The Fabled Journal of Beauty

by Boyd Brent

  “You will find a blanket at the bow, beside the crate. May I suggest that you take it and make yourself comfortable,” said the Beast, motioning to the front of the boat behind me. “Catching up on some much-needed sleep will stand you in good stead.”

  “All right, I will …” I said, standing. “And if you don't mind my asking, what’s inside the crate?”

  “At present? Nothing.”

  “So, what's it for?”

  “I should have thought that obvious.”

  “Actually, no.”

  The Beast pulled more forcibly on his oars. “Do you imagine that any ship will make itself available for hire if they see that I am a passenger?”

  “Oh, please don’t tell me that the crate is for you?”

  The Beast nodded. “Who else?”

  “But you are not cargo.”

  “I am not people either.”

  “Nonsense! Of course you're a person.”

  “It is kind of you to say so; however, I fear that the crew of any ship will not see me as such.”

  I looked at the crate. “Just how long do you intend to spend inside it?”

  “Our journey to the caves, where I believe we will discover the witch’s lair, will take two days at most.”

  “You mean to spend two days inside a box?”

  “What is two days when compared to the many decades that my brother has spent banished?”

  “Your commitment to your brother becomes you. Your mind is made up?”

  “It is.”

  I made my way to the bow of the boat, lay down on some cushions there and pulled the blanket over me. The gentle rocking of the boat, coupled with the rhythmic splish of the oars, sent me into a deep sleep.

  In the most vivid of dreams, I found myself returned to the Beast’s palace. I was standing in a fabulous ballroom where guests were attending a ball. The smiles and laughter of these people as they danced to the music of an orchestra was infectious, and as I swayed to a waltz, I wished with all my heart that I had a partner to dance with. My wish was granted when the dancers moved aside, opening a path to the other side of the ballroom where a young man stood with his back to me. He was wearing a white uniform and looked so gallant standing in the veranda’s open doors. I willed him to turn and face me and, as though able to read my thoughts, he did so. When I saw that it was the Prince, I was overcome with a longing that sent me skirting across the room, and as though possessed of a single mind, he ran towards me. We came together in the centre of the ballroom where he picked me up and twirled me around. He lowered me back down, offered me his arm and then led me the length and breadth of that ballroom in the most enchanting of waltzes. While the room whirled around me, the Prince’s face remained in perfect focus. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and to my eyes, he was the most beautiful of all men. What is more, I felt, knew somehow, that his Beauty was not only skin deep but a reflection of his soul.

  “You are really here …” he breathed.

  “And would not wish to be anywhere else on Earth!”

  “In that, we agree,” he smiled.

  “It is very kind of you to say so. Where are we?”

  “In my ballroom during happier times. Before the arrival of the witch.”

  I stopped dancing and, having taken a step back, searched the other guests as they danced about us. “… Where is he?” I murmured.

  “What’s wrong? Who else do you seek?” asked the Prince.

  “I should have thought that obvious … your brother …”

  “My brother?”

  “Yes. The Beast. Why is he not here?”

  The Prince looked none the wiser.

  “You cannot be ashamed of him! Surely, you can't. He's your own flesh and blood.”

  “No but …”

  I nodded. “He’s ashamed of himself?” I turned, and as I did so, the guests stopped dancing to reveal a clear path to the door. As I walked down it, the Prince called out, “Where are you going, Beauty? You have only just arrived.”

  “I must find him!” I replied over my shoulder. “No one should be alone on a night such as this.”

  I found myself back in the main entrance hall. A glance in the direction of the Prince’s portrait revealed that it had been replaced by another. I approached it slowly, disbelievingly at first, but my heart filled with such joy to see that it was a portrait of the Beast. He was sat beside a table, upon which lay a beautiful rose. “Your portrait has been given pride of place. So why do you hide?” I murmured. “Where are you? Oh, I know! The library. Of course, that is where I will find you.”

  I made my way to the library, the sound of music and laughter growing ever more distant, and arrived upon the balcony. I could see that someone was seated in the Beast’s chair before the fireplace. I imagined it must be him, slumped, reading an improving tone. I moved swiftly down the winding stairs that led to the ground floor, intent on convincing him to return to the ball with me. I placed a hand on the back of the chair and skirted around it only to discover that it was not the Beast … but the Prince! I woke with a start and sat up. The Beast was pulling on the oars that sent our boat gliding across the water. I climbed unsteadily to my feet and returned to my seat.

  “You slept well?” he asked.

  I nodded. “But I had the most curious of dreams …”

  “Of my brother again?” he asked, pausing his stroke.

  “Yes. And of you …”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. In the dream, I had been transported back in time to happier days at the palace.”

  The Beast sighed, pulled on his oars and said, “How I would have liked to have joined you.”

  “There was a ball taking place … the music and dancing were divine.”

  “And my brother was enjoying himself?”

  I nodded. “We danced together until I realised that someone important was missing.”

  The Beast looked none the wiser. “Surely, there is no one more important to you than my brother.”

  I looked at him, trying to comprehend if he was truly unaware that the important person of which I spoke was him. And do you know, I think he really was. “How you must have suffered to feel so insignificant,” I said.

  “Why do you say so?”

  “Don’t you see? The person of whom I speak, the important person, is you.”

  “… You sought me at the palace?”

  “I did.”

  “But you did not find me,” he said with a strange certainty.

  “Well, yes and no. The portrait of your brother, the one that takes pride of place in the hall, had been replaced with a portrait of you.”

  “Which only goes to prove that dreams are incredible things where impossible things happen.”

  “After that, I looked for you in the library. And imagine my surprise when I discovered your brother, who I had left in the ballroom only minutes before, seated in your chair.” My words seemed to cast the Beast’s gaze as adrift as out boat upon that vast lake.

  Journal entry no. 19

  An hour later, the lights of a port could be seen twinkling in the distance.

  “What's it called?” I asked, squinting in its direction.

  “The Port of Darkest Skulduggery.”

  “Are you joking?”

  The Beast thought about that for a moment. “It will come as no surprise to you that I have not made a joke in some time.”

  “Actually, it doesn’t. But I have never heard of such a port.”

  The Beast nodded. “So much of the land is kept secret from us, until it becomes our destiny to find it.”

  “That's very profound. But, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about the Port of Darkest Skulduggery being part of my destiny.”

  “You are right to be … concerned.”

  The blanket was draped around my shoulders, and I pulled it tighter about me.

  “Although,” the Beast began, “I have no doubt that you are more than up to any challenges it holds.”


  “Thank you. I hope you’re right. So, what’s the plan?”

  “Once I have found a secluded place to moor, I will enter the crate, and you will seal me inside.”

  “Your mind is made up?” I said, looking over my shoulder at it.

  “My appearance makes it necessary.”

  “All right. And then what?”

  “I will give you a purse of gold to hire us a ship and crew willing to take us to our destination.”

  I braced myself. “And what is the name of our destination?”

  “The Caverns of No Return.”

  “I see. And there's obviously no point in asking if you're joking.”

  “None.”

  “Well, at least the name of the caves is self-explanatory. Although, given their name, it doesn't bode particularly well for my convincing someone to take me there.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would agree but …”

  “But?”

  “The port where we are headed is not known as the Port of Darkest Skulduggery for nothing. The criminals, rogues and pirates to be found there will accept any commission so long as the price is right. And I will provide you with all the gold coin you require.”

  “That's just … great,” I said with a shudder.

  The nearer we drew to the port, the more fitting its name seemed. Indeed, the aggressive shouts, drunken singing of bawdy songs, and shattering of glass sent a chill down my spine.

  Not long after, we entered a canal where the backs of shops and inns rose around us. The sounds I have already mentioned were joined by gunfire, threats of violence, and the barking of ferocious dogs.

  “I will allow no harm to come to you,” said the Beast with such conviction that I believed him.

  “Or I you,” I replied.

  “I do not doubt it.”

  The Beast moored our boat in a quiet spot, a good distance from any gas lamps, and climbed past me to the crate. The crate, which stood as high as his waist, had a hinged front which he opened to reveal the space within.

  “Will you even fit in there?” I asked, joining him at the front of the boat.

  “Yes. And with a little room to spare.”

  “You could have fooled me,” I murmured as I gazed inside it.

  The Beast took a red purse from his belt and handed it to me.

  “How much is in here …” I asked as the weight of the purse pulled my arm down to my side.

  “Fifty gold coins. I have chosen this inn for a reason,” he said, motioning to the crooked wooden building that towered over us. “It’s a well-known haunt for those with boats for hire.”

  “Splendid,” I replied, securing the purse to my belt which sagged on that side. The Beast climbed inside the crate and, having lowered himself down, looked for all the world like the biggest fluffy toy ever made. “Are you sure you're going to be okay in there?” I asked.

  “Fear not. For one of the perks of being a beast is hardiness. Now seal me inside and hire us a boat.”

  “I will not let you down …”

  “I know.”

  I closed the lid which sealed with a meaty clunk and gazed up at the inn.

  Journal entry no. 20

  The Port of Darkest Skulduggery? As I opened the door to the Inn, it occurred to me that I was standing in the doorway to the Inn of Darkest Skulduggery. I could at least take comfort from the fact that I had visited such places in books many times.

  I am not a fish that’s completely out of water, I thought, walking inside.

  Having stepped nimbly around some patrons dancing an uproarious jig to an out of tune piano, I observed a dozen tables where pirates either arm wrestled or gambled at cards. All were as drunk as skunks and looked a good deal smellier. As for the ladyfolk, well, let's just say that their behaviour is best left to the imagination. A drunken oaf raised a tankard to his lips and so eager was he to transfer its contents to his stomach that he threw back his head, lost his balance and trod on my foot. I howled in agony, but such was the din in that establishment that not a soul heard me. I limped towards the bar where several men were studying papers laid out there. Having chosen the man who looked the soberest, I forced my way through the fray and squeezed in against the bar beside him. He was gazing down at a map.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  The man, whose bushy black beard must have been exceedingly itchy, for he scratched ferociously at it, was either deaf or chose not to hear me. “Sir!” I said, undeterred, “I need to hire a boat and crew. Can you help me?”

  The man looked up, not at me but the barman and, in the hoarsest voice that I had ever heard called out, “Another bottle of yer finest rum!” The barman nodded, and the man looked back down at his map. I have no idea what possessed me, but I placed an arm upon it, obscuring an X that so fascinated him. This unexpected obstruction of the X certainly got his attention. Unfortunately, I cannot report his initial words to me, as they would be out of place in this journal. Once he'd finished bellowing in my face, I wiped his spittle from my chin.

  “I have come here to hire a boat and crew!” I bellowed back at him. “And what’s more,” I continued, “I have gold coin enough to pay MOST HANDSOMELY.” The look on his weather-beaten face led me to believe that had he not heard the words ‘gold’ and ‘coin’ in that order, I would not have been able to make any further entries in this journal due to my arms being ripped from their sockets.

  “Gold coin?” he growled.

  I nodded.

  “How much gold coin?”

  “Fifty pieces to anyone who will deliver me and my cargo to the Caverns of No Return.”

  The man observed me as though I’d lost every marble I had ever owned and then some. He picked up the bottle the bartender had just placed before him, pulled the cork, drank greedily from it, slammed it down, burped and said, “Did I ‘ere you correctly? You seek passage to the Caverns of No Return?”

  “Your ears serve you very well,” I nodded.

  “Well then, it's plain as day that you’re a couple of planks short of a full deck, Missy.”

  “I protest against your observation in the strongest possible terms.”

  “You can protest all yer like, but that don’t make it any less true.”

  I lifted my arm from his map. “If you’re not up to the task, then perhaps you will point me in the direction of someone who is?”

  “I didn’t say I weren’t up to it now …” he said, grabbing at his beard and extracting a flea which he flicked over my head. In truth, the flea would have been transferred to my head had I not ducked.

  “Charming. Do you even have a boat?” I asked, straightening up.

  “Do I even have a boat, she asks me?” I was about to move away when he took hold of my arm. “I have the biggest, sturdiest boat in these here parts. The real question is, do you have any gold coin?”

  I lifted the purse that dangled from my belt and held it up where he could see it.

  “You mean to tell me that’s filled with gold?” he said, casting a furtive glance around the bar.

  “It is.” A moment later, I was being dragged through the bar towards the door.

  Once outside, I protested that he “Unhand me this instant or so help me!”

  “All right, quiet down,” he said, releasing my arm. “You got any idea what would happen if those villains got whiff of so much gold in their midst?”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I said, raising my chin.

  “And did I hear you correct? It’s your intention to travel to the Caverns of No Return?” he asked, peering at me.

  “It is.”

  “Those caves were named so for good reason. It’s well documented that a powerful witch lives in ‘em. Not only powerful but as vindictive as they come. Responsible for many a curse. Yer smiling, which only goes to prove that my earlier observation about yer being several planks short of a full deck was correct.”

  I shook my head. “I am smiling because she sounds like the very
witch I seek. Will you take me to her?”

  “No. But for fifty gold coin, I'll take you as close as anyone with their wits about them might.”

  “And how close might that be?”

  “There's a cove that's, oh, little more than a mile from the caverns. So, we have a deal?” he said, spitting on his palm and offering me his hand.

  “Yes,” I said, spitting on my own and shaking it.

  “Well then, I'm going to need an advance of six gold coin.”

  “Why six?” I asked, wiping my hand on my dress.

  “To hire a crew of six that's willin' to embark upon such a journey.” Trusting my instincts that I had stumbled upon a trustworthy rogue, I opened my purse, dug out the six coins and handed them over. “And your name is?” I enquired.

  “I'm known in these parts as the Captain. Now you stay 'ere while I go back inside and get us a crew.”

  He emerged some minutes later with six of the meanest looking pirates I had ever seen and responded to my expression by saying, “While they are undoubtedly a bunch of murderous scoundrels, they are also experienced sailors.”

  “Well then, consider me reassured,” I said with no little irony.

  One of the scoundrels lifted a bottle of beer to his lips. “A toast to this little lady! It's not often that the likes of us are offered gainful employment by the likes of 'er.” There came a chorus of “Here here!” followed by much hearty gulping, swigging and chugging of beer. “My vessel is this way,” said the Captain, lurching off.

  “Just a minute!” I called after him. “I have cargo, remember? A single crate. It's in a boat that's this way,” I said, stepping in the opposite direction.

  When we arrived at the lifeboat, the Captain instructed his crew to lift out the crate. The burliest two climbed aboard and, having taken hold of the crate, grimaced horribly as they tried and failed to lift it. Standing on the dock, I checked my nails as though butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. The first two pirates were joined by two more, and much huffing and puffing ensued. “She must 'av the crown jewels in 'ere or somfin'! Get down 'ere and give us an 'and, will ya?” said one of them to the remaining two. Thankfully, the six of them could lift it.