ever-widening green valley.
A great cry rose from the soldiers behind her, and she realized that indeed the Prince was home, and up ahead, across the sloping green, she saw upon a great precipice overhanging the valley the Prince’s castle.
It was far greater in size than Beauty’s home, a wilderness of dark towers. It might enclose a whole world, it seemed, and its open gates yawned like a mouth before the drawbridge.
Now from everywhere the subjects of the Prince, mere specks in the distance growing ever and ever larger, ran toward the road that wound down and then up again before them.
Riders came over the drawbridge and rode toward them with a blast of trumpets, their banners streaming behind them.
The air was warmer here, as if this place were protected from the sea breeze. It was nothing as dark as the narrow villages and forests through which they had passed. And Beauty could see everywhere the peasants dressed in lighter and brighter colors.
But they were drawing ever nearer to the castle, and in the distance Beauty could see not the peasants whose admiration she had received all along the road, but a great crowd of magnificently dressed Lords and Ladies.
She must have uttered a little cry and bowed her head, because the Prince came up alongside of her. She felt his arm gather her close to the horse, and he whispered :
“Now, Beauty, you know what I expect of you.”
But they had already reached the steep approach to the bridge, and Beauty could see it was just as she feared, men and women of her own rank and all clad in white velvet trimmed in gold, or gay and festive colors. She dared not look, and felt the blush in her cheeks again and for the first time was tempted to throw herself on the mercy of the Prince and beg him to conceal her.
It was one thing to be shown to the rustics who praised her and would make a legend of her, but she could already hear the babble of haughty speech and laughter. This was unendurable to her.
But when the Prince dismounted, he ordered her down on her hands and knees and told her softly that this was how she must enter his castle.
She was petrified, her face burning, but she fell quickly to obey, glimpsing the Prince’s boots to her left as she struggled to keep up with him in crossing the drawbridge.
Through a great dim corridor she was led, not daring to raise her eyes, though she could see rich gowns and shining boots all around her. Lords and Ladies were bowing to the Prince on either side of her. There were whispers of greeting, and kisses being thrown, and she was naked, moving on her hands and knees as if she were only some poor animal.
But they had reached the mouth of the Great Hall, a room far more vast and shadowy than any in her own castle. An immense fire roared on the hearth, though the sun streamed warm through high narrow windows. It seemed the Lords and Ladies pressed past her, flowing silently along the walls and towards the long wooden tables. Plate and goblets were already set. The air was heavy with the aroma of the supper.
And then Beauty saw the Queen.
She sat at the very end upon a raised dais. Her veiled head was encircled with a gold crown, and the deep sleeves of her green gown were trimmed in pearls and gold embroidery.
Beauty was led forward by a quick snap of the Prince’s fingers. The Queen had risen, and now she embraced her son as he stood before the dais.
“Tribute, Mother, from the land over the Mountains, and the loveliest we have received in a long time if my memory serves me. My first love slave, and I am very proud to have claimed her.”
“And well you should be,” said the Queen in a voice that sounded both young and cold. Beauty dared not look up at her. But it was the Prince’s voice which frightened her most. “My first love slave.” She remembered his puzzling commiserations with her parents, the mention of their service in this same land, and she felt her pulse quicken.
“Exquisite, absolutely exquisite,”
A great cry rose from the soldiers behind her, and she realized that indeed the Prince was home, and up ahead, across the sloping green, she saw upon a great precipice overhanging the valley the Prince’s castle.
It was far greater in size than Beauty’s home, a wilderness of dark towers. It might enclose a whole world, it seemed, and its open gates yawned like a mouth before the drawbridge.
Now from everywhere the subjects of the Prince, mere specks in the distance growing ever and ever larger, ran toward the road that wound down and then up again before them.
Riders came over the drawbridge and rode toward them with a blast of trumpets, their banners streaming behind them.
The air was warmer here, as if this place were protected from the sea breeze. It was nothing as dark as the narrow villages and forests through which they had passed. And Beauty could see everywhere the peasants dressed in lighter and brighter colors.
But they were drawing ever nearer to the castle, and in the distance Beauty could see not the peasants whose admiration she had received all along the road, but a great crowd of magnificently dressed Lords and Ladies.
She must have uttered a little cry and bowed her head, because the Prince came up alongside of her. She felt his arm gather her close to the horse, and he whispered :
“Now, Beauty, you know what I expect of you.”
But they had already reached the steep approach to the bridge, and Beauty could see it was just as she feared, men and women of her own rank and all clad in white velvet trimmed in gold, or gay and festive colors. She dared not look, and felt the blush in her cheeks again and for the first time was tempted to throw herself on the mercy of the Prince and beg him to conceal her.
It was one thing to be shown to the rustics who praised her and would make a legend of her, but she could already hear the babble of haughty speech and laughter. This was unendurable to her.
But when the Prince dismounted, he ordered her down on her hands and knees and told her softly that this was how she must enter his castle.
She was petrified, her face burning, but she fell quickly to obey, glimpsing the Prince’s boots to her left as she struggled to keep up with him in crossing the drawbridge.
Through a great dim corridor she was led, not daring to raise her eyes, though she could see rich gowns and shining boots all around her. Lords and Ladies were bowing to the Prince on either side of her. There were whispers of greeting, and kisses being thrown, and she was naked, moving on her hands and knees as if she were only some poor animal.
But they had reached the mouth of the Great Hall, a room far more vast and shadowy than any in her own castle. An immense fire roared on the hearth, though the sun streamed warm through high narrow windows. It seemed the Lords and Ladies pressed past her, flowing silently along the walls and towards the long wooden tables. Plate and goblets were already set. The air was heavy with the aroma of the supper.
And then Beauty saw the Queen.
She sat at the very end upon a raised dais. Her veiled head was encircled with a gold crown, and the deep sleeves of her green gown were trimmed in pearls and gold embroidery.
Beauty was led forward by a quick snap of the Prince’s fingers. The Queen had risen, and now she embraced her son as he stood before the dais.
“Tribute, Mother, from the land over the Mountains, and the loveliest we have received in a long time if my memory serves me. My first love slave, and I am very proud to have claimed her.”
“And well you should be,” said the Queen in a voice that sounded both young and cold. Beauty dared not look up at her. But it was the Prince’s voice which frightened her most. “My first love slave.” She remembered his puzzling commiserations with her parents, the mention of their service in this same land, and she felt her pulse quicken.
“Exquisite, absolutely exquisite,”
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