LITMIR.BIZ

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to him. Both of Beauty’s brothers had told her countless tales of the young and innocent women he had taken to the castle. Wild stories of young girls who were both scared and scarred when they were finally returned, battered and bruised, and they also spoke of bastard children left to starve or to scratch out life as just another peasant.

      The most frightening stories Beauty had heard were of the girls who never returned at all. There had been too many of them since the Beast had come to be the lord of the land. Some of the village girls had run away, to be sure, but others certainly had not.

      There were reports of mangled bodies found in ditches by the roadside or deep in the woods. They had been slaughtered, bloodied and broken before being left to rot. The corpses showed signs of great violence: Bruises, broken bones, rope burns and a multitude of knife wounds. Beauty knew of at least six young girls who had been found murdered in the last five years, all since the Beast had come to rule the castle. More were missing and never to be found.

      Beauty even personally knew of a lass named Molly, no older than herself, who came back from a night in the castle after being beaten so severely that she’d been left crippled. Although she never spoke of what happened to her, it was widely known that she was taken to the castle by the order of the Beast. Molly later found out she was pregnant. In desperation, the lass had killed herself and the babe within her. Beauty’s older brother had been fond of Molly, had even thought of taking the girl as his wife.

      Beauty sighed as she leaned on her crude hoe and rubbed the small of her back with one dirty hand. She paused, exhausted from the sheer drudgery of planting even a small vegetable garden in the rock hard clay, and reflected on the turn her family’s fortunes had taken. Once, Beauty and her family had lived a truly happy life and the future stretched out in front of them like a jewel just waiting to be picked up.

      Now her father was dead and her older brother worked in the stables at the castle, slaving for the same man he held accountable for so much grief, both for his own family and for the rest of the villagers. He truly believed the Beast to be a monster. The monster who was responsible for poverty and desperation in the village, his own family’s downfall, and so many serf girls’ bloody and violent deaths.

      Tom despised the Beast with his entire being and hated working in the monster’s castle but he well knew he had no choice in the matter. His family needed his meagre wages, along with the small amount they made from the crops that Beauty and his younger brother Nate worked so hard to eke from the land on their pitifully sparse farm.

      Now, because their father was dead and their lives so filled with despair, their mother, once a beautiful and joyful woman was wasting away, desperately ill in her heart and mind.

      For the sake of his family, Tom had swallowed his hatred and his need for revenge and taken the lowly job. Every instinct he possessed, to the deepest corner of his soul called for him to avenge the wrongs done both to his family and to the lass, Molly. Only the knowledge that to do so would not only further endanger his remaining family but also bring about their total ruination, stayed his hand.

      At times, Tom hated himself, believing himself to be a weakling and a coward for not seeking his vengeance, but to Beauty he was a true hero for putting his family’s survival above his thirst for vengeance. Beauty well knew Tom still held need for that revenge in his heart, only waiting until the right time to strike out and destroy the Beast. She feared the day when Tom’s threadbare patience was finally worn through, when his iron control was shattered beyond all endurance. She feared that day for she knew its mark would mean the end of her brother’s life.

      Beauty returned to her chore, bending her back into the slow, painful job of breaking up the hard clay sod with the hoe, reaching down occasionally to pull up a particularly tough weed. Hearing a faint cry in the distance, she looked up from her toil and saw her younger brother, Nate, running toward her through the fields. She smiled, watching the lad of fourteen years run with all the boundless energy of youth but when he stumbled and almost fell, Beauty knew at once, somewhere deep within herself, that there was grave trouble running along with him.

      “Beauty!” Nate was gasping from his desperate run, tears streaking his freckled face. “Tis awful! The Beast is going to hang Tom!”

      “What?” Beauty shrieked. “Nate, quickly tell me what’s happened.”

      “The Beast has learned that someone’s been stealing from the grain in the barn. Two of the stable lads were accused and the Beast couldn’t decide which was guilty, not that he tried very hard.” Nate took a deep breath, trying to choke down his tears. “Beauty, he’s already had them both beaten and whipped to bloody pulps. Now they say he plans to hang them both from the castle gates at sundown.”

      “No!” Beauty’s soul seemed to shatter within her and she screamed the single word as she dropped to the stony ground, sobbing.

      “I’ve got to save him!” Nate choked out, his young chin trembling as he struggled to hold back tears. “Beauty, I have got to, but how?”

      Instinctively, Beauty knew Nate had no chance at all of saving Tom. Terrified and grief-stricken, she tried to think. Before long, a faint thought came to her and a frightening plan formed in the back of her befuddled brain. She worked almost desperately to think of another plan. She tried to hide from the very idea, tried not to hear her innermost soul whispering the plan to her, but she knew deep in her heart there was only one chance to save Tom.

      All her fears seemed to crowd at her, like a pack of wolves circling a spring lamb, and she wondered if she had the necessary nerve to follow through with her plan. She would need all the courage she could muster to do what had to be done but she could see no choice, no other course of action.

      “No!” Beauty said firmly, gripping her younger brother’s arms. “There is no chance. You cannot hope to save him, but mayhap I can. Go to our mother. Stay with her and comfort her. However this ends, she will truly need both your strength and your support.”

      “But Beauty, what will you do?” Nate sobbed, fearing the worst. “The Beast will never listen to you! He’ll kill you… or worse.”

      “I have to try,” Beauty said, her voice sounding strangely calm in spite of the terror beating like a second heart in her breast. “It would kill Mother if Tom were to be hung. Go to her, Nate, and pray. Pray very hard for Tom and for me.”

      “Beauty, you cannot go to the Beast. He’ll rape and murder you and still hang Tom,” Nate sobbed, giving voice to his inner fears.

      “Mayhap Nate, but he would certainly murder you and still hang Tom. I have the better chance,” Beauty said sternly. “Remember how desperate this is; without Tom, you and our mother would surely starve. I have to go save not only Tom but all of you. Now honour my wishes and give me a kiss before you go to tend to our mother.”

      When the boy opened his mouth to speak again, Beauty stopped him. “Promise me that you will not attempt to interfere or to rescue me, else what I am doing will be for naught, and the three of you will surely die along with me.”

      The boy flung himself into his sister’s arms and both stood locked together for a long, timeless moment before he kissed her cheek and reluctantly left, headed for their primitive hut.

      Beauty took a few seconds, drawing several deep breaths and watched Nate run home. She spent the brief time gathering her wits and courage before she resolutely began the long hike to the castle. She did not even think to take time to wash her face or to change into a clean, more flattering dress. In truth, if she had taken the time to do so, her meagre courage would have deserted her completely.

      An all too short time later, she stood at the huge, wooden castle gate fearfully asking the fierce, grizzled soldier who stood guard there for a word with the Beast.

      The guard leered as he looked Beauty over, noting her bulky, shapeless form and the dirt covering her hair, face and dress. “His strumpets dinna usually come here unless they’ve been dragged here. As a rule, they’re brought here with their hands tied behind their back and their shoddy clothes ripped almost completely off. Unless they’ve been tightly bound and gagged, the dirty

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