Sleeping Beauty, the One Who Took the Really Long Nap (5 page)

BOOK: Sleeping Beauty, the One Who Took the Really Long Nap
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Project: Discover the Real Rose

The first thing I did was to make a list of the things I knew I could do well.

  1. Sing (anything, like a songbird)
  2. Dance (ballet, tap, ballroom)
  3. Play music (there is no instrument I cannot master)
  4. Be graceful (I never, ever trip, including when I walk backward while blindfolded)
  5. Be smart (I only have to glance at a page of a book and I can recite it a year later. My head is full of information I shall never, ever need to use.)
  6. Be beautiful (long hair that never tangles, clear skin that never pimples, a pleasing aroma even when I don't bathe)

So now I knew my strengths. But my weaknesses? I had no idea. It took me some time to get up the nerve to find
out what I could do on my own. I suppose I was afraid that without the magic gifts I was nothing at all.

When I turned thirteen I finally got up the nerve to tell Mama that I didn't want to do the annual performance anymore. I offered to still sing and dance for the family and invited guests on feast days.

“But why?” she asked, a look of concern flitting across her eyes. “Are you ill?” She reached out to rest the back of her hand against my forehead. “You do feel a bit warm. Shall I call the castle physician?”

“I'm not ill,” I told her. “It is simply that … it is just that I … er …”

I still could not explain my real reasons, and thankfully she did not press me. I knew she was disappointed, but something had changed inside me. I was ready to face whatever disappointments or failures came my way. I needed to try things I had never attempted before. Things where the gifts would not give me an unfair advantage over others.

I spent the afternoon walking the complete length of the castle, inside and out. When Sara got tired, another lady-in-waiting took her place. I was pretending to do some sort of inventory of our belongings, but really I was watching everyone go about their daily business to see what interested me. I watched the carpenter fix a bench in the rectory, and
the physician minister to a baron's son who had tripped while chasing a rooster. I clapped when the glassmaker completed a beautiful piece of stained glass that would replace a cracked piece in one of the upstairs windows. I shed a tear when a farmhand helped a cow to deliver a baby calf. That calf reminded me of myself. Born into a destiny it could not escape.

I stared at the tapestries that lined the hall walls and floors in the lower parts of the castle. The details were so intricate: the tiny blue eyes on the babies; the foam coming out of the mouths of the horses in battle. I could not imagine how anyone could create such a thing using only a needle and thread. Of course I did not know anyone who did
anything
with fabrics, seeing as I had never in my life so much as laid eyes on a spinning wheel or a loom or a needle.

I tasted the vegetable broth in the kitchen that would be part of that night's soup, and watched the squires as they raced one another on horseback as part of their daily exercises (Sara wasn't too tired of walking to come along with me on that one!). I watched the winemaker stomp on grapes with his bare feet and made a mental note not to have wine ever again. I even watched the dung cleaner clean the dung chutes. Needless to say, that was one area in which I did not feel the need to test my skills.

At the end of the day, I made a list of the tasks that interested me the most.

  1. I love the tapestries, but since I dare not try to sew, I can do the next best thing and try my hand at painting.
  2. I've always enjoyed helping Cook to make desserts, but all she ever lets me do is add a pinch of sugar here, a dollop of honey there. I should like to try making a whole meal for the family.
  3. The squires looked so free and alive while on those horses. I should like to try riding. Mama is always afraid to let me, but I know how to be careful.

I waited patiently for Sara's day to visit her family, then had one of the coachmen take me into town to purchase art supplies. One of the other ladies-in-waiting would normally have accompanied me in Sara's absence, but I assured her the coachman would keep a very good eye on me.

I had no idea what I needed to buy, other than some paint and something to put it on. These items were not as easy to find as I would have hoped. It appeared the townsfolk did not have much leisure time to engage in the arts. I caused a bit of a stir by turning up unexpectedly at so many
shops. The whole princess thing combined with the whole most-beautiful-girl-in-the-world thing made me quite a spectacle. Little children leaned out of their windows to see me. Shopkeepers tried hard to sell me things I did not need. Women stared admiringly at my clothes. Finally I wound up with a pallet, five jars of crushed pigment, oil to mix them with, three brushes of different sizes, an easel that folded up, and a small canvas stretched onto two pieces of wood.

I smuggled my goods back into the house. This was no easy task, either. As soon as I returned home, the questions began.

Mama:
Where did you go?

Papa:
Whom were you with?

Mama & Papa:
Are you all right?

I told them I had gone into town to get supplies for an anniversary gift I was making for them. As soon as I said it, I knew I wasn't even lying. Mama said, “But our anniversary isn't for another ten months.”

“Well, think upon it as a belated anniversary from the last one,” I said, then hurried upstairs with my bundle wrapped up in my traveling cloak.

I knew my only alone-time would be at night, so directly after supper I told the newly returned Sara that I was turning in early. I managed to be in my room alone while there
was still light in the sky. I set up the easel in front of the largest window and mixed my first jar of pigment. It was messier than I expected, and clumpier, too. But soon I had a pretty blue color with which to color the sky. I had decided to paint the garden in the courtyard below my window. That way I wouldn't have to go outside to do it. I had a perfect view from my room.

I did not know which brush to use, so I chose the smallest one. That turned out to be a mistake, since it was starting to get dark out and I had a lot more sky to paint. I switched to the largest brush, and that went much faster. It also used up more of the pigment, so I had to keep adding water to thin it out. The result was that the canvas looked like it was going to tear in a few places from being too wet.

It was now completely dark out, and I had to finish the sky from memory. I wanted to add a white cloud, but whenever I put the white pigment over the blue, it merely made a lighter blue. Clearly, this whole painting thing was much more complicated than it at first appeared. When Sara came in the next morning to awaken me, she asked, “What is that horrid odor?” Then she lifted one of my arms and took a quick sniff.

“Very funny,” I said, pushing my arm back down. I had stashed my work-in-progress under the bed, out of sight
from prying eyes. I hoped a corner wasn't sticking out, but I didn't dare look or Sara would immediately catch on. As I hurried to the bathing room I added, “I do not know of what odor you speak.”

“Sure, you don't,” she said, reaching into the wardrobe for my clothes. “I may not know what you're up to yet, but I'll find out.”

I was in the middle of gargling with lemon water and pretended not to hear her.

The next night I tackled the garden. I mixed the rest of the pigments — red, green, yellow, and brown — but before I began to paint I used a charcoal pencil to first lightly outline the edges of the garden that separate each plant from its neighbor.

I started with the red roses, since they were, of course, my favorite flower. Even using the smallest brush, I found it hard to get the detail of the flowers quite right. The petals tended to blend into one another. The stems were easier. When I was finished with all the flowers, I took a few steps back to admire my work.

Hmm. Well. It was
colorful
. Perhaps that is the best thing I could say about it. I signed P.R. (for Princess Rose) in the lower right-hand corner, because I knew that was what artists did. I slid the painting under the bed to dry and
washed out my jars and brushes, nearly staining the porcelain sink in the process. It took two hours of scrubbing with lye and sandpaper to get out the reddish color.

The next day I requested Mama, Papa, and Sara wait in my sitting room, facing the other way, while I prepared to show them what I had been working on. With their backs still turned, I unfolded the easel and set up the painting.

“You can turn around now,” I announced.

At first no one said anything. Three jaws opened slightly, then promptly closed again.

“Um, what is it?” Papa asked, peering closely. “Is it a duck?”

“Hush,” Mama said. “It's obvious. It's a bonnet.”

“A bonnet!” I exclaimed. “Where do you see a bonnet?”

“Right there,” Mama said, pointing to the garden patch. “That is clearly a bonnet, lying on the floor of a blue room.”

“Is that what you see, Sara?” I asked.

“Uh, not exactly. I think it's a girl in a colorful dress. She's, er, reading a book? On the grass? Is it a self-portrait?”

I marched over to the painting and lifted it off the easel. “Happy anniversary,” I told my parents happily.

“Er, thank you, darling, it's lovely whatever it is,” Mama said, taking it from my arms. “We'll have to find a special place to hang this, won't we, Bertram?”

“Oh, yes, yes, a special place indeed.”

That special place turned out to be a storage closet in the attic behind a dressmaker's mannequin that was no longer needed following my christening. It did not bother me, though. While it would have been nice to find something I had a natural (not fairy-given) talent for, I had found something I was NOT good at instead. For the first time in my life, I had failed.

It felt great!

By the time I was fourteen, I had run away so many times, and returned safely each time, that my parents had given up trying to stop me. Father once asked me where it was that I went. I promised him it was not far, and that proved a good enough answer. I had moved on from one potato sack to three and now had the muscle to carry everything in one trip. I built two semipermanent forts in the woods, one that kept me cool in the summer and one warm in the winter. Both were in sight of the old castle and well hidden from my own.

On my last trip, I finally discovered something new. During my usual journey around the perimeter of the building, I found a button-sized area over one of the windows where the vines had separated slightly. It definitely hadn't been there on my last visit. The glass was clear and sharp, not dusty or cloudy like I would have thought after so many years without a cleaning. I could clearly see inside into what appeared to be a typical castle library. I saw a tall fireplace
with a mantle, two large chairs, a few benches along the walls, a large rug on the floor. The odd thing about it was that the room seemed lit from within, which I knew was impossible. No oil lamp could possibly still work after so long a time. Yet there was so much light in the room it was as though daylight was shining right through the windows instead of being completely blocked from entering by the vines.

I couldn't take my eye away from that peephole. I had a feeling I was missing something important. I searched the room once more, trying to make out the objects on the shelves, hoping they might offer up some clues as to what had happened there. I saw a statue of a horse atop the mantle, a pile of books on a side table, a painting on the wall of a girl reading on the grass, and a set of marble bookends in the shape of lions. My eyes swung back to the painting and locked.

I stared until my eyes began to burn. I rubbed them and looked again. There was no question. That painting was the exact same painting as in our castle! It hung in the exact same place along the right-hand wall. In fact, it wasn't just the painting that was identical. I could have been looking into our own library. The entire room was identical, down to the books on the table and the pattern of the rug. Although it was impossible, seeing as this castle was much older than ours, the objects in the room were brighter — the colors in
the painting were not as faded as ours, and the rug had retained much more of its color. If ours hadn't been dulled by the sunlight, Mother surely would have tossed it.

I let myself sink down to the grass and leaned my back against the castle wall for support. I thought I might faint dead away. I knew there was a mystery to be found, but I had never expected anything like this!

I spent the night in one of my forts, tossing and turning on the bed of feathers and leaves, snacking on the occasional blackberry, pondering what all this could possibly mean. By daybreak I knew I needed to cut my trip short. I needed Jonathan's knowledge of the world to help me find some answers. I lay my hand on the wall of the old castle and felt a pulse of energy run through my arm. I yanked it away, then felt foolish for doing so. I lay my hand back on the vine-covered wall but felt nothing.

Leaving my potato sacks behind, I took off in the direction of home. In my haste, I tripped over what I thought was a bush. My knee banged against something hard. Bushes weren't supposed to be hard. I turned around to examine it, my hand beginning to shake as I recognized, nearly hidden beneath a tight layer of leaves and branches, the unmistakable shape of a mermaid fountain. And unless I was going crazy — which at this point I certainly considered a possibility — there was water in the bottom of it.

I reached the castle as my parents were finishing breakfast.

“Back so soon?” Mother asked. It was the fourth Friday of the month, so she was in a good mood from whatever she had done the night before. It was unusual for me to be gone such a short period these days, but I couldn't very well explain.

I made some sort of noncommittal grunt, pulled out my chair, and shoved some boiled goose eggs into my mouth. “Do you know where Jonathan is?” I asked between bites.

A quick look flitted between the two of them, and I could see the sympathy in their faces. I sat up in alarm. Had something happened? Had Mother scared him off? Or worse?

“Do not worry,” Father said, clearly sensing my fear. “Jonathan is fine. He wanted to tell you himself, but he only had time to pack up his things before the coach came for him.”

“He's been promoted to squire and transferred to another kingdom to train for the knighthood,” Mother explained. “He was sad to leave here, but this is a very good opportunity for him.”

I was stunned. I knew I should be happy for him, but all I felt was abandoned. I slowly rose from my chair; the eggs in my belly felt like rocks. In a daze, I made my way up to my bedroom suite and closed the door firmly behind me.

A note on my dressing table caught my eye. I recognized Jonathan's handwriting and hurried to open it.

“Prince, I am sorry I had not the time to find you in the woods. Everything has happened so quickly. I hope we shall keep in touch, although I know not where this journey will take me. One day when I am a knight, I hope you shall be my king. Your friend, Jonathan.”

I lay the letter down on the dresser. My teacher, my guide, my protector, my only friend. All gone in one moment. Now more than ever, I needed to find out the story of the old castle. I needed something to take me away from here. The old castle was the only future left to me.

BOOK: Sleeping Beauty, the One Who Took the Really Long Nap
5.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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