Rumpelstiltskin would have explained that he didn't want the child, that he could get back the necklace and the ring too, if Katya and the king wanted, but the king didn't give him a chance.
"Vile creature!" the king shouted. "Out! Get out!" He kicked over the saucer of cream, spreading a stream of white over the blue-painted floor.
Domoviye do not stay where they are not wanted. Rumpelstiltskin burrowed down, down, down, straight down, without even caring if the people of the household he passed noticed him, straight to his place beneath the basement, and then sideways, out, out, out from beneath the castle walls, under the yard, until he found himself beneath the basement of the cottage of the family of the goat keeper.
Rumpelstiltskin sniffed the air and found there was contentment in the house. Also a cat, which probably meant saucers of cream. Rumpelstiltskin stayed where he was, rocking miserably backward and forward in the dark.
But there was so much unhappiness coming from the nearby castle, that it washed over even as far as the cottage.
They were afraid, Rumpelstiltskin could tell, afraid that he would come back for the baby.
That night's palace ball centered on the theme Guess the Monster's Name.
"An evil named," the king said, unhappily enough for Rumpelstiltskin, beneath the goat keeper's cottage, to overhear, "is an evil conquered. If we could only name this creature..."
Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpelstiltskin thought. He had introduced himself to Katya.
But apparently Katya had only been paying attention to herself, for, weeping, she said she did not know his name.
Rumpelstiltskin took the saucer of cream the goat keeper had set out for the cat and, carrying it carefully, he burrowed into the earth, through the yard, and up through the castle floors, until he found himself in the baby's room.
The nurse was asleep in her chair beside the baby prince's cradle.
Good, Rumpelstiltskin thought. The floor was painted blue, a good background color for showing up cream. Rumpelstiltskin dipped his finger into the saucer he'd carried with him and began tracing letters onto the floor: first an R, then a U...
When he was finished, he picked up the saucer and threw it onto the floor to get everyone's attention. The nurse woke up, guards rushed in, and the king and Katya came running in, too.
"He's come to steal our baby!" Katya screeched, though Rumpelstiltskin wasn't standing anywhere near the baby; he was standing by his name, which he'd written in cream on the blue-painted floor.
"Don't anybody move," the king commanded. "Maybe we can try reasoning with him."
"Why, someone's written something on the floor," one of the guards said, "and he was about to rub it out."
Which was exactly wrong, but at least it got everybody looking at the floor.
"It looks like a name," the nurse said. "It looks like..." She was trying to read it upside down and backward. "N ... I ... K—Nikolaus?"
"R, said one of the guards, who was clever enough to see which end was up. "Could it be Robert?"
They were all rolling their R's and trying to sound out Rumpelstiltskin. As soon as someone—it was Katya, by chance—said something that started with an R and had four syllables, Rumpelstiltskin pulled his hair and gave a cry that he hoped sounded more like frustration than heartfelt relief, and he stamped his foot and burrowed deep, deep into the ground. He could feel the relief of the household wash over him, thinking they had outwitted him and they were safe.
Now he just needed to be safe from them, for they were too foolish and unreliable to stay happy for long. He burrowed past the goat keeper's cottage, past the outer walls of the town, and kept on burrowing until he reached the house of a little old lady who kept more cats than she could count.
"Some people," Rumpelstiltskin told the cats, "just aren't happy unless they aren't happy."
None of the cats disagreed, so Rumpelstiltskin decided that they were fine and clever cats, and he lived with them for many, many happy years.
IV. Papa Rumpelstiltskin
Once upon a time, before bread was plastic-wrapped and sold in supermarkets, there lived a miller named Otto and his daughter, Christina.
In the way of most fathers, Otto was proud of his daughter and liked to brag about her. "Christina is a very clever girl," he told people. "Christina is a very sweet girl," he told people. "Christina is a very brave girl," he told people.
One of the things the miller was especially proud of was Christina's talent at spinning. "Christina," he would say, "can take the coarsest, lumpiest wool, and she can spin it into thread as thin as a spider's web." Or sometimes he'd say, "Why, I've seen Christina take flax that's so woody any other spinner would just throw it away, but Christina spins it fine as a cloud." And sometimes, when he was feeling especially proud, he'd say, "That Christina! She could spin straw into gold!"
One day, over the noise of the river turning the wheel that turned the gears that turned the mill wheel that ground grain into flour, Otto and Christina heard the blare of trumpets. Three fine coaches had pulled up in front of the mill, and, walking ahead to announce their arrival, were two satin-dressed servants. Out of the middle coach stepped the lord high chamberlain of the land. He ignored Otto and his daughter, who were rushing outside, trying to make themselves presentable in a hurry by wiping their hands on their work aprons. Instead, the lord high chamberlain went to the first coach, and by the way he bowed, Otto knew immediately that its passenger must be the king.
Otto bowed and Christina curtsied as the king stepped from the coach.
The king took out a lacy handkerchief and waved it lazily in Christina's general direction, because—of course—he was too important to speak to commoners.
In a bored voice, as though he was used to talking to much more interesting people than millers, the lord high chamberlain said, "The king asks: 'Is this the girl who can spin straw into gold?'"
Uh-oh, Otto thought.
Meanwhile, Christina, sounding amazed, asked, "Me?" and then, sounding puzzled, said, "No."
The king pursed his lips disapprovingly.
The lord high chamberlain said, "Don't contradict the king."
Otto cleared his throat.
"But—" Christina started.
The king, however, was waving his handkerchief in the general direction of Otto, and the lord high chamberlain said, "Don't interrupt the king. The king asks: 'Is this the man who says his daughter can spin straw into gold?'"
Christina put her hand on her hip and looked at her father in shocked wonder.
Otto stammered, trying to say, "Well," "Yes," "But," and "I only meant" all at the same time.
Apparently the king heard only the "Yes" part. He waved his handkerchief at Christina again, then at the third coach, then—as though this had soiled the lace—he let the handkerchief drop to the ground and he got back into his own coach.
"The king says," the lord high chamberlain told Christina, "that you are to come with us. You are to spin straw into gold tonight, or tomorrow morning he will have you put to death."
"What?" Otto said.
"What?" Christina said.
The lord high chamberlain took a box of snuff, sniffed a pinch, and repeated, sounding as bored as ever, "The king says: 'You are to come with us. You are to spin straw into gold tonight, or tomorrow morning he will have you put to death.'"
Otto stepped forward to protect his Christina. "This is all a misunderstanding," he started.
"Are you asking," the lord high chamberlain asked him, "for the king to have your daughter put to death now?"
"No!" Otto hurriedly placed himself between the lord high chamberlain and Christina. "We'll come with you."
"The coach," the lord high chamberlain sniffed, "is for the girl."
While Otto was helping Christina up into the last coach, he took the opportunity to whisper to her, "This is all my fault. But I'll follow in our wagon, and I'll think of a plan to rescue you."
"Mmmm," said Christina, who, of course, knew
her father well. "Do be careful. I'll try to think of something, too."
The lord high chamberlain got back into the middle coach, and Christina leaned out of the window to kiss her father's cheek.
Quickly Otto hitched his horse to the wagon he used to make deliveries and set off after the coaches. All the while that the coaches drove along the river from the mill through the woods to the castle, Otto thought.
I could bring my wagon beside the coach that holds Christina, and she could squeeze through the window and jump out and into the wagon, he thought.
But surely the king would notice. And he would send soldiers after them. Perhaps, Otto thought, I'd better think some more.
At the castle, servants lowered the drawbridge that let the three coaches and the miller's wagon cross the river to the castle itself, which stood on an island in the river. Once they were inside, Otto watched as the bridge was raised again, trapping them inside. This ruined the second plan he had devised, which was to wait until night and then sneak out of the castle with his daughter.
He climbed out of his wagon and approached Christina, who was just getting down from the coach. He whispered his third plan to her. "Maybe if we hire a very clever lawyer—"
Christina shook her head. "Lawyers take too long," she pointed out. "By the time a lawyer sets a court date..." She shuddered, and Otto did, too. Otto wasn't very good at plans, but he knew what being too late would mean for his daughter. Christina said, "Obviously I don't know how to spin straw into gold. In fact, the only gold we have is the gold necklace that was my mother's before she died."
Otto watched as Christina pulled the chain up over her head. Otto said, "Do you want me to bribe the lord high chamberlain?"
"I doubt this would be enough," Christina said. And, in fact, Otto could see the man approaching, now that servants had helped the king out of his coach and into the castle. Otto did have to admit to himself that there was more gold in the embroidery of the lord high chamberlain's vest pocket than was in the entire necklace Christina held.
"Hurry," Christina whispered to her father. "Take the necklace to a goldsmith and ask him to melt it down and draw it out into gold wire. Maybe the king will be satisfied with that."
"Clever Christina!" Otto cried.
"Shhh," she warned.
Otto lowered his voice. "What about the straw? If you're supposed to have spun it into gold, you'll need to get it out of the room."
Christina spoke quickly, for the lord high chamberlain was only a few steps away. "Place our wagon outside the window," she said. "Once night falls, I will throw the straw out the window into the wagon, then you must drive it away."
"Christina, you are brilliant!" Otto said. He turned to the lord high chamberlain. "My Christina is so smart—" he started, but Christina said sternly, "Father. Not now."
"Oh," Otto said, realizing that she didn't want the king's people knowing she was clever enough to outsmart them. "Right," he said. "Never mind."
So Otto didn't say anything when the king's servants came, but silently followed as they led Christina to a room filled with straw.
It was, Otto saw, an incredible amount of straw. Christina didn't point that out. She didn't object that even if all the straw had been wool, and even if she had only to spin it into yarn, there was no way she could have done it all in one night. Instead, she said, "This is a magnificent spinning wheel the king has provided for me, but it's not what I'm used to. I'm sure I could spin much better if my father brought me my own."
Word was sent to the king, who gave his permission, and the miller left on his errand for Christina, knowing that if he did not return in time, the king would have his daughter killed.
Luckily, the goldsmith was able to melt the necklace and pull it out into fine wire. Otto had him wrap it around a spool, which Otto then fastened to the bottom of Christina's spinning wheel. Placing the spinning wheel into the wagon, he returned to the king's castle.
There, he carried the spinning wheel up the stairs to Christina's lonely room, and—when nobody was looking—pointed to where the spool was set on a nail beneath the seat.
Christina blew him a kiss as the servants told him it was time for him to leave so that she could begin spinning for the king. "Such a brave girl," Otto pointed out to the servants.
But they really weren't interested.
Once darkness fell, Otto drove the wagon so that it was directly beneath the window of the room in which Christina was locked. She began to toss armful after armful of straw out the window. Below her, Otto arranged armful after armful of straw into the wagon.
It was hard work, and it took all night. Just as dawn was breaking, Otto drove the wagon around to the royal stables. "Straw delivery for you," he announced to the stable master, who helped him unload the wagon.
As soon as that was done, Otto raced back to the castle. He was just in time to see a crowd gathered in the hall in front of the room in which Christina was locked. He was just in time to hear the lord high chamberlain proclaim, "The king commands: 'Open the door.'"
A servant opened the door, and the lords and ladies of the court all crowded together, trying to see in. Standing in the center of the doorway, with nobody crowding him, was the king. Standing at the back of the crowd was Otto.
"No straw," Otto could hear various people murmur, as the news spread to the back of the crowd.
Until, finally, someone asked, "But where's the gold?"
Otto saw Christina take a deep breath, then she pulled out from behind her back the spinning wheel spindle. She had wrapped the gold wire from the goldsmith's spool around it.
More appreciative murmurings.
Except from the king. The king motioned with a lace handkerchief at the spindle, then around the room, which was empty save for Christina, the spinning wheel, and one or two stray pieces of broken straw.
"The king wonders," the lord high chamberlain interpreted, "where the rest of the gold is."
Uh-oh! Otto thought.
But his brave Christina didn't look worried. She curtsied. "Apparently your majesty is not familiar with spinning. But if your majesty should ask one of the women who spins, such a woman could tell you that the raw wool—or flax—or straw—is always much bulkier than the finished thread it works down to."
From the court ladies—who of course never did their own spinning but who had seen their maids work—there came a gentle sigh of agreement.
The king was displeased, Otto could tell. He wanted more gold.
To protect his daughter, Otto said, "Christina can do a lot better than this. Just give her more straw."
Christina glared at her father, but it was too late.
The king finally took the spindle from her. He gestured with his handkerchief—Otto had no idea what he could possibly mean—then he turned and walked away, with the lords and ladies trailing behind him.
In the end, only the lord high chamberlain was left, and some servants, and Otto—who hadn't been able to get near while the crowd had been there. Now he held his arms wide, and Christina ran to hug him. "Sorry," Otto told her, "sorry," hoping that his bragging words had caused no harm.
The lord high chamberlain, who'd been busy with his snuff box, finally finished, and he told the servants, "Feed her and let her rest. The king commands that tonight she will spin more straw into gold, or she will pay with her life."
"But," Christina said as the servants took her by the arms and led her down the hall, away from her father. "But..."
That evening, before the servants locked Christina into her new prison room—a room that was even bigger than the first and even more full of straw—Otto asked to see her.
"I've brought this pillow," he said. "I forgot to bring it last night for you to sit on." He spoke loudly, because the servants were listening. Then he whispered to her, "Same plan as last night?"
"I only had one necklace," she reminded him.
Otto told her, "I sold all our clothes and furniture. There are two spools of gold wir
e sewn into the pillow. The wagon is outside this window. Start throwing."
So Christina did.
Otto collected the straw in the wagon and brought it to the stable, to the stable master, who was relieved to receive it, for—he told Otto—there seemed to be a sudden shortage of straw in the last couple of days.
By the time Otto arrived at Christina's room, the servant was just opening the door for the king and his court.
Otto saw Christina immediately hold out the spindle with two spoolsful of gold wire. "Thank you for your kind hospitality," she told the king. "But I've been so lonely for home, I cannot stay a moment longer."
Hardly even glancing at the gold, the king took out his handkerchief and began waving.
Otto sincerely hoped he was saying good-bye.
The lord high chamberlain said, "The king understands your distress. But he says that from now on this is your home. In fact, the king has graciously agreed to marry you tomorrow."
Otto saw the horror with which Christina looked at him.
How could he possibly think she'd want to marry someone who keeps threatening to kill her? Otto wondered. The crowd, however, broke into polite applause.
"Of course," the lord high chamberlain continued, "as queen, you will not only spin straw into gold every day; you will also teach the castle servants how to do so."
He didn't have to add, "Or else." Otto could read it in his eyes. No doubt Christina could, too.
Once again, the king and his court left Christina with the servants, and—waiting at the edge of the crowd—her father. "I had the feeling you might need this second pillow," he said.
"Oh, Father!" She threw her arms around his neck.
"I thought this might happen," he whispered. "Well, not the marriage part, but the more gold part. So I sold the mill."
"Father!" she gasped. The mill was their livelihood. And after all, they both knew it would gain them only one day.
Unless one of them came up with a better plan.
Otto hoped it would be Christina, because he'd had enough trouble just keeping up with her first plan.