A Tale of Fur and Flesh by Unknown Page A

of Wolf’s.  If only she could add
the king’s pelt to her mantle…but Allerleirauh’s place was not in the palace. 
She lived underneath it.  Her place was in the darkness of the cellar cabinet,
under layers of peltry. 
    “I am nothing,” Lally replied, falling to her knees before
the king.  “Please do not trouble yourself to punish a dirty beast.  I am of no
consequence to anybody.”
    The king laughed.  “I have no desire to punish you. 
Tell me your name.”
    The “L” was on her tongue when she bit her teeth
down.  She realized, in the entire time she’d worked under the cook, nobody in
the palace had ever asked her name.  “They call me ‘hairy animal,’” Lally
responded, staring at the marble floor.  How did they make it so smooth and so
shiny?
    “And that is your name?” the king asked
incredulously.  “Hairy animal?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, your highness ,” Laim corrected, kicking
Lally in the small of her back.  She bit her tongue to keep from crying out in
pain.
    “Yes, your highness,” Lally whimpered.
    “And what is your function in my palace?” the king
continued. 
    If she could only remove the wolf’s mask, he could
see the pain in her eyes.  “I am good for nothing but to have carrots thrown at
my head,” Lally replied.  If only she could go to sleep in the woods and never
again awaken.  She was good for nothing, good to no one.
    “Come now,” the king replied, his voice soothing as a
warm bath.  “You have some function here, I gather.  I am told you prepared my
soup this evening.”
    “Yes, your highness,” the cook chimed in.  “Yes, that
is God’s own truth.  The hairy animal cooked that soup.  I didn’t get one look
at it before it left the kitchen, so if you found a hair, that’s naught to do
with me.”
    The king turned his attention to the loud woman. 
“You are the cook, then?”
    Cook smoothed her apron proudly against the fat of
her belly.  “Yes, your highness, I am that.”
    “Then it is your responsibility to look over every
morsel of food intended for my table, is it not?”
    Cook’s throat made a sound like a cough combined with
a cluck.  “Well, yes, but, you see…”
    “Never mind,” the king interrupted.  “We are not here
to discuss your ineptitude.”  He cast his warm eyes over Lally.  “I knew
immediately that soup was not prepared by Cook.  It was not over-salted and
over-boiled.  It was not made in haste, but with great care.  In fact, I have
never before tasted such a fresh and delicious bread soup.”
    Allerleirauh sat upright like a thirsty flower to
water.  “There was no hair in it, then?”
    “None at all,” replied the king.  “I did, however,
find this.”
    Against the rosy flesh of the king’s palm sat a gold
thread.
    “What is it?” asked Liam.
    “It’s a string made of gold!” cried the greedy cook. 
“Well, where would a hairy animal get a thing like that?  She must’ve stolen it
from amongst the small treasures I’ve accumulated.  Yes, come to think on it, I
did have a gold thread like that.”
     Again, the king cast his gaze upon Cook.  “Do you
mean to tell me this gold thread belongs to you?”
    “It surely does,” Cook lied.  “Might I have it
returned to me please?”
    King Aelwyn cast a dubious gaze over the portly
woman, but handed her the thread nonetheless.  “After tomorrow’s festival,” he
continued, “I should like for the hairy animal to prepare my soup again.  I
enjoyed it very much.”
    The king cast a glorious smile over Lally as he rose
from his throne.  He extended his hand to offer support.  The moment she placed
her hand in his, she recalled her place and occupation.  Quickly, she stole it
away only to see she’d dirtied his palm with soot from the hearth.  Her face
felt hot.  She couldn’t breathe inside her wolf mask.  The mantle needed to
come off.  Now!
    Fleeing the great
hall, Lally ran down the kitchen stairs and into her small