord Gavin’s eye. Alyssa was not the most beautiful woman in the village, being plump of form and of common coloring. Her skin was olive and in the summer quite brown. Her hair was also brown, with no spark of red or glint of gold. Her brown eyes were dark and soft and were, without doubt, her finest feature. She dressed neatly in colors that were pretty but never in the latest fashion. She lived with her eldest brother and tended his children. In public she was often in the background, carrying a toddler or holding the hand of a small child.

  How she and Lord Gavin became acquainted no one knew. He was considerably older than she. She stayed home with the children while her brother and his wife enjoyed Lord Gavin’s balls and teas. It came as a surprise to the whole village when Lord Gavin drove up to Miss Alyssa’s house and then drove away again with her at his side. Their first stop was the village magistrate where they filed their intention to wed in two weeks. Their second was his home, where he informed his children that they would soon have a new mother.

  Young Lord William was not pleased and extended his new mother-to-be no welcome. She was of child-bearing years, and William saw his inheritance threatened with potential new brothers. His sisters were reserved, but said all that was proper and expected, took Miss Alyssa’s hand and kissed her cheek. When dismissed, they left the room quietly with Miss Alyssa no wiser to their feelings.

  The two weeks before the wedding passed swiftly as the girls helped with the planning. Ginnia, the elder girl, showed Alyssa how to arrange seating and plan menus. Alyssa discovered that Ginnia enjoyed working in the kitchen when her father was not around. Heather, the younger girl, was skilled with floral arrangements and confided in Alyssa a few secrets of the art that made the task simple. Heather, Alyssa found, preferred being outside and working in a garden, but she always kept a hat on and wore protective gloves so her complexion and hands did not betray her pastime.

  Alyssa felt a fondness for the girls grow in her heart, but she could not understand the distance they kept from her, despite their kindness and confidences. They would not laugh with her and seldom smiled, but their eyes watched her with cautious warmth. However, Alyssa trusted that the love she had found with their father would warm their hearts in time and they would become a family in truth.

  Young Lord William was a problem, openly snubbing her in the streets of the little village. As the wedding day approached, Alyssa feared that he would refuse to attend the wedding at all. It would shame the family and set her marriage off to a very bad start. She voiced her doubts to Lord Gavin, only to be reassured.

  “It is his way, my dear. Do not fret,” Gavin assured her warmly, drawing her hand through the crook of his arm as he walked in his garden with her one fine May morning. “He is young and foolish. He fears that you will give me sons and displace him.”

  Alyssa blushed even as she looked away and smiled. “I would like to give you a son, my love, but I will have him when I wear your ring.”

  “And more still, is my hope,” Lord Gavin chuckled. “At least one babe with your pretty eyes, promise me, my darling.”

  “What is meant to be will be,” was all Alyssa would say, refusing to be lured into making promises that she did not know if she could keep. “I would not come between you and your children.”

  Lord Gavin’s chin lifted and his eyes narrowed. “I give my children everything the
y desire. They will give me this. The girls have not made it difficult for you, I trust?”

  “No, of course not,” Alyssa assured him. “They have been very kind.”

  “As they should be,” Gavin nodded. “They know better than to be anything else.”

  Alyssa’s brows wrinkled as she looked at Gavin in puzzlement. What an odd thing to say!

  “Stop that now, my darling,” Lord Gavin chided, smoothing a finger over the creased skin between her brows. “You’ll wrinkle your skin if you frown so. Come see the arbor the gardener has completed for the ceremony. You will be pleased.”

  Alyssa forgot her puzzlement and went where Lord Gavin led her. She had little time to wonder or worry as her wedding day approached. The whole village was excited for their resident ‘old maid.’

  The wedding day dawned with cloudy sky and the rumbling of thunder. Alyssa was not dismayed. She arrived at Lord Gavin’s home early and when the girls voiced their apologies over the turn in the weather, Alyssa reassured them.

  “Oh, my dears, it doesn’t matter!” she exclaimed, linking her arms through theirs and leading them up the stairs to the rooms that would become her very own that day. “Sun or shower, I love your father and today we will be wed. If it rains, we’ll do it inside.” She smiled brightly. “But it will not rain. Within two hours, I promise you, the sky will be blue again.”

  Sending the girls off to get ready for the wedding, Alyssa entered her own room and locked her door. With a secret smile, she crossed the room and looked out the window, up into the grey and threatening clouds. “There is farmland nearby that needs your rain much more than the village does. Won’t you move just a bit and rain there instead?” she asked the cloud. The cloud gave no response, but who would expect that it would? Alyssa turned away from the window and headed for her waiting bath, humming a happy song as she went.

  When all was ready and the guests began arriving—the whole village had been invited, of course!—there were still clouds in the sky, but off to the west, over the grain fields. The rain came down thick and heavy, but the village remained dry with a blue sky above. When the girls commented on how lucky it was, Alyssa laughed and said that sometimes all it took was asking politely.

  It was a beautiful and simple wedding. Alyssa glowed as she looked at her new husband and no one in the village could deny that for their spinster, it was love. They still couldn’t figure out what a handsome, older, prosperous man like Lord Gavin could see in Alyssa, but since his eyes stayed on her and he smiled for her, they assumed it was love, as well.

  The household settled into a new routine, and for a while there was a brightness in the big house that hadn’t been there before. Alyssa often sang at whatever task she was about, and she found many tasks for herself. At first Lord Gavin chided her gently for doing the servants’ jobs and Alyssa had to admit that if she did their jobs, then they would have nothing to do. She turned her attention to the needs of the villagers, arriving in the village with a basket over her arm and knocking on the doors of the poorest residents. Sometimes Ginnia and Heather accompanied her. Sometimes they did not. Eventually a pattern developed: if Lord Gavin were home, they stayed home. If he were away, they accompanied Alyssa.

  After a year, Alyssa gave Lord Gavin the joyous news that she was with child. Her heart was full: a husband to love, a child to come, and three children already there and cherished in her heart—even William with his simmering resentment. Vain and selfish he may be, but Alyssa had seen him stop his horse in the middle of the road and pull the baker’s boy up with him when the lad was walking with a limp. She had seen him help an elderly widow carry her market goods inside then stop long enough to rehang a fallen shutter. She had watched him tease his sisters into blushes then spend time dancing with them so their steps would be perfect at the frequent balls their father hosted.

  Yes, William might dislike her, but she loved him. Golden-haired Ginnia might be reserved, but she was kind and thoughtful. Heather, with her darker blonde hair and green eyes might be elusive, but she was sweet and impulsive and easily contented. Alyssa knew the girls would welcome another child to the family, and hoped William’s ire would recede when the child arrived.

  As her pregnancy progressed, Lord Gavin spent more time at home. Although she felt healthy and strong, Lord Gavin forbade her to continue her visits in the village as they were too taxing on her strength. Alyssa protested, but Lord Gavin could not be swayed and her arguments brought a dark light to his eyes. Alyssa subsided, confused by this new facet in her beloved husband. He had encouraged her visits before. Why change now?

  One by one, each of the duties she’d created for herself were taken away, always with the explanation that it wasn’t good for the baby. By the time she entered her last month, Alyssa could do nothing but sit in the garden or the drawing room and play at needlework, a skill she had never fully mastered. She assured herself that once the babe came things would return to normal. But she wondered and worried. Her husband did not seem the same man she had married.

  The day finally came and Alyssa labored long to deliver her child. Lord Gavin waited outside the door with his daughters standing quietly at his side. Finally the wail of a newborn came from the room and Lord Gavin threw open the doors. He strode inside and went straight to the nurse.

  “Well?” he demanded impatiently without glancing at the weary Alyssa.

  “You have another beautiful daughter, Lord Gavin,” the midwife said happily, busy washing the child in a basin of warm water.

  “Another worthless daughter?” Lord Gavin demanded, spinning to stride towards the bed. His hand swung down and the sound of the slap echoed into the hall.

  “Father!” Heather cried, darting between Alyssa and Lord Gavin’s hand as it swung again. She cried out as the blow took her instead.

  “Out of my way, brat!” Gavin growled, grabbing Heather’s arm and throwing her across the room. He slapped Alyssa again. “You were supposed to give me a son, not another blasted girl!”

  “Heather?” Ginnia said softly, hesitating in the doorway, her wide eyes on her sister’s crumpled and unmoving form. “Heather!”

  Lord Gavin barely glanced at his fallen daughter as he brushed past the one still standing. Alyssa watched him leave with tears falling down her red-stained cheeks. He had struck her. He had struck Heather, who had only sought to protect her. Who was this man in her husband’s body? Where was the kindness, the gentleness?

  Ginnia darted for Heather and the village woman quietly folded a soft blanket around the newborn. As Ginnia straightened Heather’s limbs and ran her hands around them, the midwife laid the baby in Alyssa’s arms. The baby girl had dark hair like Alyssa, and a complexion like hers as well. Alyssa was torn between nursing the newborn and going to Heather’s side. She started to rise, but the midwife pushed her back down.

  “You’re job’s not done yet, child,” she said sympathetically. “Nurse your babe. I’ll tend to Miss Heather and Miss Ginnia.” She went to the two girls, pausing only to use the bell pull to call a footman.

  While her daughter nursed hungrily at her breast, Alyssa watched anxiously as the footman carefully lifted Heather and carried her out of the door. “I’ll be there as soon as I can get up, Ginnia,” she promised the older daughter.

  The girl paused at the doorway but barely turned her head to answer. “No, Stepmother. It would only anger him more, and now that you’ve had the baby ….” Ginnia’s shoulders shifted in the hint of a shrug. A sob caught in her throat. “There’s a spot on Heather’s head that’s soft. Coming won’t fix that, but it might give you a soft head, too.”

  Alyssa caught her breath and stared at the empty doorway. She looked down at her daughter and felt a seed of fear grow in her heart. She knew what she had to do. There really was no choice.

  For three days she rested and healed and nursed baby Amber. For three days, she received hourly updates on Heather’s unchanging condition. At the end of three days, she could delay no longer. S
he waited until Lord Gavin had left the house then ordered a wagon hitched, Heather bundled up and laid inside. She and Ginnia packed the girls’ bags and joined Heather in the wagon. They sat quietly while the coachman drove them to her brother’s home, taking a circular route so their destination was not initially obvious.

  Alyssa left the girls there and promised to return. Her brother promised to take care of them until that time and, without knowing why it was necessary, to hide them from their father. Worried, he and his wife watched as Alyssa packed a basket and covered it with a pretty cloth. Alyssa kissed her infant daughter and brushed the hair from Ginnia’s forehead. She bent over Heather and kissed her, too, and then walked out the door without a backward look.

  There are legends and legends, and all have a seed of truth to them. Alyssa knew this and went searching for the only one who could save Heather, prepared to pay the price. She found the bank of the pure, sweet river and followed it upstream. She walked all day, determined to waste no more time. Heather had so little left. The girl’s life had been fading slowly over the past three days. She didn’t have two more.

  Dusk came, and still Alyssa walked. The light of the moon and the stars guided her feet and she followed the path they laid. She was stumbling with exhaustion when a musical voice called to her.

  “Cease your steps and take your ease, young mother. You have walked this long way, stopping for no rest. You have found what you seek. Speak why you have sought me.”

  Alyssa swayed in the moonlight, her tired mind struggling with the thought that she could stop moving.

  “I-I have come with a gift to ask a boon, magical one,” she finally said, peering around the darkened forest.

  “Ah, a bribe for a boon,” the fairy said, stepping out into the moonlight. Her gown was gossamer fine and lay over her form like a dream. Dragonfly wings flickered at her back, reflecting moonlight in glittering shimmers.