Dennis McKiernan: Once Upon a Winter's Night

Camille loosened the thongs holding the bundle fast and set the whole of it on the table.

“Untie it, untie it,” demanded Gai, jittering from one foot to another.

“Yes, do,” added her twin, fidgeting at Gai’s side.

Inside was clothing, all of it sized to fit Camille. First revealed was a splendid dark green, all-weather cloak, made of a woolen cloth. Then came soft leather trousers and a leather vest and boots and cotton socks, all of these dark brown. Next revealed was a jerkin, made of pale green silk, and green silk full-length hosiery. Lastly came undergarments, made of green silk as well. Father and mother and sisters and even Giles ooh ed and ahh ed over the richness of the attire.

Camille sighed. “Travelling clothes.” Then she turned to the Bear. “But, O Bear, I have not said I would go.”

The sisters gasped, and Felise whined, “Oh, Camille, but you must, else we will be without dowries.”

“Nonsense,” snapped Aigrette, stepping to Camille’s side, but addressing the Bear. “She will go.”

“I have neither said yea nor nay, Maman,” replied Camille, glancing at her father, but Henri merely hung his head.

Now Joie and Gai broke into tears, and Lisette ground her teeth in fury. Felise plopped down in a chair and moaned, while Colette cried out, “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

Of a sudden the Bear gave a great roar, shocking them all into silence, all but Giles, that is, for he began wheezing and gasping, desperately struggling for breath. And then his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the floor, falling slack as if slain. Camille was the first to reach him, and though the lad was unconscious, his lungs yet fought for air.

“See what you’ve done, Camille,” hissed Aigrette. “Had we gold we could make him well.”

With tears in her eyes, Camille embraced Giles, and weeping, she whispered, “You win, Maman. I will go.”

That night in her bed, Camille was awakened by someone slipping out the door, and by the glow of an ember or two yet remaining on the hearth, she could see that the Bear was gone. She eased out from the lower bunk, and only the harness and the remaining bundles lay where he had been. And she thought that perhaps even Bears needed to relieve themselves. After reassuring herself that sleeping Giles breathed peacefully, Camille crawled back under the blanket with Joie and Gai and quickly fell aslumber. She did not stir when the door opened again, but awakened later to see the Bear once more lying nigh the center of the room.

The next morning Henri found a small wooden case on the table, and when he opened it he gave a great shout, for it was filled to the brim with gold coins. “The bride-price!” he called out. “The bride-price has come, and, oh, what riches we have!”

Aigrette leapt from her bed and rushed to the board, while daughters scrambled up and to the table as well, Joie and Gai scuttling over Camille to do so. Camille sat up and glanced at Giles, to see him looking at her. He smiled his quirky smile and rose from his cot and made his way to the table, too, where he found Aigrette testing each coin by biting down with her teeth.

The Bear merely sat and watched.

“But wait, Maman,” said Lisette to her mother, glancing at the Bear, “what if this is merely a glamour and nought but fairy gold, to turn to dross in the light of the sun?”

At Lisette’s words a low growl rumbled in the Bear’s chest, but Aigrette’s eyes flew wide. “Here, here,” she snapped, grabbing up the wooden case and scooping the gold from the table and within. She hied past the Bear to take it outside and into the sunlight, and he made no move to stop her.

Moments later she came dancing back in, holding the case of coins on high and crowing, “It’s real. It is truly gold,” for in the direct rays of the sun none of the coins had changed to iron or lead or other base metal or slag, or to rubbish of any kind.

The Bear sniffed as if to say, “You doubted?”

After a breakfast of gruel, the Bear sharing Camille’s bowl, with father and mother and the sisters all chatting gaily and the gold heaped on the table, Camille sighed and looked about at her family. Only Giles seemed pensive, and tears stood behind his eyes, for he would not lose his dear sister. Wiping her own brimming tears with the heels of her hands, Camille smiled at her brother and murmured, “It will be all right, Frere.” He grinned his crooked grin at her, but his heart wasn’t in the smile.

Camille turned to her father. “And you, Papa, what will you do with the gold?”

Henri took a deep breath and slowly let it out, and ran his fingers across his greying temples. He glanced at the pile of coins and said, “Now we can afford a team of oxen or a horse to plow the land, and a milk cow for the girls as well, and medicine for Giles.”

Aigrette shook her head and glared at Henri. “Your father always did think small, Camille. As for the gold, there’s more than enough to build a fine house, enough to provide me-to provide all of us-a luxurious way of living.”

“Just as the prince in his letter said,” agreed Lisette.

The conversation turned to what things they could buy, and what dowries they could have, and what young men might come calling. Neither Camille nor Giles nor Henri joined in.

After breakfast, Camille stepped behind the burlap privy curtain to don the very fine travelling clothes. She slipped into the undergarments, the delicate silken touch caressing her. She pulled on the silk hosiery, and then the jerkin and laced it up, and donned the soft leather trousers and vest, the silken garments underneath to keep the leather from chafing. Then she pulled on the socks and boots, and they fit her feet quite well. She cast the dark green cloak over her shoulders and fastened it with the jade brooch she discovered at its throat. With her golden tresses lying across the velvety, forest green shoulders of the cloak gracing her slender form, taking a deep breath, she stepped from behind the drape, and gasps went up from the sisters. Giles stared at her wide-eyed, as if he had never seen her before, and both Henri and Aigrette reflected his look of astonishment. Even the Bear seemed o’erwhelmed, for he stood four-footed and dipped his head low, almost as if he were bowing.

“Oh, Camille,” said Colette, raising a hand to her cheek, “though dressed as a boy, you look like a fair lady true.”

Camille blushed at Colette’s words and the scrutiny she received from all. To cover her discomfiture, she turned to the Bear, and he whuff ed and nuzzled the harness and goods lying on the floor.

With help from Giles, Camille affixed the rigging about the Bear’s massive frame, and then she fastened the bundles onto the straps. Her sister Felise stepped forward with a petite roll and said, “ ’Tis raggings, in case your courses come upon you on the journey.” Camille nodded and tied on this small bundle as well, next to the one which held her most precious possessions: a wood-and-fishbone comb, dried mint leaves to sweeten her breath, several chew-sticks to scrub her teeth, and a small piece of soap made of rendered animal fat and scented with clover blossoms.

At last, all was ready. And Camille hugged each of her sisters, Gai and Joie, Felise, Colette, all of whom said, “Merci, Camille,” and finally Lisette, who stiffly received the embrace and gritted through clenched teeth, “It should have been me.”

Camille then hugged her mother, who said, “Now we have gold,” and then her father, who whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Last of all she hugged Giles, who burst into tears without saying a word, but Camille said, “Fear not, Little Frere, for I believe all will be well,” even though her heart was hammering in dread.

At another whuff from the Bear, Henri opened the door, and out into winter they all trod, where sunlight aglance across the snow cast diamondlike glints to the eye.