Ashes: A Fairy Tale

By Kathy Sherwood

Once upon a time... a girl in a red cloak is sent by her mother on an errand. Two brothers leave their mother's hut to seek their fortune and find a sugar house. A shepherd boy finds a giant creature while rounding up his missing sheep. A baby boy is predicted to only die from one of three causes: a dog, a snake, or a bear. An undead creature comes face-to-face with a man who has never known fear. A green-eyed nobleman, born after his mother loses a jade ring, disappears from his family once every few months. A dying queen names her infant daughter Albinia for the white snow outside her window.

And more. These fairy tales, both familiar and obscure are retold through the frame narrative of Snow White, Albinia as she's called, and the Seven Dwarves, or kobolds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathy Sherwood
• Release date: Feb 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005193232

Kathy Sherwood

Kathy Sherwood is a writer from Stevens Point, Wisconsin. She recently completed a Master's degree in Communication and still hasn't grasped the notion that school is out.A student and storyteller by nature, she has been writing ever since she could pick up a pen. Her writing "To-Do" list is always impossibly long, and it shows no signs of slowing soon."No Rest: A Noir Collection" is her first book. "Deep in a Glass: Alcoholic Poetry" is her first poetry collection, and one day she will write a book with a simple title.

Book preview

The door slammed open as the King loudly burst into the room, thrusting his blue, snow covered cloak at the nearest servant. He stopped in front of the fire, and turned to both warm his backside and speak to the gentlewoman standing near the door.

How fares the Queen? He asked.

It will be a while yet before the child is born, the Lady answered. It all happens in God’s time.

That’s not what I asked. I said, ‘how fares the queen.’

She’s being very brave, your Majesty. It is difficult, but for a woman who came from such a… station as your wife, childbirth should be no great ordeal.

He gave her a warning look, and rubbed his own backside a little more briskly. I hope her room isn’t as cold as this. I’m only the King, after all, but I should think that the Queen won’t freeze to death in the lying-in chamber.

The rooms are very warm, sire, the Lady said. Don’t worry.

I am the King— I worry. He stepped away from the warmth of the fire. Go back to her and tell her that I will be with her as soon as it is permitted.

My Lord.

****

The Queen bit her lips as another pain wracked her body, and one of her attendants mopped her forehead. Another one offered her a bowl of sweet wine, which, once the contraction had passed, she accepted.

The Lady returned to the smoky room, weaving through the midwife, her helpers, and others in attendance, until she was standing next to the bed. Madame, I have a message from your husband.

Yes, my lady? The Queen asked, handing the wine back to her servant.

He wishes you well and promises to be with you as soon as the child is born.

Yes. The Queen took the bowl again and had another sip of the wine. I hope it will be soon.

The Midwife frowned from the place at the foot of the bed where she had been sitting. Turning around she signaled for one of her attendants to help her up. I don’t like this, she whispered. Make the potion. I think this one has a mind to come out feet-first.

****

Hours passed and the pale day deepened into night. The King sent for word of the Queen and found that they were still waiting for the birth. The various ladies who were in attendance took it in turns to slip out and refresh themselves before going back to offer their support.

****

Yes! The Midwife turned to her nearest attendants. Be ready- make sure the knife is good and hot. The potion worked, your Majesty. Here is the child!

The Queen bit her already bloodied lips again, pushed, and an instant later the cries of the infant filled the air.

Good, good, the older woman slapped the baby’s back. You’ve given the King a princess! A healthy daughter, thank God.

A daughter, the Queen sank down onto her pillows, which were dark with sweat. But I’ve done it at last. A child… someone, please inform the King.

****

The black night was pocked with the still heavy snow, which the king moodily watched by the failing light of his candles. Midnight would be approaching shortly… he smiled to himself at the thought of midnight. Someone pounded on his chamber door, and his blue eyes immediately snapped open.

Come in!

The same messenger from before was admitted. The Queen has borne a daughter, your Majesty.

The King laughed loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

Taken off guard, the Lady stepped back. Will you see her now or wait until morning?

Why would I wait, madam? Take me to her!

The Queen had moved to a clean bed in an airier room, with the windows uncovered. She was very tired but remained awake in anticipation of her husband’s visit. The door opened and the King stepped inside.

How are you, my love? He asked, kissing her gently.

Well enough, she answered. I wish the child was still here. She’ll be very beautiful, I’m sure, even though I cannot really tell yet.

With your blood in her veins, she’d have to be, the King sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. God, you’re cold.

I’m fine. It’s just the night. She looked out at the window. Look at the snow. It’s like the cinders.

That’s all behind you now, Ella. You are my Queen.

She did not appear to hear him and continued speaking. That’s what I want our daughter to be like: black as the night, white as the snow-

She stopped, speaking suddenly to wince in pain. The King looked to her and then jumped up.

My God, you’re bleeding! He tore open the door and shouted out to anyone who might be listening. Get a doctor! Someone, find me a physician!

The sound of hammering footsteps assured him that this task would be obeyed, and he rushed back to the bedside.

Red as blood, said Queen Ella as the King grasped her hand. She’ll be red as blood.

Everything you want. He squeezed her hand then looked over his shoulder. Where in the name of Christ is that doctor?

The doctor came in, still in his night-shirt; he pulled back the blankets and sucked in his air through his teeth. Hemorrhaged. There’s not much I can do.

Do what you can, then, the King said, trying to keep his voice even.

What about our baby? Ella asked.

She’ll be just like you want her, and we’ll make her the happiest child in the kingdom. She’ll dance in your slippers someday.

A smile faintly crossed over her face, My little snow-child.

Somewhere a clock began to chime. The King and his wife silently counted the chimes for as they relentlessly tolled.

Why, it’s midnight, she weakly clasped her other hand to his. I don’t want to leave you again, but I fear I must.

Always at midnight, the King said, through his tears. Oh, God… at least you’re consistent.

He looked down at her and saw that her eyes were closed. She had fainted or died, but he knew in his heart that it was the latter. The King laid her small hands back on the bed.

You can stop now, he said to the Doctor. She’s dead.

Yes, the older man respectfully replaced the nightgown and pulled the bedclothes over the dead woman. She bled to death. It’s not uncommon.

I want none of that now, snapped the King. Damn you all. Damn me, too.

He paused to wipe his eyes, and then began to search the room.

Your Majesty? Someone asked.

I want to find her slippers. I said our daughter would wear them, but I think that she should be the only one, for there’s never been nor ever will be a queen like her… Cinderella.

Flowers for the Queen

When the news of the Queen’s death was announced to the City outside the castle, and the Kingdom beyond, a great sense of mourning followed it.

Though the nobles were not necessarily pleased with the King’s choice of bride, the daughter of a lesser Baron, the people below had been pleased to see someone lower on the ladder reach the crown.

When the funeral was announced, those who had anything to spare, planned to take what they could to the cathedral. The King would appreciate the gesture (some who were lucky might find a place serving him) and whatever was not taken directly by the royalty would be distributed to the poor.

A few miles outside the city lived a Widow and her daughter, Rose. They possessed very little themselves, but many wild flowers and herbs grew around their house, allowing the Widow to make a small living concocting medicines herself, as well as supplying the apothecary. So, she carefully arranged a bouquet of the prettiest flowers and sweetest-smelling herbs that she had tied together for the winter, and tied them together with her only ribbon.

Satisfied with her work, she brushed her daughter’s hair, washed her face, and at last handed her the fragrant gift.

You will take this to the cathedral, my treasure, she said. Take the back path into the city, so no one disturbs you, or our present to the Queen.

I promise, Mama, Rose said.

She opened the door, giving her a kiss. And be careful of thieves. There are always those who will steal anything, even from those who have nothing.

I’ll be careful.

So, Rose carefully left the house, holding the bouquet as if it was a baby. She walked slowly, often stopping to check that nothing was amiss with the flowers. Her pace was so deliberate, and her attention so intent on the safety of her burden that it took her quite a while to realize she was not alone.

Good morning.

The voice made her jump, and she was shocked to see a large Fox’s snout at her elbow.

Where did you come from? She gasped, stumbling away.

Where we all come from, he piously replied, inclining his head. What do you have there, little paws?

Rose wanted to tell him that it was nothing, but she knew the fox wasn’t blind. And even if he was… he possessed a working nose.

They’re flowers. For the funeral.

So, I see. The Fox sniffed the air hungrily. Rosemary. How lovely. Like your cloak.

I must be on my way.

Wait. He stepped on her hem, one of his claws snagging a thread. The city roads are dangerous for a small girl walking alone. And dirty. Let me take the flowers for you.

No. I promised my mother. I’ll take them myself. Besides, you’re smaller than I am.

The Fox laughed and stood on his back legs. No, I’m not. But you may be right. If you take the shortcut ahead, you’ll run right into the royal procession.

Rose slipped around him and managed to run a few yards before the Fox, on all fours once again, was in front of her once again.

You will present the flowers to the King himself. He’s sure to reward us.

Us? She took two steps backward.

The Fox smiled. I will protect you. And it’s only right that you would share, since I was gracious enough to present you with such an opportunity.

That’s not why I’m taking flowers to the cathedral.

Oh, I’m sure your mother left the task to you, hoping that someone would notice you and give you a better life than that of an herbalist.

Rose stopped, wondering if he was right. The Fox nudged her with his snout, making her move to the edge of the road.

She looked down at her bouquet and pulled two sprigs of rosemary and a few yellow flowers free. Here. Take these. Give them to the King yourself.

Then she began to run. Her feet made smacking noises in the mud and muck at the roadside. A few more items fell loose from her bouquet.

Hazarding a glance over her shoulder, she saw the Fox standing still, watching her, ignoring the herbs and flowers on the ground.

Go away, she called to him. I gave you a gift of your own, now leave me alone!

The Fox growled, and she shrieked, tripping over the stump of a hemlock bush, spilling a few more flowers, and scratching her face.

Stupid girl, the Fox snarled. You’ve ruined it. You don’t deserve the chance you’ve been given.

Rose scrambled to her feet. Don’t hurt me.

Seeing his teeth bared under his black lips, she turned and began to run. The hood of her cloak fell across her eyes, but she didn’t stop to move it. She couldn’t tell if the Fox was chasing her, but she couldn’t allow herself a backward glance. Lungs burning with the effort of her sprint, she suddenly found herself in the middle of the road.

Hearing a commotion, she pulled her hood back down and looked up. A surprised horse reared up, and she yelped in surprise. Another rider, dressed in black, quickly pulled her out of harm’s way by the hem of her cloak.

What’s the matter, lass? The rider asked her, now lifting her into the saddle with him.

I was running from the Fox, she explained. He was going to steal from me. And he growled at me.

A Knight on the horse that had nearly trampled Rose suddenly held up the Fox by the tail.

Now caught, the creature put on a simpering air.

Forgive me, he purred.

Thieves always talk too much, the rider in black said, his blue eyes sparking. Don’t you think so?

Yes, your Majesty, the Knight on horse said.

Oh, please, the Fox began, but was unable to finish, for another horseman, perhaps a servant, quickly tied his jaws together with a strip of leather.

The Knight then flung it into the ditch. Rose watched the troublesome little beast slink away, clawing at his gag for a moment before she remembered what the Knight had called the man sharing his horse with her.

She bowed her head and awkwardly held up her somewhat reduced bunch of flowers and herbs. Your Majesty. These are for your… for the-

I understand, the King’s eyes clouded with sadness, as he took and smelled the nearest flower without really comprehending it. We’ll see the bishop places these on the coffin.

Sire? The servant rode closer, hands outstretched. He looked surprised to receive the bouquet.

Here, the King abruptly pulled a pearl button loose from his sleeve and pressed it into Rose’s hand. Then he pointed at the Knight. You. See that she gets home safely.

With a nod, the Knight took her from the King and began to ride in the opposite direction. After a few minutes, she whispered, But I live back there.

Hush,