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Runner up: Puss's magical stockings
By Laura Yona
Puss in Boots... what happened next
The Marquis de Carabas (for so he was now known) strained to look over his shoulder as he held out his arms for the tailor's apprentice. He was being fitted for his wedding garb. Puss was, as usual, sunning herself in front of the large picture window in the Marquis' new rooms.
"Puss," the Marquis began, "Ow!" (For the tailor's apprentice had poked him when he turned his head to look at Puss.)
"Puss," said the Marquis again, careful to only move his mouth this time, "Puss, you've made my wildest dreams come true. I'm rich, I'm to marry a beautiful princess, I'm to become a prince... I can't think of anything else I might want. Except..."
"Yes, Marquis?" said Puss, who was always careful to call him by the title she had invented for him, who was by birth a common miller's son.
"Puss, I'd like to give you something. Your bravery and cunning and skill have made me the man I am today. I'd like to reward you, but I don't know what I can give you that you can't provide for yourself. Would... would you like the farmers to start bringing you all the mice they can catch?" the Marquis half turned toward Puss, "Ow! For the love of... you knew I was turning, man! You did that out of spite!"
"Hol' shtill or I'll poke 'gain," said the apprentice through a mouthful of pins.
Puss shuddered at the mention of mice. "No mice, please Marquis. Horrid little things. One eats them only when one must. No, no mice. There is something, though. Something which I cannot do for myself, yet desire more than anything in the world. I hesitate to ask, though – the getting of it is quite difficult."
"Name it, Puss! You have given me everything – I would deny you nothing."
"Well," (and here Puss paused for a giant yawn. She was, after all, still a cat) "I would have lovely silk stockings to wear with my boots."
"Silk stockings? Why, that's easy! I can send someone to the marketplace today to fetch a dozen pair!" the Marquis exclaimed, as the tailor's apprentice poked him again, "Out! Out with you! I'll call you back in a bit, monster," he cried as he shooed the man out of the room.
"Ah, but these shan't be ordinary stockings, my master. They must be made of the finest wild silk, spun by a virgin who has never known even the sight of a man. They should be handknit in the light of the moon by a man who has taken the blood of another in anger, and must be topped with a delicate lace. The pattern of the lace can only be found in the leaf of the tree that bears a white flower with four petals. Finally, they must be finished with a ribbon that has been dipped in the juice of the berries that grow only on the peak of yonder mountain."
The Marquis was a bit stunned by all this, and took a moment to digest Puss's instructions. He could get the silk easily enough from one of the foreign merchants that frequented his port (his port! He could still hardly believe it!), and he thought he might be able to find a virgin who had never even seen a man... perhaps in a convent? But there his ideas for granting Puss's wish ended. He couldn't see what else he might do to get the stockings Puss had asked for. And yet... Puss had truly made him the man he was. To grant her this one thing was nothing compared to all she had done for him.
"Puss," said the Marquis, "Strange and difficult as your request is, I shall fulfill it. I think I know how to get the silk and the spinner, but the rest... can you give me some advice, as you have always done when I find myself in a quandary?"
"Master, I cannot. I have told you all I can and can do no more. You must do the rest on your own. There is one more thing, though – you mustn't marry the princess before I wear the stockings. If you do, things shall surely go badly for you."
The princess and the king were none too pleased by this turn of events, but finally the king agreed to give the Marquis a year and a day to fulfill his pledge to Puss.
"For," said the king, in his kingliest voice, "I'll not have a son-in-law who shirks his promises."
The Marquis spent many days and nights thinking about Puss's stockings. He sent an agent to the wharf to obtain the wild silk, and was indeed able to find a blind virgin in one of the local convents who could spin a fine yarn.
He went out himself in search of a tree with white flowers made of four petals, and finally found one at the edge of the great forest that lay to the east of the kingdom. He had no idea what Puss meant by a lace pattern, but he plucked several of the leaves to bring back with him.
A party of young, agile climbers was sent to the mountain peak to gather the berries there and bring them back to the castle so that the final ribbon might be dipped in their juices.
At last, when the spinner had delivered the yarn, a master lace maker had translated the leaves into a pattern, and the climbers had returned with the rarest of berries, the Marquis still had no one to knit the stockings for Puss. After much thought, he called for a notice to be posted in every tavern and jail that any man who had taken a life might be pardoned if he could knit by moonlight. And then he waited.
The days turned into weeks, which became months, and finally, nearly a year had passed. The Marquis sought Puss out (for though they were still boon companions, being a real Marquis takes much more time than being a fake Marquis and they hadn't been spending as much time together as they used to).
"Puss," he said sadly, for he had wanted very badly to give her this one gift, "Puss, I am afraid I must marry the princess before you have your stockings. I have gotten the silk, had it spun, found the lace pattern, and even had the ribbon dyed as you asked, but no man has come forward who can do the knitting. Now I fear it is too late. Can you ever forgive me? I don't know what else to do."
"Marquis, there is nothing to forgive. You have tried your best with the gifts you have, and it is not your fault that you have almost (but not quite yet) failed. I am sad, that is all, and wish I could help you. For as I told you before, if you marry the princess before I wear the stockings, it shall go badly for you." Puss twined herself between the Marquis' legs and rubbed her head on his calf to let him know she truly wasn't angry with him. "There may yet be some hope, for the year is not quite up."
"Even if someone does come forward now, what are the chances he will be able to knit a pair of fine stockings in so short a time? No, Puss, I am afraid all is lost. I am truly, truly sorry." The Marquis buried his face in his hands and gave a great sob, for he hated to disappoint his good friend and companion. When he looked up, Puss had gone and he knew what he had to do.
"Sire," said the Marquis, bowing his head low, "I regret that I cannot marry your daughter, the princess. Though she is beautiful beyond compare and any man in our nation – or beyond our borders, for that matter – would count himself lucky to have her as his wife, I must remove myself as her suitor."
The king's face reddened, for dissolution of the marriage contract would be highly embarrassing. He was angry not at the Marquis, but at his daughter, for he assumed that word of her... character, had reached his ears. He had ordered that no one was to speak of the princess's strange rages and rude behaviour, for he hoped that marriage to a good man like the Marquis would sweeten her personality and return her to someone resembling the lovely girl she had been just a few years before. Also, he was quite fond of the Marquis and had been looking forward to welcoming him as a son.
The Marquis saw the king's anger on his face and hastened to explain, "Majesty, I would like nothing better than to marry your daughter. Some years ago, a bard passed through and sang tales not only of her beauty but of her kindness and strength. I have been a little bit in love with her since then. But as you know, I have made a boon to my companion, Puss, who has performed great service for me."
Here the king nodded, for he was fully aware of the details of the boon Puss had asked for. "I gave you a year, Marquis. Was that not enough time to get one simple pair of silk stockings made?"
"Sire, the silk has been obtained and spun, the lace pattern has been written, and the ribbon has been dyed with the rare mountain berries. But no man has come forward to claim pardon in exchange for knitting by moonlight. Without a knitter, all that preparation has been for naught. There are but three weeks left in the year you granted me, and I am afraid we are out of time. Even if someone were to come forward now, I doubt he would be able to finish the stockings in time."
"My son, I may have a solution to this problem of yours. Let me think on it, and return to me tomorrow."
"Yes, Majesty," the Marquis bowed and left the room, hope blooming in his heart. He had been afraid that the king would call for his head, or worse, Puss's head.
The rest of that day and night seemed to last forever to the Marquis, but finally it was the appointed time for his meeting with the king the following morning. When he entered the audience chamber, he was surprised to see that the king had no retainers present so that they were completely alone. The king was gazing out the window, lost in thought.
"Sire?" said the Marquis tentatively.
The king turned and said, "Marquis, I have wrestled through the night with the question of whether to do this for you. What I keep coming back to is that you will be a good husband, a fine son-in-law, and even, one day, a good and wise royal consort.
"What I have to tell you now can never leave this room. The deed that must be done shall be carried out in secret as well, for too many already know what you seek.
"When I was but a young prince, I was out hunting with a group of friends. We had been drinking, as young men do, and one of my friends said something that angered me. I don't even remember what it was now, but it seemed like a matter of life and death – young, drunk men are foolish that way. I responded with something that offended him just as greatly and before long we were rolling on the ground, each trying to knock the other senseless. He had me pinned underneath him, and I grabbed a rock and smashed it into his head. I didn't know at first that he had died, and when I did realise it, of course I was full of regret and remorse. The incident was hushed up in the interests of the kingdom. The others who were present assumed I hit him out of fear, fear that he would do me harm. But the truth is, at the moment I swung that rock, I hated him more than anything in the world and I was full of rage and anger."
Here the king paused and looked expectantly at the Marquis.
"But, sire," the Marquis said, "knitting silk stockings like this will require a master knitter. I mean no offence, majesty, when I say that I don't see how –"
The king laughed, startling the Marquis.
"I forget, Marquis, you are not familiar with our traditions. Many ages ago, one of my ancestors observed that among the common folk, those who seemed the most tranquil were those who had needles in their hands. She had one of her maids teach her to knit and found that indeed, knitting while contemplating matters of state helped her both to relax and to concentrate. She decreed that those who would rule our land must learn this skill first. So it has been ever since. I am a master knitter in my own right, Marquis, and will knit these stockings for you."
"I am humbled, sire. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."
"Never mind thanking me," the king said gruffly, "just make sure you treat my little girl right. Bring the materials for the stockings here yourself, late this afternoon. I'll need to start tonight if I'm to get them done in time for the wedding to happen as planned."
Three weeks later, on the morning of his wedding, the Marquis still had not seen the stockings. He had no opportunity to approach the king alone, and mindful of the king's secret, dared not even hint at the project when they were in the company of others. He tried to find Puss to apologise, but there was nary a hair of her to be seen. He searched high and low, but finally, it was time for him to join the princess in the Great Hall of the castle. He left a note for Puss, in case she should return:
"Dearest Puss,
You know that you are more dear to me than a wife ever could be. I tried my best to fulfill the promise I made to you, but have failed you and for that I am sorry. I must go now and tell the king that I cannot marry the princess. I don't know what will happen to me... but know that whatever happens, I love you.
Your Marquis."
After setting the note in a sunny spot on the windowsill, he hastened to the Hall. The king and all the guests were assembled in their finery, and the hall had been draped with expensive cloths and exotic flowers. Although he was trembling inside, he strode up to the king and quietly asked for a moment to speak with him. He felt betrayed by the king, but knew that the king was also in a difficult position and would certainly feel that the happiness of his only child was far more important than a pair of socks for some old cat.
"No time now, boy, no time! Get in place! The princess will be here any minute!"
"But sire –"
"No buts! Get up there!"
"Sire, I –"
"Boy, if you don't get up there on your own, I'll get you up there!"
The Marquis suddenly found himself facing two rather largish guests, who, while they were not actively menacing, certainly had a good deal of menacing potential. The Marquis went to the altar, trying to devise a plan in his head. Should he announce in front of the kingdom that he couldn't marry the princess? Should he just say, "I don't" at the key juncture? He still had no answer when the processional began.
Being a royal wedding, the processional took rather a long time, but finally his bride to be was beside him. She was as beautiful as ever, but he noticed a hard gleam in her eyes that he had never seen before. It was almost... triumphant. Yes, that was it exactly. It was as if some grand scheme had come to fruition. The Marquis remembered Puss's words, and his resolve to stop this wedding somehow was strengthened. But now the officiant had started and the wedding was begun.
"We are gathered here today..."
The Marquis waited eagerly for a long pause so that he could break in. He didn't know what he would say, but he was determined to at least postpone the wedding until Puss' stockings were finished. Unfortunately, the officiant was a consummate professional and moved smoothly from passage to passage until it was time for the vows. It was the tradition in the kingdom to call for objections before the betrothed were joined, and the Marquis finally saw his chance.
"If there is anyone present who knows a reason why these two personages should not be joined in matrimony under the eyes of the king and the gods, speak now."
The officiant had barely gotten the words out when a loud "Stop!" rang through the hall. At first the Marquis thought he had actually spoken aloud, and then he realised that while his mouth was open, that shout had come from a decidedly feminine voice. He turned with the bride and the rest of the guests and saw a woman who looked remarkably like his bride-to-be standing in the doorway of the hall. The guests began murmuring and he turned toward the woman standing by his side for an explanation. What he saw made him recoil in horror, for the princess was now a decrepit old hag.
"Imposter!" cried the woman who had stopped the ceremony, pointing at the old woman and striding toward her. The Marquis noticed something familiar about her walk, but couldn't put his finger on it.
When the young woman arrived at the altar, the hag tried to hide behind him but was dragged out by her hair, "This witch cast a spell on me seven years ago, and took my place as the princess. I now claim my rightful title and condemn her to death."
The king had risen and joined the princess at the altar, "Oh, my daughter, is it really you? I can hardly believe my eyes. We have all been so worried about you and your unkind ways."
Here he turned to the Marquis,"Son, I have done you a disservice. I intended to use you and your good heart to teach my wayward daughter about love and kindness, not knowing that my fear that she was a monster was only too true. I release you from any promises you have made me under these false pretenses."
"Sire, I don't know what to say. I must admit that I intended to stop the ceremony myself. Puss warned me that if I married the princess before she had her stockings, things would go badly. I see now what she meant, though I don't know how she knew. Princess, beautiful as you are, I cannot marry you today... but as soon as Puss has her stockings," and he looked significantly at the king here, "I will be more than happy to court you properly."
"Then let the courtship begin now."
The princess delicately raised her skirts, and the Marquis gasped, for he saw that she was wearing Puss' boots. Before he could protest, though, she had raised her skirts far enough that he could see a delicate ivory lace cuff draped over the tops of the famous brown boots.
"Puss?" he asked in disbelief. "But...how? What...? I don't understand."
"Several years ago, I was playing near the forest and that hag cast a spell on me, turning herself into me, and me into a cat. Your father took me in, and helped me find out how to break the spell. When he was on his deathbed, he told me you were the only one of his sons who would help me. I arranged everything so that you would be in a position to help me. I am sorry I used you so, but please believe me – I do love you."
"Puss... Princess, of course I believe you. How could I not? You always acted in my best interest, even when I didn't know it. I love you, too. But I am, after all, just a miller's son, as you well know. I am hardly fit to court a princess."
"You are a mere miller's son no longer – you are a Marquis, and I will deal with anyone who says differently. Let us have no more talk of courtship. We have all the makings of a lovely wedding right here. We shouldn't disappoint our guests." She turned to her father, who was openly weeping. "Father? You don't mind, do you?"
"Mind, daughter? Of course not. I welcome the Marquis, and I welcome you back," he said as he gave the princess a tremendous hug before he turned to go back to his seat. "Continue, priest – from where you left off is fine. There can be no objections to this match."
And the priest continued through to the end (though there was a bit of a long pause when the groom kissed the bride), and they all lived happily ever after. And the princess knit her own stockings from then on.
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