RAMPION IN THE BELLTOWER by Merrie Haskell page 8/8
And they all saw, when the morning dawned. The hard rain kept up all through the night and the next day and the next night: a cold, autumn rain, driving so hard that it flooded the streets and swept away the blood and filth. When the rain stopped and the waters receded, the city was clean and the plague gone.
The prince ordered a peal to alert the city that all was safe again, and the citizens came forth, those that had not fled before the plague, or contracted it, or been dragged from their homes by the plague-dead. The grandfather took great joy in seeing far more people alive than he had expected. The carilloneurs were not the only ones adept at hiding.
Rampion stayed in the belltower and cared for her grandfather, abandoning her open air summer room beneath the bells for her cozy winter room beneath the clavier at night. The prince joined them for their evening meals; on the third night after his liberation, he brought plans which he and Rampion showed the grandfather together.
"Here is what my architect has thought up," said the prince, pointing to the important part: the belltower.
"You're building a new campanile?" the grandfather asked.
"No, Grandpa," he said. "I'm building a new palace around this campanile. Rampion will not leave the bells, nor should she. They are her tools."
"Then you know," the grandfather said.
"Don't," Rampion said.
The prince raised an eyebrow. "What is there to know? What is there to say?" He leaned down to place an easy kiss on Rampion's temple. "There will be stories for generations about the carilloneurs of this city, but in the end, it will be called the Miracle of the Bells, and my princess will be but a part of the story, cast as savior rather than witch." He spoke tenderly, and the grandfather was well satisfied. He was a good for a man and a wise for a prince.
"Let me put you to bed, Grandpa," Rampion said when he'd left. As she settled the grandfather onto his pallet, she looked to the rafters. "But where is the stork?"
"She left sometime in the night. You're really going to marry him? Be a princess?"
She smiled mistily. "I'm going to marry Gilpin. The rest is meaningless."
"Simen will be sore disappointed when he returns."
"Oh, certainly," she said. "Because Simen had a chance, otherwise." She tucked blankets around his feet. "Simen wouldn't have moved his butcher shop to the belltower."
"Well, I wouldn't have wanted him to. I'm none so sure about this palace, either."
"Sometimes, I think you like to be grumpy for the sake of being grumpy. A week ago, we were dying. Now I am the heroine of the city, a princess in waiting, and you get your wish: I will never leave the bells. What more do you want? What more can you want? Shall I have Gilpin make you a lord, and move you to the countryside?"
"No," the grandfather said, looking at the clavier. "You know where my heart lies."
"That I do," Rampion said. They sat in silence for a moment.
"The stork left because she knew all would be well," the grandfather said at last.
"And all will be well," Rampion said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "For a time. For the rest of your lifetime, and for a good deal of mine."
And it was.
Merrie Haskell hasbeen published in Asimov’s, Strange Horizons and other venues, including past and forthcoming reprints to Escape Pod and Podcastle. She lives in southeast Michigan with her husband, stepdaughter, and 47 pounds of cats. Visit her at merriehaskell.com.
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