you asked. She’s proven her worth. Set her free.”
Gold glitters in the king’s eyes, and it covers his heart. He smacks his lips with anticipation of the wealth he will gain. He takes up the hands of the maiden and says, “Spin this straw into gold, and tomorrow you shall be queen.”
I smile. I can see the king’s mind. No longer is he content to give his son the power. He wants it all for himself. He has found his golden goose and he will keep her close by, satisfying his greed until the day she dies.
“Queen?” the prince gasps as he looks from his father to the maid he loves.
Her eyes fill with tears. They beg the handsome prince to rescue her, but the prince can only follow his father out and leave her to her labor.
Oh the joy of a plan that weaves itself. A king in lust with gold, a prince in love with a maid, and a maid balancing on one point of the triangle. One slip in either direction and disaster will strike. I saunter into the center of the room and find the maid on the floor, her body draped across the stool. Her anguish pours onto the floor in the shape of large, salty tears.
This time, she does not move. She does not notice me, nor give me welcome. I draw closer. Bending, I speak in a soft, cajoling whisper, “Is aught well? Is the king displeased with our gold?”
The maid sniffles and shakes her head. “Nay. He is well pleased. Very well pleased.”
“I see he wishes another miracle.”
“I will give him none.”
I rear back. What is this? A maid who will not play my game? How dare she! “Then you choose death?”
“I have no choice. Do you think me pleased to see my freedom is but a night away only to realize I have nothing left to give you?”
“No precious gift in exchange for my labor? I see.” I can barely hold back my glee, for she has something very dear indeed. “What of your first born child?”
She lifts her head and stares at me. “My child? But I am a maiden true.”
“I speak of that wee babe who awaits you in your future.” I have a wish to own her heart and soul and that will never happen unless I have something of hers that is more precious than gold, or wood or memories. She will never abandon a child.
“You cannot ask that of me. It is an evil request.”
I purse my lips and give her a forlorn glance. “Is it evil to wish for love? I have no children of my own. I am lonely. What is one child to you when your future holds many more? Here you sit and bemoan your fate when you have that which will free you at last.”
“I cannot.”
I rise. “Then I will leave.” I turn and walk toward the door. “It is sad. Love could have been yours.”
“Nay! Wait!”
I stop, but don’t turn around. I cock my head, the moment suspended in time as she struggles with her choice.
A ragged sob rips against the stillness of the room. “You don’t understand. The king wishes to take me as his wife. I cannot marry him. I love his son.”
Success is only a breath away. “If I promise you will marry the son, will you give me the child?”
“Is there nothing else that can tempt you? When I am queen, I can give you the riches of this kingdom.”
“I have riches,” I sneer. “I desire — your child. Speak now, little maiden, or soon it will be too late for even me to save you.”
“Please ask of me anything else.”
“I desire nothing else. Do you agree? Hurry, for my patience diminishes with the night.”
“But…”
“Your child.”
“Please.”
“Your child!”
“I-I…” she stammers. I know the moment she breaks, the second she accepts my evil offer. “Yes.”
I turn, my eyes glittering with victory. “You willingly give up your first born child for this straw spun into gold?”
“Yes,” she says on a note of despair. “Just do it.”
“It is done.” I pull out a pinch of magic. She bites her own finger and adds the droplet of blood. With the spindle prepared, we begin to spin.
Magic and blood;
the wheel is begun,
rough straw is
Gold glitters in the king’s eyes, and it covers his heart. He smacks his lips with anticipation of the wealth he will gain. He takes up the hands of the maiden and says, “Spin this straw into gold, and tomorrow you shall be queen.”
I smile. I can see the king’s mind. No longer is he content to give his son the power. He wants it all for himself. He has found his golden goose and he will keep her close by, satisfying his greed until the day she dies.
“Queen?” the prince gasps as he looks from his father to the maid he loves.
Her eyes fill with tears. They beg the handsome prince to rescue her, but the prince can only follow his father out and leave her to her labor.
Oh the joy of a plan that weaves itself. A king in lust with gold, a prince in love with a maid, and a maid balancing on one point of the triangle. One slip in either direction and disaster will strike. I saunter into the center of the room and find the maid on the floor, her body draped across the stool. Her anguish pours onto the floor in the shape of large, salty tears.
This time, she does not move. She does not notice me, nor give me welcome. I draw closer. Bending, I speak in a soft, cajoling whisper, “Is aught well? Is the king displeased with our gold?”
The maid sniffles and shakes her head. “Nay. He is well pleased. Very well pleased.”
“I see he wishes another miracle.”
“I will give him none.”
I rear back. What is this? A maid who will not play my game? How dare she! “Then you choose death?”
“I have no choice. Do you think me pleased to see my freedom is but a night away only to realize I have nothing left to give you?”
“No precious gift in exchange for my labor? I see.” I can barely hold back my glee, for she has something very dear indeed. “What of your first born child?”
She lifts her head and stares at me. “My child? But I am a maiden true.”
“I speak of that wee babe who awaits you in your future.” I have a wish to own her heart and soul and that will never happen unless I have something of hers that is more precious than gold, or wood or memories. She will never abandon a child.
“You cannot ask that of me. It is an evil request.”
I purse my lips and give her a forlorn glance. “Is it evil to wish for love? I have no children of my own. I am lonely. What is one child to you when your future holds many more? Here you sit and bemoan your fate when you have that which will free you at last.”
“I cannot.”
I rise. “Then I will leave.” I turn and walk toward the door. “It is sad. Love could have been yours.”
“Nay! Wait!”
I stop, but don’t turn around. I cock my head, the moment suspended in time as she struggles with her choice.
A ragged sob rips against the stillness of the room. “You don’t understand. The king wishes to take me as his wife. I cannot marry him. I love his son.”
Success is only a breath away. “If I promise you will marry the son, will you give me the child?”
“Is there nothing else that can tempt you? When I am queen, I can give you the riches of this kingdom.”
“I have riches,” I sneer. “I desire — your child. Speak now, little maiden, or soon it will be too late for even me to save you.”
“Please ask of me anything else.”
“I desire nothing else. Do you agree? Hurry, for my patience diminishes with the night.”
“But…”
“Your child.”
“Please.”
“Your child!”
“I-I…” she stammers. I know the moment she breaks, the second she accepts my evil offer. “Yes.”
I turn, my eyes glittering with victory. “You willingly give up your first born child for this straw spun into gold?”
“Yes,” she says on a note of despair. “Just do it.”
“It is done.” I pull out a pinch of magic. She bites her own finger and adds the droplet of blood. With the spindle prepared, we begin to spin.
Magic and blood;
the wheel is begun,
rough straw is
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