Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback (41 page)

had expected, for that is the way fairy money works. “I will keep this for you,” his father had said. “When you come back, you will be old

enough to marry, and with such a fortune, any of the local girls will take you. I do not know what you will do as the Lady’s apprentice,

but I hope you will come back fit to run a mill.”

Ivan had simply nodded, slung his satchel over his shoulder, and

gone.

Just as he was wondering if he would indeed find the castle that

day, for the sun was beginning to set, he saw it through the trees, its turrets rising above a high stone wall.

He went up to the wall and knocked at the wooden door that was

the only way in. It opened, seemingly by itself. In the doorway stood a white cat.

“Are you the Idiot?” she asked.

“I suppose so,” he said, speaking for the first time in three days.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “You certainly look the part.

Well, come in then, and follow me.”

He followed her through the doorway and along a path that

led through the castle gardens. He had never seen such gardens,

although in school his teacher had once described the gardens that

surrounded the King’s castle, which she had visited on holiday. There were fountains set in green lawns, with stone fish spouting water.

There were box hedges, and topiaries carved into the shapes of birds, rabbits, mice. There were pools filled with water lilies, in which he could see real fish, silver and orange. There were arched trellises

from which roses hung down in profusion, and an orchard with fruit

trees. He could even see a kitchen garden, with vegetables in neat

rows. And all through the gardens, he could see cats, pruning the

hedges, tying back the roses, raking the earth in the flowerbeds.

It was the strangest sight he had ever seen, and for the first time

it occurred to him that being the Lady’s apprentice would be an

adventure—the first of his life.

• 341 •

• Blanchefleur •

The path took them to the door of the castle, which swung open

as they approached. An orange tabby walked out and stood waiting

at the top of the steps.

“Hello, Marmalade,” said the white cat.

“Good evening, Miss Blanchefleur,” he replied. “Is this the young

man her Ladyship is expecting?”

“As far as I can tell,” she said. “Although what my mother would

want with such an unprepossessing specimen, I don’t know.”

Marmalade bowed to Ivan and said, “Welcome, Ivan Miller. Her

Ladyship is waiting in the solar.”

Ivan expected the white cat, whose name seemed to be Blanchefleur,

to leave him with Marmalade. Instead, she accompanied them, fol-

lowing Ivan through the doorway, then through a great hall whose

walls were hung with tapestries showing cats sitting in gardens,

climbing trees, hunting rabbits, catching fish. Here too there were

cats, setting out bowls on two long wooden tables, and on a shorter

table set on a dais at the end of the room. As Marmalade passed,

they nodded, and a gray cat who seemed to be directing their activi-

ties said, “We’re almost ready, Mr. Marmalade. The birds are nicely

roasted, and the mint sauce is really a treat if I say so myself.”

“Excellent, Mrs. Pebbles. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking

forward to those birds. Tailcatcher said that he caught them himself.”

“Well, with a little help!” said Mrs. Pebbles, acerbically. “He doesn’t go on the hunt alone, does he now, Mr. Marmalade? Oh, begging

your pardon, Miss,” she said when she saw Blanchefleur. “I didn’t

know you were there.”

“I couldn’t care less what you say about him,” said Blanchefleur,

with a sniff and a twitch of her tail. “He’s nothing to me.”

“As you say, Miss,” said Mrs. Pebbles, not sounding particularly

convinced.

At the back of the great hall was another, smaller door that led

to a long hallway. Ivan was startled when, at the end of the hallway, which had been rather dark, they emerged into a room filled with

sunlight. It had several windows looking out onto a green lawn,

• 342 •

• Theodora Goss •

and scattered around the room were low cushions, on which cats

sat engaged in various tasks. Some were carding wool, some were

spinning it on drop spindles, some were plying the yarn or winding

it into skeins. In a chair by one of the windows sat the Lady, with a piece of embroidery in her lap. One of the cats was reading a book

aloud, but stopped when they entered.

“My Lady, this is Ivan Miller, your new apprentice,” said Marmalade.

“Otherwise known as the Idiot,” said Blanchefleur. “And he seems

to deserve the name. He’s said nothing for himself all this time.”

“My dear, you should be polite to your cousin,” said the Lady. “Ivan, you’ve already met my daughter, Blanchefleur, and Marmalade, who

takes such marvelous care of us all. These are my ladies-in-waiting: Elderberry, Twilight, Snowy, Whiskers, and Fluff. My daughter tells

me you have nothing to say for yourself. Is that true?”

Ivan stared at her, sitting in her chair, surrounded by cats. She had green eyes, and although her gray hair hung down to the floor, she

reminded him of his mother. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said.

She looked at him for a moment, appraisingly. Then she said,

“Very well. I will send you where you need not say anything. Just

this morning I received a letter from an old friend of mine, Professor Owl. He is compiling an Encyclopedia of All Knowledge, but he is

old and feels arthritis terribly in his legs. He can no longer write the entries himself. For the first year of your apprenticeship, you

will go to Professor Owl in the Eastern Waste and help him with his

Encyclopedia. Do you think you can do that, nephew?”

“It’s all the same to me,” said Ivan. It was obvious that no one

wanted him here, just as no one had wanted him at the mill. What

did it matter where he went?

“Then you shall set out tomorrow morning,” said the Lady.

“Tonight you shall join us for dinner. Are the preparations ready,

Marmalade?”

“Almost, my Lady,” said the orange cat.

“How will I find this Professor Owl?” asked Ivan.

“Blanchefleur will take you,” said the Lady.

• 343 •

• Blanchefleur •

“You can’t be serious!” said Blanchefleur. “He’s an idiot, and he

stinks like a pigsty.”

“Then show him the bathroom, where he can draw himself a

bath,” said the Lady. “And give him new clothes to wear. Those are

too ragged even for Professor Owl, I think.”

“Come on, you,” said Blanchefleur, clearly disgusted. He followed

her out of the room and up a flight of stairs, to a bathroom with a

large tub on four clawed legs. He had never seen anything quite like it before. At the mill, he had often washed under the kitchen spigot.

After she had left, he filled it with hot water that came out of a tap and slipped into it until the water was up to his chin.

What a strange day it had been. Three days ago he had left his

father’s house and the life he had always lived, a life that required almost nothing of him: no thought, no effort. And now here he was,

in a castle filled with talking cats. And tomorrow he would start for another place, one that might be even stranger. When Blanchefleur

had taunted him by telling the Lady that he had nothing to say for

himself, he had wanted to say—what? Something that would have

made her less disdainful. But what could he say for himself, after all?

With a piece of soap, he washed himself more carefully than he

had ever before in his life. She had said he smelled like a pigsty, and he had spent the night before last sleeping on a haystack that was,

indeed, near a pen where several pigs had grunted in their dreams.

Last night, he had slept in the forest, but he supposed the smell still lingered—particularly to a cat’s nose. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of shame.

He dried himself and put on the clothes she had left for him. He

went back down the stairs, toward the sound of music, and found his

way to the great hall. It was lit with torches, and sitting at the two long tables were cats of all colors: black and brindled and tortoiseshell and piebald, with short hair and long. Sitting on the dais were the

Lady, with Blanchefleur beside her, and a large yellow and brown cat who was striped like a tiger. He stood in the doorway, feeling self-conscious.

• 344 •

• Theodora Goss •

The Lady saw him across the room and motioned for him to come

over. He walked to the dais and bowed before it, because that seemed the appropriate thing to do. She said, “That was courteous, nephew.

Now come sit with us. Tailcatcher, you will not mind giving your seat to Ivan, will you?”

“Of course not, my Lady,” said the striped cat in a tone that

indicated he did indeed mind, very much.

Ivan took his place, and Marmalade brought him a dish of roast

starlings, with a green sauce that smelled like catmint. It was good, although relatively flavorless. The cats, evidently, did not use salt in their cooking. Halfway through the meal, he was startled to realize

that the cats were conversing with one another and nodding politely, as though they were a roomful of ordinary people. He was probably

the only silent one in the entire room. Several times he noticed

Blanchefleur giving him exasperated looks.

When he had finished eating, the Lady said, “I think it’s time

to dance.” She clapped her hands, and suddenly Ivan heard music.

He wondered where it was coming from, then noticed a group of

cats at the far end of the room playing, more skillfully than he had supposed possible, a fife, a viol, a tabor, and other instruments he could not identify, one of which curved like a long snake. The cats

who had been sitting at the long tables moved them to the sides of

the room, then formed two lines in the center. He had seen a line

dance before, at one of the village fairs, but he had never seen one danced as gracefully as it was by the cats. They wove in and out, each line breaking and reforming in intricate patterns.

“Aren’t you going to ask your cousin to dance?” said the Lady,

leaning over to him.

“What? Oh,” he said, feeling foolish. How could he dance with a

cat? But the Lady was looking at him, waiting. “Would you like to

dance?” he asked Blanchefleur.

“Not particularly,” she said, looking at him with disdain. “Oh, all

right, Mother! You don’t have to pull my tail.”

He wiped his mouth and hands on a napkin, then followed

• 345 •

• Blanchefleur •

Blanchefleur to the dance floor and joined at the end of the line,

feeling large and clumsy, trying to follow the steps and not tread

on any paws. It did not help that, just when he was beginning to

feel as though he was learning the steps, he saw Tailcatcher glaring at him from across the room. He danced several times, once with

Blanchefleur, once with Mrs. Pebbles, who must have taken pity on

him, and once with Fluff, who told him it was a pleasure to dance with such a handsome young man and seemed to mean it. He managed to

step on only one set of paws, belonging to a tabby tomcat who said,

“Do that again, Sir, and I’ll send you my second in the morning,” but was mollified when Ivan apologized sincerely and at length. After

that, he insisted on sitting down until the feast was over and he could go to bed.

The next morning, he woke and wondered if it was all a dream,

but no—there he was, lying in a curtained bed in the Lady’s castle.

And there was Blanchefleur, sitting in a nearby chair, saying, “About time you woke up. We need to get started if we’re going to make the

Eastern Waste by nightfall.”

Ivan got out of bed, vaguely embarrassed to be seen in his

nightshirt, then reminded himself that she was just a cat. He put on the clothes he had been given last night, then found his satchel on a dresser. All of his old clothes were gone, replaced by new ones. In the satchel he also found a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, a flask of wine, and a shiny new knife with a horn handle.

“I should thank the Lady for all these things,” he said.

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since you got here,” said Blanchefleur. “But she’s gone to see my father, and won’t be back for three days. And we have to get going. So hurry up already!”

The Lady’s castle was located in a forest called the Wolfwald. To the north, it stretched for miles, and parts of it were so thick that almost no sunlight reached the forest floor. At the foot of the northern

mountains, wolves still roamed. But around the castle it was less

dense. Ivan and Blanchefleur walked along a path strewn with oak

• 346 •

• Theodora Goss •

leaves, through filtered sunlight. Ivan was silent, in part because he was accustomed to silence, in part because he did not know what to

say to the white cat. Blanchefleur seemed much more interested in

chasing insects, and even dead leaves, than in talking to him.

They stopped to rest when the sun was directly overhead. The

forest had changed: the trees were shorter and spaced more widely

apart, mostly pines rather than the oaks and beeches around

the Lady’s castle. Ahead of him, Ivan could see a different sort of

landscape: bare, except for the occasional twisted trees and clumps

of grass. It was dry, rocky, strewn with boulders.

“That’s the Eastern Waste,” said Blanchefleur.

“The ground will be too hard for your paws,” said Ivan. “I can