Lizabella: A Musical Fairy Tale 🎤

13: Spinning Tales

A strangled sound erupted from Betsy's mouth. "For shame!" she cried, her high pitched shrill resounding through the village square.

The clamor of the marketplace ground to a halt.

"Gracious me!" Betsy wailed, fanning herself with her handkerchief.

All eyes turned to the baker's wife who was in the throes of a very dramatic hot flush.

She flapped about like a deranged pigeon. "Oh, my word! My word!"

Flour billowed up in a great white cloud, speckling Betsy and her husband's faces so that they looked like two plump ghosts.

The villagers drifted towards Betsy's stall, tongues wagging hungrily.

"Oh, for shame! For shame!" she warbled, still flapping.

Finally satisfied that she'd caused enough of a stir and would be the first point of call for this juicy slab of gossip, Betsy stretched her massive frame over the stall and ogled the baby princess.

She thrust her huge elbow into her husband's ribs, causing him to bowl over. "Bert!" she bellowed in his ear, paying no heed to the fresh bout of wheezing. "By gum, that babe's fresh from the oven!"

"And I do declare," said Betsy, not so subtly scanning the area to check she had an ample audience before pinning her huge eyes on Temima, "There aint no husband in sight."

The villagers broke out into a scandalous babble behind Temima.

"And she looks so innocent!"

"You never can tell. It's always the innocent looking ones."

"If her parents are dead and buried I'll eat my hat! She's been sent away in disgrace."

"Aye, for shame, 'tis true."

"'Tis not true!" Temima burst out, wheeling round to face the condemning crowd.

The villagers stopped mid-prattle and stared at Temima, pointing invisible fingers at her. Temima held her body rigid and drew in a fearful breath, pushing herself to say her well-rehearsed lines.

"My husband was a good, kind man." Temima looked down at the cobbled street. "But now he is gone."

The women eyed each other excitedly, eagerly waiting to hear the tale.

"My husband was travelling to Ramavine when robbers attacked. They took everything, save the shirt off his back, and beat him mercilessly. For hours Leo lay bleeding in the forest, his horse, Midnight, whinnying by his side.

At last, he managed to heave himself up onto Midnight's back and the dear horse led them out of the forest. But poor Midnight was bone tired and my husband was famished and bleeding heavily from his wounds.

He searched for a place to lay his head, a kind soul to take him in, but none would have him."

Temima paused, her big brown eyes brimming with tears. "Every one of them turned him away."

The women listened in dead silence.

Temima took a long, slow breath. "Finally, he came upon an inn. He collapsed off his horse, faint from hunger and crawled into the inn on his hands and knees, begging to be given a room for the night.

"The man was a brute!" said Temima, her voice shaking as fresh tears leaked down her cheeks. "How my Leo pleaded. He didn't need a bed. Just a roof over his head. A place by the fire. A wretched mug of water! But that beast sent him away.

My husband had nothing. Not a rivett to his name. Those bandits took everything. He pleaded with the innkeeper; he had money back home, he would send for his wife to deliver the payment, but the boor's ears were deaf to his cries.

By now, Leo could barely move. One eye was swollen shut and his right arm was numb. The innkeeper spat at him and kicked him out of his lodgings, yelling that he could sleep with the horses in the stables.

And that is what he did. He curled up next to Midnight, shivering underneath his blanket of straw, and passed out.

The next morning the innkeeper found him shaking with fever. That's when I was summoned.

The tears were streaming down Temima's face, along with the horde of women pressed against each other, listening in horrified silence to the tragic tale.

"He so badly wanted to see me before he breathed his last breath."

A weep erupted from the crowd. Swiftly followed by several more.

"I set out at once but-" a small sob escaped Temima's throat. "I gave birth on the road."

There were moans from the crowd. Women sobbed unabashedly, bawling into their handkerchiefs.

"And by the time I got there it was too late," said Temima in a broken whisper. "Nothing could be done."

Temima looked sadly down at Lizabella sleeping soundly in the basket, and stroked her velvet cheek. "At least he got to see his precious child before he left us."

Wails erupted from the women, and Temima, who had been squeezing out crocodile tears until now, broke down into real, heartrending tears.

Images of her mother, her family, her queen crashed through her mind, knocking the breath out of her.

Everyone she'd ever loved was gone. Taken from her.

She had nothing. She had no one.

All she had left in this world was Lizabella.

The cries of the women rose through the market place when suddenly, Betsy barged through the crowd.

(Author's note: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading and voting! You know I love you!

Well, what do you think of Temima's tale? Do you buy it? Do you think the village people will buy it? Can't wait to hear from you! :D)