Ch. 5
King James met Rumpelstilskin and Belle in the great hall where Lord Maurice liked to call meetings as of late. He may have had seniority over the rest of the household, but he bowed respectfully to King James and his wife, Snow.
"My Lord," Maurice said, rising from bended knee.
But James' attention was on Rumpelstiltskin. He looked at him with a mixture of confusion and contempt. When he saw the baby in Belle's arms, his face softened. "Is that her?" he asked.
"That's my daughter," Rumpelstiltskin said. He looked at Snow White and bowed curtly. "Your Majesty."
Snow put a hand over her pregnant belly. She looked as radiant as she did on her wedding day—white gown, flowers in her hair, rosy cheeks—but she had the same look in her eye as Belle . . . fear for her child's safety. "We come with news," Snow said.
Rumpelstiltskin stared at King James with trepidation. He was still a wanted man in many kingdoms, even in Snow's, and wondered if he wasn't about to be taken to a wagon outside with bars and chains. He motion to the tall chairs around the dining table.
"Please sit."
The king and his wife sat on one side of the long table, Rumpel and Belle at the other. Lord Maurice sat at the head, hands crossed. "You've heard of the Blue Fairy's warning," the old man said.
"Yes," Snow White nodded. "The forest has been buzzing." She looked at Belle. "Is it true?"
Belle nodded slowly and looked down at her sleeping daughter. "She said I have to give Rose away."
"Rose?" Snow White grinned sadly. "That's a lovely name."
"I know I have a past with you," Rumpel said to the king. "But we need your help. Not for my sake, but for my daughter's."
King James raised a brow and glanced at his wife. He seemed skeptical that the former Dark One had changed at all, even with his powers stripped, but Rumpelstiltskin hoped they could see eye-to-eye as fathers instead of adversaries. King James sat back in his chair and sighed, ruffling the fur collar around his neck. "What will happen if The Guild takes your child?" he asked.
"She'll be used for darkness," Rumpel said. "The Guild wants to reinstate the Dark One as ruler of the Enchanted Forest."
"But he's locked away," Snow White said. "We put extra guards in the cave he's held in—"
"That may not be enough," Rumpelstiltskin said.
The baby fussed in Belle's arms and she rocked her gently.
"You'll have my army at your disposal," James said. He looked at Rosie, then back at Rumpelstiltskin. "For the sake of the baby."
"Thank you," Rumpelstiltskin said.
"The animals of the forest have seen men in black armor stalking our castle," Snow White said. "The Guild must be canvassing the land, in case you and your family try to escape."
"Have there been any incidents?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.
"There wouldn't be," Belle murmured. "They're not after them."
Snow White looked at the young mother. Even with her youth and beauty and precious child, there was already so much sadness, so much concern in Belle's face. It broke Snow's heart just imagining what she was going through.
"Our army is on the move," Snow said reassuringly to Belle. "Your child will be safe."
Belle finally raised her eyes from her daughter and looked at the queen. "Yes, Your Majesty." Belle stood with little Rosie. "I'm going to lie down," she said wearily. "Wake me for dinner."
The men stood courteously for her, then sat back down when she was out of the room. Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his brow. He was tired from restless nights of worrying, tired from his wife's crying, that he couldn't do anything to help ease her concern. Most of all, Rumpelstiltskin was tired of imagining the fairy's prediction coming true. He looked at the kind and said, "Care for a drink, Your Highness?"
King James accepted graciously.
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The King and his wife were expected to stay at the castle for a fortnight, their guards remaining indefinitely until they knew Rosie was out of danger. Glissa was in the scullery with the other maids, preparing dinner for that night and chatting excitedly about the arrival of Snow White and Charming.
"Charming's the word," Annika said with a wink. "He's a looker, that one."
"I hear the queen's craving boiled cabbages," Maureen said as she peeled potatoes. "You know what that means."
"Oh, it's a boy!" Gaenor squealed. Her blonde hair was falling in tufts from her headscarf and she pushed the strands away from her eyes.
"No, that means it's a girl!" Annika laughed.
Glissa glanced over at Briony, who was plucking a chicken in the wash basin. They hadn't talked since the blueberry patch, and Glissa was itching to make amends. "Briony, can I—"
"Mum, do you need help with those potatoes?" Briony asked, ignoring Glissa.
"Nah, but if that chicken don't get plucked, I'll be peeling your hide, missy."
Briony's green eyes flickered to Glissa, then darted away. She turned back to the wash basin and tore the feathers out of the fowl as if it had called her a bad name.
"When you're done, though," Maureen said to her daughter, "can you get some wood for the stove?"
Briony groaned. "Mum, can't the gardener do it?"
"It's just a small pile by the horse's stable," Maureen snapped. "Won't take you two seconds."
Briony sighed, her fingers wert with blood and feathers sticking to her skin. Glissa abandoned her garlic-pressing and went to Briony. "I can finish that, if you want."
Briony glanced at Glissa, then back at the chicken. She raised a brow, not quite ready to forgive. Still, gathering wood was a chore that anyone would have chosen above feather-plucking, so she nodded.
"All right. I'll be back soon."
Glissa smiled weakly and Briony gave her a reassuring nod. It wasn't a pardon, but it was a start.
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As the men sat around the fire with drinks, discussing war and weapons and all the dastardly things that came with it, Snow White took a tour of the halls on the second floor. It was not a place she imagined the former Dark One living in—bright colors, with sunlight and landscape paintings—but his wife must have had a positive influence on him. She was, in the few, brief times they had met, a perfectly charming young woman.
Snow stopped outside a large door when she heard someone crying. She peered in through the open crack and saw the silhouette of Belle sitting the by window next to a baby cradle. Snow opened the door wider and saw that, yes, the young mother was weeping.
"Belle? Are you all right?"
Belle quickly looked to the door and wiped her eyes. "Oh. I-I'm so sorry—" She stood hastily out of respect, but Snow put up a hand.
"Please, sit down." She crossed the room and sat at the foot of the bed. "You poor thing . . ."
Belle sniffled and rocked the cradle where her child slept. "I'm sorry, I . . . I wasn't expecting you and the king, and . . . and the baby's kept me up all night and I'm so tired—"
"Shh," Snow whispered. "You don't have to explain. You'd be inhuman if you didn't feel exhausted." Snow stood and hovered over the cradle. "I'll rock her. Why don't you lie down?"
Belle nodded. She switched places with the queen, offering her the seat by the window, and then lying in bed with a pillow clutched in her arms. "I haven't had a full night's sleep since before the baby was born."
Snow chuckled as she rocked little Rosie. "Something I can look forward to?"
Belle smiled faintly. Her eyes misted over with more tears and she tried in vain to blink them away. She stared out the window to keep her vision focused. "What would you do?" she asked the queen. "If you were in my position?"
Snow White sighed and patted her large belly. "I don't know. I think I'd be a complete mess." Snow looked over her shoulder at the weary Belle. "I would no sooner expect you to give up your own child, then I would mine."
Belle nodded, her eyelids getting heavier. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
Snow smiled. "My husband is convinced it's a boy. I think it's a girl."
"What will you name her?"
Snow rubbed her belly, her smile growing. "Emma." She turned her head to Belle, but the young mother was sleeping. Snow White looked down at the sleeping baby, so small and pink and warm. Rosie had a necklace tucked in her blanket, and Snow lifted the embroidered silk and pulled out an opal ring. She fingered the gem curiously.
Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the windows of the castle. Snow dropped the ring and stood from her chair, the weight of the baby making her dizzy. She looked at Belle, but the woman was still sound asleep. Another blood-curdling scream echoed from outside.
Snow ran to the door as fast as her large belly would allow. A few guards ran down the corridor and she stopped them. "What's going on?"
"Stay in your room, Highness," a guard said.
As the two men rushed off, Snow picked up her skirts and followed their general direction, towards the continuing screaming. She ducked into a room in the west wing, a drawing room with yellow curtains, and peered out the window towards the stables.
An older woman was screaming and struggling to be let go from a pair of guards who held her back. Near the stable, next to a large stack of chopped wood, a young girl with blonde hair lay in the grass, her throat slit from ear-to-ear.
"That's my daughter!" the older woman cried, her voice loud enough for the whole kingdom to hear. "That's my daughter over there!"
Snow put a hand to her mouth in shock. More men came, including Rumpelstiltskin and James. The girl's body was covered with a blanket and the old maid rushed at the master of the house, clawing at his viciously.
"You did this!" she screamed. "You killed my daughter!"
The guards held her back with barely a hair between them. Another young maid came running from the castle, young with sandy-blonde hair, and tried to quell the bereaved woman. Snow hurried out of the room and down the stairs to the main foyer. Maids stood frozen, whispering to themselves as the new of the death spread like wildfire. A guard of Lord Maurice's appeared from the spinning room and took Snow's arm.
"Your Highness, it's not safe—"
"What's happened?" Snow cried.
"Please come with me." The tall, dark-haired man ushered Snow to a sitting room nearby.
Snow sat impatiently by the door, wringing her hands and waiting for more news.
Outside, by the stables, a watchman who had seen everything was giving a report to Rumpelstiltskin and King James. The old maid, Maureen, had to be carried back to the castle, kicking and screaming. Glissa followed closely, horror shaking her to the bone.
"Her name's Briony," the freckled, red-headed watchman said. "I was at m'post in the watchtower. Saw her come to the stables through the servant's back door to get wood."
"How did this happen?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.
The guard, who looked barely fifteen, sniffled and tried to hold back his tears. "Sh-she was just getting some logs . . . bent down and . . . there was this shadow. Like a shadow a tree makes, except it was of a man. A man in black armor."
Rumpel and King James looked at each other. "The Guild," James said.
The watchman failed to keep a brave face and wiped the tears from his eyes. "It was so quick, I couldn't even sound the bell. He came out of nowhere and slit her throat. Just cut it like it was nothing—"
"Did the man say anything to her?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.
The boy shrugged. "I saw him whisper, but couldn't make it out. Then he just disappeared behind the stable—"
"Call the guards!" Rumpel yelled to his men. "Search the perimeter." He turned to King James. "Gather your men. Have them surround the castle."
James nodded. With that, the two men jumped into action, calling for their respective men.
Maureen was brought through the servant's quarters to her bedchamber. Glissa wrapped her arm around the woman's trembling shoulders and bid the guards to leave them alone. Away from the eyesight of the king and her master, Glissa finally broke down and fell to her knees.
"Briony . . . no—"
"Oh, my daughter!" Maureen wailed, falling onto the bed.
"How did this happen?" Glissa cried. "She was only gone for a moment—"
"My baby, my little girl . . ." Maureen beat her fist against the mattress, weeping like a rain-drenched wind on the moor.
"Why?" Glissa whispered. "Why her?"
"The Guild," Maureen sobbed. "They killed her . . . Rumpelstiltskin let her die!"
Glissa stood and went to Maureen on the bed. "This isn't his fault—"
"THEY BROUGHT HER HERE!" Maureen yelled. She looked at Glissa with all the rage of a stormy ocean, her face red, her eyes bulging with passion. She reminded Glissa of a witch she once saw in a story book. "They brought this baby here and made us all targets for these unholy knights!"
"Maureen—"
The old maid stood and Glissa tried to hold her arm back. Maureen ripped herself away from the young girl, threw her hand back, and hit Glissa over the face. The hurricane-like blow knocked Glissa to the floor, out cold.
Maureen fled out the door quickly. She took the servant's back stairs to the second floor, making a red-hot trail to Belle's room where Rosie and her mother slept.
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Belle awoke to someone putting a cold cloth over her nose and mouth. She thought she was dreaming at first, but when the hand pressed down, she opened her eyes and struggled to get away.
"Shh," a woman's voice said. "It's just a little jovert powder."
Belle squinted and could see that it was Maureen, the scullery maid. Her gray hair was wild, her face bright pink and her brown eyes manic. The cloth smelled like animal fat and dying roses. Jovert power was an opiate used in tea for sleeplessness. A teaspoon could make someone sleep through the night—any more could knock someone out for days.
Belle tried to pry Maureen's hands from her mouth, but was already feeling the effects of the powder. Her heart rate slowed down, her fingers became numb, and the last thing she saw before she blacked out was the cradle her crying daughter lay in.
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The guards found Glissa soon after Maureen had fled. Calden was among them, adorned in his armor for the watch, and drew his blade when he saw blood on Glissa's lips. "What happened?" he asked, helping her to her feet.
"Maureen," Glissa touched her wounded lip. "Her daughter—"
"Which way did she go?" an older guard asked.
"I-I don't know—"
"We have to find her," Calden said. He turned to the other two guards. "Search the castle."
"Cal, please! She's just lost her daughter, she's upset—"
"She tried to hurt Rumpelstiltskin," Calden said. "She's a danger to this house."
The word 'danger' flashed in Glissa head and suddenly everything—Briony's death, Maureen's anger, the mysterious way the man in black armor appeared—raised a red flag in the young maid's brain.
"Where's Miss Belle?" she asked.
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Tired of waiting for answers, Snow left the sitting room and walked through the corridors to the grand staircase. The maids had gone back to working but guards still roamed the halls, looking for a post. She called out for her husband, but was met with only the echo of her own voice.
Snow climbed the stairs to the second floor. She wondered if Belle had been wakened by the commotion throughout the house, if little Rosie was being tended to by someone. She rounded the corner, past the ornate stained-glass windows of roses and mountains, and opened the door to Belle's room.
The cradle had been overturned, the child missing. Belle was on the bed, breathing steadily but lifeless as a corpse. Snow rushed to the young woman and checked for a pulse. There was life, but barely.
"Help!" Snow cried. "Someone help us!"
Snow stood and frantically looked around the room. Maybe someone had hidden the child in all the flutter? Maybe Rumpelstiltskin had taken her and was keeping her safe by his side? But then why would he leave Belle—?
"Someone please help!"
Two guards and a young maid burst into the room. Glissa shrieked when she saw the empty, upturned cradle. "What happened? Where's the baby?"
But Snow and the guards were more focused on Belle. Calden took the washbasin from the vanity table and splashed water on the Lady's face. She didn't so much as wince.
The older guards knelt to the floor and picked up a wet rag that was lying under the bed. He gave it a whiff and pulled it away from his face. "Jovert powder. Someone drugged her."
"Maureen," Glissa said. Snow White and the guards turned to her. "She took the baby."
"But why?" Calden asked.
Glissa bit her thumb nail, her heart thudding in her chest. Guilt washed over her and she stared at the cradle as if it might tell her the reason. Maureen was upset, this much was true. She lost her only daughter . . . but what could an old maid do with a baby that was doomed to darkness by The Guild?
Unless . . .
"Exit in the spring," Glissa whispered.
"What?" Snow asked.
Glissa looked at the queen. "I know where she's going."
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The sun was setting now, the western sky as red and heavy as the blood that had gushed out of Briony's neck. Maureen had managed to slip past the guards by tucking Rose into a basket of lettuce from the kitchen, telling them Miss Belle was hurt inside. Thank God the baby was sleeping silently.
It was only on their way to the spring did the child start to cry. Maureen removed the lettuce from the basket and threw it along the trail for the birds. The baby looked right at home in the wicker basket, swaddled in her embroidered silk blanket that Glissa had stitched her name into. Rose gave a wail and Maureen shushed her.
"It's okay, little one. I'm taking you someplace safe."
When they reached the spring, Maureen searched all along the bank for a door or a hole or something that would suggest an escape. The Blue Fairy had said it herself—'exit in the spring.' Unless Maureen was getting her riddles mixed up (fat chance, since she was ace at all the hard ones), this was the place the baby had to be.
Maureen set the basket down next to the blueberry patch and took little Rosie in her arms. "Okay, love. Okay." She remembered how Briony used to cry like this when she was a babe, didn't stop for hours even after being fed. Maureen's eyes welled with tears but she willed them away.
The old maid looked around the babbling spring—the clear, cool water as it trickled down the small waterfall, the wildflowers growing along the edges like an angel's halo. The harder Maureen looked at the water, the more it seemed to glow.
Just a hallucination, Maureen thought. Too grief-stricken to know what's real. Maybe I should turn back—
But it really was glowing. A golden mist rose from the spring, as light as snow at first, then darker and heavier the closer Maureen stepped towards it. She looked down at the baby and Rosie had stopped crying. This was their doorway.
Maureen stepped into the cold water. It was a welcoming feeling, an icy bandage over the red-hot anger she felt over Briony's death. She waded until she was waist-deep, the child over her shoulder. The mist surrounded them, enveloped them like warm sunshine, and just as Maureen turned her head to see Glissa and a few guards coming down the hill, the water pulled her and Rosie in, swallowing them like a beast with liquid teeth.
END OF PART 1