Caged Bird Rising. A Grim Tale of Women, Wolves, and other Beasts

For Hanni and Karli.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

First of all, I want to thank my girl who was always on my tail, urging me to go on.

Anne deserves credit for her pictures, the supportive words, and generally for being my best friend.

Astrid for believing in the power of fairy-tales, and Gill, who did a fantastic job. Without these women, the manuscript would never have come between that splendid cover.

CHAPTER 1

Once upon a time there was a maiden, fair and chaste, who lived in a small village bordering the oldest forest in the kingdom. Though she was a girl born in times of hunger, her father, a kindhearted man, had not fulfilled his patriarchal duty toward her. Instead, he let her live and even gave her a name.

Robyn. You’re late again! Granny called from the foot of the stairs.

I’ll be right down. Robyn grabbed her bodice and ran.

If a man had raised you, you’d have been up before sunrise to start on your chores, Granny scolded. Instead you’re running around like an untrained puppy. What would your father say?

Granny didn’t mean to be harsh—she was old and grouchy—but Robyn always felt sad when she mentioned her father. He had died when she was very young. All she knew was that a dangerous beast had killed him on the dark forest roads. Robyn was lucky Granny had been there to look after her. The old woman grumbled about everything, but she did love Robyn and had done her best to raise her charge right.

Fetch me the brush. Granny was impatient. We’ll see if I can make that red devil hair of yours respectable for the marketplace.

Robyn handed over the brush. Granny’s hands were stiff with arthritis and her brushstrokes tugged at the tangles, but Robyn suffered in silence like a good girl.

I always did my best to serve your poor departed father. Granny sighed, and her brushstrokes slowed into a rhythm with her memories. He was a good man. And I do my best by you, too, young lady. Though it would have been so much easier with a man in the house to protect and guide us.

Granny, you know how much the villagers respect you for being such an excellent surrogate mother, Robyn answered by rote. This was a conversation they often had. Robyn knew the right things to say.

Wrinkled fingers patted her shoulder. They don’t trust me. And they are right not to. A young girl like you needs a strong man to shield you from the evils of the world, not an old crone, like me. It was her favorite lament. Her grandmother had been trained to be an exceptional wife and mother, and that alone kept the villagers from questioning Robyn’s upbringing. It helped that Granny had snared a fine young husband for her beautiful granddaughter. A good betrothal was only to be expected for a well-reared girl.

Thank heavens you have finally filled out, she said. A girl needs good hips and breasts for nursing her children. Men have an eye for these things. Granny gave her a playful slap on the backside with the brush. At least you have some qualities for your future husband to look forward to, eh?

Robyn smiled and handed Granny some hairpins. Granny was a wise woman. Robyn was blessed to be raised by her. I wouldn’t know what to look for in a suitable beau, she confessed.

That’s why I took care of it, Granny said, pinning up Robyn’s hair. You’ll know what makes a good man now.

By Granny’s standards, Robyn knew that a future husband should be a man of authority. He should have a deep, rich voice to make his wife listen to him. He also had to provide well for his family so his wife could concentrate only on serving his household and raising his children.

* * *

Captain Hunter Wolfmounter stepped out of the Red Rider headquarters and headed for the market square. He barely took two steps when Rump Spindlefinger, the richest imp in town, crossed his path.

Hello, Spindlefinger, Hunter said. What brings you to market this early in the day? Spindlefinger’s inn never opened before midday. He was usually doing his accountancy in the mornings to make sure not one coin was missing.

I was helping my wife get the retail wagon into position, Spindlefinger smiled, showing off his rows of gold teeth.

As Captain of the Red Riders, Hunter knew that Spindlefinger had applied for the booth license for this new wagon. Rump Spindlefinger wanted the world to know how well his business was doing. "I hope my new wife will be as hard working as yours.

Believe me, it wasn’t easy, but schooling Robyn should be a simple task for a man like you, Captain, Spindlefinger said. After all, you will be the first man to train her.

Spindlefinger’s usual over-confidence made it sound like an easy task, but Captain Wolfmounter knew better than to underestimate the challenge an unbroken female presented.

Yes. He nodded. With no father or brother before me, she will be weak and make many mistakes. As her husband, I will have to teach her how to be a good wife and mother. He was the best man for the job, and he knew it, the same way he had been the best man to lead the Red Riders.

Decades before his birth, wolves began to repopulate the royal forest. Soon the decent people of the kingdom avoided the woods altogether. They were frightened by the wolves and of the thieving scum who lived there, too. Terrified villagers demanded protection, so the King ordered a special patrol be created, the Red Riders, so called because of their red hoods. Every village and town had their own patrol made up of their ablest men. The Red Riders marched through the streets and combed the forest under the King’s orders to exterminate evil wherever they found it. Soon enough the forests and mountain roads became safer because of them.

You know, the best way with women is to give them children as soon as possible. Lots and lots of children. Spindlefinger winked at him. With any luck she’ll be a fertile little thing and pop babies out one right after the other.

Wolfmounter laughed and slapped Spindlefinger on the back. I’ll see to it, but first we must celebrate our wedding at your inn, my good fellow.

He bade Spindlefinger farewell and headed for the well in the middle of the market square. His men were already gathered there, waiting for their captain to give them their orders for the day.

Morning, men.

Good morning, sir. They saluted in unison, standing to attention before him, a bright row of about twenty red cloaks billowing in the wind.

This is the last of the winter markets, so chances are there’s more than a dozen thieves lurking among our good, honest citizens. I want extra patrols around the booths and on the side streets. The North gate needs no sentry today. Snow has already closed the northern trade route, and no one will be coming that way until the spring thaw.

His men listened to him intently, and he bathed in their respect before sending them off to work. This was exactly what he wanted from his betrothed. Respect and obedience. He was a good catch for any young woman, and was prepared to be father and husband combined for her. He would show her how good life could be for the dutiful and conscientious wife of the captain.

* * *

Go straight to the market and buy exactly what I told you to, Granny instructed for the umpteenth time.

Robyn held on to the banister while her grandmother pulled her bodice laces tighter. You’ve been eating too much pie lately, Granny grumbled, her old fingers struggling with the ties. Although Robyn was betrothed, there was no reason to let her looks go so soon. On the contrary, Granny told her she had to try even harder to look beautiful. Her cheeks needed to be that little bit rosier, and her hair must shine brighter than ever to keep the attentions of her handsome captain. She had to show the village how happy she was to have caught him. She would be a married woman soon, and everyone expected her to be overjoyed to finally have a purpose in her life.

Buy the yellow potatoes, the good ones. And taste the apples, girl. The ones you brought back last time were bitter. Granny pulled Robyn’s green woolen cape over her shoulders. Remember, you’re cooking dinner tonight for the workmen. I’m happy to supervise, but it’s your chance to show off your skills. So, buy the best ingredients and fill their bellies well, so they talk about it for days. If you don’t, tongues will wag that the Captain’s making a mistake, and you’re not worthy of his name.

Workmen had fixed the roof on Granny’s cottage before the first snow arrived. Robyn could smell the chill of it on the air, moving down from the north. Granny was rewarding their kindness with a dinner. It would stretch their meager rations, but Granny would not accept charity. The men had mended the roof, and Granny and Robyn would repay them as best they could with a good meal.

Robyn had considered going up on the roof herself if only to assess the damage, but Granny nearly fainted at the thought of such behavior in a young woman. What would the villagers think? God forbid Hunter break off his betrothal to such an unnatural girl. Robyn wished she’d never said a word to Granny. What did she know about roofs? As a female, it wasn’t her place to repair houses, so she did as she was told and went to politely ask the men for help.

Yes, Granny, I will only buy the best. She fastened her cape around her neck and kissed her grandmother goodbye. She had to get to market early to get the best bargains. The road to the market square was long and winding, the stones still slippery from the early morning dew. Though her feet hurried, Robyn’s thoughts took their time. She worried what would become of her grandmother when she was married and gone to live at Hunter’s house. She decided Granny would do exactly what the villagers expected of her. She would take care of the motherless children while their fathers were away working, and she would cook for those same widowers when they came back home. An old woman would always be of use in a village such as this. And when there wasn’t a requirement for her services anymore, she would quietly trudge off into the deep woods and disappear, leaving room for a new generation.

Robyn arrived at the market shortly after the booths opened and had the luxury of leisurely browsing the wares on display. Unlike Ebony, who hurried past her already on her way back home. Ebony was the only girl in a large family of boys who all worked at the glass factory, and Ebony had to prepare a huge meal for her seven brothers every night of the week.

Robyn knew she was also luckier than little Ash, who had to bargain with the merchant over the price of lentils, because her father did not take enough care of his wife and family. No, Robyn was glad she would soon be Hunter’s wife. He was handsome and strong and had a decent income. She would never have to worry about feeding and clothing their children.

Good morning, Goldie. Robyn went over to visit her friend who was sitting at her spinning wheel.

Robyn, why are you out this early? Goldie brushed her hands on her apron then reached under her stall to retrieve a small package. Here is the linen your grandmother ordered. Give me six shillings and we’re good.

Six? Only six? Robyn raised a brow. Linen cost almost double that when she bought it from Spindlefinger, Goldie’s husband.

Goldie looked away. It’s an old order that was never collected. It’s perfect, it even has the Spindlefinger monogram embroidered in gold thread. It’s old stock, but there’s no difference in quality.

Robyn opened the package and stroked the monogram. Thank you for saving me money. Robyn handed over her shillings and put the linen into her basket. I mustn’t let Granny know, though. The leftover money will be useful when I’m married.

How so? Goldie looked at her.

Robyn leaned forward so as not to be overheard. This means I’ll have a little extra on top of what Hunter gives me for housekeeping. I can go and buy the best meat and the bigger potatoes, and he’ll praise me for handling his money so well.

Goldie gasped and shook her head. You cannot lie to him, she whispered. What if you run out of money? You will be forced to buy the ordinary things and he will think you stopped caring.

Robyn bit her lip; she hadn’t thought about that. She must never give her husband a reason to think ill of her; that was Granny’s very first lesson. Goldie put a hand on her arm and smiled. Why don’t you buy him a wedding gift with it? Better yet, show him your jar of shillings after the wedding. Think how proud he’ll be to see you saving money so responsibly.

Robyn clapped her hands in happiness at that and thanked Goldie for her advice. A proud husband would be a wonderful start into her new life as the wife of Hunter Wolfmounter.

A large hand wrapped around her shoulder and startled her. My lovely, Hunter said. What a pleasure to see you. It was as if their talk had conjured him up.

Before Robyn and Goldie could say goodbye, he pulled her away. Her skin itched where his hand rested on her shoulder.

I hope you had a good morning. Mine has certainly improved since seeing you, he said, leading them into the heart of the market.

Robyn smiled, happy with the compliment. Granny sent me to buy the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. I hope you’ll be able to come.

Of course, I could never miss the chance of spending an evening with you. Unfortunately, I’m on duty later, so I’ll have to leave early.

You will be careful, won’t you? She feared for him when he went on patrol, as was to be expected for one’s brave betrothed.

My dear. He sighed and stroked her cheek. Don’t worry about me. I know how to keep myself safe.

Of course you do, or else you would never have slain the beast and become captain of the Red Riders. She tried to sound proud of his accomplishments.

As soon as we are married, you will be known as the woman who tamed the most handsome wolf in the valley. Our boys will be little wolf cubs running around your skirts. He bared his teeth and growled playfully. She ducked her head and giggled as he kissed her throat, growling as if he really were a wolf catching his prey. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Then, checking that no one was looking, he gave her his best shiny smile as his hand slid under her cape to pinch her bottom. Until tonight, lovely.

He turned and left. Robyn watched him go. What a man. And soon she would be his. A small ache nestled in her stomach, but she ignored it as she always did.

Hunter had kept her back so Robyn had to hurry to finish her shopping. She gathered her basket and wandered over to see Whitney and Rose. The twins were the daughters of Darwin Prospector, a sullen old widower who was the foreman at the glass factory. His wife had landed him with female twins before dying on him. Such was his fear of it happening again, he had never remarried.

How is your father? Robyn asked. Darwin’s health was not working to his benefit anymore.

Cranky as always. Rose shrugged.

Her sister poked her in the arm. Don’t say that. Father works long hours to put food onto the table.

Rose rolled her eyes and gestured around the stall. We work long hours, too. We grow and sell all our own produce. It takes hard work to grow herbs and vegetables this tasty, Rose said. And we cook all the damn food he sets on the table anyway.

Rose was never one for holding back. The village was used to her brazen talk, and that was the reason she was not married. Who wanted a woman who talked back when there were so many other girls willing to be a quiet, obedient little wife? Whitney had it the hardest, though. No man would look twice at her because of her loud, rebellious sister. What if, once married, Whitney became the same? Or worse still, her children turned out as unruly and difficult as their aunt Rose?

Anyway, Rose said. How can we help you?

Robyn looked over the display on the table. I need parsley and sage.

For the big dinner tonight? Whitney asked. I heard it’s for the workmen who repaired your roof. News traveled fast in the small village.

Robyn went to answer, but Rose was faster. Of course it is, silly. Father will be there, too, stuffing his fat belly, while we sit by the hearth waiting for him like the good little daughters we are.

Robyn was shocked; she would never speak out like Rose did. Darwin Prospector was a widower and would always need one of his daughters to take care of him. He sometimes went to other villages, where nobody knew about Rose, and bragged about Whitney, his pretty, good-natured daughter who was available for marriage. If one day Whitney married and moved away he would always have Rose as his caretaker, and Rose knew it. She was trapped, and that made her angry, Robyn supposed.

We don’t have any sage today, Rose said, wrapping the parsley in a thin strip of sackcloth.

No sage! Granny had given her precise instructions. Sage was an important ingredient for the main course. She had to impress the menfolk with her meal, most of all Hunter. But I need sage.

Rose and Whitney had the only booth that sold herbs. It was too late to try the next village. She should have ordered everything days ago like Granny told her to. She had failed at the first and simplest hurdle, buying the basic dinner ingredients!

It’s too cold to grow sage in our garden, but you might find some growing wild in the woods, Rose suggested. "Everything holds out a little longer