Chapter XX: Lost again

Sainte Fabia of the Roses
Copyright © Cheryl Mandus.
Used with permission.

When I awoke, it took me a long time to realise that I was back in the reality. But sometimes, I was wondering if reality was really when I was human or not. Could I be a Beast dreaming to be human? It seemed to me that I dreamt during one real night that I lived one week under a beast's shape. Wasn't it the contrary? Wasn't I dreaming for one night that I lived one week under a human's shape? But from where would I have invented Stoat and the others? They weren't in the castle of my dreams. And why would I dream of such a life - even under human's shape - but without Beauty? No, no, the reality was really what I thought it was.
I went almost immediately in my gardens. There were in the same state than the gardens in the dream, as if Beauty could cure them even through my dreams. But somehow, I already knew it: hadn't I found the reason why they had bloomed? My gardens needed Beauty to bloom, in the same way that I needed her to feel alive. The little blue rose tree, that I was trying so hard to make grow - and that, strangely, wasn't in the dream - was still very tiny, but I tried my best to help it with my magic.
Then I suddenly felt that I wasn't alone anymore and the presence in my back wasn't the one of Stoat nor anyone else from my people.
"Can I ask thee a question, o divine Shuqra?"
"It depends of the question, child. But if I can answer it, I will."
"Thou knowest about the dreams I have, doest thou not?"
"Yes, I do," confirmed Shuqra.
"Then explain something to me: I have the impression that Beauty should be much more shy than she is. She told me once that she didn't like human contacts and, in the dream, she touched me several times of her own will. Why?"
"In the dream, she is who she would have been, hadn't she had that... problem when she was sixteen. In the same way that thou art who thou shouldst been."
"A monster?" I suggested.
"No, someone caring for the others. What thou art learning to do. Thou art less selfish than thou hadst been."
"Thou art wrong, Shuqra. I'm still as selfish as before, except that my selfishness has now another aim: to make amends for the wrong I did to Beauty."
"One does not call that selfishness, child."
I shrugged.
"Call it as thou wantst, for me, it's still the same thing. I do it because that's my way to feel better."
"And deciding to let Beauty love her beast in tranquillity is also a way to feel better?" asked Shuqra ironically.
"No. That, it's a question of honour. I am the lord of this country and I don't have the right to steal from my subjects. If one of my subjects had one rose - a black rose, for example, even if I don't care anymore for them - I wouldn't steal it from him, even if my gardens hadn't that rose, because those very gardens are full of roses. Someone rich of something can't steal this something from someone else who had so less of it."
"And art thou rich of Beauty's love, so that thou doest not want to steal it from her dead beast?"
"No, he's the one who is rich of Beauty's love. In this story, I'm the poor one," I said, trying to laugh. "But if I succeed in stealing it from it, I will have everything and he won't have anything anymore. That wouldn't be fair."
"He is dead; he doesn't need it anymore," remarked Shuqra.
"Shuqra, stop that immediately! Don't tempt me like that! I need all my strength to fight that urge in me and thou doest nothing to help me!" I half-yelled.
"To the contrary, child, I'm helping thee. Perhaps in a strange way, but I assured thee I'm helping thee."
"Why canst thou help me by saving those poor rose trees?" I asked bitterly.
"Because I'm not the goddess of the roses, child. If thou wantst to save thy roses, ask the fairy of the roses for that."
"If that's what thou wantst me to do, I'll do it. And what will I say to her? That I'm ready to marry her goddaughter, so that my roses will live again?" Shuqra sat gracefully besides me and I put my hands covered with soil on my knees.
"Tell me, child, why doest thou not want to marry Rose Line?" she asked me with a serious tone.
"I don't love her, Shuqra," I replied, quite surprised.
"And?"
"And I couldn't marry someone I don't love."
"But thou wast ready to marry Beauty knowing fully that thou didst not love her."
I laughed, a bit embarrassed.
"I was a fool then, Shuqra."
"Thou wast that fool when thou refusedst Rose Line."
"For Beauty, I wanted to revenge. But I hadn't any revenge to satisfy toward Rose Line."
"Is that all? Just because of that?"
I shrugged.
"What doest thou mean, Shuqra? Stop thy bends and speak clearly."
"Art thou sure thou didst not refuse Rose Line because thou already lovedst someone else?" she said bluntly.
"Who?" I retorted simply.
"Beauty, of course."
I remained silent quite a long time.
"I don't know," I said finally. "I'm amnesiac, thou knowest?"
"Of course, I know, child!" Shuqra scolded me. "But why doest thou not use thy magic to tear off this veil hiding thy memory?"
"Because I don't know how to do it, Shuqra. Is it so important to remember all the stupidities I did then? Am I not already ashamed enough with those I did and that I remember?"
"But perhaps thou didst something good," remarked Shuqra.
"I doubt it very much, knowing myself. Thou knowest, sometimes, I dream that Beauty would love me anyhow, but I'm not worthy of her. Perhaps I'm her lord, but I can't handle a candle to her."
"Stop despising thyself like that."
"During my dreams, I'm a beast; perhaps that's how I should be born. So that the ugliness of my face reflects the one of my soul..."
"Or perhaps thou simply exchangedst the ugliness of thy soul against the beauty of thy face."
"What doest thou mean?" I asked surprised.
"When thou art a beast, thou art far more gentle than when thou art a man. Perhaps the man has the soul of the beast and the face of a man, but the beast has the face of a beast, but the soul of a man. And I think that even Beauty would agree to the fact that the man's soul in the beast is quite a kind soul."
I half-smiled, a sad smile.
"That's nice from thee, Shuqra, to try to console me, but I know I'm just too... too boorish for her!"
"Well, try to do something to change it, my boy!" Shuqra said rather coolly.
She stood up and left me.

It became quite clear to me that Beauty was the only one able to save my roses, but I couldn't just leave my castle to find her and ask her to cure them. If I was right in my deductions - and I firmly believed that I was right on this point - only love could make them bloom, except perhaps that little blue rose tree that I was creating by myself, just as I did so long ago, in the house of my parents.
The dreams continued and if Beauty was growing bolder with every day passing by, I was growing shyer. She was so kind with me, so gentle, and I could only growl to thank her! Each time I held up my paw toward her, I feared I would harm her with one of my claws. I didn't know why she was so gentle with me, so obstinate in curing my roses... She had noticed which effect her efforts on my roses had on me, but did she really want to care for me or was it just that she couldn't help herself in front of dying roses?
I was avoiding her as much as possible, but she was so very clever that she was able to find me almost each time. And each time, she asked me, with a troubled voice, why I was trying so much to avoid her. Each time, I turned the eyes away, embarrassed and unable to answer that the mere view of her twisted my heart and made me wish to die. I loved her so much that I had sometimes the impression that I hadn't any thought in my head that wasn't turned toward her.
I would have given my own life to spare her any pain but it would have been the solution of facility: what good would it have done to her, once I would have been dead? So, I would have given my life to protect her from sorrow, but would I have been ready to let her go free, so far from me? I doubted it very much; I had to let her go once - but she didn't ask for my permission - but now, I was only thinking as the beast I was and I wondered if I would lie on the ground and howl to death like the dogs when their master abandon them. But I was doomed to know it...
We spent some time speaking literature and once again, I was amazed by her cleverness. A girl coming from the streets like her wouldn't have known to read as she did, nor to ride. She spoke lots of ancient languages quite fluently, had a quick mind and analysed the facts in a strange way, but always interesting. We spoke again of the Trojan War, Beauty taking again the Trojans' defence and, in the Greek side, she stood for Ajax the Great, whom she quite liked. Had she been there during this war, the Trojans would have won and Ajax would have had Achilles' armour.
"Do you like lost causes?" I finally asked, noticing she was always standing for the defeated side.
She looked at me with some surprise and then laughed.
"Not really," she admitted. "Perhaps I like them because they lost. History is always written by the winners, but sometimes, the losers appear like victims. I don't really like Ulysses, except perhaps during his Odyssey because he's painted like a victim, so for me, Ajax could only be better than Ulysses. And you, do you prefer the winner or the loser?"
I smiled gently.
"None of them. I don't like a side better than the other. I can prefer a man from one side, but I won't defend his side because of this man; I will defend the man, that's all."
She was listening to me with bright eyes and then asked me:
"And whose man is your favourite?"
"My favourite man is called Agenor. He's the son of Antenor, one of those history considers as a traitor. But he fought bravely for his country and died on the battlefield. But my favourite character is Cassandra; I know it's quite common, because she had an horrible life, but I can't help it."
I shrugged when saying those words. Beauty smiled and nodded.
"Yes, you're quite right. I admire a bit Polyxena too, for she died grandly, with lots of courage. But her end was easier than Cassandra's, and she had not seen all the events before they happened."
"What are you reading now?" I asked to change the subject, for we had finished the Trojan war and even Aeneas' arrival in Latium.
"I began Byron not so long ago," she said.
"Manfred, Lara, Conrad and the Giaour?"
"And don't forget Don Juan!" laughed Beauty. "But my favourite Don Juan is described by Bernard Shaw. Don Juan in Hell is really a masterpiece."
"Quite true," I agreed. "Though that's not someone I can understand quite easily. I'm afraid I'm not looking much like him!"
Beauty's good mood faded away immediately.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think of that..."
"No," I protested. "You don't have to apologise, it wasn't a criticism at all! I was just noting a fact well-known of me. True, I'm not a Don Juan, you can't deny it!"
"No, but you have something he doesn't have."
"What's that?" I asked, intrigued.
"You care for the women who love you," she said, blushing furiously.
"The women?" I repeated, thunderstruck. "Hell! I didn't even know that a single woman was loving me! And allow me to disagree, but I don't care a bit for Rose..."
I held my tongue: until now, never had I talked to Beauty about Rose Line. As she was somehow amnesiac in that dream, I didn't see the point to recall her that the fairy was trying to trap us all the time.
"I meant you don't try to impose upon them," explained Beauty reddening even more.
I felt we were going on a dangerous ground, but I somehow knew that she wanted to ask me for something.
"Tell me, Beauty, what do you want?" I asked her gently.
"May... may I return home, please?" she said, tears in her voice.
My heart stopped beating and it seemed to me that a great silence had fallen upon us, as if all the objects were waiting for my answer, holding their breath. I swallowed back the sigh coming to my lips and forced myself to say:
"You're free here, Beauty. If... if you want to leave, the doors are open wide..."
I would have beaten myself for this small hesitation. She hadn't to know the grief her departure would cause me. She looked at me in wild disbelief.
"You mean I can actually go home?"
"If this castle is not your home, you're free to look for another home... elsewhere," I said, twisting my heart with every word.
Then I stood up, because it was beyond my strength to continue this conversation. Just before leaving, I turned the head toward Beauty and added with a choked voice:
"You will find a horse in the stables; it will lead you wherever you want. Farewell, Beauty."
The two last words almost didn't go through my lips and I wasn't even sure Beauty had heard them, but it didn't matter. I left the library in a hurry, too distressed to only remark that my limping was here again, giving me shooting pains.
"Beast! Beast!" Beauty called after me.
I stopped and closed my eyes. Slowly, I turned on my heels. Beauty was here, looking at me with sorrowful eyes.
"When do you want me to come back?" she asked.
In spite of me, I held out my paw and plunged it in the heavy hair of Beauty, revelling in the softness against my furry skin.
"If it was only for me, you would never leave this castle..." I whispered. "But you want your freedom and I once told you that I would do everything you would ask me for... If you want, you can stay in your home as long as you wish, but if you care a little bit for your poor Beast who loves you so, then..."
"Then?" asked Beauty, supplying.
"You will come back before I die," I completed.
"No, you can't die!" she said fiercely. "You promised me!"
"I promised you, that's true. But the heart doesn't care a bit for the promises done by the mind. I will die of love and sorrow, of a broken heart, Beauty, because I can't live without you... But don't worry, if you don't come back, nobody will mourn for me, nobody will notice my disappearance..."
I stroked again her soft hair, then, with regret, I withdrew my hand.
"I don't want you to die, I already told you so, remember?"
"Yes, I know... You said that because you're good-hearted and you didn't want to hurt me. Go now, Beauty, please... I... I can't take more of that suffering, please..."
Timidly, she held out her hand and stroked the fur on my cheek with her little fingers.
"Thanks for being so kind..." she said.
She turned her back to me and I whispered:
"That's all is left for ugliness: to sacrifice itself so that beauty could live... could live free again. Farewell, my love..."
In a heavy walk, I went in my rooms and locked myself in it, even if my castle was now totally empty, since Beauty was gone.

I woke up in my own bed and my heart tightened at once: I had lost Beauty a second time and it was becoming really unbearable! If the beast in the dream couldn't follow Beauty where she was going, I could do something under my human shape! I wasn't sure at all she would come back to me in the dream, no matter how nice I might have been to her. Beauty wanted to be free, it was the very first thing she was looking for, and by locking her in my castle, I had alienated her.
I began to ask my magic mirror. The only thing it accepted to show me was Beauty's room in Alara's house. I didn't understand why it did that, but I watched carefully the image it showed me, for I had noticed that often, my mirror would show me things at first view totally stupid, but which were in fact very interesting and quite useful. The room was very neat, almost as if Beauty hadn't dare to live in it, and there wasn't any personal object in it. Except... As if it was happy for me to having seen it, my mirror focused on the tiny shining detail I had seen: yes, it was really Beauty's gold chain, the one with the pendant in the shape of a rose.
I looked lengthily at it. I felt confusedly I should have known why it was so familiar to me. Certainly I had seen it around Beauty's neck, her beast had painted her with it, but it was older than that. Then, in a double exposure, I saw another girl with that gold chain around her neck, her face wearing a look surprised and joyful. The face was somehow familiar too and I turned toward the gallery of portraits. It was the face of the first girl, named Sirli. A beautiful name, indeed, but what was the link between Sirli and Beauty?
Then, I had a fugitive reminiscence: I had created this gold chain and its pendant for Sirli. But in fact, I didn't know if the 'I' was me, the real me, or the beast Beauty loved so much. Sometimes, I surprised myself by thinking that I had painted Beauty's first portrait. Perhaps my memory was coming back to me.
I took my decision quite quickly: first of all, I had to get back the gold chain in Alara's house and, with the help of the magic, it would be quite easy to do. Then, to find Beauty, I would ask her friends: the forestry worker she had called Jerry, the priest, Fra Vestris, and even that young man named Tiger, who was apparently a prince. Perhaps they knew something about her. I didn't know exactly why I wanted so much to find her, for I couldn't bring her back with me here, but perhaps I just wanted to die with her face as my last image. Yes, that was surely that: for the beast in the dream was on the point of dying and my physical state was closely connected to his.
I had a last look for my garden, asked Stoat and Sevulf to care for the black rose tree and the blue one, and prepared to leave. Eponerius saddled my favourite horse with a sad look in his eyes and accompanied me till the front gates. Then, he let me go and wished me good luck. I didn't know how, but my people had guessed what was my aim and it seemed to me they weren't very confident in the outcome of my quest.