Council of War
Jean walked into the sitting room in Cinderella's chambers. "His grace is still asleep, princess; but I've left Adragain on his door and the door ajar; he'll hear if there's any trouble."
"Thank you, Jean," Cinderella said softly. She sat on the settee in her sitting room, with her daughters still in her arms. They too were sleeping now, eyes closed and slumbering softly in the uneven cradle formed by her gloved and bejewelled arms. She hadn't put them down since those three witches had gone; a part of her didn't dare to.
The ball that had been going on downstairs had been prematurely ended; all the guests – with three notable exceptions – had been sent home with the explanation that Cinderella had been taken suddenly ill.
It only felt like part of a lie: Cinderella did feel ill. She felt sick to her stomach at what had happened to her, at the idea that someone was trying to take her girls away from her.
She looked down at them, so beautiful, so precious. Life out of her, her daughters, her babies; how could anyone want to tear them from her? And what would they do with them afterwards?
Eugene sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders while his other hand helped her to support the girls. His Majesty and all their wisest friends were in the room with them: Etienne Gerard, Eugene's old friend and the deputy commander of the city garrison, hawk-nosed and with a weathered look that made him seem old before his time; Marinette Gerard his younger sister, pretty with soft brown curls and soft brown eyes; Augustina du Bois, who had a complexion like a porcelain doll and a mind as sharp as any of her father's swords; Angelique, and Jean now back from checking up on Philippe; and Princess Frederica of Normandie, whom Cinderella considered a friend but whom she had, up until now, kept out of this magical aspect of her life. No longer. Now that her children were under threat Cinderella could use all the advice that she could get, and Frederica was too clever not to see what she thought about all of this.
The only person absent was Cinderella's other lady-in-waiting, Christine Roux, who had just departed down to the library in search of a book she hoped would shed a little light on some of this.
Belle and Prince Adam were here as well, all of them combining to make the sitting room that had always seemed perfectly spacious seem a little crowded at this point. The King and Frederica were seated, but Etienne was leaning against the wall and Augustina was sitting at the piano so that she was behind Cinderella and Eugene; Marinette was sitting on the piano with her legs dangling down and her feet visible below her hem of her dress; Angelique – and Jean now – were standing, as was Belle; there was a chair free for Prince Adam, but he remained on his feet out of consideration for his wife and nobody else was forward enough to take the vacant chair.
Cinderella had just finished telling everyone not only what had happened to her and Belle in the nursery but also, in deference to the fact that to some of them this was their first encounter with things magical, everything else that had happened to her since magic had come into her life, good – she wouldn't be here if it weren't for magic – and bad.
The current circumstances had led to her telling the story of her arrival at the ball with a little less enthusiasm than might have been the case under different circumstances, but she hoped that she had gotten the point across.
Now, her story concluded, Cinderella looked around the room. To some – Frederica in particular – her tale was entirely new, others had heard very little of it; only Eugene had known all of it before tonight. Now Cinderella studied their faces, the various expressions of shock and surprise, and waited to see how they would react.
She only hoped that they would react swiftly and that, knowing the truth, they would still want to help her out of her current predicament.
That they would still want her in their lives.
That they didn't think her too dangerous to be around now.
"Magic," the King murmured. "It was magic, at that ball two years ago?"
"Cinderella's dress was magic," Eugene said. "Cinderella was then as she has always been. Perfect."
"Did I say anything to suggest otherwise?"
"Forgive me, father, but you sounded as though you might be about to suggest sorcery."
"My dear boy, in case you have forgotten I have experienced sorcery for myself and I know very well that what you have is not the result of sorcery."
"Then why did you speak in that tone?"
"Am I not allowed to express surprise when something surprising happens?"
Augustina cleared her throat from behind the prince and princess. "Begging the pardons of your majesty and your highness, but this seems a time particularly ill-suited for a quarrel such as this."
The King looked abashed. "Yes, yes of course. You chide us rightly, mademoiselle."
"As for myself," Augustina said, as Cinderella craned her head to look at her lady over her shoulder. "I understand why you felt the need to keep this a secret: if I had known half of this when I first came into your service I probably would have believed that you were some sort of sorceress entrapping his highness; in those days when I could not believe that Prince Eugene had chosen you over me it would have salved my pride to tell myself that you had cheated with magic and that if I could only free him from your spell…" she smiled. "But now…the very idea that you triumphed using magic rather than out of the beauty of your soul seems…quel enfantillage."
"The general's daughter speaks with wisdom," Frederica said, her voice soft. "I am, I confess, a little offended that you kept all of this from me for so long – even this business with the woman Grace, which it seems all the rest of you knew about already – but put like that I can understand why. I, too, might have been less well disposed towards you at first."
"I certainly would have," Etienne said bluntly. "And if you recall I wasn't too well disposed towards you anyway. I hesitate to think what I might have thought or done if I had known…before I had the chance to see how true your love for Eugene is, and what a great good for this country your marriage has been."
"And…and now?" Cinderella asked.
Etienne stared at her. "And now, your highness?"
"Now…now what do you think of me?" Cinderella asked, addressing her question to all of them. "I have brought magic into your lives, put you in danger, and for that reason I probably should have told you sooner but I was afraid that…I was afraid that once you knew, once you understood-"
"You are explained to us, your highness, but you are not revealed by this," Etienne said. "The revelation occurred some time ago."
Cinderella frowned slightly. "I don't understand."
"He means that while little details like where you got the dress from make more sense now, it does not change what we already knew of you, your nature and your character," Frederica said. "That we understood well enough already."
"We are at your service, princess," Jean said.
"And anything that can or must be done to protect my grandchildren and my eventual heirs from these villains will be done," His Majesty declared. "To think that they dare waltz in here and demand the future queen! Outrageous audacity!"
Belle smiled. "Thank you, Cinderella, for trusting us with the truth, although you know us so much less well than anyone else here. It means a great deal."
Cinderella shook her head. "I couldn't leave you out of it; you're as involved in this as I am, it seems."
"Although I don't understand why," Angelique said.
"Do we really understand why Cinderella is involved in this?" Marinette asked.
"It seems, to be a little pedantic, as though she isn't really," Augustina said. "The children are."
"Yes," Marinette murmured. "But what I meant was, do we understand why they think they can just take the children?"
At that moment, Lady Christine Roux made her reappearance, carrying a pair of heavy, old leatherbound volumes in her arms. Tall and fair, Christine looked in many ways as though she could have been Angelique's better fed and better cared for sister, with the principal difference in their looks being Christine's excessive tallness and the elegant ringlets in which she wore her pale blonde hair. She swept into the sitting room and looked at the empty chair. Then she swept her gaze around the company and noted who was standing and who was already sitting.
Then, without a word, she sat down in the last chair remaining.
"I think I have it," Christine said. She held up one of the two books that had been in her arms, and now rested on her lap. "Francis the Fair, that's what they said, isn't it?"
"Uh, yes, I think so," Cinderella said.
"They did," Belle answered. "They said they made a bargain with King Francis the Fair."
Christine nodded. "Francis the Fifth was sometimes called the Fair; this is a collection of chronicles of the kings from those days and I am sure that I've read something in here…let me find it…" she began to flip through the pages of the leatherbound volume. "Francis the Fourth…Charles the Second…Louis the Just…Francis the Fifth, here we are. Now…ah! Here it is." Christine coughed into her hand before she began to read. "As two years turned to three, the whispers against Queen Mahaut increased in volume and in number, as many who were concerned with the succession of the throne urged King Francis to set his barren wife aside and wed a maid who could give him princely heirs to rule Armorique after him. King Francis refused all who suggested such a course, whether they did so in public or in private, declaring his love for the queen and his belief that they were both yet young enough to have issue yet."
"That must have been very hard for her," Cinderella said, thinking of Queen Mahaut enduring all those whispers, all that criticism for something that wasn't her fault. At least her husband stood by her. And yet she knew from personal experience that that alone wasn't enough to make all things better.
"She was probably her own harshest critic," said Belle.
"Thankfully, the King was proved right," Christine said, before she began to read again. "However, it was in this very year of Our Lord 1346 that the Queen was found to be with child. King Francis ordered the mass to be sung in thanks throughout the whole of Armorique to thank God for the blessing, and held a great tourney to celebrate the news at which he triumphed over all other knights in the jousting. The King gave money to the Dominican friaries across the land to pray for the health and soul of the Queen, of the King, and of the unborn child.
"Shortly thereafter, in that same year of Our Lord, the lost Princess Aurora of Aquitaine was found, sixteen years after her disappearance, having been living in a shepherd's cottage all those years in the care of three fairies."
"Fairies?" Angelique said.
"That's what it says," Christine said. "This chronicle was written in a more superstitious age; most modern accounts assume that it's a bit of nonsense, but…well, three witches appeared in the royal nursery and tried to abduct the young princesses, so maybe there is more to the wisdom of the superstitious ancients than one might imagine."
"So you think the same fairies who abducted this Princess Aurora are the same ones who tried to take Isabelle and Annabelle?" Angelique said.
"Will they bring them back after sixteen years?" Marinette asked.
"That would sixteen years too long without my daughters," Cinderella said. By then she would have missed…everything; well, not really everything, but she would have missed seeing them grow up, learn to walk, learn to talk; she would have missed dressing them up and teaching them how to dance and sing and watching Eugene teach them how to ride. She would have missed their whole childhoods. Even if she could have been assured that the witches would give the girls back after sixteen years, she couldn't have borne to lose them for that long. She simply couldn't.
"I don't actually think they are the same, they just both come in threes," Christine said. "If you'll let me finish."
"Sorry," Angelique muttered.
"Princess Aurora was wed to Prince Philip of Anjou," Christine read. "And at the tourney there King Francis unhorsed all challengers save Prince Philip himself, who unhorsed him in the final joust. Shortly thereafter…some Aquitaine business I won't bore you with…ah here: King Francis returned home, only to be told by his servants that in his absence Queen Mahaut had been taken gravely ill, that no physician could discern the cause nor treat the disease. It was feared that she would die, but King Francis declared that he would treat with the Devil himself to save the life of his beloved queen. He rode out in the dead of night and was not seen for several days; when he returned, he found that in his absence the Queen had miraculously recovered.
"King Francis was silent on the subject of what had befallen him during those days, and it was not until Queen Mahaut gave birth to a son, Prince Louis of Rennes, that he confessed that he had met with three witches at the crossroads, and that they had agreed to cure the Queen in exchange for the first daughter to be born of the direct royal line…" Christine trailed off for a moment. "You know, it's an interesting accident of history that no King of Armorique nor crown prince has had any but sons…until now."
Silence fell amongst them.
"So…" Marinette began, her voice trembling. "So they did make a bargain with the king in the past."
"A bargain he had no right to make," Angelique said. "You can't steal someone else's children and you can't give someone else's children away either!"
"I can understand why he did what he did," Eugene said. He tightened his grip on Cinderella's shoulder a little. "If…I would have done the same, in his position. He loved his wife, he couldn't bear to lose her, what else was he meant to do?"
"I know not, your highness, to speak true," Jean said. "But for the love of his wife King Francis has put you and your wife in a difficult position."
Cinderella looked at him, her blue eyes imploring. "You're not suggesting that we give them Isabelle and Annabelle, are you?"
"No," Eugene said at once. He looked down at them. "No, I would never suggest that. I was just saying…I can understand what drove him to make that bargain, as cruel or troublesome as it might seem to us."
"We have to find a way to stop them," Cinderella whispered. "Or make them give up, or…"
"We will," Eugene assured her. "We will."
Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment, and bowed her head. She felt Eugene's forehead touch hers as she pulled her close with one arm. She stayed like that for a while, she didn't care if anyone was watching her; she was frightened and she was tired and she wanted to feel the warmth of Eugene's strong arm around her, feel his head resting on hers, and believe for a moment that it would all turn out right in the end.
After a little while, she opened her eyes again. "But…that still doesn't explain why they want to harm you, Belle."
"I think I might know the answer to that," Adam said. His voice was gruff, and he looked shamefaced as he stepped away from his wife. "I'm afraid that this cannot be pinned on an old, conveniently dead Armorican king. This is my fault.
"These witches…they have a sister, by the name of Circe-"
"Circe!" Angelique exclaimed. "Did you say Circe?"
Adam looked down at her. "I did. Do you…do you know her?"
"She came to the gates last Christmastime, in the guise of an old woman, highness," Jean said. "She turned out to be an enchantress of some kind, testing the hospitality of this palace."
Adam nodded. "Yes, yes that is what she does. It is the same person. She came to my door in just the same way…but I sent her away, I…I wasn't the same person then. I was vain and spoiled and cruel and I was repulsed at the sight of a withered old hag with only a rose in her hand. By the time I realised my mistake…it was too late. She cursed me, turned me into a beast…" he smiled wanly. "You have been very honest with us, Princess Cinderella, so I think that you deserve a little honesty in turn. The reason that I was so reclusive for so many years is that I was under this curse that left me hideous and ashamed. I knew that the only way to break the curse was to find love and be loved, but…who could ever love a beast?"
Cinderella looked at Belle, and could not help but smile. "And now I understand."
Belle raised one eyebrow. "Understand what?"
"How you could have fallen so much in love that you would marry him in spite of…everything that is between you," Cinderella said.
Belle nodded. "After the curse was broken, a morganatic marriage didn't seem so large an obstacle."
"The fact is," Adam said. "That wasn't actually the first time that I had met Circe. I'd actually…I'd actually been engaged to her, briefly, when I was young."
There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed – Cinderella judged against her own silence and the causes of it – struggled to work out what to say. Although even if she had been able to think of something Cinderella probably would have kept silent, because she felt as though Belle ought to be the one to react to this news. She must feel, Cinderella felt, as Cinderella herself had felt upon learning that Eugene had had a love before her.
Belle was as silent as the rest, her face set and still, her chest rising and falling with her breath but no sound escaping her lips. "Engaged?" she asked.
"I was fifteen, only a child," Adam said. "My father had just died, I was…and she was beautiful. I met her on the road from Vienna, coming home from an Imperial Diet and she was so beautiful and I felt so lost…I was struck by her, I proposed to her on the very day we met without knowing anything about her. She accepted at first, and although looking back I see that she got more and more uncertain the more time she spent with me…I didn't notice that at the time. We travelled together on the road and then, one day, as we neared the castle…she left. I think she must have seen me for what I was and been disgusted by it.
"Her sisters, these three witches, thought that I had slighted her. They took my curse as my just punishment for that. I think they wanted to see me remain a beast for all time for…for hurting their sister. And now, because you broke the curse, they have decided to punish you for it." He reached out for Belle, but did not touch her. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Belle looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "And what do I have to forgive you for?"
Adam gaped at her. "For-"
"For having a life before you met me? Before your curse? It would be more surprising if you hadn't, and if what you told me is true…it doesn't sound as though it amounted to much. A young man's infatuation." Belle took his hand, and held it to her face, closing her eyes as she almost melted into his palm. "I love you. I will always love you. And you didn't choose for this to happen, they did."
Adam sighed with relief at the same time as a fond, grateful smile crossed his face. "I was so fortunate the day your father wandered into my castle." He looked out across the room. "So…now that we both have a vested interest in putting a stop to these witches, what are we going to do about it?"
"I'm hoping the other book I found in the library might help," Christine said, as she set the history to one side and held up the other tome. It was older by far, with the pages turning yellow and the cover starting to fall apart at the edges. "This is the Daemonomicon, a catalogue of demons and witches compiled by a fourteenth century monk."
"How do you know this?" Angelique asked.
Christine shrugged. "I have an interest in the ways of our ancestors and in their beliefs." She opened the catalogue of demons, and once more began to sift through the pages. "I believe that the creatures are listed in order of their power or danger, so judging by how early in the book they come we'll know how much trouble we're in…Mephistopheles, Maleficent…oh dear."
"They came early, I take it, our three foes," Augustina said dryly.
"Immediately after the Most Foul Maleficent, Princess of Hell and most wicked of witches," Christine said. She turned over the page. "The Three Sisters of all witches without doubt the most cruel, although they may sometimes hide their cruelty for their own purposes. Like demons, they delight in tricking men with promises of favours, and such is their power that there is little that is beyond their will to accomplish, but aught that they do comes at a great and terrible price; they are particularly fond of demanding children in payment for their 'favours'.
"They will only accept payment in baby girls, and for a long time the fate of these poor children was the subject of great conjecture. However, I spoke in person with one of these stolen children, who escaped from their house and sought sanctuary in my monastery, and she told me that these foul sisters had sought to turn her from the path of righteousness and onto the dark road of evil, teaching her magic and the demonic arts and seducing her to their level of base wickedness. I was told that they also treat the girls who fill their house as daughters, acting as a peculiar kind of mother to them, although neglecting not only the unquestioning love which is the badge of motherhood but also many of the menial tasks which are a mother's duty. Indeed, to hear it described, I thought that servant might be as apt a word as daughter for the state of these stolen girls."
Cinderella shivered. Sometimes daughter and servant are not nearly as far apart as they should be. She looked down at her girls, sleeping in her arms; not only did these witches wanted to steal them away, but they wanted to treat her little angels as her stepmother had treated her? No. Absolutely not. Her daughters were princesses of Armorique, and they would grow up surrounded by lovely things and pretty gowns and jewels and, most importantly of all, with the unceasing love of their mother and father.
I won't let them take you, Cinderella said. I absolutely won't, I promise.
"I was further informed," Christine continued to read. "That when these stolen girls come of age, those that have been corrupted by the sisters three are sent out into the world to do more evil in their own right. See Clara of the Crooked Hand, Wendoline One-Eyed and Young Lilith for just three of the foul creatures who have been loosed on the world by the sisters three, and who have become so notorious in their own right as to warrant mention here; read, and despair that those girls were once sweet and innocent babes stolen away and corrupted by these Odd Sisters.
"Those that have not been corrupted, unless they escape as did she to whom I spoke," Christine paused. "They are killed, and served up in the cooking pot. My god."
"Oh no," Cinderella murmured. "There must be something we can do!"
"I'm reading, your highness," Christine said. She began to speak more quickly. "The girl who escaped was, of course, suspected of treachery, but after a thorough examination we concluded that there was no trace of witchcraft on her and that all she said was true.
"That these sisters have a fourth sister, and that said sister is Circe Xenios, one of the more minor enchantresses to feature in this tome, is well known to those of us who have studied the occult and the demonic, but my escapee said that while she was in that dread house the sisters spoke of Circe more as a daughter than a sister. This may relate to the lore of fairy births, of which I am a proponent for all that the theory does not yet enjoy widespread acceptance. Certainly, from what I was told, it seems that the frequent absences of Circe from the house of the sisters causes them to seek for substitutes in the form of abducted girls, and if Circe were ever to sever ties with her sisters completely then I have no doubt that they would only desire yet more children to fill the void.
"Although the sisters dwell only in a single house, that house has the power to move under the power of their foul magic, and is consistently found nearby to their latest victim. The power of the sisters is considerable, and they have been known to conjure cruel beasts, to cause deadly accidents, to implant thought and suggestion in the minds of their enemies and all manner of sorcery besides. No one is known to have cheated them out of a bargain made and survived for long."
"That's comforting," Augustina muttered.
"Or at least," Christine continued to read. "That is what they would have you believe. I myself have heard stories from those who claimed to have survived them, and I believe that they told the truth. However I will not name them so as not to bring the renewed wrath of the sisters down upon those who have made good their escape!" Christine's face was contorted with frustration. "Well…well really! What good is that?"
"It might actually be helpful," Belle said. "Just because this monk didn't name them doesn't mean that there won't be anything anywhere else to identify who these lucky people were and how they got away. If we can find them, maybe we can also learn what it was they did to get the witches to give up. I'd be glad to look with you, if you like."
Christine looked up at Belle. "I…I suppose that you might be right, and it might also be the best chance we have. If you wish, Madame, I would be glad of the assistance."
"I've heard that iron is good for keeping out witches," Jean said. "A horseshoe on the door, that sort of thing."
"If I might propose a slightly Norman solution," Frederica said. "These people have threatened the princesses of Armorique, they have neither claim on nor right to mercy. If they are nearby, as the tome suggests, then they can be found and if they can be found then they can be…dealt with. Permanently."
"I could probably find enough discreet men to organise a search," Etienne said. "Although I'm not entirely sure what we'd be looking for."
"A cottage, apparently," Christine said. "Perfectly ordinary from the outside and yet…where one was not before."
Etienne frowned. "Not a lot to go on, my lady, but I understand that's not your fault. I'll find some men and get started."
"Do you think you can find anything based on that?" Eugene asked him.
"I don't know," Etienne said. "But I'd rather do something than just sit around and wait for something to befall you or Cinderella, or the children God forbid."
"I'd like to have the girls crib moved up here, into my rooms," Cinderella said. "I know it may not mean much, but I'd feel so much safer if they were here with me, rather than down two flights of stairs."
Eugene nodded. "I'll have it done at once."
"Your highness…your highnesses," Jean said. "Although I have little right to do so, I feel that I speak for us all here when I tell you that we will do all that we can do to keep your children safe. You have my word that no harm will come to them, and they shall know no other mother but you all the days of their life."
Cinderella smiled at him. "Thank you Jean, that…that means a great deal to me." She looked around the room, at her husband and all her friends willing to help her keep her family safe and together in the face of this new enemy.
As frightened as she felt, as tired as she felt of all this trouble, Cinderella also felt in that moment a little spark of hope within her. All of these people, who had helped her and supported her so much, so far, and for so long. With all of their help and continued support then maybe, just maybe, they could win.
She could only hope.
