the castle in the maze, part ii

continued from the castle in the maze, part i; completed in the castle in the maze, part iii

of course he’d been following her. when had he not been following her? when had he not been toddling after her wanting a piggyback ride, or intruding on her in the libary stacks to ask a question about his homework? when had he not been given to understand that if he followed her now, he would surpass her later? but he was only eleven. he didn’t know the maze like she did. at a distance, he had followed her, until he couldn’t.

unresolved guilt always lays a curse. in our humdrum era, the curse is usually mundane: listless days in bed, a phantom pain. back then a curse was something to write a story about. as soon as the heir realized he had lost the path, the curse came down on the princess. the maze itself gave her to know it.

for a year and a day she would have to hide her face and speak never of herself but only in stories, an exile, wandering the wide world as astray as her brother wandered the maze. and in that time, and by those limited means, find someone, some outsider, to come into the maze with her, to bring him out. she turned her head and saw a length of cloth caught among the brambles. she pulled it free and and covered herself.

a secret: most curses come as something of a relief. she was too ashamed to speak of herself. she was too ashamed to show her face. she was too ashamed to stay in her father’s kingdom, robbed of its heir. and it was all the more relief to hide her shame without making the decision to do it.

her first weeks were hungry and cold, begging for crusts and sleeping in barns. but you might be surprised to learn she didn’t suffer deprivation for long. even behind her veils and her tales it was clear that (despite her secret guilt) like another eldest sister she was “pleasant and polite, wise and witty, well read and well bred.” maybe some peasant told his reeve about this strange storyteller, and the reeve told his lord, and before long she was telling her tales in front of great foreign courts, who fed her well and gave her fine gifts of robes, and who, when they tired of her sad stories, felt no compunctions at sending her along to another court so that they too could enjoy this strange diversion. after all, she never protested. the only opposition she ever raised was when some too-curious noble raised his hand to lift her veil, when she would scratch him with her nails sharp as thorns.

she was pleased to be brought to the great courts, where she thought a large audience would be more likely to contain her hoped-for helper. & she was pleased to be sent along to the next court when no helper came forth. but as time passed she grew more & more desperate.

as her year & a day dwindled to its final weeks, she was brought to the court of a young dynasty. this king’s grandfather had been a conqueror, but in its current state the regime was backed by neither history nor the fresh memory of conquest—and none of the subjects believed this king to be his grandfather’s equal. moreover, there was trouble about his heir. this king had had two sons. while the elder had been brought up carefully & protected even too much, the younger was an afterthought, left largely to his own devices, wild and free, journeying and tourneying. but it was the elder who died of a fever. when his father tried to bring his new heir into line, he balked. far from wanting power he chafed at the new restrictions.

perhaps his own sense of unwanted restraints made him more sympathetic to the storyteller. whatever the reason, he was the first to notice the tears dampening her dark veil.

one night after a feast he followed her as so many noblemen had, & she hurried away as she so often had before. but instead of importuning her he asked her for her own story. where had she come from? what did she want?

she said nothing but he saw with astonishment that she was almost trembling with eagerness as she beckoned him. he followed her to the stables, where he equipped a chestnut mare for her, &, guessing boldly at her wants & eager for any excuse to slip away from his responsibilities for a while, mounted his own stallion. he took off after her into the night.

part iii