Raven: A Dark Fairytale Chapter 1 Part 1

Eglantine sat at the other end of the carriage, hugging her knees and crying quietly. She was cold and scared and could not shake the deep sense of betrayal she now held. Three days ago she had watched her mother burn, a spectacle all the villagers went to see. Her father had not stopped her; he was busy drowning his sorrows for the witch he had wed. The crackling of the wood was unbearably loud to the little girl, as the flames licked at her mother’s bound legs. But even that could not drown out her cries, her screams. Eglantine could not call out; for fear that the villagers would burn her too. Her, the witch’s daughter. So she cried, holding in the noise that came with it. Tears blurred her vision and maybe that was a blessing. Later, when her mother was just a charred corpse, the tavern keeper and the milkman removed her body from the stake and burned it to ash so she could not come back. Eglantine had run home, her shadow taking on the shape of thorny vines that whipped at everything around her, sending people and objects flying. Luckily the wind had grown fiercely strong, so no one could blame her.

I really ought to practice my control, Eglantine thought. She glanced up at her owner; he had yet to tell her his name. She was not even sure if she needed to know. He’d bought her from her father, Absolon Miller, this man with red curls. Eglantine could not be sure Absolon had bothered to give the red curled man her name. Will he give me one? How do these things go? Kaa-chan would you know? Eglantine knew that if her maman were still alive then she would not have been sold because that woman loved her. She made everything better. The Millers were a poor family, well, everyone in their nameless village was, but somehow Cherrilyn Miller made one forget such troubles.

Cherrilyn was fruitful in her toiling of the land and skilled at hunting and healing. Of course, she had not been born in the village, but stumbled upon it. “I’d gotten lost and needed a place to stay the night,” she would say, her voice laced with the accent from her home somewhere far east. “Your Aunt Fifi offered me a room at her place for the night. She was the only one.” Everyone else in the village was too wary of strangers. Cherrilyn had stayed the night and well into the next day, trying to figure where she was and what her next step would be when she heard a young man was hurt. He’d broken his leg, and Fifi was worried he’d die. It was her younger brother Absolon. (That was always Eglantine’s favorite part of the story, when her mother was the hero.) The village was want of a healer and so Cherrilyn stepped in. Once she found that out, she realized she could not possibly leave. All the help she gave them and still they burned her. Maybe it is a good thing Papa sold me or else I’d be ash as well.

Suddenly the carriage came to a halt and Eglantine looked up. The man with red curls, her owner, stepped out of the carriage while fussing with his long robes. Her door was being opened by the driver trying to pick her up. Whimpering, she flinched away, clutching her little rag doll wearing a gray kimono. It was made of the same fabric as Eglantine’s grey shift. “Sorry Lee, I’ll deal with her,” said her owner. Eglantine glanced up at him, he wore round glass pieces that perched on the bridge of his nose, and had a long curly red beard like his long curly red hair. He was quite pink of skin, and due to the size of his robes, seemed quite wide.

“Come now dear girl, we are stopping for the night,” he said in a soothing tone. “Aren’t you hungry? Or tired from all that weeping?”

She was, but she had not the strength to climb out of the carriage. He seemed to sense this because he slowly reached inside, and carefully picked her up.

“Here we go, see, I shan’t harm you.”

She nodded, her long black hair covering her eyes.

They headed into the inn; it was called Greendale, according to the sign. Her owner asked the innkeeper for two rooms with two beds each, one for him and her, and the other for the footman, Louis and the driver, Lee. “Oh, and a bath if you please.” The bath was not for him, Eglantine soon realized. The innkeeper’s two eldest daughters were tasked with bathing Eglantine and they were none too gentle with it. She wept as they scrubbed her raw and red, dropping her doll in the metal tub. They found a nice green dress that fit her loosely, but it was better than her gray wool shift.

Whimpering, she mumbled to the doll in her mother’s language, as she took it to lie close to the fire for drying. Her owner tipped the girls a silver each for their help. Miserable, Eglantine shuffled over to the table where her owner was drawing a map. She was much more interested in the mushroom barely soup, ham, and cider to care though. However, as soon as she climbed in her chair he addressed her.

“Look here child,” he said, showing her the map. “I’ve put your little village on the map. Pyre seems like an appropriate name, no?” He chuckled but she only frowned at him.

“Oh, a pyre is a structure that bodies are burned on.”

Tears began to sting her already red and puffy eyes.

“Ah, um, let’s change the subject. My name is Elias Reed, physician and councilman to the king. He’s a young one though, that’s why he needs advisors. Now, you tell me who you are.”

“… Eg—,” she started, her throat sore and voice small. She coughed, “Eglantine M-miller.”

“And how old are you?”

She held up nine fingers for the nine springs she’d seen.

“Heh, I must seem an old man to you then.” He would be four-and-thirty on his next birthday.

She shrugged and picked up her spoon in the hopes that she could eat, but he was yet to be done.

“Okay, can you read?”

She nodded, trying to hide her blooming annoyance.

“Grand, just grand. You are going to be my apprentice. I was looking for a boy but, as my mother would say, fate has other plans.”

Eglantine blinked at him.

Since he had stopped talking she started to eat. The soup had grown cool enough that she could shovel spoonful after spoonful into her mouth without getting burned. When that was done she scarfed down a thick slice of ham with buttered bread. Chuckling, Elias poured her some cider, she drank two mugs. He had not thought to caution her on eating too fast, but she did not seem to feel sick after. Eglantine was licking her lips and dusting crumbs off her hands, unbeknownst to herself, smiling.

“You have quite the healthy appetite, Eglantine.”

She flinched; her name seemed so foreign in his voice.

He showed her the map, pointing at the inn. “We are here, and we’re heading—,” he traced his index finger along a road line to Ville de Rois, “here, the capital. It has been a long two days, no? We’ll be there on the morrow.”

She nodded, wondering how she had managed to cry for two days straight. Didn’t know I had it in me.

They went to bed; she clutched her still damp, faded doll and curled up beneath the blanket humming to herself. Elias thought she might be a good apprentice. Thirty silvers for a sorrowful child, I must be mad. But I could not leave a Child of the Craft to burn. Mother would never forgive me. He knew he was not the most suitable of teachers for a young witch, but he could make a healer out of her. Yes, I can do that.

The two entered the city through the Golden Gate. Normally Elias would go through the Ville de Rois straight to the castle, but he wanted his ward to see some of the city first while he explained what he was expecting of her. Her job was to help him take care of his birds in the rookery; assist him in taking care of his patients. “I will entrust some to you when I believe you have learned enough, I don’t expect you to learn everything,” and overall study. He was also expecting her to clean.

“You sure are expecting a lot from a little girl,” she said whilst staring out the window. She marveled at the mansions with their huge gates, some looked to me made entirely of iron; others were coated with zinc or copper and bronze. She thought the iron gates were to keep out faeries, it made the most sense as to why anyone would want to have such a heavy gate to push open and close whenever they leave their house.

“That is a little rude, no?”

“No. Will I be allowed to walk around the city?”

“You shall be allowed to travel on your own when I think you are ready.”

She pouted, looking pleadingly at him.

“Until then you must learn every inch of the palace.”

Eglantine reasoned that touring a palace everyday would not be so bad. Her mother had lived in a small castle once.

He gave her a room in his tower above his office in the West Wing. He had dresses and stockings made for Eglantine by the palace seamstress and took her to a cobbler for slippers and boots. Elias instructed her to never let herself be seen by the king and queen and should a member of the royal family be near her, to never speak until spoken too. She figured that meant it was perfectly fine to accidently spot the king and queen from afar or end up close enough to see them without getting caught. However, she was not allowed to explore right away, because for her first two weeks there Elias was busy drilling information into her head. They would walk through his herb garden and he’d give her long lectures or brief summaries of every plant and it’s use. To remember it all, Eglantine did as her maman taught her and made up rhymes or songs.

“Agrimony, agrimony

Use the parts that feel the air

A tea for soothing sore throats

Soon to be fresh and clear”

“Catnip

A plant to please

Your feline,

But the flowers and leaves

Can be used to treat

Coughs, scalp irritations, restlessness, bruises

And of course things that pass”

Elias told her he liked her songs and she shrugged. They were just to remember. During the days of her third week her lessons were from sunrise to noon and from noon to dinner she was free to wander about. She liked the warmth of the kitchens and the solitary comfort of the library, but nothing could compare to her time spent in the gardens. There was just something about having her fingers in the soil that calmed her. After dinner it was time to study again and feed the birds. They made her anxious; some would even peck at her. One of them, a raven, even spoke to her. She had been terrified. Not because she had heard a raven speak, plants spoke to her all the time, but because she had reacted to it in front of Elias. “Sorry about Mormont, he’s a little devil,” said Elias to her great relief. The raven cackled at her as Elias shook his head. “Behave Mormont, or no corn.” It took that to heart.

One hot day in early summer, Eglantine was working in her little corner of the gardens that Elias had gifted her with, when she’d heard women’s voices. Curious, she stood and followed the voices around the corner to the private gardens of the old queen and longest queen regent, Jeanne de Valois. The woman still lived in the palace and had to be wheeled around in a chair. Eglantine had caught a few glimpses of her whilst she was being taken to her gardens, separated from the rest of the grounds by tall hedges and rose bushes. Eglantine thought she might like the old woman. Jeanne de Valois had shrewd, nearly blind eyes, and a pinched mouth adorning her partially wrinkled face. She was not a woman who had reason to smile a lot, not even in her youth, so a scowl or a frown was always evident on her face now. Eglantine hid between the rose bushes, hushing the tiny voices of the flowers as she watched a guard push the old queen along in her chair, attended by her daughter-in-law, Margaery, and her ladies-in-waiting.

Jeanne de Valois wore a light dress of sage green with bronze crosses decorating the hem and collar, and a black veil over her dark hair. She had been raised in southern Orléans so had a tanner complexion than her fair skinned daughter-in-law. Princess Margaery had alabaster skin and soft, honey blonde curls framing her oval face. She was smiling at her mother-in-law but it did not reach her eyes. The woman wore a summer dress of light blue silk that glided over the grass as she took slow, careful steps. Margaery was making small talk, trying to coax the woman into the conversation by bringing up something she liked. From what Eglantine could hear, it was about the flowers.

“Really Mother, I do not believe these gardens would have thrived so without your watchful eyes,” said Margaery, “just like out darling king.”

“Hmph,” Jeanne responded.

Eglantine pulled back into the bushes, she was not supposed to be seen. Curiosity, however, compelled her to follow the two royal women into the garden. “Warn me if someone looks my way,” she whispered to the roses who all squeaked a reply of yes and alright. She creeped after the procession, keeping a good ten feet behind and staying close to the shrubbery. Due to her burning easily, she wore a big, floppy straw hat. Princess Margaery on the other hand, had a girl following her around holding a parasol decorated with white frills to block the sun from her fair skin. Eglantine would have liked a parasol like that, all she and her mother had before were shawls and plain straw hats. Eglantine now tried to rectify this plainness by adding a pink ribbon to hers.

Despite her better judgement, Eglantine followed them all the way to the center of the maze where a marble fountain stood with cherubs spilling water from their hands into the two pools below that had been cut to look like an open rose’s petals. Eglantine was marveling at it while the women arranged themselves around a table for tea and fruit. She wanted to touch the marble, feel the curve of the stone beneath her palm, and dip her fingers in the cool water, but she could not. Suddenly, the roses were in an uproar so Eglantine looked up, terrified to find Jeanne de Valois looking directly at her. Gasping, Eglantine scrambled back into the bushes and hurried away from the private gardens. Elias is going to kill me, she thought as she headed for his tower and then, thinking better of it, went instead to the kitchens. There she stayed for the remainder of the day, making herself useful by kneading dough for the bread and chopping up vegetables. Most, if not all, apprentices had to cook for their masters, so the cooks were not going to bother her for being in the kitchens. They did not like her; they tolerated her, and might have liked her if they had the time to. The kitchens were altogether too busy for there to be time to get to like any of the children there though.

When at last dinner was served and the kitchen staff was eating, Eglantine made her way to Elias’s office where he oft took his meals, with a covered tray of spring vegetable barigoule. She had already eaten dinner earlier so as to postpone the inevitable. Perhaps he has been too busy today to notice my absence at the table, she thought. The forces that be did not give her that, because Elias was waiting for her. He sat in his chair wearing a long green tunic and a well-worn pair of brown trousers. Setting the book in his hand aside he smiled at her.

“I was wondering when you would get here. How was your day?”

“Uneventful,” she said, setting down the tray.

“Truly? Because I went to visit the Queen Regent for her biweekly check-up and she asked about the little black-haired girl I’ve been keeping.”

“Oh,” Eglantine was glad her voice sounded calm and uninterested.

“Did I not tell you not to let the royal family see you?”

“It was an accident.” She held his hard gaze with a pleading stare of her own.

He sighed, “Worry not, she is not upset. Although she wishes you would not break her roses going through the bushes.”

Laughing sheepishly, Eglantine blushed.

“This does not mean there is no punishment. You are to spend your day tomorrow with her. I believe she wants you to look after her flowers, or mayhaps just someone to talk to.”

“She did not seem very chatty.”

Elias chuckled, “That is the feeling she gives off, I suppose. Make sure to wear your best dress and remember your manners.”

“What manners? I’ve only been here for two months.”

“Well try and gain some, and be very careful with her. Only speak when spoken to, do not make too much noise or move around too much, it upsets her.”

“What, do you want me to do cartwheels too?” It was a clear joke and he knew that, she knew he knew that.

“If that is what she asks, Eglantine. Remember, she is the most powerful woman in the country.”

Eglantines sighed, “I shall do my best.”