Mrs. Beast (27 page)

    
The man paws the ground impatiently.

    
". . . and Lord knows how long I'll be

gone . . ."

    
"Friend," the man thunders. Hermes kicks up his heels and tears for the woods.

    
"If that ain't the frosting on the cake!" Blockhead squalls.

    
"Did you say Princess Beauty?
 
The same Princess Beauty of Kingdom Fleur de Coeur?
 
I saw her but two weeks ago in Charmed Kingdom.
 
I am returning to that very place today."

    
"Yeah?" Blockhead mumbles, glaring into the woods where Hermes quivers behind a tree.
 
The man struggles to maintain control and snorts ash out his nose.

    
"There it is again," Blockhead sniffs.
 
"I swear something's burning nearby."

    
"I will take the scroll and place it personally into Princess Beauty's hands," the man offers.

    
"I can't ask a fine gentleman like you to do my errand.
 
Besides, you have no mule or horse and this letter is really, really important.
 
It's a matter of life and death, could be my death if I don't run all the way . . ."

    
"Please," the man thunders, and smoke slips from the corners of his mouth.
 
"My steed is the fastest horse in Grimm Land."
 
He whistles and a black stallion gallops from the forest.
 
"I'll be able to reach Princess Beauty within a day, and you, my friend, can go back to your bride, spend a week together in your little cottage, and no one will be the wiser."

    
Rusty wheels creak in Blockhead's brain.
 
He extends his hand and says, "Mister . . ."

    
"Mephisto."

    
"Mister, you are sent from Heaven."
 
Blockhead pumps the devil's hand, gives him the scroll, and then sprints toward his cottage, stalwartly yodeling.

    
The devil drops the scroll to the ground, unbuttons his britches, aims at Runyon's letter and urinates a stream of fire.

*
     
*
     
*

    
Elora the Enchantress twists her blackberry lips and chortles with satisfaction.
 
"Now Ole Fire and Brimstone will forge a letter from Runyon asking Beauty to meet him at Charming Castle."

    
Croesus' eyes pop in surprise.

    
"I know, he doesn't grant favors without expecting something big, like a soul, in return.
 
He owes me a few."

    
She raps her nails over the crystal ball.
 
"Beauty's nearly at the end of her

quest.
 
Without this bit of deception, she might have passed through Charmed Kingdom without meeting Grimm Land's most famous fairy tale beauty."

*
     
*
     
*

    
Into the Lake of Longing, Harry the ferryman pulls his oars vigorously.
 
Sweat beads on his bald head like an August watermelon. Trina sits next to him, ramrod straight and silent, feeling rejected and miserable imagining that Harry is smitten by Princess Beauty.
It's going to be a long trip,
Beauty surmises and directs her gaze to the mossy shoreline. Here and there an old woman smiles at a youthful reflection; an obese woman admires her svelte reflection; a pole thin woman vamps at her curvaceous reflection.

    
"Why are there no men at the shore?" Beauty asks.

    
"Now and then, a man will come," Harry answers.
 
"Usually a prideful man with receded hair, twenty pounds heavier than in his youth, who has heard that the water reflects the form you long for.
 
The lake's spell does cause a prideful
 
man's reflection to change, but he still has wrinkles, receding hair, and twenty extra pounds; only his gender is changed to female. He scrambles from the shore thanking God he was born male, and he never returns.
  
Most men don't need to look because we have rudders."

    
Trina snorts and swipes her broad thumb over her nose.

    
"What I mean is, we know where we're going and our appearance has no bearing on it, your highness."

    
"Please, address me by my name as you did before.
 
I'm the daughter of a merchant, I married a prince, and though I am a woman, I definitely know where I'm going."

    
Beauty unfolds again the tale of her father's lost fortune, his encounter with the Beast, and how she learned to love him.
 
As they near the northern shore, Beauty concludes, "I made up my mind to get my beloved Beast back.
 
I've been traveling these past months in search of Elora the Enchantress to ask her to renew her spell."

    
"By thunder, Beauty, I believe you'll do it!" Harry whoops and jumps from the boat to pull it ashore.
 
Even Trina manages a smile and finally speaks.
 
"Your dress is most unusual.
 
I've never seen embroidery so finely sewn."

    
"It's the most beautiful dress I've ever worn.
 
It was made by the dwarf women of the Black Forest."

    
"Hold onto your seats, ladies," Harry warns and yanks the boat ashore.
 
Beauty's satchel tips sideways and the latch springs open.

    
"Not as beautiful as that dress!" Trina exclaims, her lip sagging further down her chin.
 
The sun has caught a piece of Beauty's yellow satin gown, the Beast's favorite gown, the gown she had planned to wear for their reunion.
 
She pulls the dress from the satchel and three yards of buttercup-bright satin spill into Trina's lap.

    
"A gift for your wedding,"
 
Beauty offers.

    
"Do you mean it?
 
This dress is fit for a queen," Trina blubbers.

    
Harry jumps back in the boat and hugs his fiancé.
 
"Trina, you are a queen, the only queen of my heart."

    
As Harry and Trina bill and coo, Beauty slips away up the mossy shore, her eyes on the mist-shrouded peak of glass above Charming Castle.

*
     
*
     
*

    
Until she stands on the castle hill, Beauty won't be able to take in the continuous line of three hundred Mountain Ash trees surrounding Charmed Kingdom in a heart shape.
 
Leaving the mossy shore, she meets the beginning of the kingdom's main thoroughfare, which is paved in pink quartz and runs from the tip of the heart, through the top and up to Charming Castle.
 
Beauty ambles up the road, passing cottages painted white with pink trim and shutters.
 
Neat squares of green lawns are enclosed by white picket fences.
 
Charming citizens greet Beauty from their yards: "Hello.
 
Lovely day."
 
Laughter and music ring from each side street she passes.

    
When she finally beholds Charming Castle, resplendent as
the
castle of all fairy tale castles should be, she also sees a richly dressed merchant astride a sinewy black stallion.
 
In his hand he holds a scroll sealed with red wax.

    
"Princess Beauty?" the man asks. "From the description Prince Runyon gave me, you can be no other lady.
 
He sent this message for you."
  
The man leans slightly in the saddle, extending the scroll.
 
"Will you step off the charmed path and accept the letter?"

    
Beauty recognizes Runyon's
R
seal. "When and where did Runyon give you this message,” she asks.

    
"Two weeks ago when I passed through the Kingdom of Fleur de Coeur." The man smiles gratuitously.
 
"Kindly take this scroll.
 
I would bring it to you, but I have a devilish case of gout."

    
"I prefer to stay on the path, Mister?"

    
"Mephisto."

    
"You may toss the scroll to me, Mister Mephisto.”

    
The devil's eyes glow red, smoke rises from his ears, and he throws the scroll at Beauty's feet.
 
She snatches it up, breaks the seal, unwinds the parchment and reads:
 

        
Meet me at Charming Castle.

              
   Love, Runyon
.

    
No date for this meeting, nor day of his departure?
 
He may already be at the castle waiting for me
; Beauty turns the scroll over for further clues.
 
"Did you speak with him, Mister Mephisto?" Beauty asks.
 
But the devil and his stallion have sunk into the earth and are already halfway to Hades.

    
Beauty's mind is in turmoil.
 
What does he want?
 
Do I want to see him now, with my quest nearly complete?
 
Will he insist on taking me back to Fleur de Coeur?
 
Is he already at the castle?
 
The mirror!

    
As she fumbles with her satchel, a man on a white horse gallops to her side, whisks her into the saddle and spurs his mount toward Charming Castle.
 
Though the road is uphill and the horse is galloping, Beauty is not jostled or jiggled; the man cradles her between his strong arms and stronger thighs.

    
"Why did you do that?" Beauty huffs and faces her abductor.

    
The king, for such he is, is breathtaking; his crown sits on a head of silvery hair; his eyes are the teasing blue of an Alpine stream; his skin is bronzed and creased from the sun; the corners of his mouth curve slightly upward framing lips that court kissing of their own accord.
 
He is Brad Pitt at fifty. "To rescue you from distress, fair damsel," the king replies.

    
"My name is Beauty, and I wasn't aware I was in need of rescue."

    
"Dear lady, from yonder field I saw that beast and his horse rise from beneath the ground moments before you left the city.
 
You would have seen his horns had he doffed his hat and seen his cloven hooves had he not concealed them in his stirrups.
 
By the way, those are charming boar skin shoes you wear on your petite feet.”

    
"Beast?"

    
"Fear not.
 
I am King Paul, and I welcome you to Charmed Kingdom."

    
"I'm not afraid, and I do thank you for your noble intentions.
 
That man gave me a letter from my husband, Prince Runyon of the Kingdom of Fleur de Coeur.
 
His letter asked that I meet him at Charming Castle.
 
Is my husband within?"