Beauty and the Beast: Part II
Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the load boom of thunder. Belle pulled the hood of her cloak down in front of her, trying to keep the pouring rain from blowing in her face. Her father had a hand held above his eyes and was squinting, trying to make out the road ahead through the sheet of rain blowing around them. They could barely see a hundred metres in front of them. Belle supressed a shiver as the wind picked up, blowing her cloak around her. She adjusted so that she was sitting on her cloak to keep it from whipping around, but that left her sitting on damp fabric.
“Where is that inn,” Maurice mumbled to himself, barely audible over the sounds of the raging storm. “I was certain there was one around here last time I came this way.”
“Maybe there’s a road sign that will point us in the right direction,” Belle said, although she knew there was likely little truth to come of her statement. She hadn’t seen a single sign for the past hour. She had also noticed that the condition of the road had only worsened the farther they travelled. At first the road had been fairly well-maintained, covered in wheel ruts but relatively smooth. Now the road was a giant patch of holes with foot-tall grass encroaching from the sides. It seemed as though no one had travelled this way in months or had not bothered to keep the road in good repair. She suspected they had taken a wrong turn after the storm had set in, but she didn’t want to say anything. Her father would know what he was doing.
The cart bounced up and down as it drove through another patch of holes, and Belle found her teeth chattering both from the motion and the cold. She saw a particularly large hole, one her father missed in his attempt to see beyond the sheet of rain, and had to grab onto her seat as they dipped into it. She was glad she did as a loud crack split the air and the cart tilted to one side. Her father nearly tumbled from his seat and she only managed to keep from falling over by tightening her grip on the seat. The horse let out a distressed neigh as it found the cart unwilling to follow, forcing it to come to a stop. Her father cursed under his breath and jumped from his seat to examine the damage. Belle soon followed.
Soon as she drew close enough to see through the rain, Belle knew that the front axle was broken. The wood had snapped and splintered, and the left wheel had fallen right off. They didn’t have the tools or material to repair it, and neither were strong enough anyway to do it in the pouring rain without help. Maurice tried to lift the wheel back up and nearly threw out his back. Letting out a sigh of resignation, he walked over to the horse and unbridled him. “It looks like we have no choice but to abandon the cart for now until we can get some supplies to fix it. Philippe should be able to carry us both for a few more kilometres.”
A faint flicker of light in the distance caught Belle’s attention. She watched it closely, noting how it flickered. The light of a fire, most likely. Pointing towards it, she said, “Father, what about that light over there? There might be someone who can help.”
Maurice squinted to see through the rain and nodded his head as he spotted the light. “You may be right. Let’s go see if they can help us.”
The two set off towards the light, with Maurice leading Philippe beside him. They found themselves passing through a steel gate, swinging back and forth in the wind. A cobblestone courtyard greeted them, empty except for an moss-covered fountain and a large rosebush. As they entered the courtyard, the rain calmed down enough to get a full look at the sight before them. A large manor, an ancient building that resembled the castles of old, stood before them. The stone walls were well worn and the roof seemed to be missing patches. Half the windows were missing glass or shutters. An ornate wooden door stood at the top of a curved staircase, worn down by the weather and looking as though someone had chipped away at it. Her father tied Philippe to a stair banister to keep him from wandering off and then approached the rose bush.
“It’s amazing how a marvelous flower like this can bloom in such an inhospitable place,” Maurice said, delicately touching a blood red petal of one of the roses. A pleasant floral scent wafted from the bush, making Belle feel calm. She had always loved the scent of roses. It reminded her of her mother, although she was uncertain why.
Smiling up at his daughter through the rain, Maurice said, “Would you like a rose for the trip home? I know you always like me to bring you a rose when I go out on my travels.”
The rose bush was practically overflowing with fresh blooms, so one missing would likely not be noticed. “If you insist, Father.” Belle’s father plucked a rose loose and stuck it in his belt for now.
They ascended the steps and Maurice reached for a rusty doorknocker. He gave the door three sharp raps. They heard not a sound from within, but the door creaked open after the last knock. “Hello, is anyone there?” Maurice said through the open door, glancing within. When no one answered, he stuck his head inside. “Our cart broke down on the road and we were hoping someone could help us. If you could help us fix our cart or give us a place to stay the night, we’d be ever so grateful.”
A minute passed and no answer was forthcoming. Maurice pushed the door open a tad more and stepped inside. Belle reluctantly followed. There was a sense of foreboding in the air she couldn’t quite explain. “Father, I think we should go back to the cart.”
“Nonsense,” Maurice said. “We just need to find the master of the house.”
Belle’s father took her hand and guided her into the manor. The entrance hall was vast, filled with numerous doors leading to other parts of the castle and lined by a balcony overhead. A marble staircase led to the second floor. It would have been a grand sight if not for the state of disrepair. Furniture was strewn about and tattered tapestries hung on the wall. The fine rug they walked on was nearly threadbare and had holes in it. It felt colder inside than outside, although at least here they were sheltered from the rain.
Maurice led her towards another room, one where the glow of firelight could be seen. There was no one inside, but a warm fire burned in a grand fireplace. A cozy-looking armchair sat near the fire, lined in velvet with engraved wooden armrests. They scurried over to the fire, basking in the welcome warmth of the flames. Perhaps they could at least dry off before venturing back into the storm if their unknown host did not appear.
As the two warmed their hands by the fire, the only warning Belle had that someone had entered the room they were in was an almost feral-like growl. Her and her father spun around, expecting to see a wild animal but instead came face to face with a grizzly young man. He wore the raiment of a noble, but they were torn and ripped in places. Long brown hair flowed down from his head, mixing with a bushy beard that took up most of his face. He glared at them with piercing blue eyes, seeming almost as deadly as the sword at his waist. “What are you doing in my home?”
Maurice stepped in front of his daughter, trembling slightly. “We did not mean to intrude. Our cart broke down just outside your manor and we saw your fire. We were hoping there was someone here who could assist us or give us shelter for the night. We’d be ever so grateful if you could help us.”
“You trespass on my lands and then make demands of me,” the beastly man said with a grimace. “Begone from this place before I lose my patience.”
Belle’s father stuttered, trying to find the words he needed. Before he could, the young nobleman spotted the rose Maurice had tucked into his belt for later. “You dare steal from me!” His hand snatched the rose from Maurice’s belt. When Belle’s father went to snatch it back as a reflex, the noble’s other hand whipped forward and grabbed him by the wrist. “In olden days, they would have your hand for such thievery.”
“Monsieur, I meant no offence,” Maurice said. “We’ll be on our way and leave you in peace.”
“No,” the beastly man said, wrenching Maurice’s arm and forcing him to his knees. “You trespass and then steal from me, and thus you must be punished. You are to be my prisoner for as long as I see fit.”
“You cannot do this,” Belle’s father pleaded. “This is not lawful. This is not just. I shall return the rose, but please just let my daughter and I go. We meant you no harm.”
“Lawful? Just?” the noble said, almost laughing with each word, the rose falling forgotten from his hand. “Was it lawful when hordes of peasants raped and pillaged my father’s lands, raided this castle, and then murdered him within these walls, all in the name of some ridiculous revolutionary principles? Was it just when I returned after all these years only to find my lands and wealth stolen and those in power uncaring of my plight? There is no law or justice in this world other than that which we make for ourselves.”
Belle, who had stood back in shock the entire time, finally regained her senses enough to intervene. She threw herself at the man, trying to tear her father from his grasp. He pushed her aside with a brush of his shoulder. “You have trespassed as well and should be punished.”
Tears were forming in the corner of Maurice’s eyes. “No, please, let her go. She is still a girl. I stole the rose, not her. Just let her go.”
The man looked back and forth between them, scowling at them both. “True, you are more to blame, but she has trespassed as well.”
Belle could not bear to lose her father like this. She felt so powerless, at the mercy of this madman. She tried to lunge at him to get her father free, but he held her back with a single hand. Seeing the fear in her father’s eyes, she knew what she had to do. She stopped struggling and said, “Take me as your prisoner and let him go. He picked the rose for me and I was the one that said we should come here looking for help. Let him go and I’ll stay in his place.”
Hearing her words, Maurice tried pull her away from the man, but the noble kept a tight grip on both of them. “No, Belle, don’t do this.”
“I can’t let him hurt you, Father,” Belle said. She looked up at the beastly man, letting his piercing blue eyes boar into her. “Please, let him go, I beg of you.”
The nobleman’s expression relaxed. “You would willingly take his place?”
Belle’s eyes were watering, but she would not let this man see her cry. “I’d do anything for him.”
The beastly noble let out a grunt and said, “Then it is done. You shall serve as my prisoner for your father’s crimes.”
“No, you cannot do this!” Maurice said as the noble grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the door. With a single heave, he tossed Belle’s father out into the rain.
“Do not come back or you might never see your daughter again,” the noble said with deathly seriousness. Maurice struggled to rise to his feet and get back to the door, but the man slammed it in his face. Belle’s father banged on the door for a minute, but the sound died down as he realized he would not be let back in.
As silence returned, the noble sped towards Belle and grabbed her by the wrist. She gasped and tried to break free, but his grip was like iron. He tugged her along behind him, guiding her up the stairs. She nearly tripped a few times, but a hard tug on her arm kept her going. She supressed a whimper as she started to realize the direness of her situation. What did this man intend to do with her? She had only thought of her father’s fate back downstairs, but now she had to think of her own. Did he intend to take her honour? Men had directed lewd gazes her way over the years, so she knew she had been the object of desire for many. She prayed this man did not intend to abuse her that way.
They eventually reached a wooden door at the far end of the castle at the top of one of the castle’s few towers. The noble swung it open and tossed her through the doorway. She stumbled and fell against a plump bed. She spun around, only to see her captor glaring at her from the doorway. “These are to be your quarters. You are not to leave them without my permission. Are we clear?”
Belle said nothing, glaring at him in defiance. He did not step further into the room, and she was grateful for that.
“Are we clear?” he said again.
Belle didn’t answer this time either. With a scowl, the nobleman slammed the door and she heard the click of a lock. His footsteps echoed off into the distance. She waited a few minutes, expecting him to return, but he never did. She was alone, all alone. She sat down on the edge of the bed, letting all her pent-up emotions out at once, and cried.