The Curse of Gold Read online

  The Curse of Gold

  A Short Retelling of Rumpelstiltskin

  A.G. Marshall

  Avanell Publishing

  Contents

  The Curse of Gold

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  The Curse of Gold

  It started on my thirteenth birthday. A tingling in my fingers that grew more and more unbearable throughout the day. I ignored it and tucked my hands into my apron pocket so I wouldn’t touch anything. I pretended everything was fine even though Da was giving me sideways glances like he was waiting for me to sprout wings.

  The tingle turned to burning so fierce I was sure I’d ignite whatever I touched. I gritted my teeth and wiped my tears away with my sleeve.

  “Just do it, Emily,” Da said. “Ye can’t fight it.”

  I fought for another hour before it became unbearable. The magic demanded to be used, and I searched the house for the least flammable thing I could find. I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against the rough stone wall of our cottage. Magic trickled out, and my fingers cooled until they felt like my own again.

  “Glory be,” Da breathed.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the wall. Two handprints made of gold dust shimmered on the rocks. I clasped my hands behind my back as if hiding them could hide the truth of my new power. The gold flickered in the firelight, glowing nearly as red as my hair.

  Da rubbed his finger along the wall, caressing the gold with a fond light in his eyes. He didn’t bother to collect the dust. We both knew there would be more.

  His smile said all his troubles were over, but I knew mine were just beginning. My worst fears had been confirmed.

  My mother was fae. Probably a leprechaun since I had received the golden touch, but I didn’t know enough about the fae to say for sure. That explained why she had disappeared so suddenly. Fae were tricky like that.

  When I was small, I dared to hope she had simply been flighty. That she had run off with the butcher or baker or candlestick maker and left me to fend for myself.

  But she had left me much more than that.

  That day, I clung to the hope that the first time would be the worst. That I could learn to control my powers. But the burning only grew stronger over the next few months. Whatever magic made fae so capricious hated being held captive in human hands. I understood now why fae always left. I wanted to run and never look back.

  But where could I go? The magic wanted out, and it manifested in gold. I couldn’t risk showing that to strangers. The gleam in my father’s eyes was bad enough.

  By the time I turned sixteen, the burning was so fierce I didn’t dare leave the house for fear I would accidentally turn something or someone to gold.

  It was around then that the cat came. I don’t remember him arriving. One day I simply realized there was a cat in the house, and I had the strange feeling he had been there for some time.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked.

  He just stared at me with bright green eyes that matched my own. Other than his eyes, he was not a particularly attractive cat. His fur was gray and matted, and his bony tail had a crook at the end.

  I pulled on the doorknob which had long since turned to gold.

  “Go,” I said. “It’s not safe for you here.”

  As my powers grew, I had progressed from coating things with dust to turning them into gold. Our cottage looked like the palace of a very eccentric king or a very incompetent goldsmith. Our tin plates and wooden spoons and rough stone walls had all been subjected to the curse over the years. There was enough gold that Da quit working as a woodcutter and supported us by selling golden items in the capital city every few months.

  The cat yawned as if none of this mattered.

  “I mean it,” I said, fighting back tears. “Get out! I’m dangerous!”

  He finally took the hint and sauntered towards the door. When he got close enough, he crouched and leaped into my arms.

  I caught him by reflex and screamed. What had I done?

  Except I hadn’t done anything. The cat purred and settled into my arms.

  I ran a trembling hand over his fur. Nothing happened.

  “It doesn’t affect you.”

  The cat gazed at me with narrowed eyes as if he had known this all along, and I was very stupid for not knowing it as well.

  I was too happy to care. I set him by the fire and rested my hands on the table to ease the burning. The magic left golden handprints on the wood. It took longer to turn large things to gold, and the table still had some wooden surfaces left.

  When Da returned from the city, I ran to him and hugged him. He stiffened, and for a moment I thought I had made a horrible mistake. That I had turned him to gold after all.

  Then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back.

  “What possessed you to do that, Emily? You could have turned me to a statue!”

  I shook my head.

  “I won’t, Da. I held the cat, and it didn’t hurt him.”

  “The cat?”

  He blinked at the mangy creature sleeping by the fireplace.

  “I don’t think my powers affect living things.”

  “You don’t think? I’ll thank you not to risk my life on hunches.”

  “Da, what’s wrong?”

  He held up the golden spoon he had taken to the capital city to sell. It was snapped in half, showing that it was still made of wood in the center.

  “This is what’s wrong, Em. They nearly threw me in prison for trying to pass this off for solid gold when it’s only plated.”

  “I never said it was solid.”

  “I don’t suppose ye could channel those powers into creating coins instead? It’s getting harder and harder to explain why I have spoons made of gold to sell.”

  His hopeful tone annoyed me. There was enough gold in the cottage to support us for years, but Da always wanted more. I slouched by the fire with the cat. He opened his eyes and stared at me with a lazy gaze.

  Da tossed the broken spoon onto the table and joined me by the fire.

  “I’m sorry, Em. We’ll figure this out.”

  “I don’t want to figure this out. I want to be normal again.”

  Human again.

  Da shook his head.

  “This is a blessing, Emily. Don’t you ever forget that. We finally have enough to eat. Once I sell a few more pieces, we’ll have all we need to move somewhere new and live like kings. You can wear fine gowns.”

  “I don’t want gowns.”

  “What about a pet? We can afford to feed one now.”

  He looked at the cat as if he expected gratitude for this offer, but the cat ignored him.

  “Where did that cat come from, anyway?” Da asked. “If you want a pet, I’m sure we can find something better than that.”

  “I like him. I’ll call him Cuartha for his curved tail.”

  The cat glared at me.

  “Ok, maybe not.”

  The cat purred at this. A gravelly, uneven purr that was just as unkempt as the rest of him.

  “If you can’t turn the spoons completely solid, we’d better stick with smaller things,” Da said. “Try this.”

  He picked a piece of dried straw off the floor and handed it to me. I took it and ran my fingers over the surface. It changed to gold, and the burning eased.

  Da reclaimed the straw and tried to snap it in half. It bent in his hands instead. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut through it.

  “Solid gold,” he said with a grin.

  I frowned into the fire.

  Da spent even more time away after that. Probably trying to repair his reputation after being caught selling a plated spoon as solid. I still didn’t dare leave the house, and I could
only pet the cat so many hours a day. The rest of the time, I amused myself trying to guess his name.

  “Crookshanks?” I said.

  No response.

  “Smokey?”

  He twitched an ear.

  “Moggy?”

  The cat hissed at me and stalked to the corner of the room. He twirled around the leg of a spinning wheel.

  My mother’s spinning wheel. It was one of the few memories I had of her. Her spinning wool into yarn by firelight.

  I didn’t have any wool, but Da had brought in a pile of straw for me to turn to gold.

  “We’re almost there, Em,” he said. “Turn this pile of straw to gold, and we’ll have enough.”

  I was beginning to suspect we would never have enough.

  I wrapped my hands in my sleeves and pulled the spinning wheel from the corner. It was filthy, so I dusted it off with a rag. I did my best not to touch it, afraid it wouldn’t work if it turned to gold. Then I took a piece of straw and began to spin.

  My first thread was lumpy and uneven. It kept breaking, so I ended up with short strands rather than a spindle of continuous gold. But I had nothing better to do, so I kept practicing. By the time Da returned from his latest journey, I had spun the whole pile of straw into golden thread.

  “Practically fine jewelry!” he crowed, running the strands between his fingers. “You’ve made our fortune, Em!”

  He bought an even bigger pile of straw, gave me a bag of copper coins in case of emergency, and left to sell the golden thread in the city.

  I spent the next morning spinning. When I had filled a spindle, I hid it under the bed and stared at my hands. I had used more magic spinning than I ever had transforming spoons and rocks. They weren’t burning. I took a deep breath, turned the golden doorknob, and stepped outside.

  It was a short walk to the village, but it seemed like I was traveling to another world. How long had it been since I felt the sun on my face? Since I had heard the birds sing?

  My friends smiled and rushed over to me when they saw me. I told them I had been ill. That Da had been traveling to ask doctors for advice.

  They believed it. Peter said he would have come to visit if he had known. He offered his arm, and we walked through the marketplace together. I had assumed he would forget me, but it seemed my absence only made his heart grow fonder.

  I spun straw every morning and walked with Peter every afternoon. As long as I poured enough magic into the spinning, I could forget I was anything more than human.

  “Why do you keep buying straw?” Peter asked. “You don’t have any animals to feed.”

  “I’m weaving a basket for my cat, but he keeps tearing it up.”

  He laughed.

  “That cat is nothing but trouble. Have you named him yet?”

  “Not yet. Nothing seems to stick.”

  “I made you something.”

  It was a cat carved from wood. I held it for a moment, marveling at the details, then put it in my apron pocket so I wouldn’t turn it to gold. It was worth far more to me as wood.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Peter’s hair was gold like sunlight, and his smile was just as warm. I wondered what he would do if he knew I was half fae. Would he still make me gifts and walk with me through town? Would he fear my magic?

  Or would he grow greedy like Da? Would his eyes light up more at the sight of gold than the sight of me?

  “Is something wrong, Emily?”

  I smiled at him and shook my head. I would have to tell Peter someday. If we were going to have a future, he’d have to know.

  But he didn’t have to know yet.

  “Emily, come out and greet your father! There’s a good girl!”

  Da stood outside the house calling for me. Drunk from the sound of it. I rolled my eyes and flung open the door.

  Soldiers with crossbows stood in formation around the door. They pointed their arrows at me.

  “Da?”

  I put my hand over the doorknob to hide the gold.

  My father stood between two guards. It was hard to tell if they were detaining him or simply helping him stay upright. He gestured to me in a vague way, more inebriated than I had seen him since the day my mother left.

  “That’s my daughter. She’s the one who spins straw to gold.”

  “Da!”

  Yelling at him was the wrong thing to do. The soldiers stiffened as if I had just confirmed Da’s impossible tale.

  I forced myself to step out of the house and closed the door behind me. Maybe I could talk myself out of this. As long as they didn’t see the gold inside our cottage, I still had a chance.

  “I’m sorry about my father,” I said. “He tells crazy stories when he’s drunk. Thank you for bringing him home.”

  “It’s no good, Em,” Da said. “Folk started asking questions about the gold and calling me a thief. I had to tell them the truth to keep out of prison. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t sound sorry at all.

  “Turning straw to gold is impossible.”

  Hints of doubt played across the guards’ faces, and they lowered their crossbows a little. There was still a chance I could talk my way out of this. I just needed-

  “Her mother was fae,” Da said. “Don’t trust a word she says. You know how they lie.”

  The guards raised their crossbows again, and their eyes hardened.

  “It’s no crime,” I said. “Even if my mother was fae, that’s not a crime.”

  “And the gold? Is he telling the truth about that?”

  The captain of the guards held up a familiar spindle of golden thread. I winced, then cursed myself for reacting at all. The captain gestured to his men.

  “Take her.”

  “It’s not a crime!” I said. “Magic is not a crime!”

  “Perhaps not, but cheating the king is.”

  “The king? Da, what have you done?”

  “Nothing, Em, nothing. You’re satisfied, sir?”

  The captain nodded. The guards holding Da upright pushed him forward and reached for me. I struggled, but they locked onto my arms and held tight.

  “Da!”

  I managed to both accuse and beg with that one syllable. Da stumbled and leaned against the house for support.

  “Can’t be helped, Em. You’ll do just fine. I’m the real victim here. I’ll have to go back to work with you gone.”

  He opened the door. The cat rushed out of the house and clawed at the nearest guard’s leg. The man grunted in surprise, then kicked the cat and sent him flying through the air. He hit the house and didn’t get up.

  “No!”

  I shook an arm free and lunged towards the cat. The guard yanked me away and tied my arms behind my back with rope.

  “Da, please!”

  “Gag her as well,” the captain said. “We’ll have no peace with her screaming.”

  They stuffed a rag in my mouth and dragged me down the road. I pretended to behave. We were going towards the village. People would see me. Decent people, unlike my traitor of a father. They would help.

  But when we reached the village, the crowds scattered to make room for the soldiers. I searched the streets, desperate for a friendly face. For someone willing to distract the guards so I could run.

  Finally, I found Peter and willed him to look at me and understand. If he helped me break free, we could run away together. I could support us with spinning. We could build a new life somewhere far from this madness.

  Peter met my gaze for the briefest moment. Then he ducked his head and disappeared into his house.

  I screamed through the gag, desperate to reach him. The guard shook my arm.

  “None of that, miss. They know better than to interfere.”

  We left the village, and not a single person tried to help. I cried until the tears soaked into my gag, and I tasted salt. I cried for Peter and my cat and myself. Gold had cursed us all.

  Anger replaced grief as we walked. There was enough gold in that house
for Da to run away and live comfortably for the rest of his life. As I had no doubt he would. Was this all part of his plan? A way for him to be rid of me and start again on his own?

  But he could have abandoned me without revealing my secret. And if he wanted to betray me, he could have sent guards to fetch me without coming himself. He had been their prisoner before they decided to take me instead.

  What had he possibly done to make the king so angry? What crime had Da committed?

  Because it seemed I was to answer for it.

  “Emily! Welcome!”

  This was not the reception I expected, and it made me nervous. King Banagher beamed at me from his throne, a chair covered with so much gold and jewels it was nearly blinding. The room was full of glittering people in glittering clothes. The only dark spot was Prince Tiergan, who wore unadorned black garments. He sat beside his father looking angry with the world.

  My knees shook as I curtsied. It was possibly the worst curtsy that throne room had ever seen, but King Banagher’s smile didn’t waver.

  “We are so pleased to meet you, Emily. Your father told us a lot about you when he was here.”

  Da had been to the throne room? This just kept getting worse. The courtiers tittered at the memory of whatever Da had done.

  “I’m afraid my father has a tendency to exaggerate, Sire.”

  “Does he now?”

  King Banagher’s expression grew thoughtful. Beside him, Prince Tiergan yawned.

  “I told you that man was a liar. We’re wasting our time with her.”

  The scorn in his grey eyes made me stand a little straighter. I almost admitted to my powers on the spot just to spite him, but instead I bit my tongue and tried to look humble.

  “Your father is a liar or a thief to be sure,” the king said. “But he got that gold from somewhere.”

  “Please, Sire,” I said, “I’ve committed no crime.”

  The king chuckled.

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “But my father-“

  “May very well have told us a tall tale, but I won’t hold that against you. I like the look of you, Miss Emily. I think you’ll do nicely.”