The Rose Necklace

Prologue

Prologue

Racing through the forest, the horses foamed from exertion. The trees appeared to be alive; their branches looked like grasping arms, trying to catch anyone who passed. Any rational person would have left the forest immediately. But the anxious couple rushing through the forest were not rational right now. They focused on their destination, single-minded in purpose. They didn't notice the eyes watching from the trees and bushes, the animals they were disturbing. They didn't hear the wind howling, sounding like an animal itself. They didn't smell the earthy forest or notice the bright moonlight. They thought only about the small bundle in the Queen's arms.

They slowed the horses' feverish pace as they neared a small hut. Like something out of a fairytale, it had appeared almost out of nowhere as they broke through the underbrush. Made of brick, this little building was covered in rose vines that would be beautiful and magical in the summer. Now, though, there was only one rose bud on the plant, and it, too, looked as if it was dying; it was something from a horror story instead of a fairytale. The King, though confident while helping his wife from her horse, became tentative as he approached the door. The spooky night's atmosphere finally touched him as he raised a fist to knock.

The door flew open before he even touched it. "What do you want?" The short, squat woman would have been comical under different circumstances. The King took in her wild appearance: frizzy gray hair that looked as if it hadn't been brushed in years. A ragged and rumpled dress barely contained her plump body, but nearly tripped her with its length. To top it off, she was holding a wooden spoon like a knight might yield a sword. Behind her, the King could see her house was in no better repair. Bubbling concoctions he would not dare examine too closely gave off a foul odor. A stack of bowls and plates so high it almost touched the ceiling of the small hut balanced precariously near the edge of a sink. Herbs and plants hung from the rafters, and he thought he could make out a set of chairs and a table beneath the jumble.

"We need your help," the Queen said in an intimidated tone. The wild woman frightened her. But a small movement in her arms reminded her of their purpose. With a stronger voice she said, "Our daughter drank the disguise potion you gave me. All of it. Look what it has done to her!" The Queen unwrapped her little bundle, showing the frightened child inside.

The blood drained from the older woman's face. "Come in, quickly now."

The Queen and King walked through the door into the hut. "Please, is there anything you can do to help her?" The Queen was pleading, not caring if it was below her station to beg this woman for help. Her daughter's life as a respectable member of society was in jeopardy, and she would not rest until her precious child was healed.

The old woman's wrinkled face softened. She held her arms out toward the Queen, silently asking. Without hesitation, the young mother handed over her daughter, despite her husband's small protest. The medicine woman took the girl carefully, holding her the way one might hold a porcelain doll. Cradling the child in one arm, she swept the clutter off one end of the table with a clang. She placed the girl on it and began examining her. She listened to the Princess's breathing and heartbeat, inspected the girl's hands and feet, and studied her eyes. Every now and then, the medicine woman would ask the worried parents a question, nodding at their answers. The woman seemed to be very deep in thought; a crease appeared between her eyes. She looked like a troubled person trying to make an impossible decision.

After what seemed like hours to the restless monarchs but was only about ten minutes, the woman looked up at them. "There is nothing I can do for her. No medicine I give her will help," she said with serious eyes.

The King visibly drooped at this pronouncement, all hope gone from him.

The Queen, however, had latched onto one word as her only source of careful optimism. "You said that there is no medicine that will help her."

"Yes," the woman replied warily. "That is the truth. No medicine that I know of will help your daughter. Her condition is permanent; it was such a large dose that it will never wear off. She will remain ugly the rest of her life. It is not life-threatening; the only reason she would need medicine is for aesthetic purposes."

The Queen studied the older woman, trying to find the loophole in her words. When she finally did speak, it was barely above a whisper. "Is there something, something that isn't a medicine that could help her?"

The woman pursed her lips. The Queen had found the loophole.

"Perhaps," she said reluctantly, "but it is dangerous. I can give you no guarantee that it will help, and even if it does the effects could be disastrous." The medicine woman stared intently at the young mother, trying to make her take the warning in her words seriously. But she could already see that this mother would do anything to try and help her child. "Very well," the medicine woman sighed. "I know of a- a charm, I guess you could call it. It is the only thing I know of that might help your daughter. But know this, it is your decision; I will carry no guilt or responsibility for anything that happens to the girl as a result. I warned you of the consequences; do not blame me if something goes wrong simply because you don't want an ugly daughter."

"Very well. I would not think of holding you responsible. But promise me this: you will do everything in your power to help my precious little Lilly, now, and if we should ever need you again. You will be compensated for your help, of course, but I want your word that you will aid us in this matter."

"Yes, I will do what I can to help your daughter throughout her life. Insignificant though my help may be." With that, she bustled off into another room.

Sometime during their discussion, the low fire in the hearth had gone out, letting in the chill from outside. The Queen once again became aware of pots and pans bubbling on the table, far from the heat of the fire, some very near her daughter. She snatched her little girl up from the table where the toddler had begun to cry. The King strode across the small room to embrace his wife and daughter. A shaft of moonlight shone through a window above the small sink. The Queen shuddered, thinking about her daughter's possible fate. The King held her even tighter, trying to reassure both her and himself.

When the medicine woman came back into the room a few minutes later, she seemed more aged and hunched than before. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, throwing her wrinkles and age lines into sharp definition. She didn't seem to notice the chill or the suddenly eerie light from the moon. No, she was entirely focused on the small object gripped tightly in her hands. She beckoned the couple to bring the girl closer, and slowly they did, moving until they stood in the silver glow from the moon.

Carefully, the medicine woman hooked something on her. When she pulled back her hands, the King and Queen glimpsed the item now hanging from their daughter's neck: A rose necklace.