Chapter XVIII: Quarrels

Order and Chaos, Chaos detail
Copyright © Jonathon Earl Bowser 1995.
Used with permission.

As soon as she arrived in my castle, she hurried in the kitchens and cared for Fiona and Gilla's wounded hands. Then, she began to look for the clawed tapestries and, with one or two magic words, she repaired them. Stoat was speechless. For my part, I thought that Shuqra was probably helping her, for I was sure my magic was greater than hers and I had been unable to repair those tapestries.
The attacks didn't stop immediately and it gave time to Beauty to secure most of the castle. She obviously knew who the aggressor was, even if she was trying to convince me of the contrary, saying that it was only guesses and not certitudes, and she knew how to fight against him. But then, the attacks changed their target and my gardens began to wither. The worse was when I discovered a wonderful rose tree giving red and white roses totally devastated. This day, I yelled at Beauty who only shrugged and then said, with fire in her eyes:
"I created those rose trees for him; now that he's dead, what do you think I have to do of these plants?"
"You created them? You?"
"Yes, me! All of them! Even the black rose tree in the middle! I created for him, because he wanted it so badly! You thought you were the creator of this garden, perhaps?"
"No, I didn't think it, for Fra Vestris told me they hadn't grown from my hand. So, it was yours?"
"It was mine. I'm a green witch, remember?"
She left on those words, but I noticed the desolate glance she had for the massacred rose tree.

From this day on, I decided to make her love me. She was much more interesting than Rose Line and she knew how to create black roses, to the contrary of Rose Line who only had a godmother able to do it, and she was almost as bad-tempered as me: that would give some fun to my dull life. Then, it was somehow a revenge I would have on this monster she remained faithful to. She loved him, so I would have her love and deprived him from it!
So I plagued her to death with that, asking her in marriage every day. The first time, she looked at me with undisguised surprise and, to my confusion, she burst into tears, fleeing immediately. Stoat was as surprised as she and I saw, at her pursed lips, that she was angry.
I wasn't in love with her, of course. It would have been under me. I had thought lengthily to what Shuqra had told me and I had come to the conclusion that she was right, no matter how it hurt my pride: I wasn't able to love. But then, quite angry with my goddess, who dared to help this impudent girl against me, I had decided to show her what I could do with her little protégée. Beauty would love me and marry me, willy-nilly. I didn't know how to make someone love me, and I didn't care a bit: Beauty would yield to have the peace, wouldn't she?
But I had underestimated her strength and obstinacy. Each time she shook the head and refused my proposition. At first, she was angry, for she knew I knew she loved someone else, but then, she became only sad. Selfish as I was, I thought it was because she was sad to have to refuse me because of an old promise done to a dead monster. I began to explain to her she hadn't to be faithful to a monster, that he had only taken advantage of her youth and good heart, and that there weren't so many differences between us. My rank was no more higher than hers in front of the gods.
With the time, I began to believe what I was saying to her, even if she wasn't believing me a bit. Yes, she was young and she was a good soul, as all my people agreed. Eponerius was fond of her and he often said that he had never seen a rider with such grace and elegance. When I heard her discussing with me of diverse topics, I was flabbergasted with her intelligence and I forgot her humble condition. She read a book in hieratic as fluently as if it were her mother tongue, she ravished my ears by reading ancient Greek with the fifth on each stress and so on.
Once, only once, I asked her about her reason to refuse me. She looked at me lengthily and then answered lowly:
"I can't marry you as you are now. I know there was a time where you were rude and impolite, but caring and tender. Now, you're very polite, but you're no more caring, only selfish and unkind. As long as you won't be the one you really are, I won't accept to marry you. Honestly, I preferred you rude and caring than polite and selfish."
She told me that quietly, looking straight in my eyes and I was taken aback by her audacity.
"Selfish? Unkind?" I exclaimed. "Have I not been nice to you? Aren't you living in a castle, my castle?"
"Yes, I am!" she cried in return. "For a long time, this castle had been my gaol, dark and sad, cold and disturbing. Then, it became something I could have called home, but only because he was here, with me. And now, it's again my gaol. I know this castle as if I was born within, but I see it only as a jail! So, if you think I'm grateful to you for this, you're wrong, oh, so wrong!"
Each time was the same... We began the day with a friendly conversation about books or old languages, then we quarrelled and we ended the day by my proposition, always refused. I was beginning to worry: she would never forget her monster for me, and my pride was deeply hurt by this statement, that I refused to believe.

It had been three months since Geolf's death and during two months, Beauty and I had spending our time to quarrel. Sometimes, Stoat sighed deeply and told me to be more patient and gentle with her, that she hadn't had an easy childhood like mine, that she had been hurt more than once, and deeply, but nothing could convince me. I wanted her to love me, and I wanted it badly, still because of this stupid idea of taking my revenge on this monster I hated so much.
Then, the fairy came back. We were in the library, Beauty buried in a large armchair, an ancient book in her hands. We were revisiting the Greek tales of the Trojan War and we had decided to champion each one a side. She had chosen the Trojan one and I represented the Greek side. The books we had in hands were our references, but neither of us was looking at them: we knew them almost by heart. Beauty was proving calmly that, if Menelaus had had children from another woman during Helen's absence, he didn't really love his wife, so she had been right to leave him. She had concluded her tirade and I was ready to defend Menelaus' honour, when the fairy appeared between us.
As she turned her back to Beauty, she didn't see her, but the girl stood up in a jump, her face suddenly deadly pale.
"Dear child," the fairy greeted me. "I see that you're not mourning Geolf anymore. Don't you think it's now time for you to marry my goddaughter?"
"Madam, it's still a bit early to ask me that!" I protested. "Mourning takes longer than tree months! Is Rose Line so impatient to chain her fate to a wild man like me?"
"Not so wild, child," she scolded me gently.
"Tell me, madam, for I have wondered quite long about this, why does Rose Line want me so much? I have nothing to interest a young lady like her, have I?"
"You love roses so much that you can only love as well a girl named Rose Line, can't you? And you're gentle, compassionate, a bit absent-minded, that's true, but deeply caring, you're a great magician, you're an expert in old languages..."
There, I had it! The only thing that interested her was that I was magician. Well, I was not ready to give my magic to this fairy, nor to her goddaughter. She had forgotten something in the quick portrait she had just done: I was stubborn, quite proud of it, and I hadn't the single intention to change my way of living for her, nor for Rose Line.
What's more, Beauty was just behind her and her attitude showed me quite clearly that there was something wrong about the fairy: the girl, normally so kind, had her fists tightly clenched, as if she was ready to strike. Then, with a great effort on herself, she spat out between her clenched teeth:
"So, here you are again... You killed him and now you come to contemplate your victory? I won't let you win!"
The fairy turned on her heels with a quickness that let me admiring.
"You!" she exclaimed, trembling with rage. "How can you be there? He doesn't know you anymore!"
"He does know me, to the contrary! I'm his guest, as you can see. This castle is almost mine!"
She was defying the fairy, that was quite obvious, but she was going a bit far in that.
"But now that you're here, I can show him something!" she continued. "You stole my happiness when it was at my fingertips, I'll steal you your victory!"
With a magic word, she cast a spell on the fairy, so quickly that this one hadn't the time to react and dodge it. Under my astounded eyes, the fairy transformed into a hideous beast that I recognised almost at once: it was my mysterious aggressor. I straightened up, puzzled.
"Here she is! Do you believe me, now?" exclaimed Beauty with a triumphant voice.
The fairy grimaced in an ugly way and escaped Beauty's spell, disappearing into the void.
"So, she was responsible for all that!" I said, amazed.
"Yes, she was. She was trying to accuse him because..."
But Beauty hadn't the time to finish her sentence: she stumbled suddenly and fell limply on the ground.
"Beauty!" I exclaimed, ready to rush near her.
The fairy's entrance prevented me from doing it. She was as beautiful as ever, smiling sweetly, but there was a steel light in her eyes that told me to be suspicious.
"There!" she said. "We can discuss quietly now that this young excited person can't intervene anymore. Why did you invite her into your walls, dear child? Don't you know she's your enemy?"
"You are the monster who attacked my people, my horses, who destroyed my tapestries and my roses!"
"Of course not," she said, shrugging negligently. "That's what she tried to make you believe. But, you know, I can transform her into a beast too... Or I could transform you."
Her voice contained a warning in her last sentence.
"Oh, really?" I said, trying to sound convinced.
But I didn't believe her. I had succeeded in determining more or less what were the bounds of Beauty's limits, and she couldn't have done what she did if the fairy hadn't really been the monster.
"So, can we decide on a date?"
"A date?" I repeated, knowing perfectly where she was trying to lead me, but decided to play the idiot.
"A date for your marriage, dear child," she explained, hiding her impatience.
"She still doesn't want me as her husband, you know," I underlined.
"Sorry? But Rose Line adores you!"
"Rose Line?"
"But who do you think we were speaking of?"
Then, suddenly, she understood.
"Have you proposed marriage to this little scrap? How dared you?"
"It's my life; I'm free to give it to whoever I choose."
"No, you're not! Your life is mine, had always been mine and will always be!" shouted the fairy.
"No, his life is his," said a low voice.
Beauty, with a moan, rolled on her side and straightened up with some difficulties. Blood was flowing from her brow, but she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She continued with a muffled voice:
"You have no right in his life, even despite all those years. He rejected you during them, you lost the fight for his life and soul!"
"Who won it, then? You, perhaps?" sniggered the fairy.
"No, not me. Perhaps I could have won if he hadn't died, but you killed him before because you didn't want to see your defeat consummate. No, he won his own life and soul."
It seemed to me this conversation was at least at two levels. Sometimes, I was sure they were speaking of me, and some other times, I would have sworn they were speaking of this monster that Beauty loved so much.
"Are you so sure his life is his? I can take it from him right now, if I choose so!"
"No, you can't. Fra Vestris told me you hadn't the right. You can't kill, you don't have the right to do so. Not directly. You can let him die of sorrow, of love, but you can't make him die of hunger or anything else like that. It's against the rules."
As the fairy looked puzzled, Beauty pushed her advantage forwards.
"I've had three months to think of that, dear fairy. Three months to think of my hate for you and for your goddaughter! And in three months, you can learn very much about rules in the divine world."
"He hadn't the right!" croaked the fairy.
"Why not? The spell was broken and I was concerned by it. I had the right to know what was my role in the story, the role of the poor little pawn, so useless, but so disturbing in your so well build plans!"
"And now, you're still trying to make them fail?" said ironically the fairy.
"Yes, I am. And he will too, for he is still defiant toward you, as he was before. Making him amnesiac didn't give you his life and soul as you wished it, because you forgot something: he would never have married Rose Line! Nobody could want a girl like her!"
"But lots of people could want a girl like you, of course!" mocked the fairy.
Beauty reddened. The fairy stood up.
"There will be some last tests. If he still follows your way, he might win. If not, he will be mine for the rest of times and, believe me, I'll make him pay dearly for all that!"
The fairy disappeared once again and Beauty wiped again her bloody brow.
"We must care for your brow, Beauty," I said hesitantly, not quite certain of what to think of all that.
"Pooh!" said Beauty. "It's nothing. I just have to wash it with water and it will be alright."
She fell silent and then, I whispered bravely:
"I have to thank you for what you did. I'm sorry if I didn't believe you. You were right from the beginning, and I'm just... I'm just a fool. Will you ever forgive me?"
She looked at me with surprise and then, a bright smile appeared on her lips.
"To apologise suits you, my lord. You didn't know, you were right to think what you thought. I know the fairy for quite a long time and I know her way of fighting."
"And you know him, so you were sure he couldn't be guilty," I added softly.
"Yes, I know him..." she agreed.
She closed her eyes and, fascinated, I watched the timid tear rolling on her pale cheek.

After that, one could have thought that the relations between Beauty and me would have been better. That wasn't the case at all. Now that the fairy was out of the game, Beauty wanted to go back to town and I wanted her to stay in the castle. It seemed to me that a secret pain was torturing her and I wanted to know why, but she obstinately refused to tell me a word about it.
More than once, she exclaimed:
"Why the hell do you want me to remain here? I have secured your whole castle and your gardens! Everything here is safe. Why can't I go?"
"The fairy said that some 'tests' were left. I prefer to have you with me when they'll happen. So I could protect you."
But Beauty shook the head and replied invariably:
"She won't set the trap as long as I'm here, for she knows I know too much. You don't know anymore what she can do, because she stole your memory, but I still do, because she couldn't steal my memory. She's sort of afraid of me."
"That's even better! As long as you will remain here, with me, I'll be safe from her! Are you sure you don't want to reconsider my proposition?"
"No, no and no! I can't marry you!"
"You can't or you don't want?" I asked gently.
"Both of them," she answered, looking at me straight in the eyes.
The tension was getting worse with each day passing by and we couldn't remain in each other presence half an hour without quarrelling. Then, one day, Beauty reached her breakpoint:
"Why don't you let me go? We spend our time tearing each other apart! Why don't you let me go?" she almost shouted.
I remained silent. How could I tell her that if I yelled at her, I was not angry with her, but with me? How could I tell her that I loved her so much that I couldn't bear the idea of letting her go? I loved her more than live itself. Love? What did that mean? Of course not, I couldn't love her, I even didn't know how to love! But then...
And so I had to acknowledge something I had thought I would never know: I was in love with Beauty, as much in love as the one who had painted her portrait. I loved her desperately, for she would only despise me and hate me, I loved her hopelessly, but still, I hoped... Until that very day when my hopes were cruelly crushed: Beauty disappeared one morning and only my solitude remained; I stood where I was, the eyes dry, but feeling my heart breaking slowly in my chest...