And he is gone as suddenly as he appeared. I cannot even see where he went. I run to the window to try to find him, but I only see the orange sun, hurting my eyes. When I turn back, they burn so much that they fill with tears.
I sink onto the golden floor. It is so hard, and I remember the story of King Midas, who turned everything he touched into gold only to find it gave him no happiness. The barn floor is cold and hard, uninviting. Still, I curl up on it and fall asleep.
7
“What is this?” A voice wakes me. “She’s done it? Is it true? Go and tell His Highness and the king.”
I do not, cannot stir. Too tired. Also, the voice is not the one I want. Not Karl! I barely hear the barn door slam before I go back to sleep.
“My darling! Wake up!”
It’s him! This time, it is him. My eyes flutter open. Is my hair neat enough? I feel a bit sick, as it is morning, but it is Karl! Karl, leaning over me!
“I did not believe it possible,” he says. “Why did you not tell me of your wonderful talent before?”
“Are you the only one who can have secrets?” But the golden light assaults my eyes, and again, they well with tears. I turn away and see men, burly men with wheeled carts, already hauling the gold away.
“Father is so happy, my darling!” Karl’s hand is upon my shoulder, and I try again to look at him. Again, my eyes ache. I reach up and draw him toward me.
“Are you happy, my love?” Over Karl’s shoulder, I notice more men, this time bringing something in. Straw. More straw for the animals, of course.
“Of course I am happy, my love.” He kisses me and holds me so tight I can feel his heartbeat. “There is only one thing.”
I twist away from him. I do not want one thing. I have had enough of things. When someone says, only one thing, it is never a pleasant thing!
“Well, uh, Father wondered if, perhaps, you could do it again.”
Behind him, the four bearlike men are still hauling away the gold while the other men bring in straw, more straw, mountains of straw.
“Again?” The dust from the straw—or possibly the gold—sticks in my windpipe, making it impossible to swallow, nearly impossible to speak. Finally, I choke out, “Why?”
He smiles his glorious smile and squeezes my hand in his. “It is just . . . I am so proud of you, darling. Your ability is so wonderful, so astounding, not at all what is expected from . . .” He stops speaking.
“From a commoner? From a miller’s daughter?”
“No!” He shakes his head. “No, not that. From anybody. To have such an ability, it boggles the mind. Father has told all our guests about it, and they do not believe him. So he thought to have you do it again, show our guests the straw and then, in the morning, the gold.”
“That makes sense . . . I suppose.” But I have no abilities, none at all. What if his father’s request is merely a trick to reveal that? And what if the little man does not come back?
“Of course it makes sense.”
“Of course.” I want to run away, to go home even to face my father’s wrath. I say to Karl, “Of course. But since I have done your father’s bidding, must I be a prisoner here?” It is bold, but I have no choice.
Karl raises his eyebrows and furrows his fine, high brow. “You have never been a prisoner, my love.”
“I have. I am. Your father did not believe me. He threw me into this barn to trap me into it.”
“No, my darling. No.”
I continue. I need to get my belongings and the mirror. After all, I cannot spin straw into gold, and what if Kendra forgets me this night?
“Please, may I return to my room and tidy myself? I want to look pretty for you. And I need my belongings. Perhaps we can read the book you sent me. I brought it with me.”
Behind me, a rope of gold drops with a thud, and Karl’s fine face is blank with confusion. “Book? What book?”
“The history book, of course. The one you sent me when first we met.” Is it possible he does not remember? Has he been sending presents to milkmaids and shepherdesses and miller’s daughters across the land, to such a degree that he does not recall them all?
But no, there is light in his eyes. “Oh, of course. The history book. It is in your bedroom, you say? Of course I can retrieve it for you.”
“Can I not go outside then?” I feel, again, as though the dust from the straw is choking me. “I am your beloved, am I not?”
“Yes, my love.” Karl leans over to kiss my forehead. “Try to get some sleep. You look frightfully tired.”
“I am. And hungry. I need to eat and drink, but especially, I need my belongings.”
“I will get them.”
And then he is gone. I walk over to the side of the barn that is already filled with straw, more straw than the previous night, away from the workers who are hauling away the gold. I wonder what it would be like to be a worker, a man, free to do what he pleases, instead of a woman trapped—literally trapped—in a barn and in my life, trapped with a baby, my only hope to be made a wife.