Bean-Knee, Sorcha? Really? What on earth sort of name is Bean-Knee?
. . . Oh, my. Really? Good Lord, that’s dreadful. Never mind. I’ve just remembered it wasn’t Bean-Knee that Queen Maisie met there at the water’s edge. It was—
What’s that, Miss Maisie?
You’d like for the queen to meet Bean-Knee?
But—but my dear, did you hear who Bean-Knee is? What it means for the queen to meet her?
You did?
And you’d still like sweet, good, kind Queen Maisie to meet her there by the sea?
Good Lord. Children are macabre little beasts, aren’t you?
I had really meant to end the story with a birthday party, you know. Candles and fireworks and cake with the queen’s name in icing of that pretty orangey color, or any color you like, if you’d rather a different. Presents and games and so forth, with the queen winning a special prize of . . . of a new frock! A new frock with a . . . a matchinghat! And both of them made of . . . of the feathers of a bird that grants wishes! Doesn’t that sound nice? That, of course, was why Lady Dorcas had sent her out. Because it was going to be a surprise, you see, which obviously I couldn’t have said at the beginning, or it might have spoiled everything, Phin. Sometimes the plot holes are there strategic-like, so endings don’t get spoiled.
Except now we’re going to have to ditch all that, if Queen Maisie really meets Bean-Knee. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the party, dear? They could bob for apples.
No?
Fine.
Queen Maisie walked up to Bean-Knee, and it was a good thing for her that she’d spotted Bean-Knee before the washerwoman spotted her, because if Bean-Knee spots you first, all sorts of awfulness can happen to you. But as it happened—What sorts of . . . ? Well, really, Miss Maisie! I wonder at you, wanting to hear all these dreadful things. You’ll have nightmares.
You have them already?
Oh.
Well, then I suppose I can tell you that if Bean-Knee had spotted the queen first, the queen would have lost the use of her limbs, for one thing, and fallen over helpless into the surf, where perhaps she might have drowned, or a sea creature might have come and carried her off. I’m sure you’re about to ask what sorts of sea creatures, and I suppose no friendly mermaids or sea cows will do, so you might as well know that the waters off the coast of the queen’s land were simply infested with golevants.
You’ve never heard of golevants?
That’s funny; I thought everyone knew about those. There was a rhyme when I was a girl that people used to say. I think the idea was to keep us off the rocks out at Morrawhick Point, for it was at least once a season that someone lost a child or a best friend on those rocks or the waters below them. Anyhow, it went:
The rocks are tall, the rocks are slick;
Don’t climb up at Morrawhick,
For in the waters off that shoal,
The golevants will eat you whole.
Except, of course, it isn’t terrible enough, the idea of monsters eating one whole, is it? Because then you might survive in their bellies until someone came along to get you out with a strategic sneeze or bit of vomiting or a good sharp fillet knife, like Red Riding Hood or Pinocchio and Geppetto or Jonah. No, there was a second verse, if I recall, one that explained in detail that by “eat you whole” the writer didn’t mean you’d be guzzled down in one gulp, but rather chomped slowly to pieces, the whole of you, beginning with the toes and ending with your screaming head. It didn’t say precisely what a golevant looked like, though, now I think of it. I always thought of them as—well. Never mind.
The point is, the queen saw Bean-Knee first, and called out her hello, so then Bean-Knee had to reply, bound as she was by tradition and the laws of politeness, which apply doubly to uncanny things. Let it be a lesson, Miss Maisie. Always be polite, for a hello-how-are-you is as good as a salt ring to many a supernatural creature. Also good manners is good manners, no matter where you go.
Well, Bean-Knee replied politely enough, but she immediately began folding up her washing. And Queen Maisie was such a good, kind girl that when she saw this, she immediately reached down for a piece of cloth to help the washerwoman finish her work. And from that moment on, Bean-Knee couldn’t leave until such time as the queen handed that piece of laundry back. You see? Politeness and manners pays, because if Bean-Knee had run off, Queen Maisie might never have learned a secret that would change her life.
She was folding that one bit of cloth when Queen Maisie realized it was just exactly the double of her favorite nightgown, only stained all over in rust-colored patches, and raggedy holes all over, too. “I say,” said she, “this looks just like one of mine. How funny. How did it get ruined so?”
Bean-Knee sighed. Because, you see, since Queen Maisie had spotted her first and since she held a piece of the washerwoman’s cloth, Bean-Knee was bound to answer truthfully. And so she said, reluctantly but honestly, “It is yours, Your Majesty, and it came that way because that is how yours will look in the morning, after Lady Dorcas has had you killed and taken your crown.”
Oh, dear. That took a rather morbid turn. But I warned you, didn’t I? Sorcha said Bean-Knee washes the shrouds of the dead, and I offered you a birthday party instead. But here we
