The Eye of the Beholder (10 page)

When I could bear it no longer, I gave in to my urges and occasionally gazed upon her in the enchanted pool. These swift glances were enough to show me that she appeared to be of a rather quiet nature, for I often saw her reading, writing, or engaged in deep reflection. More than once, I watched as she sat and gazed into space for an hour or more at a time. I could almost read her thoughts on these occasions; the sorrowful look in her eyes told me that she was thinking of home.

It seemed that one of my greatest fears had come to pass. I had begun to see her as flesh and blood, had begun to wonder about what defined her, and had begun to speculate about her past and what had brought her to the castle. Worse, I had taken to gazing at her family in the pool to try to draw what conjectures I could.

They lived in a very small cottage in a village near the edge of the forest. It was rather isolated from the rest of the village, and I wondered if the maiden had enjoyed this isolation. Her father was obviously distraught at her absence, which only served to increase my sense of wonder at his ability to send her away. He often wept openly, and when he was not weeping he appeared despondent, staring blankly into the distance without moving. The two maidens in the cottage must have been the other daughters he had mentioned. They were obviously older than my maiden, and I would once have found their style of beauty much more enticing than hers. Their appearance was always very detailed, and I witnessed them as they sat before their looking glasses, endlessly adjusting and readjusting their hair. They looked over what meager jewels they possessed with a hungry, avid gaze. This was strange to me, for though there were many, many jewels in the maiden's chamber, I never saw her wearing any ornament other than the small oval on the white ribbon.

To my disbelief, I was glad that the wanderer had not sent one of these other maidens to live in my castle. Once, I might have found such maidens appealing, but it now seemed that the youngest was best suited to my castle and to my current lifestyle. I was relieved that she was very quiet and, though I could not hear them, I could clearly see that her sisters were not. Their mouths seemed to move endlessly as they looked at one another or their father, though he never seemed to respond to anything they said. I was so accustomed to silence that I knew I could not have borne one moment of their ceaseless chatter.

The days passed, and I knew it would soon be time to meet the maiden. I turned my thoughts to how best to arrange this. I did not want her anywhere near my quarters, for they were my retreat, my place to hide from the world, from the decaying castle that had once been my splendid home, from myself. She spent a good deal of time in the library and, though I would have liked to assert my power over her by meeting her somewhere that was more my domain, I decided that the library would probably be the best site. She seemed to feel comfortable there, and it was essential that she was as at ease as possible when she first saw me, for she was certain to feel anything but easy once she had laid eyes upon me. The library was also appealing to me for it was a large, rectangular chamber and, though there was a very grand fireplace, it did not provide light enough for the entire chamber.

Evening was the natural time for the meeting to take place. The windows of the castle were in a very sorry, filthy state indeed, but during the day there were still some persistent beams of light that managed to force their way through the gloom. In the evening, that threat would be removed and I would be able to manipulate the light as I wished. I could allow her to see part of me, but remain with my face concealed in the deepest of shadows until I decided if it was wise for me to allow her to see it as well.

Once I had arranged every detail in my head, I called my servants and gave them my orders as to how the chamber should be arranged, naming the day of the meeting. I could sense that they understood the importance of these commands and I trusted that there would not be the slightest error. They had every bit as much interest in seeing this meeting go well as I did, for they had just as much at stake as I.

The arrangements for the place of our meeting settled, I turned my thoughts to my appearance. Since becoming a beast, I had given it precious little thought, but I now reluctantly decided that it was probably best for me to make myself as presentable as possible. This meant that I would have to bathe and that I would need some new clothing. I summoned my tailor and set him to work before ordering several other servants to groom me.

No one had touched me since the day I had become a beast, and I could smell the rank sweat of my servants' fear as they set upon me with trembling hands. The whole process took several hours, for there was much combing and trimming of matted fur to be done. When they were finished, I believed that I was likely as exhausted as they were. I had hated every moment of my grooming. It angered me to have to exert myself, to have to try to pretend that I was something other than monster I truly was, but I knew that it was imperative that I do so. Well-groomed, I was certain to still be horrifying, but I could scarcely hope for good results if I went into this meeting looking like the feral beast I had allowed myself to become.

After a while, there were no more preparations to be made; all that remained was for me to begin to think of what I should say and how I should act. This gave me much more about which to fret than anything else had. I had forgotten how to interact with humans during the course of my existence as a beast-- not that I had possessed a particular talent for it when I had also been human.

When I was alone, I practiced speaking. I had not forgotten how terrifying my voice had sounded when I had addressed the maiden's father, and I knew that it would never do for me to address her in a similar manner. Through so many years of disuse, my voice had become even lower and rougher, and it rumbled with bestial growls. It took some time and practice to establish some control over it, and to find a pitch and tone that were least likely to send the maiden fleeing from the chamber in fright.

Perhaps the most perplexing stage of the preparation came in trying to decide how to converse with her. I had once been rather intelligent and well-read and could have discussed almost any topic with ease. Over the last fifty years or so, I had ceased to read and had ceased to do anything very human, favoring my more bestial pursuits. These I could hardly discuss with the maiden. I finally decided that it would be best to say as little about myself as possible and, instead, to try to encourage her to converse about herself.

My days of isolation were now numbered. Once I met this maiden, there would be no turning back. I would have to pursue the relationship to whatever end. I would no longer be alone, would no longer be able to pretend that the world outside the castle did not exist.

Chapter 10: The Encounter

The first week of my captivity passed with painful slowness. The castle was massive and, even though I spent the best part of each day wandering about it, I had covered only the smallest portion of its enormous grounds. Walking about it made me uneasy, and I often had the unnerving sensation that there were eyes following me everywhere I went, but it was either wander the castle under some unknown watchful gaze or remain in my chamber and run mad. When I was in my chamber, I had far too much time to think; walking about the castle and allowing its oppressive atmosphere to sink into my bones at least offered me a form of distraction, however unpleasant.

In spite of my best efforts, I thought about my father almost constantly. I hoped my sisters made sure he ate and drank, that he took care of himself. I hoped they did what they could to ease his troubled mind, that they refused to allow him to sink into despondence. Even if they were neglecting him, he was far better off at home in the cottage than he would have been in the beast's castle. If Papa were here, I doubted he would be enjoying luxurious chambers kept warm with a well-tended fire that burned day and night. I tried not to think too much about why I had been afforded such comforts.

With each passing day, my grief grew and, though I fought valiantly to overcome it, I feared it would consume me. But did that truly matter? What hope of happiness could there possibly be for me, alone and bereft of the company of the person I cared most for in the world? Perhaps it was better to allow the grief to overcome me, to sink under the weight of it in the hopes that it would carry me away from the castle and away from myself.

Yet I could not allow this grief to overcome me, not while the mysteries of the castle continued to pique my curiosity. It was such an odd place. I never saw another living soul, but every day there was a bath in my bathing room, clean water in my ewer, plentiful meals, and, when I returned to my chamber at the end of a day of wandering, there was always evidence of the industriousness of some person or persons who had toiled to clean the chamber and lay a fire. Somehow, I did not think the beast was responsible for these courtesies, and I began to wonder if there were other beings in the castle. I could easily believe I simply had not stumbled upon the servants' quarters, but it still astonished me to think that they could carry on such chores without my stumbling upon them accidentally.

Even stranger, though the beast had requested my presence, he had not shown any eagerness to make my acquaintance. Though I hardly relished the idea of meeting him, I had to confess that I was perplexed by his inexplicable contrariness. If he did not wish me to be here, why had he insisted I come? Even though I was scared of him, I was still curious about him, and I was convinced he must be curious about me as well, so why had he not satisfied that curiosity? Funny that I should think him contrary, for I was the very definition of contrariness: part of me wished to satisfy my curiosity about him while another rebelled against all thoughts of ever being in his company.

Unable to control my life, I did my best to control my surroundings, spending hours at a time trying to rearrange my chambers to my liking, but it was no use. The castle was not home and, no matter what I did to it, I could not make it feel like home. I longed for the small space and pitched ceiling of my room in the cottage, with its furniture that had been so lovingly carved by my father, its worn and well-loved objects. The splendors of my chambers in the castle could never hope to compete with the safety, the security I had felt in the cottage.

As evening fell, I moved about the chamber restlessly. I thought that perhaps a bit of reading might help me to escape into a fantasy world and thus forget reality, but when I examined the bookcases, I found that none of the books were to my liking. I frowned as I ran my forefinger over the rich leather bindings and gold leafing of the tomes that had been placed upon my shelves. Where was the poetry, the works of the great playwrights? I sighed and decided that I would have to venture to the library and select a few books to carry back to my chamber.

Though I had been spending a good deal of time in the library of late, I tried to avoid it at night. In truth, I tried to avoid leaving my chamber at all at night, for fear of encountering the beast in one of the castle's many long and shadowed corridors, which were gloomy by day and terrifying by night. The forbidding blackness of the dirty windows, the deep shadows that concealed every niche, and the absolute silence were horrifying. The castle was every inch the lair of a beast, and the thought of that beast prowling about the already nightmarish corridors filled my heart with a cold dread.

"You are being ridiculous," I told myself. I jumped at the sound of my own voice, even though I had spoken very quietly. "There, do you see? You have become so timid over the last week that even the sound of your own voice frightens you. Since when have you been such a weak-willed and fainting creature?"

I squared my shoulders and walked to my chamber door, opening it deliberately and stepping out into the corridor with a firm stride. I closed the door without looking back and set out immediately for the library, my head held high. My eyes were fixed directly forward, and I refused to allow myself to be distracted by the deep and strangely shaped shadows that I caught at the edges of my vision. I shuddered, took a deep breath, and forced myself to maintain a brisk walking pace, nearly sighing with relief when I at last reached the library.

Though it was dim, there was a fire in the vast fireplace and a few good candles were lit, offering one or two pools of light in which I might be able to read comfortably. I set off toward one of these when my step abruptly stilled, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Someone else was in the library. I could not see this person, but I could sense their presence. It was as if the very air of the chamber crackled with tension.

My throat instantly became as parched, as if I had not drunk in a week, and every muscle in my body tensed, poised for flight. I did my best to draw slow, calming breaths, but the crushing weight on my chest made this impossible, and the sound of my own breathing was so loud that I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears so that I would not have to hear it. I stood frozen for a small eternity before I was finally able to force my body to relax and my breathing to slow at least a little.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice sounding hoarse and dusty. My eyes wanted to dart about the chamber, but I was afraid of what I might see, so I resolutely fixed my gaze upon the light of the candle.