An Unlikely Friendship

(Image by KRiemer - Pixabay)

She stared at her hands, cracked and dry from being constantly immersed in water. Flinching, she said softly, “Such is the lot of a washerwoman. Mother was one and her mother before her. Why would I have been anything else?” Pressing her scarred hands against her lower back, she tried, in vain, to ease the ache that refused to loosen its grip on her.

The sound of laughter caught her attention. She turned her gaze to the two young women, their hair bound and covered, standing before the washing tubs, splashing one another. A smile graced her thin lips. “My girls, my blessing. This is not the life I wanted for you, washing for others with little thanks. To have you grow old before your time. Your father, goddess rest his daydreaming soul, at least he taught you your letters. Though what good that is, who knows?”

With a sigh, she turned back to her washtub. “No matter. We’ll get by. At least one of us will have better hands.” Her smile widened as she looked up in the direction of the distant forest. “Dear little Meg. I wonder what she’ll surprise us with today.”

“Rest now, Mama. I’ll finish washing these.”

Startled, she looked at the slender young woman at her side. “No, no, my dear. You have your own–”

“I’ve finished my load.”

“Oh, Beth…”

“And I’ll hang them up with my load,” said the second young woman.

The mother smiled at her daughters. “You’re both good girls, you are.”

“We know,” said Beth, giggling as her mother lightly slapped her arm. She steered the older woman to the straight-backed chair at the front of the house. “And see, Gwen’s already put the chair out for you.”

“You can watch for Meg’s return in comfort,” said Gwen.

“Speaking of the little imp…” Beth pointed as a figure came into view, skipping up the path, swinging her basket.

Her hair, in twin braids, bounced lightly on her shoulders as Meg waved to her family. “Mama. Beth, Gwen. See what I found.” Running to her mother, she knelt at her feet. As her older sisters crowded around, she uncovered the basket to reveal plums. Plump, dark purple plums.

“Oh, Meg…” Gwen clasped her hands together, closed her eyes and breathed deep of the sweet aroma.

“Taste one.” Meg held one up to her mother who opened her mouth for Meg to feed her.

The girls laughed as she made delighted noises, the juice dribbling down her chin. “I have never tasted anything so sweet.”

Beth and Gwen quickly reached into the basket to help themselves.

Leaving them to eat their fill, Meg jumped up to take her turn at the washtub. She knew she wasn’t as good as her mother and sisters, but she still helped every now and then. She didn’t wash as much as they did for her specialty was the ability to find berries, fruit and mushrooms in and around the forest. And her mother was happy for her to supplement their meagre meals in this way.

One cool summer day, Meg decided to take the path that skirted the forest. She’d always wondered why people called it a forest. To her, a forest was dark and so filled with trees, it would be easy to lose one’s way. But, despite the number of thick-girthed trees, this area where the trees gathered was bright and open.

The path she was on led to a copse where the hedges never failed to yield raspberries, and she was hopeful. Humming softly, she slowed, noticing movement just inside the treeline. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she made her way closer and gasped, clutching her basket to her chest.

The ugliest little man she’d ever seen was struggling with thick tree roots. It took her a moment to realise his foot was caught and he was trying to free himself.

“What are you looking at, you dim-witted girl?”

Her eyes widened, realising he was staring at her.

“Well?”

With a yelp, she turned and ran for home. But she hadn’t run far before she slowed her pace and stopped. “Why am I running?” she said softly. “I’m acting exactly like a dim-witted girl. Does it matter that he’s ugly? That doesn’t make him bad.”

Ashamed at her reaction, she took a deep breath, turned and retraced her steps.

The little man was still there, huffing and puffing and cursing under his breath. His dark brown skin resembled crumpled leather, and was stark against his snow-white beard, which trailed on the ground.

Meg fidgeted before speaking. “I beg your pardon.”

He stiffened and yelled. “Why are you sneaking about? And what are you begging for?”

“Um… I thought, maybe I could–”

“Speak! I don’t have time for limp, ugly girls.”

Raising her brows, Meg drew herself up and spoke. “Let me help you.”

He exclaimed loudly. “You? Help me?”

She frowned. “Yes.”

“I don’t need help from a whey-faced weakling.”

Breathing in sharply through her nose, Meg was about to leave. But didn’t move. Her conscience wouldn’t let her. Putting her basket down, she closed her ears to the little man’s continuous stream of insults and set about freeing his foot from the tangle of roots.

It wasn’t long before she said, “There. You’re free.” She straightened up with a smile, a film of sweat dampening her face.

The little man inspected his foot, picked up his bag and, with nothing more than a grunt, stomped off further into the forest.

Fists resting on her hips, Meg stared at his departing figure. “And a good day to you too.”

When she got home, her basket brimming with raspberries, the first thing Meg did was tell her mother and sisters about the rude little man. “Not a word of thanks. I should have left him where he was.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” said her mother. “You did the right thing and I’m proud of you.” She smiled as she smoothed back her daughter’s nut-brown hair. “You were lucky–”

“Lucky?” said Gwen, staring.

Meg scrunched up her face. “I didn’t feel lucky.”

“Listen. You were lucky because I believe he’s one of the old folk. There were here before us, remember. Our ancestors would see them all the time. But now they hardly leave their realm. To see one is considered lucky indeed. And I’m glad you were kind to him. The old folk always remember kind deeds. And they’re quick to punish unkind ones.”

As the days stretched into weeks. Meg saw the little man more often. At first, she’d hide then, remembering her mother’s words, would call out a polite greeting. She wasn’t surprised when he ignored her at first. Then, if he did look at her, he’d either scowl and quicken his pace away from her or return her greeting with an insult.

Meg found his grumpiness amusing and didn’t take any of his words to heart. With her mother’s blessing, she made little gifts of fruit, which she’d leave for him close to his usual path and say out loud that it was for him. She never waited to see if he took the gifts. For her, the satisfaction was in the giving.

One day, passing close to the path on her way home, she saw him sat, cross-legged, on a log, eating the fruit. Grinning widely, she skipped home, glad to know her gifts were favourably accepted.

“You have a kind heart, whey-faced girl.”

Meg stumbled to a stop, almost dropping her basket.

The little man stepped out from behind a tree.

“Um… thank you.” She had no idea of the proper way to address one of his kind.

“What are you called?”

“Meg.” Hugging her basket against her, she fidgeted from foot to foot. She found it odd to be looking down at him, for he was the height of a small child, but she knew he was so much older than her. “May I ask your name? Please?”

“Such manners. Your parents are to be commended.”

Pride for her mother swelled her heart, mirrored in her wide smile. “Mama insists on it, she says it costs nothing.”

“You mother is wise. You may call me Nev.”

“Thank you, Master Nev.”

Scowling, he snorted. “Just Nev. I am no master or lord or sir.”

Worried she might have offended him, she curtsied and started to apologise.

“Stop behaving like a simpleton. Be as you have been. I’m not royalty.”

“But you’re of the old folk and I don’t want to cause offence.”

“Acting like a fool is causing offence. There is no call for anything other than good manners.”

Meg struggled to smooth her features to hide her annoyance. To her surprise, Nev started to laugh.

“You are an amusement.”

Staring blankly before a frown puckered her brow, she mumbled, “I’m of some use then.”

Standing with his hands on his hips, he nodded, as if greatly pleased.

Meg bit her lip to herself giggling for he cut a comical figure with his bow legs.

“That’s better. I much prefer this rather than you bending yourself to fawning behaviour. So, tell me, young Meg, what do you do out here most days?”

“I search for fruit and mushrooms and anything we can eat.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“My mama and sisters, Beth and Gwen.”

“Do they not search with you?”

She shook her head. “Mama is the village washerwoman, so there’s always work to do. Beth and Gwen help her.”

He raised a bushy brow. “Not you?”

Feeling heat rise to her face, she averted her gaze. “I’m not very good at washing.”

“But you’re good at searching.”

Her breath caught in her throat as her head jerked up. A slow smile lit her face. “Yes, I am. Mama said this is my important task. Oh. I almost forgot.” Reaching into the basket, she pulled out a neatly wrapped cloth and held it out to him. “This is for you.”

With a hop, skip and a jump, he took it and unwrapped the cloth, beaming at the berries ringing the rosy red apple. “Thank you, Meg. Thank you for all your gifts. Come. Sit with me and tell me of your family while I eat.”

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“Then the telling won’t take long.” He made himself comfortable on a thick root and motioned her to sit on the grass.

Tilting her head slightly, she wondered how to begin. “Mama said her mama and mama before her were washerwomen. So, we always knew that’s what we’d be. Papa did a few jobs for the villagers. He loved stories,” she said with a smile. “He always told us such stories…” Her eyes lit up and she sat straighter at the memory of her father’s stories, which had never failed to transport them to fabulous lands filled with wonder. “He taught us to read.” She lowered her gaze to where her fingers plucked at blades of grass. “There isn’t time to read now. Besides, we know the books by heart.”

For a few moments, the only sound was Nev crunching through the apple. “Is he no longer with you, your father?”

Meg shook her head. “He died. This winter, it will be three years.”

“I mourn your loss, child.”

Raising her gaze to meet his, eyes shining with unshed tears, she nodded her thanks.

They spoke a little more. Although Meg wanted to ask why he spent time in their realm, she felt it was a rude question.

On her feet, brushing grass off her apron and skirt, Meg decided to be brave. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Nev, would you like to meet my mama and sisters? I know they’d like to meet you.”

His eyes widened momentarily before he smiled widely. “I would like that very much. I will meet you here tomorrow.”

Smiling as widely, all Meg could do was nod.

To Nev’s delight, he was greeted and treated with faultless respect by the washerwoman and her daughters. So few now knew how to interact with the old folk, not like days gone by when mutual respect made any interaction pleasant experiences for both sides.

Now, he was only one of few who still ventured to this realm. The dealings he’d had over time had left much to be desired and had gradually soured his disposition. But Meg and her family softened his heart.

Their poverty was plain to see in their small but tidy home, and their faded, patched but clean clothes. When he asked to see their collection of books, his heart ached when they proudly showed him all of two books.

Before he left, he asked if they would do him the honour of allowing him to visit again. Their obvious delight made him feel as tall as a human man.

He asked the washerwoman if Meg would be allowed to walk with him to the tree line, and she agreed.

“Thank you, Meg, for allowing me to share the warmth of your family and home.”

Her eyes bright, she stepped lightly as she said, “I’m so glad you could come and that you’ll be coming again.”

“Tell me, dear girl. Is there anything you need?”

Slowing to a halt, she blinked. “Anything we need?

Nev scowled, his breath escaping in a loud huff. “A simple enough question. Do you require anything?”

Looking around as if searching for the answer, she shook her head. “No. We have all we need.”

“There is nothing? Pretty gowns? More food?”

“Oh.” She laughed, glancing down at her well-worn dress. “Pretty clothes, new clothes would be nice. And more food too. But there’s never enough money.” She shrugged. “Maybe one day. Although…”

“Yes?”

She clasped her hands under her chin. “There is one thing we want more than anything.”

“Yes?” Nev leaned closer.

“A better life for Mama. We talk about it sometimes when Mama isn’t near. She never complains, but we know her back hurts and her hands too.” A sigh fell from her. “But like Beth says, we can’t wash more clothes than we already do.”

Nev didn’t respond, merely nodded and started tugging at his long beard, a sure sign he was deep in thought. They continued walking in silence.

As they neared the treeline, Meg suddenly stopped. “Please don’t tell Mama we want a better life for her. She’ll only worry.”

“She will not hear a word of it from me.”

“Thank you. You will visit us soon?”

“Tomorrow,” he said with a firm nod. “If that is not too soon.”

“Oh, no, that will be perfect.

“Until tomorrow then, young Meg.” He touched the top of his berry-red cap and scampered into the forest.

To the surprise of Meg and her family, Nev appeared bright and early the next morning. They had barely begun the day’s washing.

The washerwoman was so flustered, she had to sit down. Nev assured her there was no need to treat him like royalty. He viewed them as his friends and hoped they would do the same. Which meant he hoped they felt at ease enough in his company that he could come at any time, knowing it would not put them out.

The girls were thrilled with the idea of having one of the old folk as a friend. But it would take their mother more time to be comfortable with the idea of behaving as if a neighbour had just stopped by.

“Now,” said Nev, once they’d settled. “I have a gift that will benefit all of you even though I will only be sharing it with Meg.”

“Oh, Nev,” said the washerwoman, “there is no need for such generosity. Your presence and friendship are wondrous gifts already.”

“Kind words, good woman. Still, for all the kindness Meg has shown me despite my ill manners, it would warm my old heart to be allowed to share this particular gift.”

To the girls’ delight, their mother stood and curtsied. “Then I thank you for the blessing that is your gift to my child.”

Nev bowed. “And I thank you for the blessing in accepting my gift.” He beamed. “It has been an age since I heard such words spoken by a human. You are a credit to your people.”

Her hands fluttered against her cheeks as she failed to stifle a giggle, causing her daughters to laugh as they crowded around to hug her.

“Come, Meg.” He beckoned her to his side, and she knelt by his chair.

Producing a pouch from the bag that always hung from his belt, he carefully extricated the item within. The yellowish rectangular slab looked so ordinary, Meg’s excitement seemed to visibly seep from her.

“What… what is it?”

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” he said with a chuckle. “When you use this to clean any leather, no matter how begrimed, it will look like new.”

“But we don’t clean leather,” she replied, frowning.

“You will. Here…” He extended his empty hand, and she placed her hand in his, palm up. Putting the slab in her hand, he momentarily held it between both of his.

A soft exclamation leapt from her as her brows shot up. When her gaze met his, he merely smiled and moved his hands away. Unbeknown to Meg, Nev had imparted a tiny drop of his otherworldliness to her so she could use the slab as his people did.

“This is for you to use, Meg, and only you.” He looked across to Beth and Gwen, sat on either side of their mother. “Do not feel I am favouring your sister, for you shall all benefit from this.”

They looked at one another and grinned. “It’s only fair, Nev,” said Beth. “From what Meg told us, you were very grumpy.”

“Beth!” Her mother gripped her shoulder.

But Nev only laughed. “It is true, I was.”

Gwen giggled. “And if this means Meg will finally take her proper place at the washtub instead of gallivanting–”

“It’s not as if you minded my gallivanting.” Meg turned to glare at her sister then exclaimed. Laughing, Gwen had shuffled forward to hug her and plant a kiss on her cheek.

Turning back to Nev, Meg smilingly asked, “How do I use this?”

“Don’t treat leather as you would cloth. Don’t soak it. Dip a soft cloth in water and use that to make it damp then rub a little of this on the damp leather before rubbing it clean with a dry cloth.”

She stared. “That’s all?” Turning around, she handed the slab to her mother.

After handling it, the washerwoman said, “What is this? It reminds me of honey…”

A wide smile wreathed Nev’s face. “It is beeswax.”

“Beeswax? To clean leather?”

“Beeswax and… one or two extra ingredients.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Nev got to his feet. “When the people bring their washing, let it be known you’re now able to clean leather also. They will bring whatever leather they have, if only to see if you’re able to do so.”

“Thank you, Nev,” said Meg, as they all stood. “This is so very kind of you.”

He bowed. “I will take my leave now and return in a number of days to see if my gift is proving its worth.”

First, it was curiosity that brought customers with stained leathers to their door. Soon, more appeared as word got around that the washerwoman’s daughter could clean anything off leather.

By the time Nev visited them again, their customers had grown to include noblemen who paid well. The only thing Meg minded was she couldn’t spend as much time on her wanderings as she used to. But she didn’t grumble for it was a small price to pay.

It was only when Nev had whispered to her that soon she and her sisters would be able to give their mother the better life they’d dreamed of did she realise the extent of Nev’s kindness.

One day, as evening was drawing in, a rich carriage rolled up to their home. The footman, dressed in black and silver, opened the door and out stepped a willowy woman, dressed in deep purple and lilac. Her honey coloured hair was braided and fashioned in an elegant knot on her head.

“Are you the washerwoman?” she said without any greeting, her head tilted back slightly.

Standing in the open doorway, her daughters on either side of her, she curtsied. “Yes, my lady.”

Meg decided she didn’t care much for the woman and the way she regarded their mother, as if she was something distasteful.

“How may I be of service?” said the washerwoman as she stepped forward.

The woman’s gaze was on the three girls. “These are your daughters? Which is the one who cleans leather?”

Not knowing why, Meg didn’t want to step forward.

The mother glanced back at her girls, a frown crumpling her brow. “If you leave your leathers here, we’ll make sure they’re cleaned for you to collect on the morrow.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” The woman looked at her footman and nodded sharply.

Striding up to the washerwoman, he grabbed her by the arm, jerking her to the side. “Answer my mistress.”

Crying out, the girls ran to their mother, but the footman placed himself between them and her. Pain creased her face as he twisted his grip.

“Me,” said Meg, unable to bear the sight of her mother in pain. “I’m the one–”

“Meg, no,” said her mother, tearfully shaking her head.

Beth and Gwen flanked her, their arms around their sister like a shield.

Lowering her head, Meg said softly, “I’m the one who cleans the leathers. Please don’t hurt my mama.”

The woman curled her lip as she looked at Meg. “Come with me. Get whatever you need to clean and get in my carriage.”

Eyes wide, her heart thumping, Meg shook her head as her sisters tightened their embrace.

“You don’t have a choice. Do as I say or…” She raised a brow and the footman squeezed their mother’s arm so hard, she stumbled to her knees.

“Stop it,” cried Gwen, taking a step towards their mother but still holding Meg.

“Shame on you,” said Beth. “Leave her be.”

“Stop,” said Meg, tears running down her face. “Stop it. I’ll go. Stop hurting her, please.”

Reluctantly, her sisters let her go and she ran to fetch the beeswax and cloths.

The footman released their mother and took hold of Meg.

“Oh, please, at least let me say goodbye.”

The woman rolled her eyes but nodded.

Meg ran to her mother and sisters, and they tearfully embraced.

“There is no need for such high drama,” said the woman, shaking her head. “You’ll see your girl again.”

Pulling her along, the footman shoved Meg into the carriage.

As the woman was about to get in, she half-turned to look at Meg’s family, a humourless smile on her full lips. “So long as she completes the task I set her.”

Meg’s cry mirrored her mother’s as the door shut. She almost lurched off the seat as the carriage moved away. Leaning out of the window, the breeze drying her tears as they fell, she stared at the collapsed figure of her mother, her weeping sisters on either side of her, all gradually growing smaller as she was carried away from them.

The sky had darkened considerably by the time the carriage stopped. Shoved out, Meg almost fell but caught herself. She could make out the silhouette of a large house, but, with so few lamps outside, she could make out little else.

The woman’s footman took hold of Meg’s arm and pulled her along. She wanted to tell him to stop, that she could walk unaided but was still shaken after her cruel separation from her family. And worry for her mother kept her silent.

Dragged through the house, she barely had a chance to look around. Then she was pushed into a dimly lit room with a tub, a chair and a pile of straw at the far end. As she wondered what she was to do, the woman appeared and instructed the servants trailing her to put a pile of leathers next to the tub.

“I want the blood cleaned off those leathers by morning. If you fail, you’ll never see your mother and sisters again.”

The door slammed shut and Meg was left alone. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Sinking to the floor, she covered her face with her hands and wept. After a few moments, she straightened and wiped her face on her apron.

“Enough tears. All I have to do is clean the leathers, then I can return home.”

Laying out the beeswax and cloths, she spread out the leathers, which she realised was one very large piece. Staring, she wondered what it was for and how it came to be so bloodied. Shrugging, she knelt on the floor and started at one end. It didn’t take her long to realise, despite Nev’s beeswax, the blood was slow in coming off. But she persevered, ignoring her grumbling stomach and aching arms.

“Meg. Dear Meg.”

With a cry, she fell back, eyes wide. So engrossed in cleaning, she hadn’t heard Nev’s arrival. Tears filled her eyes at the sight of her friend. “Oh, Nev…”

Then he was by her side, his arm around her as she wept again. “What is this? Why are you here? What does this woman want?”

She told him, pointing to the large piece of leather on the floor. “But how did you find me?”

“Gwen, brave girl, came to the forest edge, calling for me.”

“In the dark?”

He nodded.

“And you heard–”

“The trees told me.”

Meg blinked; she had no idea the trees could do such a thing.

“Your mother and–”

“Mama! How is she? Is she hurt?”

“She’s had a bad shock. Don’t worry, child, she will recover.”

“Nev, I want to go home. I won’t get the blood off in time. And I don’t know what that woman will do.”

He patted her shoulder. “Be brave, my girl. I will help you clean this and, come morning, you will go home.”

Believing his words, Meg managed a smile, and they set to work. But even Nev had to admit his surprise at how difficult the leather was to clean. Yet, they made steady progress.

“Nev… how did you get in here?”

“I have my ways,” was all he said, chuckling.

Her movements slowed as her gaze wandered around the room.

“You have a question?”

“When you leave… can I go too?”

He stopped wiping the leather before raising his gaze to meet hers. “The way can only be used by those like me,” he said softly.

“Oh.” She struggled to hide her disappointment.

“But it will be morning soon and we are almost done.”

Forcing herself to return his smile, she nodded.

Finally, the leather was clean and so glossy, parts of it reflected the lamplight.

“It is time for me to go. Don’t fret. You’re braver than you know. That woman will release you when she sees the clean leather. And I will await you at your mother’s home. Now, my dear, I need you to close your eyes.”

Frowning, she did as she was told. When she opened them, he was nowhere to be seen.

In the next instant, the door flew open and the woman strode in, her hair flowing down her back like a golden waterfall. Without a word to Meg, she stared at the glossy leather laid out before her and clasped her hands together. “It’s clean,” she said with a laugh. “All clean.” Ordering her servants to gather it up, she turned to leave.

“Wait.” Meg rushed forward. “I did as you said. I want to go home now.

“No. I’m not done with you yet.”

“But you promised–”

“I promised nothing.” The woman faced Meg, staring her down. “Know your place, peasant. You will leave when I no longer have any need for you.” As she turned to leave, she addressed a servant. “Bring her something to eat. And make sure you lock the door behind you.”

After the servant brought food to Meg, the girl saw no other soul for the rest of the day. There was no window, only a small opening near the ceiling, making it difficult to tell the time of day.

She spent what seemed like a good deal of time crying, worried about her mother and sisters. Worn down by the long night she’d had and the overwhelming emotions, she finally curled up on the pile of straw and fell asleep. Not that it was a restful sleep for she was plagued by upsetting dreams of being lost forever, unable to find her way home yet still able to hear her mother and sisters calling to her.

When Meg finally dragged herself out of sleep, it took her a moment to work out where she was. Confused, aching, hungry, her lower lip trembled before she said, “No. Stop it, Meg. Crying is getting you nowhere.”

Grimacing at the stale taste in her mouth and the crust that had formed under her nose, she stared at the tub of water. Steeling herself, she wet part of her apron and washed her face. She smoothed back her hair, wondering if she should undo and re-braid it, when an unfamiliar noise intruded. Her movements slowed.

It was a deep, low sound that seemed to echo through the walls and reverberate up from the ground. She frowned for there was something familiar about it. After hearing it a few times, she realised what it reminded her of – Farmer Conley’s bull. Except this sound was so much deeper and richer. She wondered if the bull belonged to the woman, and for some inexplicable reason, hoped it didn’t.

Meg knew when night had fallen for the woman returned with what seemed to be the same leathers, again blood-soaked. Again, she ordered Meg to clean them or she would never see her mother and sisters.

Taking a deep breath, struggling to hold on to her courage, Meg stood with her fists clenched against her legs. “No.”

The woman stared at her.

“I won’t. You lied. You said you’d let me go after I cleaned the leathers last night, but you didn’t.”

Fixing Meg with a cold stare, the woman stalked up to her. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner?” She struck the girl across the face. Hard.

Meg stumbled back, tears stinging her eyes. She’d never been struck before.

“You will do as you’re told or I’ll… I’ll give you to my men.”

Trembling, gulping back tears, Meg knelt and started straightening out the leather. Left alone, she didn’t stop her tears as they fell like rain onto the blood-stained leather.

“Why are you still here?”

She jumped at the sound of Nev’s voice. Having barely made any progress in cleaning the leather, her shoulder ached from hours of scrubbing. At the sight of him, she sat back and wept like a small child.

“Hush, hush now, child.” He was by her side in an instant. “More leather? But I thought she said–”

“She said she promised nothing. She’s not done with me. I want to go home. I’m scared. She said she’d give me… give me…” Her voice catching, Meg shook her head, her body shuddering with sobs.

“Give you what?”

Fighting to draw a proper breath, she finally managed to say, “Give me… to her… men…”

Nev’s face slowly turned a deeper shade of brown as the room darkened. His eyes seemed to grow larger, blacker as the whites receded and he seemed to grow in stature.

The hair on Meg’s arms stood on end as she whispered, “Nev?”

He blinked and all appeared as before. “I will get you out of this, Meg, that I promise. I gave you this gift so you and your sisters could fulfil your dream of giving your mother a better life. Not for you to be held against your will, to be treated so badly.” Sitting cross-legged next to her, he said, “I need time to come up with a way…”

When he started tugging at his beard, a faraway look in his eye, Meg returned to cleaning the leather, if only for something to do.

“Did anything of note happen during the day? Were you allowed out?”

“No. I was left alone the whole day. I slept then she came back with–oh! There was one thing.” She sat back. “I heard a bull.”

“A bull?”

“I think it was a bull. The sound reminded me of Farmer Conley’s bull. But this was a deeper sound. It was almost as if I could feel it coming up through the floor.” She smiled sheepishly, knowing it sounded foolish. Then her smile slowly disappeared. “Nev? Is something wrong?”

He’d stopped tugging at his beard. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the leather. Jumping to his feet, he hopped from foot to foot then clapped his hands together. “Why did I not see it before? It’s so clear. Now that I open my eyes and look, it is clear. Come, Meg, let us clean this together as we did last night. Then, dear girl, I must ask you to be brave for one more day–don’t despair.” He cupped her crestfallen face in his wrinkly hands. “One more day. I will return in the evening and I will make that woman free you.”

The thought of another day in this prison was more than she could bear, but what choice did she have? So, she nodded, and they set to cleaning the leather together.

From sunrise, Meg’s second day was the same as the first. Except, this time, she didn’t say a word. Forcing herself to eat, she slept fitfully and, again, heard the bull.

This time, Nev appeared first, before the woman’s arrival. Telling Meg to leave the woman to him, he waited in the shadows by the door.

The woman swept in with her servants behind her, carrying the bloodied leather.

Nev jumped out and pinched the closest servant on the arm. To Meg’s amusement, she screamed at the sight of him, dropped the leather and ran from the room, swiftly followed by her comrade.

Before the woman could call for her men, Meg pushed her to the ground and ran to shut the door. Nev fished a stick from his bag and laid it on the ground, in front of the door. Then he turned to the woman.

Getting to her feet as quickly as her bunched skirts would allow, she’d turned deathly pale. Her hand stole to her neck and she took a step back.

“I know who that leather belongs to,” said Nev softly. “I know who the bull is.”

Meg didn’t think it was possible for the woman to turn any paler.

“My friend, whom I’d thought lost. A great, black bull, a prince in his own land. What have you done to him that his bull-leather lies here, blood-soaked?”

Despite her obvious fear, she refused to answer Nev. “You cannot make me tell you. And if you hurt me, you’ll never know.”

The little man turned thoughtful. “That is true. But what if…” He rummaged in his bag. “What if I give you this in return?” Hanging from his fingers was a string of pearls.

Meg gasped, wondering at the never-ending wonders that seemed to reside in the simple bag.

The woman’s eyes bulged. Darting forward, she snatched the pearls. “The last full moon, I was returning home when I saw the bull. I’d never seen it before, such a magnificent creature. I thought it was in pain, it had fallen to the ground. I was curious, I went closer and I saw…” Her eyes slid shut as if in rapture. “The most beautiful man… He was unconscious, I couldn’t leave him. I ordered my men to bring him here. In the morning, he was a bull again. But I couldn’t let him go.”

Abruptly, she stopped talking, eyeing his bag.

Nev glanced at Meg, standing beside him, and rolled his eyes. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a chain of twisted gold.

Her glee as he dropped it in her outstretched hand made Meg’s skin crawl.

“There is a crone. I’ve heard the servants speak of her. She knows… things. She told me how to force the bull to change to a man and remain that way. The change must be forced for three nights; that is what makes his leathers bloody. Then the leathers must be cleaned, ready for him to don at sunrise.”

Shaking her head, Meg covered her mouth.

When she stopped, Nev sighed, and offered her a diamond as big as a pigeon’s egg.

Hugging it against her chest, she said, “On the third morning, the clean leathers must be burned at sunrise and he will remain a man forever.”

Nev regarded her silently, but Meg could no longer stay quiet. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I want him for myself.”

“He’s not a thing–”

“Shut up, silly girl. Do you believe yourself so noble? If you saw him, you would want him too. Unless ice runs through your body.”

“Being a man isn’t his natural state,” said Nev, his voice low. “You are keeping him from his people and his land.”

“What is any of that to me?” Clutching her treasures, she marched to the door.

“What price did you pay for the crone’s knowledge?”

She faltered but all she said was, “Why won’t the door open?” Her attempts to kick the stick away failed for it seemed to be stuck to the ground. “I want those leathers cleaned, girl, if you ever want to see your mother again.”

“It’s not right. I won’t help you.”

Spinning around, she shook her fist. “Would you rather spend the night with my men?”

Meg sank to her knees, not knowing what to do. Then Nev was whispering in her ear. She frowned, about to shake her head, but he said, “Trust me.” Still not understanding, she slowly nodded.

Nev walked to the door. For all her bravado, the woman skittered away. He picked up the stick and told her to go.

When they were alone, Nev told Meg they were only going to wash half of the leather. The next morning, she was to hold the leathers in such a way that the woman would only see the part that had been cleaned.

“Then you must beg to be allowed to take the leathers so you can see for yourself the man who is truly a bull.”

Her brows drew closer together as her face tightened. “What if she doesn’t agree?”

“Trust me. A creature as vain as her will agree. Then, this is what you must do.

As Meg listened, she prayed she’d have the courage to carry out Nev’s plan.

At sunrise, when the woman appeared, to Meg’s surprise, she readily agreed to the girl’s request. Although she struggled to carry the leathers, Meg refused to ask for help. The woman was so happy, Meg wondered if she’d even noticed the leather wasn’t totally clean.

Stepping out, Meg stopped, squinting and blinking rapidly. It felt as if she hadn’t seen the sky or smelled the fresh air for years. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep. Until she was pushed from behind. She glared at the hated footman then followed the woman who kept looking at the sky while telling her to hurry.

“Now you will see,” she said as they came to an area fenced with thick logs.

Lying curled up on a blanket was a man. Slowly, he sat up, his eyes empty of emotion, long black hair falling over his shoulders. His skin was as pale as moonlight.

Meg’s mouth fell open; she almost dropped the leathers. He truly was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. But there was something about his beauty that hurt her eyes. Although she wanted to keep looking, she couldn’t, in the same way one couldn’t look at the sun for too long.

Then she noticed the chain around his ankle, and she tensed. When she saw it was attached to an even thicker chain, her nostrils flared as she clenched her jaw.

The woman’s men were building up a fire on the other side of the man.

“Girl,” said the woman, “go over to the fire. When I start reading the incantation, burn the leathers.”

Taking a deep breath, she muttered, “Courage, Meg.” Then ran to the man. Before anyone realised what she was doing, she threw the leathers over him, almost falling in the process.

The woman screamed.

Her footman ran forward.

But it was too late.

The man – a man no more – had transformed into the biggest, blackest bull Meg had ever seen. Bellowing his fury, he stamped his foot, gouging a deep wound in the ground. With a tug of his great leg, he broke free of the chains.

Breathless, her heart thudding against her chest, Meg shrank back, covering her head with her arms, not knowing which direction to go, terrified the bull was going to attack her for the part she’d played.

Shaking his massive head, the bull thundered towards the woman’s men. Screaming, shouting, they fled. But not all fled whole.

The bull turned to the woman, his horns and hooves glistening with blood. His breath escaping in clouds of steam from flared nostrils, he took slow, deliberate steps towards her.

Shaking her head, hand against her mouth, she backed away, tripped and fell. Babbling, she tried to crawl away.

Meg wanted to look away but couldn’t move. Then Nev was by her side, calling her name.

“Meg. Look at me, Meg. Child…”

She turned wide eyes to him.

Placing his hands on either side of her face, covering her ears, he kept her gaze on him. But Meg could still hear the woman’s screams as they reduced to gurgling cries then… blessed silence.

The ground trembled slightly as the bull made his way to them.

“Old friend.” Nev leaned his face against the bull’s massive head.

“I owe you my life,” said the bull, his voice so low, Meg could feel it vibrating in her bones.

Her eyes bulged at hearing an animal speak.

“It is Meg’s bravery that saved you. Without her, you would have been condemned to a fate worse than death.”

The bull bowed his head and Meg scrabbled to her feet before dropping a clumsy curtsy. “Please, my lord, I am only a washerwoman’s daughter.”

Nev snorted. “Don’t start that bowing and scraping again.”

She glared at him. What else did he expect her to do? The bull was a prince after all.

“Come along. It’s past time you were home with your mother and sisters.”

Clasping her hands together, she pressed them against her mouth as she nodded. The thought of being reunited with her family brought tears to eyes.

They started to walk when the bull said, “Climb on my back. The journey will be quicker.”

With no hesitation, Nev jumped onto his friend’s back.

But Meg couldn’t. “Oh no. It’s not proper–”

“Meg, I believe your dear mother would want to see you sooner, not later. If it wasn’t proper, he would not have suggested it. Now, climb on his back.”

Still, she fidgeted until the bull said, “It is the least I can do after all you have endured on my behalf.”

Despite her misgivings, Meg climbed onto his broad back. And the journey back to her home took no time at all.

When Meg fell into her mother’s embrace, all she’d endured the past few days melted away. Even the sight of the enormous bull didn’t stop them laughing and crying and talking all at once.

When Meg turned, smiling through her tears, Nev and the bull-prince were walking away. She suspected they were returning to the bull’s home. But she didn’t call out, for she knew, without a doubt, she would see her unlikely friend again.