«Laws change depending on who’s making them, but justice is justice.»
Odo in Star Trek DS9: «A Man Alone» (paraphrased)
The following fairy tale expands the lawful-evil nature of «Blue Beard», and removes the condemnation of curiosity that afflicted some Victorian versions, but adds the ingenuity of the protagonist of «Fitcher’s Bird».
Once there was a farmer who had three daughters. He earned a respectable living by farming land he had leased from the Baron.
The Baron was a man of impeccable manners, high station, and exact speech. He had become very wealthy, for the scales always favored him, his herds increased after every judgment, and the boundary stones of his land stood farther out year by year.
The Baron had been engaged several times, but he could never find the right woman. Nobody knew why the engagements had failed or what had become of the brides. There were rumors that they had acted disgracefully, or could not meet the high standards of his station.
So the father was both wary and tempted when the Baron sent a messenger to say that he wished to marry his eldest daughter. She had a light heart and was always laughing and glad, and the father thought she might be the right match. When the Baron invited her to his private villa, so they might get to know each other, the father did not like that the invitation was not to the Baron’s principal house, nor that no mother, aunt, or serving-woman was invited to accompany her. But the Baron held his lease, and his daughter was happy to go.
So she went to his country villa beyond the river, a white-walled place with terraces, locked gardens, and rooms finer than any in the district. There she spent her days at leisure. The servants were quiet men and women who came when rung for, withdrew when dismissed, answered what was asked, and seemed to have no curiosity beyond their orders.
The Baron proved to be a civil gentleman of exact and perfect manners, and so she expressed her desire to marry him. It would be a fortunate match for her family as well, for the dowry would elevate them and bind them to the Baron — while refusal might be ruinous.
The Baron was well pleased with her decision and gave her an exquisite white bridal gown of pure silk.
«It is tradition in my family that the future wife wear a bridal gown until the wedding. It would please me well if you wore this over your shift until our wedding day.»
The daughter was delighted to wear such a fine dress, cool, smooth, and soft against her skin. When she put it on, it was just long enough to kiss the floor.
Early the next morning, the Baron complimented her on how well the gown fit her and told her that he was obliged to visit the court-house. He would take the house servants with him, as a man of his station did not travel unattended.
«But do not be uneasy,» he said, «for your safety, the guards will stay at the gate and patrol the walls while I am away for the day.»
«And here,» said the Baron, «are the keys of the house. Go wherever you wish, and open any door. Only the last door in the cellar I forbid you. And I forbid it in such a manner that, if you happen to open it, there is nothing you can expect but lawful anger and resentment.»
She promised to observe what the Baron had ordered. After he had embraced her, he got into his coach, and he and the servants set out for the court-house.
The whole morning, she explored the house to her heart’s content. And what splendor she discovered — silver and gold plates, coins and precious objects, and whole caskets of jewels. But after a while, she stood before the forbidden cellar door.
‹I must obey the laws of my husband well enough,› she thought, ‹yet how shall I be mistress of a house whose doors are strange to me? If this is to be my house also, then its hidden places must be mine to know.›
She took the keys and opened the door. At first, she could see nothing plainly, for the room had no windows and no light. She took a candle and entered, her gown slipping over the floor. After a few moments, she began to perceive that the floor was covered with blood, some still wet where water had mixed with it, and on the walls hung the chained bodies of several women. She thought her heart might stop for fear, but she checked the bodies and found them dead.
Along one wall stood shelves, and on the shelves were rings without fingers, ribbons stiff with old blood, folded papers sealed with wax, false weights, and maps with the boundary stones scratched out and drawn anew. Some papers bore women’s names. Some bore fathers’ names. On many of them the same witnesses had signed again and again.
She was now in such a terrible fright that she locked the door and ran upstairs. She was of a divided mind whether to feign ignorance until she could return to her father, or run away at once. Then she saw, in terror, that the hem of her white bridal gown was stained with blood. The more she tried to remove it, the more it spread. So she put on her own dress and tried to run away, but the guards stopped her at the gate.
«We have orders to keep you inside, for your safety,» they said, and would not budge, even when she told them she was in terrible danger within.
When the Baron returned, he found her wearing her own dress.
«Why are you not wearing the bridal gown?» he asked.
«I wanted to clean it,» said the poor woman, paler than death.
«Now why would you need to do so?» asked the Baron, and demanded that she show him the dress. When she brought it, his eyes went first to the blood-rimmed hem. Then he said:
«Since you have violated my law, you shall be punished by it. You will take your place among the other lawbreakers there.»
Now that another engagement had failed, the Baron went to the father. He did not say that the eldest daughter had stolen from him. He only said that she had been greatly taken with the jewels, that certain jewels had gone from their place, and that the girl herself had gone where he could not presently show her.
The good father was taken aback. His eldest daughter had a light heart and bright eyes for pretty things, but this was too much. Then the Baron produced witnesses. One had seen a girl like her in the jewelers’ street. One had seen a servant of the Baron’s house with stones wrapped in a cloth. One had seen them both near the harbor before sunrise. None of them would swear to more than that, but the Baron’s Clerk wrote it all as one tale.
Last came the Priest. He said the girl had spoken to him of doubts about the wedding and of fear that she was not fitted for a noble house.
«Not under the seal of confession,» said the Priest quickly, folding his hands. «I would never break the seal.»
So the father heard no accusation, and yet his daughter stood accused. With such evidence set before him, he tried to placate the Baron, who spoke of dishonor to his house, a broken marriage agreement, and the matter of the jewels. As the law stood, the father would be responsible for his daughter’s conduct and for restitution of the jewels that were said to be stolen.
However, the Baron said, though he had been ill used by the father’s first daughter, perhaps the second would be willing to make amends. He asked him to send her to his villa, so they might get to know each other.
The second daughter was heartbroken that her elder sister might have run away. But, with her father’s reluctant blessing, she was willing to meet with the Baron.
She went to his country villa and found him extremely civil, with impeccable manners. The lavish rooms, pleasant distractions, and attentive staff soon charmed her. Yet there remained the nagging thought of why her elder sister might have run away. For a little while she thought the Baron might have had something to do with it, but she soon pushed the thought away.
‹He is so nice to me,› she thought. ‹I cannot believe he has anything to do with it.›
After only a few days, she said that she would like very well to marry the Baron. So he gave her an exquisite white bridal gown as well, which she put on with great delight. Early the next morning, he complimented her on the fit of the gown. Then he told her that he must leave for the court-house, and he took the servants with him. He gave her the keys and the same instruction — to explore the house, but not to open the last cellar door.
Once she was alone, she explored the house at her leisure, astonished by its wealth and beauty. Then she came to the forbidden door.
‹Perhaps my sister did open the door,› she thought. ‹Perhaps there is a scandal or a secret inside.›
Carefully, she opened the door to the dark room. She fetched a candle, and before she crossed the threshold, she saw that the floor was foul. So she gathered the white gown high in both hands and slipped inside. When she saw the dead women on the wall, she shuddered. But when she saw her elder sister among them, she shrieked, forgot the hem, and ran to her. First they cried, then she tried to free her. But the elder sister was bound fast, and none of her keys would fit.
So she ran upstairs to get help, but was stopped by the guards at the gate. No matter how much she pleaded, they would not let her leave — for her own safety, they said. So she was in a terrible fright, all the more when she discovered that, when she dropped the dress, she had stained its hem with blood.
The Baron returned in the evening and his eyes went first to the hem of the bridal gown. And when he found it stained with blood, he put her beside her sister.
When the father did not hear from his second daughter, he went to the villa to find out what had happened to her. The guards at the gate were polite but firm. They could not tell him whether his daughter was inside, or whether she had even arrived. When he wanted to speak with the Baron, they replied that «His Lordship is not receiving,» and sent him away.
So the father returned with the Bailiff, and they were allowed to see the Baron.
«My daughter came here a week ago and has not returned,» the father said. «I want to see her.»
The Baron made a sweeping gesture around the lavish visiting room.
«As you can see, your daughter is not in this room.»
The Bailiff, who had bowed deeply to the Baron, immediately said, «His Lordship has shown that your daughter is not here.»
«Let us search the house,» said the father.
«You accuse me without legitimate cause,» said the Baron.
«Your cause is unjustified,» said the Bailiff.
The father shook his head. Then he saw a small ribbon lying on a side table.
«That is my daughter’s ribbon,» he cried. «She was here.»
The Baron looked at the ribbon, more disturbed by the untidiness of the room and the lapse of the servants than by the ribbon itself.
«Many girls wear ribbons. That is no cause for commotion,» he said.
«A ribbon is no proof,» said the Bailiff, «and please remain calm.»
«But I recognize it. There are the three green stitches where she mended it.»
«Ah,» said the Baron, «a father sees what grief tells him to see.»
«You are mistaken,» said the Bailiff. He did not look at the ribbon again, but set his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
But the father did not let up. He said that his daughter might be kept there against her will.
«I am sure,» said the Baron, «that my guards will swear she did not arrive. Perhaps she thought to join your eldest daughter. Why, heaven strike me if they are not together this very moment. But even if she did arrive here, do you deny that your daughters came willingly to my estate?»
«No, that is not the point…» cried the father.
«Who are you to question their decisions and disturb the house of a nobleman?» said the Bailiff gravely.
«I am her father! Stand aside!» he cried, and tried to push his way deeper into the house. But the guards restrained him immediately.
«You have disturbed the peace,» said the Bailiff, «and in addition to trespassing you have slandered a nobleman.»
So, against his protests and exertions, the father was arrested. The Magistrate listened to his case and admonished him. His concern was understandable as the fear of a father for his daughters. But that did not give him leave to cast aspersions on well-established members of the community and set himself against the law. And perhaps the father’s neglect of the law had borne fruit in his household, for the eldest had stolen jewels and run away, and the second had likely followed her.
So he was put in prison. The Bailiff confiscated his animals to pay the costs of his confinement and to begin compensating the Baron, while the Priest visited him to counsel obedience and to call unwarranted suspicion sinful.
Now the father still had a third daughter, the youngest, who did visit him in prison. There, the father lamented what had happened at the Baron’s estate, how evidence had not been seen, how both Bailiff and Magistrate had sided with the Baron, and how even the Priest was likely on his side. For, the father whispered to her, he had come to disbelieve what the Baron and his witnesses had told. He was ashamed and distraught at ever having thought badly of his eldest daughter, and he did not believe the second had run away either.
«I feared losing the farm and your futures,» he said, «and so I let your sisters go.»
The youngest daughter listened attentively, and when her father had finished, she said, «The Baron has asked that I visit him, so we may get to know each other better.»
And while her father grew more and more pale, she told him how the Baron had asked her to «prove herself honest,» so that her father’s actions and debt might be forgiven.
When she finally said that she would visit the Baron, her father was beside himself. He pleaded with her to run away — for what had been a lie with her elder sisters might save her. But she thought, ‹If I do not go, Father dies in prison. If I go stupidly, I vanish as well. So I must not repeat their mistakes.›
When the youngest daughter arrived at the country estate, the Baron greeted her with impeccable manners.
«I hope,» said the Baron, «we shall find each other agreeable, and that we may soon put the unpleasantness between our families behind us.»
The youngest daughter lowered her eyes and nodded meekly, which pleased the Baron
The next days passed in splendor and leisure, and the youngest daughter proved eager to enjoy them fully. When she said that she would like to marry the Baron, he also gave her a white bridal gown and asked her to wear it. Again, she lowered her eyes and nodded meekly.
Early the next morning, the Baron complimented her on the fit of her bridal gown and said he had business at the court-house. He gave her the keys and the same instruction he had given her two sisters, then left with the servants.
No sooner was the house empty than the youngest daughter started exploring it. After a while, she stood before the forbidden door. She had seen the bright rooms, the locked gardens, the caskets, the silver, and the gold. But nowhere had she found so much as a torn ribbon or the shadow of her sisters. Therefore, whatever truth the house kept, it lay behind this door.
For a long time, she stood there thinking.
‹My eldest sister would have opened the door as mistress of the house before the house was hers. My middle sister would have opened it more warily, because the eldest was lost. Yet both had vanished. So the forbidden door was not the whole snare. What else might have caught them?›
And while she looked first at the locked door, then at the keys in her hand, her gaze fell on the white bridal gown. It lay soft and cool against her skin, flowing along her body, the hem kissing the floor wherever she went.
Then a cold thought went through her:
‹They would both have worn the gown.›
She shuddered, went upstairs, took off the exquisite white gown, and laid it carefully on a chair. She felt exposed in her short shift as she went back to the forbidden door. Once she had opened it and stepped inside with a candle, she saw the dead women. Among them were her elder sisters. They were alive, but in a terrible state, gaunt with hunger, bloodied, and marked by hot iron. The judgment of the Baron had not finished with them yet. Though weak, they told her what had happened to them. She saw also the shelves of rings, ribbons, false weights, forfeiture rolls, and sealed papers, all kept below while the gold and silver shone above.
While her heart sank and her panic rose, she did not try to free them, having learned from them that neither the chains nor the guards would budge. Instead she bade them hold fast a little longer, and before leaving the room, she cleaned her feet carefully with her shift. Once she had locked the room, she burned her shift, washed her feet carefully at the basin, put on a fresh shift, and then carefully put on the white bridal gown.
When the Baron returned in the evening, he found the youngest daughter greeting him with lowered eyes. His eyes went first to the hem of the white bridal gown. He examined it closely and could find no spot of blood. Then he asked her what she thought of the house, and she praised him for his possessions, his gold and silver plates, and the jewels in the caskets.
«You have obeyed my law,» he finally said. «You shall be my bride.»
And he was well pleased, for he thought he had found at last the rarest wife — one who admired what was given above and had no wish to know what was kept below.
The next day, the Baron wanted to celebrate his coming wedding. So he told his bride:
«I have further business at the court-house. Here is my ring. Show it, and all who serve my house will obey your wishes as if they were mine. Prepare a bridegroom’s feast for me and my friends this evening. But be upstairs before the feast begins, for my friends and I have serious business to discuss.»
Once he had left, the youngest daughter lost no time.
First she gave orders to prepare everything for the feast, which set the whole house astir.
When the servants were fully engaged with preparations, she went to the forbidden room and told her sisters what she had planned. Then she showed the Baron’s ring to the strongest guard, a man with broad hands and little habit of asking why.
«My lord commands that these two prisoners be moved before the guests arrive.»
So he took an iron bar from the guardroom and broke the staples from the wall.
Weak as they were, she had each sister put into a large wicker hamper, with white tablecloths laid loosely over them. Then she went to the guardroom.
«By the Baron’s order,» she said to a guard, showing him the ring, «these hampers of linen and feast-bread are to be carried to my father’s farm before noon. Take care to keep them covered, so their contents remain clean.»
As the hampers were carried out, one sister groaned within. A guard stopped and set his hand upon the cover. But the youngest showed him the Baron’s ring and said, «The contents are counted and sealed. If your hand breaks the seal, your hand will answer for it.»
The guard pulled his hand back as if it had been burned, saluted, and let the hampers be carried out.
Then she went to an older guard, one who had watched the hampers go through the gate and was well known as the Baron’s man.
«The Baron has sent a peace-gift for the father of the bride, and he wishes that the father is home to receive it. Ride to the prison and tell the Bailiff that the Baron has ordered his immediate release, so he may receive the peace-gift and be a guest at my wedding, as custom demands. The Baron and the Bailiff will settle the matter at the feast.»
He hesitated for a moment, and a cold chill went through her, but she stood firm. Then the guard saluted and carried out the order.
Once the feast preparations were finished, she told the servants to lock the doors and bar the windows, for the Baron would want to celebrate without disturbance. None of the servants asked any questions, for they had not been kept for asking why.
«When the guests come,» she added, «lead them into the main hall, and make sure they are well served with wine.»
She went down into the cellar again and set out bottles of strong spirits. Then she went into the forbidden room and, with no little reluctance, took a head that bore some likeness to her own. She went to a window on the upper floor and placed it carefully there, partly covered by a wedding veil. Then she changed into the garb of a servant.
She was just leaving the house when the Baron’s guests arrived. The Bailiff, Magistrate, Clerk, and Priest arrived close upon one another, each wishing not to be last in honoring the Baron. None of them took any notice of a mere servant, but were quickly lost in a grave discussion of how they had helped to avoid a scandal and preserve order, and how the peace of the district had been maintained by their actions.
She had almost reached the gate when the Baron returned.
«Servant, how are the preparations for the feast?» he asked.
«Everything is prepared, my lord,» she said in a deep voice, her head bowed. «The guests are inside, and your bride is upstairs, sitting at the window.»
The Baron looked up, saw the veiled head, and thought it was his bride. He nodded to her. Then he pointed at the gate, where the guards were watching the exchange.
«Tell the guards to lock the gate and let no one through tonight.»
She saluted, and while the Baron went inside, she went to the gate.
«The Baron has ordered that the guards are to celebrate his coming wedding, as is proper, given your contributions to his courtship. Go to the wine cellar. You will find bottles of spirits there. But stay out of sight of the Baron and his guests. I have orders to see to the gate.»
The guards grinned. The gate was no longer their charge, and the cellar was near. So they went quietly down for the spirits.
Once they were out of sight, the bride left the gate unbarred, but locked the heavy front door of the house.
When she turned around, she saw her father with his brothers, neighbors, and other just men arriving. He had been released, and at home he had found the two wicker hampers. At first he had thought to burn them. But when he opened them, his two daughters lay within. They were white as linen, with blood in their hair, and the marks of hot iron on their arms bore witness before their mouths could speak.
Once his kin and friends saw and heard what the Baron had done, and what the youngest daughter had planned, they took up arms and went to the house. With the Baron and his creatures inside, and the windows and doors securely locked, they set fire to it. And because the house had been barred for its own peace, none who had kept the Baron’s peace came out again.