The Heart of The Beast: A romantic adult fairytale revealing how the power of love can overcome the hardest heart. Susan Kohler
and bloodthirsty temper. He was a cold and forbidding man, a knight whose very lack of mercy or human compassion gave him a strange and terrifying appellation, one that all knew but few were bold enough to say aloud. That his very brutality worried the King, a King who had shown himself to be harsh and brutal, was a strong testament to how cold and battle hardened the knight truly was.
Secretly, the King hoped that peace and a permanent home, along with the responsibilities that come with ruling, would tame the fierce, grim knight to some degree. Perchance his own land and serfs to rule would teach the fearsome warrior some basic human emotions, would teach him the import of a man’s life and even the value of his own his happiness, without weakening him too much.
The King knew that to be a great man, the knight needed to add some human factors to his cruel disposition: Wisdom, mercy, a degree of patience and especially some compassion. Mayhap, the King reflected, now that the war is over, his knight would learn these things well enough so that he would no longer be called by that terrifying appellation, that he would no longer be known by the simple but dreadful name… The Beast.
Life in the small village had greatly changed since the day of the terrible invasion. Life was much more tenuous, survival more arduous, and death took many of the villagers through starvation and disease. The villagers were even poorer now than they had been before. Much of their livestock had been either killed outright in the fierce battle or stolen by the invading hordes.
The villagers had not been able to replenish their meagre flocks of chickens, geese and ducks. The herds of swine, goats and lambs had grown back a little but still remained greatly diminished. There were precious few cattle left in the herds. Virtually all the horses had been stolen or killed, so many of the villagers had to plow the land by hand.
It wasn’t just the lack of livestock. Nature had conspired with the invaders, it seemed, and followed the invasion with a few years of bad weather, at least for farming. There was precious little rain, and the summers were warmer than normal. The crops had been very poor for the past few years, not yielding nearly enough to replenish the village after the invasion.
Several other things had hurt the small village as well: The new lord had raised the rents to be paid by the farmers but he saw no need to do anything for them. The villagers worked so hard to pay the rents that they had no time to even begin repairs on any of the small huts they lived in.
Even the sanitation in the village suffered after the invasion. The old lord had ordered the village to be kept clean, a rule many of the villagers thought to be foolish in the extreme. Still, the village had been spared many of the diseases that scourged the countryside.
Now, with no one to enforce the order and the villagers working so hard just to survive, filth had built up in the village. All vestiges of the old lord’s sanitary rules were lost. The added waste and refuse had caused several diseases to sweep through the village, greatly decimating the population. Those who remained struggled to merely survive.
The villagers hunted for game in the forest but it was a very dangerous undertaking because poaching the lord’s game carried a death penalty. The Beast imposed the penalty with absolutely no mercy. Bodies of hanged men lined the road to the castle, even though the Beast periodically ordered them cut down.
Worst of all, the new lord believed it was his right to use the peasants as he saw fit. There were rumours of women being dragged to the castle on his order. Few returned, and they were greatly wounded, left with scars on their young bodies and their minds that never really faded.
Beauty, the defeated lord’s daughter, and her family had moved away from the village immediately after the invasion but wherever they travelled, life was extremely rugged. Poverty was rampant throughout the country. The new lord was rebuilding many things, but he had so far kept most of his efforts close to his own home. His reign was still new and tenuous, and he fought to establish control. Outlaying villages were barely noticed.
Although few in the small village knew the former lady and her family very well if at all, to them the small town still felt like home. They had roots there and a sense of connection to the past. In truth, they felt a sense of obligation to the villagers. So, even with living conditions as bad as they were in the village, the old lord’s widow and her family chose to return there to live as simple peasants.
They had some fear of the new lord. There were rumours about him. It was said by some that the surviving families of the conquered lords had been hunted down and slaughtered. Nonetheless Beauty’s family hoped the new lord thought them to be dead and would not look for them to be living in the very shadow of their old home.
It was a beautiful spring morning. The sky was clear and blue with just traces of soft, fluffy clouds. The surrounding hills were plush and green, and the crops in the fields were growing nicely, for the first time in years. There were a few lambs, young and frisky, grazing on a distant hillside. Even a few calves were nursing, but alas there were no playful foals. Wildflowers grew at the entrance to the forest, which abounded with deer, boar and other wild game.
Beauty surveyed her surroundings with a sigh. She loved this countryside and its splendour but there was always a slight tightening in her throat as she studied the huge stone castle that arose from the distant hillside, casting a shadow of dread over the entire countryside. Waves of emotions washed over her: Regret, longing, despair and resentment, even hatred. She shivered, although the day was much too warm for the uncomfortable way she was dressed.
She wore a bulky and ill-fitting dress, made of plain, thick, grey wool, with a high neckline and long sleeves. It was monstrous and unflattering, like all the dresses she was used to wearing. Along with the dress, she wore a long, heavy cloak and hood that covered her face, hair and body completely. Under the hood, her long hair was pulled back and crudely tied at the nape of her neck with a rough leather thong.
She hated the drab and concealing garb but she had no real choice in the matter. Her older brother, Tom, warned her constantly that if she let anyone see her, her unique beauty could be her downfall. She could fall prey to not only the crude attentions of the village men, but she might also be unfortunate enough to draw the barbarous lust of the Beast, the young knight who ruled as lord of the manor. Remembering the few times she’d seen the knight from a distance riding his great, black warhorse, she shivered again and knew her brother had been right.
Beauty sighed again, softly, and thought to herself, if she hid herself so completely, how would she ever find a man to marry? What man would ever notice her? Who could she ever meet? How could she ever fall in love? She had no idea where to even begin looking for a husband. In truth, she thought ruefully, she had no idea what station or rank of man she should consider since her family’s fortunes had sunk so low. Should she try to make friends with one of the peasant boys? Or should she try to find her life’s mate amongst the nobility? What about the displaced nobles?
She knew few men from either class, and the few that did know of her had never seen her without the bulky, concealing outfit which was hardly apparel destined to attract a man’s attention or arouse his passion.
It seemed to Beauty that she was doomed to a life alone, without a mate or children. She could face life without a husband, if need be, but she longed for children to love. Her resentment of the bleak future was yet another fault she placed straight at the feet of the Beast.
The village men she could handle, it was mainly to avoid the Beast’s odious attentions that she was forced to hide herself in such hideous garb, and it was because of him that she now had to work like the lowest field hand. Cursing the Beast under her breath, she smote the hard soil with her hoe.
The Beast ruled his newly acquired lands and peasants with absolute authority, dispensing his own form of law absent regard for justice, and wanting the smallest trace of mercy or compassion. Many men had been tortured or even hung after being accused of the smallest of crimes, and without the least question as to their guilt or innocence.
As lord, the Beast also truly believed he had the absolute right to take any of