Rainbow Tales

Beau and the Beast-3

She seemed to read his thoughts. “Like a child, am I? Perhaps, then, it is fitting. It seems like yesterday when I held you, cleaned you up, and handed you back to your mother.” He couldn’t see her face, but her voice was gentle, and he felt her tiny hands patting his neck. He was touched more than he could say.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t dwell on what you can’t change,” she said softly, and there was a sadness in her voice.

Nathaniel wondered what was the cause of that sadness. “Why did you leave the castle?” he asked.

“A blind midwife isn’t very useful,” she answered stiffly. “I chose to leave, to return to my family and life in the villages,” her voice was warmer. “Beau is studying with me; it is unusual for a male to train as a healer, but then Beau is an unusual young man,” her voice filled with pride.

Beau’s head turned toward them at the mention of his name. “What are you two talking about?” he asked.

“I was just talking about your training,” she answered raising her voice so that he could hear her clearly. “Tell us a story,” she commanded.

Beau obeyed and launched into the story of “The Happy Prince.”

Nathaniel listened, fascinated and charmed by the story. The prince and the male swallow clearly loved each other. It was a sad and sweet story. He wished it had a happy ending instead of the tragic one. The story had an author unlike traditional fairy tales, Oscar Wilde. Clearly, this man lived in a kingdom that did not condone male-male relationships—that had to be the cause of the tragic ending. They could love each other, but the people would reject them. Despite the intolerance of the people, God and the angel knew the love and sacrifices of the prince and the swallow were the worthiest things in the town. There was hope in that, Nathaniel thought.

They passed the rest of the journey amicably. The castle came into view, and he heard Beau gasp. He smiled. He hadn’t felt pride at the sight of his home in a long time. Then he thought of the damage he had done, and he was filled with shame. His body stiffened with tension.

“What is it?” the old woman asked.

“After I was transformed, I was very, very angry,” he said quietly. “Much of the castle…” but he couldn’t finish.

“You raged through the castle. I can imagine. It will give Beau and me something to do,” she said softly, patting his neck again for reassurance, and they both felt the tension leave his body.

On the grounds, Nathaniel knelt, and Beau untied the cloak and helped his grandmother down from Nathaniel’s back. They entered the castle through the kitchens. Beau whistled at the destruction. “Is it like this everywhere?” he asked, more with curiosity than condescension.

Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably. “Not my parents’ apartments. I will show you to those rooms. You must be tired.”

“My prince, we could not,” the old woman said firmly.

“You must stop calling me that,” he said more loudly than he intended.

“Alright,” she said, “but then you must call me Gwyn.”

Nathaniel reigned in his emotions, “Okay, Gwyn,” he said in a more measured tone. “My parents’ apartments are the only rooms in which it would not humiliate me to put you.”

“Nathan, Beau and I will find a room or rooms that we can tidy up and be happy with. We are servants,” she began.

“No!” he said so loudly than she and Beau both jumped. “You are my guests, and I am a beast,” he said lowering his voice in response to their reactions.

Recognizing the pain in his voice, she smiled, a warm, grandmotherly smile, full of understanding and compassion, “Show us the way.”

She was humoring him, Nathaniel knew. He led them through the halls and up the stairs. Beau took special care to lead his grandmother so that she wouldn’t trip. They passed room after room; most bore witness to previous violence.

“Which ones are yours?” Beau asked, but he was amused.

“They are coming up, Beau,” he said dryly.

Turning a corner, Nathaniel waved toward a door on the right, “These are my apartments,” he said solemnly.

Beau ducked his head in and saw the overturned bookcase in the study and saw past that to the bedroom with the smashed mirror. He whistled again. “You must have been really angry.”

“You have no idea,” Nathaniel answered bitterly. “Being a beast didn’t help either. I lost it for days. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I would run through the grounds or through the forest. Anything to burn off the anger and rage.”

“Well, you are not alone now,” Gwyn said gently.

Nathaniel turned and looked at her, “No. Thank you for being here,” he said sincerely.

“Whose rooms are these?” Beau asked. “They don’t look disturbed.”

Nathaniel followed Beau into the rooms across from his rooms, taking a turn at leading Gwyn. Once inside the rooms, he stared around him wildly. He remembered slashing through these rooms almost as viciously as his own rooms, but they were in perfect order now. The bookcase, the chairs, the tables, the bed. There was a note on the bed.

“What is it, Nathan?” Gwyn asked. She couldn’t see the rooms, but she could read the distress and tension in his body.

“I destroyed these rooms,” Nathaniel answered.

Beau had walked to the bed and picked up the note. “Um, these are apparently my rooms,” he said, holding out the note, with a surprised look on his face.

“The castle is enchanted,” Nathaniel said hesitantly. “Perhaps…”

“Perhaps it knew we were coming?” Gwyn finished for him. She sounded excited. “Do I have rooms?” She tugged at his paw, and he laughed his strange barky laugh.

“Let’s find out,” he said, caught up with her excitement. “The castle has never fixed itself before,” he mused.

“Perhaps it is not the only one changed,” and she squeezed his paw.

He felt the tears prick in his eyes, “Perhaps,” he said in a strangled voice, and he felt her squeeze his paw again. Gently, he squeezed back.

They crossed the hall again, and the rooms were again in order though he remembered trashing them. More interesting to him was that they were decorated in a more feminine manner than his or Beau’s. Different than his mother’s rooms but distinctly feminine. Additionally, there was a hand rail that ran at waist-level around the walls of the rooms. Nathaniel led Gwyn to the rail and put her hand on it. The rail was at her precise waist-level. Holding the railing, Gwyn navigated the first room. She was approaching a set of chairs and a table that obstructed her way, and Nathaniel was about to cry out, but she stopped suddenly, and successfully felt her way around the obstructions.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“The rail told me the chairs and table were there,” she said in wonder. Then after a moment, she said, “Describe the rooms to me?”

“The walls are painted a marigold yellow,” Nathaniel answered.

“I so love yellows,” she said absently.

“There are solid, golden-colored, velvet curtains at the windows,” he continued. “The bedding looks to be of the same golden velvet. There are flowers, roses, in vases, throughout the apartment. Your study has books and a desk.” He fell silent as he watched her cross into the other room to the bed and feel the coverlet. Though she was an old woman, her excitement made her seem like a small girl.

“I feel like a princess,” she said, giddy with enthusiasm, making her giggle and laugh at herself. “Our rooms here are bigger than our cottage, Beau.” She flopped herself onto the bed. “It is so soft. It is like lying on feathers.”

Nathaniel was both pleased and ashamed by Gwyn’s pleasure in her apartments. She had been a trusted member of the royal household, but only as a servant. These rooms were grand compared to the servant quarters but nothing like the grandeur of his parents’ apartments. What he took for granted was made splendid and special through Gwyn’s vision of it.

“They will always be your rooms, Gwyn, for as long as you live, whether you visit often or only rarely,” he said with conviction.

Gwyn sat up and looked at him, “Nathan, you can’t do that.”

Yes, he could. Whether she understood it or not, she and Beau were his family now, his only tie to his humanity. They had not run from him screaming in the forest, and they had agreed to stay with him. He would owe them more than they could possibly imagine. Before he could get emotional on that point, he shifted his thoughts. “Dinner is at seven, usually, in the family dining room. The castle usually provides me with a bath at six, just in case it does it for you as well. We have a couple of hours until then, but you may like to rest and get to know your rooms, so I will take my leave and look forward to seeing you at dinner,” Nathaniel bowed to them and left.

Nathaniel entered his own rooms a little bewildered. The castle had cleaned up Gwyn’s and Beau’s rooms but not his. Why? Perhaps it was not ready to accept that his rages were over. Could he really blame it? The first ones had lasted for days. A day of civilized behavior on his part was nothing compared to before. Instead of retiring to his room, he wandered the castle, following his paths of devastation and regretting them. Eventually, he retired to his rooms. He took the bath with more pleasure than he had ever remembered. Despite his fur and his claws and fangs, the water made him feel clean for the first time in a long time. After his bath, he found dress clothes in his closet, and dressed with anticipation.

Dinner was lovely. Though Nathaniel had smashed dishes and thrown cutlery in the family dining room, it had escaped relatively unscathed, and whatever damage he had inflicted, the castle seemed to have mended, so that the room was as elegant and welcoming as it had been before Nathaniel’s transformation. Beau looked unbelievable cleaned up, in a smart suit, smiling from ear to ear. Gwyn was bursting with happiness; her dress of golden silk flattered her frame in all the right places. The table was set when they entered, the fire was comforting, and then the food just appeared on their plates—their favorite dishes. Beau helped his grandmother into her seat, and then he and Nathaniel seated themselves. Nathaniel was at the head of the table, with Gwyn at his right side and with Beau at his left. Nathaniel’s meal was fingerling potatoes, cut glazed carrots, and beef steak which had been cut into strips. Though he was relieved that the steak had been cut, he flushed with embarrassment, as he considered what a fool he would have made of himself trying to use the silverware. Gwyn, perhaps sensing his tension, turned her face toward him. He clenched his jaw and concentrated on trying to pick up his fork. It fell from his clumsy paw, and he resisted the urge to slam his fisted paw onto the table. Fury coursed through him, but Gwyn’s voice intruded on his dark thoughts.

“I have always thought that the excesses of table manners were ridiculous,” she said softly, “and since the castle has gone to such trouble to give us all relatively bite sized portions and I can’t see where the food on my plate is, I hope you won’t mind if I use my fingers.” She then moved her hand over her plate and found a piece of roasted potato and popped it into her mouth.

Nathaniel stared at her, his fury melted away, and he felt only gratitude and compassion. Gwyn could hold the cutlery in her human hands, but she was right. Without her vision, she would not be able to spear the food on her plate with her fork without hacking at it. His paws were still clumsy, but he could spear his food with his claws and eat it effectively.