The Tower Stairs
The tower stairs always present a problem. Dark and narrow. Slippery. Full of witch's snares.
But there is one spot free of enchantments. A window, that when peered through, frames a beautiful world. One can sit at the ledge, halfway between floors, and see the village below - a cacophony of laughter and scents that drive my husband mad. That's where I spend my days.
***
I was sixteen when I married Edmund, old enough to know what I wanted, but too young for my father to hear it. It had been a good match as far as the two men were concerned. Father received prime farming land as well as a wide variety of beasts, and Edmund was awarded the girl that everyone in the village deemed untamable.
Edmund relished the challenge, the opportunity to break the wild cat. The day he made the deal with my father, he sought me out in the woods, pulled me to him, and drew his fingers through my loose auburn hair, all the while whispering in my ear the things he longed to do once we were married. That evening, I bound my hair and haven't taken it down since.
Two months into the marriage, I pulled some poison from the rat traps and mixed it into his food before bringing it to the table. We had at least a dozen people to serve us, but he wanted me to do it. After I set the plate before him, he yanked me into his lap and thrust his hand under my dress while smiling and murmuring with pleasure. The poison became a nightly occurrence. Unfortunately, the witch must have had an antidote because he never seemed to grow ill.
The tower came later, after my fifth escape. I had run far enough to taste freedom. To smell the freshly plowed earth on the nearby farms. To touch the forest trees that had been my refuge since childhood.
That was the day I met Nicholas. He'd been passing through from here to there and had stopped to water his horse. He sat on the river bank, twisting a reed between his fingers and whistling a familiar tune.
I stood behind a tree, the lyrics a neighbor had taught me dancing through my head. It was a song of love and joy and freedom. I stepped from my hiding spot and added my words to his melody.
He turned, but he didn't stop whistling. Instead, a smile spread across his weather-beaten face and the tune grew louder. He patted the ground beside him, and I joined him.
“I'm Nicholas,” he said.
“Rose.”
He resumed whistling, and other than my voice blending with his, those were the only words spoken between us. From the songs he chose, I learned he was kind. From the way he touched my hand, I learned he was gentle. From the sword at his side and the scars on his cheek, I learned he was a warrior. Maybe, just maybe...
Edmund's witch found me using the locator spells she'd woven into the threads of my gowns. When she saw Nicholas and I together, she pointed a sparking finger at him. Thick reeds snaked around Nicholas's legs, pinning him to the ground. With a cackle that turned my stomach, she ensnared my wrists with invisible rope and yanked me to my feet. I spat in her face.
“He's not happy that his little rabbit tried to run off again,” she said.
As she jerked me forward, I looked back over my shoulder. “Nicholas.”
“Rose.” He tugged at the reeds.
I dug my feet into the ground, straining to break free and run to him. Then sparks from my bindings singed the skin around my wrists and I faltered. Fell.
The witch dragged me all the way back to Edmund.
***
The tower is cold. The tower is bare. The tower is my prison. I am not allowed to leave, except to visit my husband's bed chamber, which I never willingly do.
I risk the stairs though, every morning, to sit at the window and watch for Nicholas. If I squint hard enough, I can see the road that comes out of the forest. Every few days, I see him atop his horse wearing his red jerkin and blue breeches. I whisper his name. Urge him to see me.
Edmund and the witch know, but so far, they've done nothing to prevent this small rebellion. I can't escape. The ground is too far away to hazard a jump, and there is nothing in my tower that will help me ease my way down the wall. I'm stuck.
Getting to the window is hard work though. Avoiding a step here, taking a shock there. Once a vine snaked up around my ankles, trapping me just in front of my door. They left me there for three days as a lesson.
Guess I never learned it, because today I make my way down to the window once more. As I round the corner, treading carefully across the worn stone of the fifteenth step, I notice something is off. A shadow moves against the wall. Someone is at the window. I freeze, motionless, breathless.
And he whistles. A song of love and joy and freedom.
I step forward and melt my voice with his. I don't question how he got there, but I am grateful my Nicholas has found me.
After the song, he takes me in his arms and kisses me, soft and passionate, so unlike Edmund I begin to cry.
“Rose,” he whispers as he dries my tears with his gloved thumb.
“Yes.” It's an answer to every question he could possibly ask. Take me away. Show me...everything.
But, he doesn't. He simply sits down on the window ledge and starts whistling again.
I don't understand. I look out the window and see nothing remarkable. How did he get up here?
But then I look to the road and see a man riding on a horse, wearing a red jerkin and blue breeches. My gaze snaps to the man beside me. His eyes are vacant. His smile - meaningless. He's a shell, as real as a ghost.
“How?”
Below us, just around the corner in the shadows, comes a cackle. I feel sick. My one place of hope in my tower, and she's tainted it.
Tears sting my eyes as I start up the stairs.
The man follows me, grabs my shoulder. “Rose?” He kisses my neck, my cheek, erasing the tears.
For a moment, I waver. He's made of magic. Horrible, evil magic. But even so, I can imagine my days sitting at the window with him, allowing him to kiss me, feeling something other than hatred. But when I see the real Nicholas riding down the road, oblivious to my entrapment, I realize the truth. Edmund has won. Whether by force or by illusion, he will always win.
I will never leave this tower.
The man kisses my arm, and my heart leaps with something I don't want. I pull away.
***
The next time I see that man at my window, I jump.