Spin: Rumpelstiltskin Retold

Part 5

FIVE

A rabbit hopped across the path, and Lubos found himself reaching for his bow out of habit. By the time he nocked an arrow to the string, though, the creature had vanished. It was for the best, he mused, for he was not truly on the road between castles at the moment. If he were, the rabbit would be a welcome addition to the evening stewpot, but if he brought it back to Lord Bachmeier's kitchen, it would surely be wasted, for the man kept a fine table already. Just looking at his four plump daughters could have told Lubos that.

There must be something wrong with him that such examples of beautiful womanhood did nothing for his libido. But his father's vassals were determined to get a betrothal out of him, so he returned home with a bride.

Another rabbit hopped past, slower this time. Lubos pulled out his bow and managed to fire before the creature disappeared, but all he hit was grass.

He cursed. Unlucky in love, and unlucky in hunting. He could do little to improve the first, but the second was within his power. Lubos emptied his quiver, setting the arrows point-first into the ground at his feet. He surveyed his surroundings, and settled on a tree fifty yards away to be his target.

Lubos let the first arrow fly, followed by the rest, before going to retrieve them and try again. He hit the tree more times than he missed, but he could improve. He could.

He fired arrow after arrow all afternoon, until his arms ached and his sweat-drenched tunic stuck to him in the unseasonable spring heat.

His desire to find the stream's source redoubled, and he packed away his bow and arrows so that he might take the mountain track higher still.

A trickling waterfall seemed to be the source of the stream's flow, and he stopped to cup his hands beneath it. He brought the water to his lips and drank. But instead of the pure, sweet water he'd tasted in the lower reaches, this had the distinct taint of something like soap.

Lubos spat it out and wiped his mouth. Had he climbed the mountain in search of pure water, only to find a washerwoman at work? Even now, luck eluded him. He would have to climb higher to find what he sought.

The path curved away from the waterfall, and Lubos took it. He rounded a particularly large boulder and found himself in a positively enchanted clearing, where dappled sunlight filtering through the trees glittered on the surface of a deep pool. A pool with no sign of washerwomen or their work.

Lubos edged closer, until he was near enough to cup his hands and drink. The freezing water numbed his hands, but it tasted so fresh he had to drink more. A sound from below drew his attention, and he peered down the slope.

Ah, he'd thought there was only one pool, when there were actually three. The lowest pool had clothes laid out on the rocks to dry, but there was no one in sight. Perhaps the washerwoman would return?

Lubos paused for a moment. Reaching the third pool would require climbing down rocks. He'd do it, and he could see adventurous youngsters doing it, but a weary wife, burdened with a bag of laundry? He hadn't met a woman yet who wanted to make her work harder.

So he climbed down, determined to satisfy his curiosity, even if he had to wait all day for the washerwoman's return. Either the clothing belonged to a remarkable woman indeed, or there was an easier path he couldn't see from up here.

"Where did you come from?" an imperious voice demanded.

Lubos lost his grip and slid down the last few yards. Thankfully, he managed to land mostly on his feet before he whirled to face his interrogator.

For a moment, he didn't even see her, until he looked down. One of the creamy underdresses was...occupied.

The girl sat up and folded her arms across her breasts. A good thing, too, for the fine linen showed more of them than was decent. "How did you get here?" she demanded.

Lubos had to open and close his mouth several times before his voice came out. "From...from the road from the castle. Lord...Lord..." He couldn't for the life of him remember the man's name, and the more he stared at the girl's dark hair, blowing free in the breeze, the less he could think of anything but her.

"You came from Lord Bachmeier's castle? One of his new labourers, I imagine, as you can't even remember his name. Did he send you with a message for the miller? I'll take it, but next time, you should go straight to the house. No one is to touch the millponds without the miller's permission."

Lubos stared at her outstretched hand, trying to work out what she wanted him to place in her palm.

"Did Lord Bachmeier send you?" she repeated.

He fixed his gaze on her gown, stretched out on a rock. It was as fine as those worn by any of Bachmeier's daughters, though she didn't look anything like them. Her hard curves were half the size of their soft ones, and her dark hair and eyes were midnight to the daughters' cloudy morning light. Exotic. Irresistible. Like no woman he'd ever seen before. And wearing nothing but a shift, as if she wanted to tempt him.

"He must have known I would come here. Made sure you were waiting for me. I must say, if you are the woman he had in mind to warm my bed, Lord Bachmeier's hospitality has definitely improved beyond measure," Lubos said, taking a step toward her.

She was nimbler than he expected, leaping to her feet. In three strides, she was close enough to snatch up her gown and use it to cover her shift.

"The only bed I'll warm is my own, and Bachmeier knows that well," she said with a dangerous glint in her eye. "If he sent you to make trouble for me, then he must truly hate you. A man with no honour, who has not even the courtesy to turn his back when he stumbles across a woman in a state of undress...perhaps this is the first time I will share Bachmeier's opinion."

A washerwoman with a fine gown, so close to the manor house by the mill...this was the miller's wife. And he'd just treated her like a common harlot.

Feeling his face grow hot, Lubos bowed low. "Forgive me, Mistress Miller. I was struck dumb by your beauty." He kept his eyes firmly on the ground at his feet.

"Dumb means you cannot talk. You may have a problem with your tongue, but that is not it," she said gently. "You are new here, so I will forgive you this once, farm boy, as long as you do not say such things again."

Farm boy? Lubos almost laughed, then realised she had based her assessment on his clothes. If he told her who he truly was...

Then she would be less forgiving, for a prince should know better.

"Thank you, mistress," he said.

He waited, but received no response. Finally, he lifted his head, only to find the girl had gone. She'd dressed and disappeared. Leaving nothing behind.

Something blew from behind him, and he reached out instinctively to catch it. It was a piece of bark, bleached in the sun until it was as pale as parchment. But it wasn't the bark that held his attention. It was the sketch on it. A few lines, scrawled in charcoal, but he could clearly make out the shape of the waterwheels below, connected to what looked like a spindle and distaff. Her work, it must be...

Tucking the piece of bark inside his tunic, he began to make his way back to Bachmeier's castle. But he saw nothing of the road, no matter how many rabbits hopped across his path. All his vision was occupied by a pair of glittering dark eyes that belonged to the miller's wife.