Toxic Tales

What's in a Name? Part 5

It took me some time to recover from my father's death. For weeks afterward, we received support and sympathy from our neighbors. They had always regarded him with the greatest respect, and recognized him for the gentleman he was. I managed to trick myself into believing that they would still feel that way about him even if they knew about his crime. It was a fairly pathetic belief, but it provided a small amount of comfort in the wake of losing him.

Nicholas and Emilia were loving and patient throughout the ordeal. Nicholas, despite being a young child, seemed to have a particular wisdom about death. Once I explained to him about Heaven, he said, "Oh that makes sense. Is Grandfather happy there now?" I tried not to cry before responding, "Yes, my boy, I think he is happy now."

"He has found Grandmother, hasn't he?"

I smiled and kissed my son on the forehead. "Yes, I'm sure they've found one another by now." I held him close, feeling my heart and soul ache with love for this child.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Why do people have to die?"

I sighed. "People have to die because...well, being alive is a lot of work. After many years, our bodies and minds get tired, and we have to go to sleep."

"Will we ever see Grandfather again?"

Swallowing tears, I whispered, "I'm afraid not, Nicholas, at least not while we're here on earth...but he is watching over us all the time." I looked into his eyes. "And remember this, son, even though he is gone, the love he gave us and the love we gave him will never go away. It stays in our hearts forever. Do you understand, Nicholas?"

He smiled at me and wrapped his little arms around my neck. "Yes I do. I love you very much, Papa."

That is what finally made me cry. "I love you, too, my boy..."

***

Time passed, and life resumed its rhythm. I continued to weave, and Emilia worked as a cook for some neighboring families. Nicholas grew bigger every day. Surrounded by so much love and joy, I gradually started to forget about my crime. It never truly left me, but it didn't dominate my thoughts, either.

That is, until Bridget came to call on us.

I was home alone when she knocked. Emilia had taken Nicholas to the market. I did my best to hide my fear when I opened the door and saw HER standing on the doorstep.

"Oh, hello, Bridget," I said as pleasantly as I could. "What may I do for you?"

"May I come in?" She looked at me innocently. I stood by and allowed her to pass.

"My condolences on your father's death," she said, slowly walking around the cottage. I closed the door, feeling apprehensive.

"Yes, thank you," I responded. "I was very sorry to hear of your father's passing, as well."

Bridget turned slowly on her heel and stared me down. "Oh, I am certain you were sorry." She smiled coldly. "I've known it was your doing all along, in case you were wondering," she said in a soft, sly tone.

I was shocked. "How—what—how did you—"

"I glanced out the window in time to see you running away like a coward. I saw you were holding the gold that you promised to my father. Wanted to remove anything incriminating, didn't you?"

I sighed. I knew there was no reason to resist. "Bridget, I cannot express to you how much I—"

She cut me off by pushing me against the wall, slipping a dagger out of her sleeve and holding it against my throat—the same dagger I had used to kill her father.

"You have said more than enough," she whispered. "Now it is your turn to listen. You took my father away from me, and there is nothing I would like more than to have you beheaded for this...but I realized there is a way you can make it up to me."

I stood rigid against the wall. What hideous task would she have me perform?

"I know you have the gift of spinning straw into gold," Bridget continued, still holding the knife to my throat. I felt it pressing sharply against my skin. "When the king had me arrested, I pleaded for my release, saying that I possessed the gift of creating gold and could give him as much as he wanted if he let me go. I know he didn't believe me at first, but his greed made him curious. My father bringing spun gold to the castle in order to free me confirmed my story, but he wanted proof. He said if I could prove that I can spin straw into gold, he would marry me. I had my father force your father into creating as much gold straw as possible—some for me, and some to cover his gambling debts. I gave it to the king, but he still wasn't convinced.

"He sent me a message saying that if I spent three nights in his castle locked in a room filled with straw and turned it all to gold by the end of the third day, he would marry me. If you don't want to be put to death for the cold-blooded murder of my father, you will come with me to the castle and spin straw into gold for me. Then we will go our separate ways, and my father's murder will be our little secret."

I didn't know what to say. This girl had power over me, and turning the straw into gold for her was a fairly simple task in exchange for my freedom...but I had a terrible sense of foreboding. What if Bridget takes on her father's penchant for wanting more than she needed? Even if I perform this task for her, she would still have the power to blackmail me with this secret.

Bridget pressed the knife tighter against my throat when I hesitated. "Maybe if I use this same knife on your beloved wife and that sweet little boy if you don't do it—does that help you make up your mind? Well?" She looked at me impatiently, tightening her grip on the dagger.

She had me. I couldn't risk my family's lives. I inhaled slowly and said, "All right, I will do this for you...but you must give me your solemn vow that you will follow through on your end of the bargain."

She smiled that wicked smile again and slowly removed the knife from my throat. "I give you my promise," she said. "I will come for you tomorrow. Meet me at the well at dawn, and tell your wife you're going to be gone for three days, but don't even think—" she held the point of the dagger threateningly at my neck this time, "about telling her where you're going. Lie. I don't care what you say, but find a way to be there, or it'll be you cleaning your family's blood off the floor this time."

After one final glare, she slipped the knife back into her sleeve and left the cottage, slamming the door behind her.

I collapsed to the floor. I didn't doubt at all that she would've killed me on the spot if she hadn't need of me. I resigned myself to the bleak circumstances: in order to protect myself and my family, I needed to help Bridget trick the king into marrying her.