فصل شانزدهم

16

A Lullaby

The attic room Mercedes told the maids to turn into Ofelia’s bedroom had a round window in the wall like the face of the full moon. But the room itself was even more desolate than the one Ofelia had shared with her mother, all its corners filled with stored-away boxes and furniture covered in ghostly shrouds yellowed by time and neglect.

“Would you like some supper?” asked Mercedes.

“No, thank you.” Ofelia shook her head.

Mercedes had brought another maid to cover the bed with fresh sheets and pillows. The dark wood of the bed frame made the white fabrics look like snow. All the furniture at the mill was made from this kind of wood and for a moment Ofelia imagined the trees around the mill to rise and tear down its walls and take revenge for their brethren who’d been cut down to build beds and tables and chairs.

“You haven’t eaten a thing,” said Mercedes.

How could she eat? She was filled with sadness. Ofelia silently put her books on the bedside table and sat down on the blanket. White. Everything white would from now on remind her of red.

“Don’t worry.” Mercedes reached over the bed and touched Ofelia’s shoulder. “Your mother will get better soon. You’ll see. Having a baby is complicated.” “Then I’ll never have one.”

Ofelia hadn’t cried since she’d found her mother soaked in blood, but Mercedes’s soft voice made the tears finally run down her cheeks as densely as the blood had run over the pages of the Faun’s book. Why hadn’t the book warned her in time? Why show her something that was happening anyway? Because the book is cruel, something in Ofelia whispered, as cruel as its cunning master. Even the Fairy is cruel.

Yes, she was. Ofelia shuddered as she recalled the Fairy digging her teeth into the Faun’s bloody meal. The Fairies in her books didn’t have teeth like that, did they?

Mercedes sat down by her side and caressed Ofelia’s hair. It was as black as her mother’s. As black as coal, as white as snow, as red as blood . . .

“You’re helping those men in the woods, aren’t you?” Ofelia whispered.

Mercedes withdrew her hands.

“Have you told anyone?”

Ofelia saw that Mercedes didn’t dare look at her.

“No, I haven’t. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” She leaned her head against Mercedes’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She wanted to hide in her arms, from the world, from the blood, from the Wolf, from the Faun. There was no Underground Kingdom she could escape to. It was all lies. There was only one world and it was so dark.

Mercedes was not used to holding a child, although she was still young enough to have one. When she finally wrapped her arms around the girl, the softness stirring in her heart frightened her. It was dangerous to be soft in this world.

“And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you!” she whispered back, cradling Ofelia in her arms, although part of her was still warning her of the tenderness she gave in to. She herself had once wished for a daughter, but the war had made her forget. It had made her forget many things.

“Do you know a lullaby?” Ofelia murmured.

Did she? Yes. . . .

“Only one. But I don’t remember the words.”

“I don’t care. I still want to hear it.” Ofelia looked up at her pleadingly.

So Mercedes closed her eyes and while she was gently rocking another woman’s child in her arms, she began to hum the lullaby her mother had once sung to her and her brother. The wordless tune filled both her and the girl with the sweetness of love, like the first song ever sung on earth to the first child born. It sang of love and of the pain it brings. And of the strength, even in the profoundest darkness.

Mercedes hummed the lullaby both for the girl and for herself.

It put their fear to sleep.

But the peace wouldn’t last.