Rainbow Tales

Beau and the Beast-2

Her shouting his name seemed to pull him back to himself. He hesitated, but then did as she asked, sheathing the knife and reaching for two of the logs he had dropped, throwing them on the fire. He kept his distance from Nathaniel and sat on the log near his grandmother. She patted his knee once he was seated. “Beau, this is Nathaniel Brandenberg. Nathan, this is my grandson, Beau.”

The young man again was staring at his grandmother as if she had completely lost her mind. “That’s not possible, Gran,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“Nathan, tell Beau your story, all of it,” she said demandingly.

That two people were still sitting with him, even though they knew what he was, was a miracle in and of itself. He dared not hope for anything further. He sensed that only complete honesty and humility with them would be tolerated. As a midwife, Gwyneth would have heard and seen it all (heard every lie and seen every deviant thing a human could do), and he had nothing more to lose. So, he told them of his spoilt childhood and the vanity and arrogance and distain he felt for others, except his parents. He told them how he hid his behavior from his parents who had always tried to teach him to be kind, generous, and empathetic. He told them about his indifference toward young women. He told them about his attraction to certain young men. He told them about what he said to Isadora and then to the Fairy Kate. He told them about his transformation and his years isolated and lonely in the castle. Lastly, he told them about his attempts to see others and about his encounter with them.

He had watched their faces intently as he told his story. Both the grandmother and Beau had suppressed their reactions at two points of his story: his indifference to young women and his attraction to young men. Were they shocked and revolted? Surely, the old woman had known of same s*x relationships; she was a midwife. He couldn’t be the only young man who got turned on by other young men, could he? The old woman had flashed a look at her grandson, and he had blushed and carefully avoided returning her look. Nathaniel knew that her eyes couldn’t see, but her other senses must react in such a way as to give her an accurate enough impression of what was going on. It was as if she could see through her blind eyes. What did that mean? He gasped suddenly. What if Beau also was indifferent to young women and liked young men? He couldn’t imagine the emotions flashing over his face, but he doubted that they could read them through the fur and beast’s muzzle. He forced his face into the most neutral expression he could manage. The old lady was watching him intently with her blind eyes. A smile played at the edges of her mouth, and Nathaniel could have sworn that she made the tiniest nod of her head as if she had read his thoughts and was confirming their accuracy.

“How long?” Beau asked, a mix of emotions playing across his face, shock, sympathy, confusion, and curiosity.

Nathaniel looked at Beau before he answered. Beau had the same dark looks as his grandmother: he had light brown skin; dark, glossy, curly, short hair; sparkling, and strangely tender-looking, dark eyes; and though he was modestly dressed, his muscular frame was pronounced through his clothing. He was very different looking than the fair haired and blue-eyed Luke, but Beau was strikingly attractive, at least to Nathaniel. Nathaniel answered hesitantly, “I am not sure. It has been years, but when everything was misery, I stopped paying attention. I just don’t know.” Nathaniel’s mind filled with the memories of the endless days of isolation and loneliness.

Gwyneth’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “My prince, why don’t you allow us to accompany you to the castle?”

That she could call him prince shocked him more than he could have possibly imagined. His animal rage flared. “Don’t call me that,” he said harshly. “I am a beast; there is nothing noble left.”

Though he spoke harshly, she was unintimidated by his words. He guessed that women in the throes of childbirth had said unimaginable things to her (curses, threats, promises of vengeance). “But you are not a true beast. You are a human in a beastly form. Find your better nature and redeem yourself,” she said quietly.

Nathaniel stared at her. Redemption, could it be possible for him? He shook his head softly.

“We have brown bread and cheese, Nathan,” Beau said quietly. Nathaniel was surprised at being called by the endearment, but the young man’s grandmother had used the name, so he understood. Beau rummaged in a bag by the fire and doled out the bread and cheese. Gwyneth got them all more tea. Nathaniel pushed back the hood of his cloak. He looked at Gwyneth as he did so, but the woman’s expression only showed warmth, and perhaps, slight appreciation at being trusted with such a revelation. Nathaniel next sought Beau’s face, which seemed to hold curiosity more than anything.

Once they had eaten their small meal, Gwyneth insisted on bed. Beau produced blankets from another bag, and they gathered themselves around the fire to sleep. Nathaniel, before sleep overtook him, felt profound relief. He was connected to people again. There was an irony to the fact that an old woman was that vehicle since an old woman (at least so he thought) had been the vehicle to his isolation. He felt hope for the first time in a long time. Even if neither of them came to love him, he would not be alone, and then sleep claimed him.

When the old woman stirred in the early morning, Nathaniel’s beastly senses woke him, and he offered to get fresh water. By the time he returned, she had rekindled the coals from the fire and had the tea leaves in a pot waiting for the water. Beau still slept, so they spoke quietly to each other.

“You do not have to come to the castle with me,” Nathaniel said, knowing that it was true and yet wanting it more desperately than he had ever wanted anything.

“No, we don’t. But I am a midwife, and my primary task is to relieve suffering. You are suffering, and so is my grandson, though he will not speak of it to me,” she said quietly.

Nathaniel knew only too well his own suffering and pushed it from his mind. He knew also that when the old woman spoke of her grandson’s suffering, she was speaking of Beau’s attraction to young men. “You are not repulsed?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Child, insecure and hypocritical men are repulsed or fake repulsion. Love and desire are what separate human beings from the animals. Animals reproduce by instinct, not love or desire. s****l attraction and pleasure, not reproduction, drive human relationships. As a midwife, I know this. Just because reproduction happens between a male and a female doesn’t mean that all males are sexually attracted to females or all females are sexually attracted to males. Neither does it mean that the s*x between a male and a female is pleasurable. It should be, mind you. However, if pleasure is the defining characteristic of s****l relations, which I believe it should be, take pleasure where you will, female-male, male-female, male-male, female-female, and any other coupling you can think of among consenting human beings.”

Nathaniel stared her open mouthed. “How can you say those things?” he asked.

She looked at him with all the compassion of her calling, “I bring life into the world, and I try to alleviate suffering. We are all God’s creatures. I refuse to believe in a punitive model of God’s relationship with human beings. A parent, a true parent, loves all his or her children, regardless of their idiosyncrasies and differences from their peers, their parents, or even their siblings. You are different for many reasons, Nathan. You are a prince, whether you acknowledge that or not. You are your parents’ child—a position I hope you reclaim. And you like other young men—a situation you are not alone in—and you being open about that could change the world for all those young men (and others) who have, like yourself, hidden for too long. You all should come out and be who you want to be and love who you want to love.”

He could only stare at her. He had hoped with wild desperation that she might understand, but that she could articulate his barely self-acknowledged longings was incomprehensible to him. “Gwyneth…I am…just a beast,” he said.

“No, Nathan, no beast of the forest could talk to me of such things. Be the human being that you can be.” She stood up, and for a tiny, old woman, her presence was powerful. Perhaps it was all the lives that she had brought into the world or saved from worms or whatever illness or broken bone. He quavered under her penetrating blind gaze.

“I am…unworthy,” he choked out.

“So, make yourself worthy,” she spat back at him in a challenge.

Worthy? If he were worthy, he could be loved. “I will try,” he answered.

“There are some who would answer that to try is not enough, but I will accept you trying,” she answered.

Beau stirred, and Nathaniel and Gwyneth stopped talking and got a small breakfast together. With Beau up and about, they ate quietly and then packed up their things. The walk to the castle started well, but after a short time, the old woman was clearly struggling.

Just as Nathaniel felt a tinge of annoyance at having to slow his pace, he realized that the logical thing to do was to carry the old woman. Beau could do it, but Nathaniel was much bigger and stronger. He stopped and turned to face them.

“Nathan?” the old woman asked.

He smiled, or tried to; he wasn’t sure he pulled it off too well. “Let me carry you,” he said softly, and he took off his cloak and knelt so that she could climb on his back.

“No, my prince, it would be unfitting,” she said backing away from him, but he reached out and took her hand in his paw.

“There is no kingdom, so there is no prince. You honor me with your company. The journey is hard for you, but it is nothing to me. Allow me to ease your passage.” He saw her face change from resistant to something softer and more accepting. He let go of her hand, and he turned to Beau who watched them both in surprise, “When she is in place, can you tie the cloak around us, to hold her better?”

Beau took the cloak and nodded. The old woman climbed on Nathaniel’s back hesitantly. She was so tiny that her arms around his neck were almost uncomfortably tight, and her little legs barely reached around his waist. Beau wrapped the cloak around the two of them, his fingers fumbling awkwardly and his face flushing slightly as he tied the edges of the cloak across Nathaniel’s chest. Once the cloak was secured, the old woman was able to loosen her hold, and Nathaniel laughed. It was strange sounding to him. A kind of bark with a laugh in it. He realized that he had never laughed in his beastly form. The thought was like a kind of grief—for all that he had lost.

“What is so funny?” she asked, a tinge of irritation in her voice.

Her question and her tone jolted him back to himself. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “You’re just so light and tiny, like a child,” he answered. More quietly, he added, “It has been so long,” and he could hear the ache in his voice. He hadn’t been touched since he had been transformed, except when she had hugged him the night before.