Dennis McKiernan: Once Upon a Winter's Night

“Papa,” said Camille, sighing, “we have no parchment, no pen, no ink.”

“And even if we did have such,” hissed Lisette, “how would we know what she had written on any note we would send?”

At this the Bear growled, and Lisette snapped her mouth shut.

“He seems to know what we are saying,” said Aigrette, nodding toward the Bear. “Simply tell him that we accept and send him on his way to bring back the promised gold.”

Tears in her eyes, Camille silently gazed at her father. Henri once again could not meet her mute stare. He turned to the Bear. “Come back in a sevenday, for then we will have our answer.”

Angrily, Aigrette glared at him.

Grunting, the Bear moved to the door, and, before anyone else could stir, Aigrette sprang to her feet and opened the wooden-planked panel and led the Bear outside. ’Round the corner of the cottage she went with him, and there she said, “Come prepared to pay the bride-price and bear Camille away, for I shall see to it that she goes with you.”

The Bear growled low-whether in ire or agreement, Aigrette could not say-and then ambled away from the stone hovel and toward the twilight border of mysterious and dreaded Faery, for therein strange and terrible creatures did dwell, or so it was said. Hugging herself against the cold, Aigrette didn’t blink an eye as the Bear rambled across a pristine white field of new-fallen snow, leaving heavy tracks behind, to pass into the silvery twilight and vanish; but inside the cottage, with an eye pressed to a chink in the back wall, Camille watched as well, her heart beating swiftly in fright.

“But, Maman, hemaybeoldbeyondyearsandugly,” cried Camille.

Pushing out a hand in a swift motion of disallowance, Aigrette said, “Camille, if he’s old, then you will inherit his fortune and estates more quickly”-she gestured at the letter on the table-“and he is a prince with a great mansion and considerable lands.” She glanced at Henri. “And as for ugly, it matters not. After all, look at what I got.”

For his part, Henri merely sighed.

“Papa is not ugly,” rebutted Camille, reaching out to touch her father’s sleeve.

“But Mere is right,” said Lisette. “And if the prince had made the same offer to me, as he should have, I would have accepted without hesitation. Camille, he is a prince!”

“It is not yours to choose,” said Giles, receiving a glare from Lisette in return.

“Your frere is right,” declared Aigrette. “It is not yours to choose, nor, I add, is it Camille’s to choose. It is mine to say whom she will marry, or no.”

“What about Papa?” exclaimed Camille, turning to her sire. “Has he no voice in this whatsoever?”

Henri sighed and peered at the floor.

“Would you not marry a prince?” asked Joie.

“Aye, a prince, ” echoed Gai.

“But he lives in Faery among monsters dire and creatures fell,” said Camille, “a place Humans are not welcome.”

“ Pah!” snorted Aigrette. “As far as not being welcome, the prince invited you, and so you are welcome to travel within that realm, to travel to his principality of Summerwood, for he wishes you there as his wife.”

“But what of the peril?” asked Giles. “The monsters and other dire creatures of Faery? Ogres and Trolls, Bogles, Dragons, and Goblins like the Redcaps, who dye their hats in the blood of Humans, or so Papa says.”

Although the other girls blenched, Lisette glanced at her brother, and then at Henri. “ Bah! As for things of peril, Camille will have the Bear for protection, and a finer guardian none could want.”

Camille touched Giles’ hand in thanks, then looked at her mother. “Then answer me this, Maman: what if this Lord Prince is not right in the mind, a simpleton or other such.”

“He would have to be a loon to have chosen you,” gibed Felise, her blue eyes dancing, her sprinkle of freckles wrinkling ’round her nose as she grinned.

“This is no laughing matter, Felise,” said Camille, though she grinned at the light-brown-haired girl in return.

“If he is simpleminded,” said Aigrette, “then you will command his wealth all the easier.”

Camille sighed. “Then what if he has the deadly plague or some other spreading ill?”

“All the better,” said Lisette, glancing at her mother, “for as Mere says, it means you will inherit sooner than late.”

Camille glanced about the table. “What if the prince himself is a monster dire, a terrible thing to behold, perhaps even a murderer of women?”

Even as the sisters’ eyes widened in alarm at this newly imagined possibility, Aigrette again pushed out a hand of negation. “Then you can merely run away, Camille, but only after we get the gold.”

“Is that all you are interested in, Maman? The bride-price, the gold?”

Aigrette gestured at the room. “Would you have us live in destitution, when wealth is within our grasp?”

“Oh, Camille,” said Colette, turning to her sisters for support, “would you deny us dowries to attract suitors?”

“Aye, dowries,” chimed in Gai, glancing at Joie, who added, “Would you have us be old maids?”

“Do none of you think of aught but yourselves?” asked Giles in anger. “Camille is the only-” But the boy began gasping for air, leaving the rest of his words unsaid.

Camille embraced the lad as he wheezed, and Aigrette’s eyes narrowed in cunning. “With the gold we can afford a healer for Giles, Camille. Would you deny him such relief?”

Tears welled in Camille’s eyes, and she did not answer her dam.

“Yes, a doctor for Giles,” said Lisette, following her mother’s lead. “We could afford the medicine needed to make him well.”

“D-don’t pay h-heed,” panted Giles, but he could say no more.

“With the gold, we could have a bigger and better house,” declared Aigrette. “One of warmth and light. One where Giles could escape the draft and damp and dust of this hovel.”

“And warm clothes,” added Felise. “Something to keep Giles cozy.”

Catching his breath at last, Giles said, “Oh, Camille, I don’t need doctors that badly. You shouldn’t go off to an unknown fate, no matter the count of coin.”

Camille smiled at the entirely too-thin nine-year-old, but she knew in spite of his bravado that he was truly ill.

And thus did the arguments and harangues go for the full sevenday: the mother harping that she deserved a better life, the one her failure of a husband had promised her when they first were wed, “… but look at what he gave me instead”; the father looking everywhere but at Camille, though often tears ran down his cheeks, for he knew that his achievements as a provider had never amounted to much, and whatever spirit he might have once had as a young man had been nagged into abject submission; the sisters’ eyes lighting up at the thought of rich dowries and the suitors to come; and all the women arguing that with the gold they could afford a doctor for Giles, even though Giles denied that a doctor or medicine or other such was needed, that he was healthy enough.

… And so, all told, did a sevenday pass.

And late in the evening of the seventh day, just as the sun was setting, the great white Bear came padding across the snow and to the stone cottage plank door, where he gave the panel a heavy knock. Rushing to the entryway, Aigrette flung it wide. “Come in, Monsieur Bear, Ambassador of the Prince.” Aigrette moved aside. The Bear swung its head this way and that as if seeking, and then he stepped inward, making straight for Camille. ’Round his girth was a harness on which were affixed bundles, several on each side. The Bear presented a flank to the girl and looked over his shoulder at her. “ Whuff, ” he breathed, and nuzzled the pack-roll at hand.