Pandora's Box, Part 17

Far away, trapped in the turret, Epimetheus gazed across the wide woods. In the distance, a spiral of white snow dropped from the heavens, breaking apart the endless vista of black, swirling clouds. A bitter wind swept across the landscape, silencing all birdsong and stripping trees of their leaves in its wake. The world lay in lifeless, barren ruins, emptied of all light.

“She has killed her!” Epimetheus whispered. He imagined Sylph’s crushing sorrow, and the panic sweeping through all the merry brothers in the sweet cottage, as Aurora’s dead body lay amongst them. He thought of his own brother, Prometheus, abandoned and chained to the mountainside, enduring agony for a lifetime. There is such wickedness, Epimetheus thought. Despair swamped his soul and he lay, weeping hopelessly.

A crow perched on the stone wall, its feathers tattered and torn, its head tipped to one side, as if curious. Blinking iridescent eyes, it dropped a tiny red bead at Epimetheus’s feet. Then it shook itself, nuzzled its feathers into shape again, and flapped newly invigorated wings.

Epimetheus crouched to retrieve the berry, puzzling out the meaning of this. “Was it poison then? Was that the tool she used?” he asked. “And if it can be dislodged, Aurora will live again? Oh tell me crow, is that the message?”

The crow cawed loudly, lifting one claw after the other, as if to celebrate its communicative excellence.

Epimetheus exhaled, slowly. “But I cannot get to her. Aurora is lost to me.”

The crow flapped its wings once more.

“But you can!” Epimetheus jumped up. “Ah, blessed bird. Please go, save Aurora’s life!”

The crow cawed, soared high into the air, and disappeared from view.

***

Knee deep in snow, their hair and eyelashes caked in snowflakes. Tom and Robert fought their way back to the cottage door. The other brothers called out from the cottage gate, struggling to push through the blizzard half-blinding them.

“What’s happening here?” Tom cried. “Aurora! Sylph!”

A crow screeched suddenly, flying down to perch on the cottage’s porch. It scratched the straw roofing, dislodging a pile of snow, which fell on the youngest waif and stray, Honest John.

“Tis magic, it’s plain to see!” he cried, struggling to emerge from the sudden avalanche.

“Tis black magic,” grumbled his older brother, Jack Horner. “That there bird must be some witch’s familiar.”

The other boys muttered together, wide-eyed and fearful.

“Don’t say that,” reprimanded Robert, taking charge. “Save your breath to cool your porridge, boys. Now help us get this door open. It’s frozen shut!”

All seven boys gathered together, pushing their shoulders against the door, grunting with effort. At last, the door creaked and gave way, and the boys tumbled inside. The crow swooped in after them, landing on the table, bobbing his chest up and down as if trying to convey a message.

Tom was first to see and reach the silent figure laid out on the stone floor, stepping forward as the other boys huddled together behind him, their usual chatter hushed. Tom sank to his knees, awestruck and stricken, reaching out a shaking hand to touch Aurora’s hair, a shining, golden halo around her pale, waxlike face.

“Is Aurora … is she dead, Tom?” Honest John asked, tears welling.

Tom held Aurora’s wrist, then leant in to check her breath. There was nothing, not one beat or one breath. He sat back on his heels, his face wild with grief. “She isn’t breathing. Why isn’t she breathing?”

Robert knelt down beside Tom, placing a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Ah Tom, I am so sorry.”

“What about Sylph?” Jack Horner cried, lurking in the corner.

“Go and check on her,” ordered Robert.

Jack Horner nodded, then grabbed Honest John’s arm, urging him to come with him for support. Sylph had been like a mother to the pair of them, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being gone too.

“She’s alive!” they shouted back to the others, after a small pause. “But still very sick.”

The other boys breathed sighs of relief, hurrying to the bedroom to check for themselves.

“Stay with her boys. Make sure she’s warm and comfortable” Robert said.

“Give her some honey,” added Tom, “and add a little comfrey to it for warmth.”

Left alone, Robert and Tom continued to stare down at Aurora.

“We’ve failed them both, Robert,” Tom murmured.

“Don’t say that,” Robert soothed. “We can still help Sylph, if not her daughter.”

The crow cawed suddenly, making both boys jump with alarm. It eyed them with a look of disgust, spitting a red berry from its shining, black beak. The tiny sphere rolled over the wooden table, down onto the floor and then onwards towards Aurora’s outstretched, lifeless fingers.

“The same red as her lips,” Tom said, touching the berry, then turning his head away in grief.

“Wait!” Robert said. “What is that red thing poking out of her mouth, Tom?”

Tom looked to where Robert was pointing, and as gently as he could, pushed his index finger in between Aurora’s cold lips. He felt the object, hooked his finger around the red lump obstructing her throat and jerked it forward, out of her mouth.

Aurora’s chest dipped and expanded. She gasped, and her cheeks flooded with peachy health. She sat up, coughed out the remaining apple and belched.

“I beg your pardon!” she cried, horribly embarrassed to find Tom and Robert staring at her so intently.

Tom gulped, laughed and cried all at once, flinging his arms around Aurora, as if he had just heard the notes of an angel.

Robert grinned. “See Tom, I told you, you’re a great healer!” Then he looked at the crow now perched comfortably on his shoulder. “Thank you, my friend,” he said. “You did good service here today.”

The crow nodded, and flew out of the cottage. As it flew, he left a glistening trail behind, melting the snow beneath its shadow.

Flying high above in the dark sky, the locksmith gazed down at the snowy drifts and the darkened trail pointing directly to the cottage, and his lips curved into a roguish smile.

“So easy,” he murmured. “Well, here I come, young Aurora!”

Inside the cottage, Tom reluctantly released Aurora from his eager embrace. “What happened, Aurora?” Tom asked. “Do you remember?”

“It was an old woman…she offered me an apple to help Mother,” Aurora explained. “I thought she could help, but now I see she just meant to hurt me. Could it have been…was it really the queen? Oh, I’ve been such a fool! Tom, is my mother safe?”

“She’s safe,” Tom hurried to reassure her. “But she needs our help, right now. Do you feel well enough to aid me?”

Aurora nodded, brushed herself down and hastened after him, determined never to fall for such trickery again, and never to let Tom down again.

It was then that she heard the door knock for a second time that day, a rat-a-tat-tat that made her heart flutter with fear.