The Spinner’s Tale

What’s in a name?

I desperately needed to know so I asked the most learned man in the kingdom. I asked the priest. He replied that God gave Adam the right to name every creature so that he would have dominion over them. But it was not dominion I wanted. I simply needed a name so that I could keep what was mine.

This story begins before I became Queen but I start there because it is where I learned that men's mean much but women's always meant the same. Queen or peasant, our names show who we subject to. I also learned that to be subject to a father or a King is bad enough but to be subject to one who turns need to gain is worse. You know this story but I want you to know me because in the original, I have no name. I am the maid with no say in the events. It was the men around me who made decisions and I had to live with them until this horrible creature appeared before me demanding his due,

As I said, by then I was a Queen. I had a title and I thought that title gave me power. It gave my husband the King power.  I had witnessed how he used his title to great effect when his money lender came demanding payment.

The King listened to the man's demands then said haughtily, “I’ll pay what I borrowed but not a penny more.”

“But the interest, m’lord."

Slamming his sceptre hard on the floor, the King shouted, “Interest be damned. It's usury. I can have you jailed for that."

“But we agreed—”.

“A contract made under duress is not legally binding. Now if I were you I’d take my offer before I throw you in jail.”

Faced with a bill come due, I repeated those same words but alas, what works for kings doesn't work for women. Not even that of a Queen.

The horrid little man replied, “The child is mine." And held out his hands.

I thought perhaps I hadn't been assertive enough.

"On the night I made that deal, I was a simple maid but now I am a Queen so name your price."

"I've already named my price."

My newborne squirmed in my arms as he tried to drag her from me. I confess, I panicked. I fell to my knees and begged for I thought there was naught else I could do.

"I pray sir, do not hold me to that promise."

The imp only laughed as men do when a woman prostrates herself before them. He tugged again on the babe in my arms.

Fear turned to anger.

“Never,” I said as I called for the guards.

No one came, not even the nursemaid. I was on my own and terrified just as I had been on the night I made that promise. Now, as I look back on these events, I realised how fear had always been present in my life. It was fear that kept me silent when I should have made my voice heard.

I thought back on my father and his silly boasting. Could I have told him to stop telling everyone that my spinning was so good that it could turn straw into gold? Perhaps. But then again, perhaps it was vanity that kept me silent for it was true that my spinning fetched a pretty penny which is why I was in no hurry to marry. Unfortunately, my father's boasts in the tavern travelled far, eventually reaching the ears of the King. The kingdom in need of cash was also in need of a diversion for times were hard and that made the people angry with the King. My father's boast, if true, provided the King with gold and if not true, then my death would provide the peasants with some much needed amusement. Both had their benefits so the King demanded I be brought to the castle. There, he locked me in a room full of straw and said that if I didn't spin it into gold by morning, he'd have me put to death.

That night I thought to lose my life but facing this spindly little man, his face rumpled with malice, his body stilted and shrunken, with skin as hard as leather, I faced an even worse fate. As I clutched my new born to my breast, sobbing and begging for mercy, the creature stayed his hands. A look crossed his face. It was a look that chilled me to the bone for it was the look of someone who knew he’d won but wanted to enjoy the game a bit longer.

He ran a gnarled finger down my cheek and in that moment I froze, fearful of what he might ask this time. For I'd seen that same look on that first night and it's true that if he’d demanded it, I would have traded my virginity for my life but that night, as he reached for me, it was my necklace he latched onto.

“Give me this token and I’ll spin your straw into gold.”

The neclace was nothing more than bits of knotted string embedded with simple hand carved beads. Much as I cherished it as a mother's gift before she died, I knew it wasn’t going to protect me come morning. Reluctantly, I removed it and in that moment, I felt something important had been lost. It wasn't something I could quantify but it was a loss nonetheless. That sense of loss, however, dwindled as I saw the straw transformed into gold. My reluctance turned to relief.

In the morning, when the doors were flung open I jumped to my feet.  Fearful that the spinning of the night before had been nought but a dream. The beating of my heart in that darkened room muffled the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. As the light from the torch brightened the windowless room, I was blinded until a shadow crossed in front of it. Towering over me was the King himself.

“What have you done with the straw?”

His face was stern. His voice demanding.

“Have you eaten it like some beast of burden?”

“No, M’lord,” I stammered. “It’s there still.”

Stepping aside, I pointed at the ground. But in place of straw, a small pile of gold strands sat.

Amazed the king picked them up and handed them to a man standing behind him.

“Is it real or some ruse sent to make a mockery of me.”

Fear gripped me as I thought I might be felled on the spot but the man holding the strands said, “It’s real my liege and of a quality I’ve never seen before. It is, I believe, pure gold.”

The king eyed me as if seeing me for the first time. Of course, he’d seen me the night before when my father brought me to the castle but then all he saw was a maid, hardly a beauty and discounted me for its on comeliness that women are valued.

“Rather plain for someone who can spin straw into gold.”

He laughed. Everyone laughed. Then he signalled for silence and told me my fate.

“But I never said that I—”

He silenced me with his hand and looking at my father said, “Your daughter will pay the price of your boasting but take heart. at least she’s not your first born.”

That last remark cut to the bone. Not only had the king dismissed me for lacking the virtues so desired in a woman but discounted my worth as a human being. It was true that females were not counted as first-borns but as my father’s only child, surely I was still to be valued? My father, however, made no plea on my behalf and I was led away.

If only the story had ended with that first night. If only the king had taken the gold that I’d paid for with my mother’s love and let me go then all would have been satisfied. But instead of letting me go, the King said, “Feed her and put her to bed for I will give her another chance to prove her worth.”

Why, I wondered, did I have to prove myself again. Wasn’t it enough to perform the task once? And now, kneeling before this imp who wanted my child, I felt a rebellion building in my chest. As he withdrew his hand from my cheek, I realised the look in his eyes were the same as that of the King's when he sent me a second time into that room.

On that second night, the imp appeared again and offered to spin the straw into gold.

"But I have nothing by which to purchase your services."

This time he spotted a simple brass ring on my finger. Touching my hand, I felt a chill as if death's shadow had crossed my path.

"This ring will do."

It had been given me by a lad who blacksmithed next to my father's mill. It was, he said, a token of friendship and a promise of more provided his family were happy to accept me without a dowry. But what good was a promise if the King found no gold and I lost my head. Sadly, I handed over the ring and once again the straw was replaced with gold.

Dawn came and with it the King. This time he shoved me aside and snatched up the gokden strands. Relieved, I waited patiently to be released. But it was not release the King had in mind.

"Begin preparation for a banquet for if this girl spins straw into gold one more time, I shall marry her. If not, we shall feast while she burns."

It was not a proposal. It was a death sentence for I had nothing left to satisfy either King or imp. That night I sat before the straw wondering which was worse, death because I'd failed to do the impossible or life with the King because I had. When the imp appeared a third time, I thought the question answered. The horrid creature pulled back a strand of hair that had fallen over my eyes and said, "I'm willing to wait for my reward. Promise me your first-borne and I will not only save you but set you up for life."

And now, he was here to claim what I in my foolishness agreed to give. And yet his hand stayed. Like the King, he wished to play his game a little longer.

“I’ll give you a task. If you complete it, you can keep the child.”

I had no idea what might be asked of me but what could be worse than losing a child? Eagerly, I replied, “Yes, anything.”

“I’ll give you three chances to call me by my rightful name.”

“Only three,” I said.

He made a horrible sound. A giggle, I supposed.

“You’re right. There’s no fun in that.” He rubbed his chin and a wicked smile spread from ear to ear.

“I’ll come every night for three nights and give you three guesses. If by that last guess you fail to call me by name, I’ll have your child.”

With that he was gone and my baby felt cold against my breast. In a panic I kissed its lips and hugged it till warmth returned to both of us. That’s when I called for the priest and asked my question. His advise was to pray. And so I spent my time in prayer.

I prayed till dawn and through the whole day till at last, with my babe in my arms, my eyes closed. It was in those minutes that preceed midnight that my baby stirred and let out a wail. Startled into wakefulness, I found the imp standing next to my bed.

“Have you got a name for me?”

The Bible claimed Jacob to be the father of a nation, so I tried that name first.

The imp shook his head.

Next I tried Elijah, for he was the prophet on who the nation waited.

He dismissed that guess with a snort.

For my last guess, I chose Samuel for his wisdom but alas, it too was wrong.

Leaning in so I could smell his rotten breath, the imp whispered in my ear, “I’m enjoying this game. How about you?”

I cringed and my baby whimpered as the imp straightened up and vanished. Left alone in the dark, I realised this fiend's name was not likely to be found in the good book.

Holding my child close I whispered, “I will find a way.”

The next day, I had my father brought to the castle. While I waited, I reminded myself that this was the man whose boasting resulted in my being brought before the King. If there was a lesson to be found, it was that you should not let others define who you are. That having been said, I still had a problem to solve and so when my father arrived, I asked him,

"What's in a name?"

“Well, a name,” he started, then stopped and thought a bit. “A name defines who we are. For example. My name is John but there are several John’s in this town so I’m John Miller, not John Tanner or John Farmer. It’s what I do for a living that defines me as a person.”

I thought of my mother. Her name was Mary like many other women in town and like me she was a spinner but she wasn’t called Mary Spinner. She was called Mary the Miller's wife. Her name was defined not by what she did but by her relationship to my father. So was the imp defined by what he did or by his relationship? If named for work, what might the imp do? Was he called Spinner? Unlikely, I thought, as that was women's work. But what of relationships? Could men be named in that way? I sent my father away and asked for the king.

As I waited, I reminded myself that this was the man who put me three times in a room with a spinning wheel and ever more straw. If there was any lesson to be learned, I thought, it was that every time you exceeded someone’s expectations they only asked for more. Still, I was desperate and so I asked him the question, “What’s in a name?”

He put on a kingly face and said with authority, “I'm referred to by my position. They call me King because I am next in line to God. My subjects are named according to their positions in relation to mine. The vassals are called Lords and those who do their biding are called knights and the least of all are called knaves. As for the serfs, they are called peasants because they are as insignificant as a pea."

Insignificant? The powerful, I had come to learn, ruled not because of their proximity to God but because of their access to weapons. It was might that made right so while the insignificant peasants kept the rulers fed and clothed, the powerful claimed the right to rule. For women, it was much the same. This child at my breast, the king claimed as his own but it was I who carried it and risked death to bear it. Still, it was his. Not mine. But that was neither here nor there. I needed a name and if the King was right about relationships then I was stuck for I didn’t know the imps relationship to either God or man and as for his relationship to me, he was my nemesis but I didn’t think that could be a name. Still, I spent that day wandering through the castle and then the town, noting everyone’s names.

That night when the imp appeared, I gave him three names used by lords.

“Arden, Beauchamp, Deacre”

With every name I put forth the grin on the imp’s face widened. He reached over me and tightened the swaddling cloth around my baby’s neck. Quickly I shoved his hand aside but he was nonplussed.

“Enjoy what time you have,” he said and then was gone.

Despite being surrounded by men who were quick to tell me what I must and must not do, they had no answers when it came to solving my problem. It was obvious that if I was going to get out of this predicament then it was going to be by my own means. I sat down to think and as I did so it dawned on me that that’s where I’d let myself down all along. I’d allowed others to do the thinking for me. I’d allowed my father to define who I was and the King to make unrealistic demands of me and now I had this little man threatening to take what was rightfully mine. I remembered that third night in the room with the spinning wheel and  pile of straw. Why had I not thought to say no. Why had I not said to the king, I spun one room as agreed. I spun two because you bullied me into it but I don’t want to be your queen so I’m not doing it.

It’s easy to grasp at straws, I thought, when that’s all you think you have available to you. A bitter lesson but one I now realised, was important for me to learn. By giving in, I had given up. I stood up and looking in the mirror, I saw myself, for the first time, not as who everyone told me I was but as who I wanted to be.

"No more letting others make decisions for you," I said. "Go out and find the answer for yourself.”

Which is how I found myself storming out of the castle and into the forest. There are some that say I came across the imp and overheard his boasts but the truth is that the fresh air and freedom provided me with the answer. It had been before me all the time but I'd failed to see it. It wasn't in the name at all.

That night when the imp appeared I was waiting for him. I sat in my chair by the window staring out at the moonlit sky singing a lullaby to my little baby girl. A great calmness enveloped me.

“It’s the last night of our little game,” he said. “And I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I.”

“On the contrary, it wearies me,” I replied, turning to face him.

“Then let’s get on with it,” he snapped back at me. “Give me your answers so I can take the child and go.”

“Is it Null?”

He stepped closer. “No.”

“Perhaps it’s Void.”

He stepped directly in front of me and held out his hands.

“How about I just call you what I think of you, you Rumpled Stilt Skin of a --,”

Before I could finish, he screamed, “ What! What did you say?”

Hands that were stretched to take my child from me, pulled back. Rage welled up so that tiny veins in his neck turned purple and his eyes nearly burst from their sockets. “How did you learn that? Who told you? What kind of witchcraft did you employ?” Along with those accusations, he spouted epithets that do not bear repeating while his body shook violently. Terrified, I pushed back against my chair, holding my child tight and then...

He was gone. Not having gotten his way, he threw a tantrum and disappeared. Over time there are those who said he stomped his right foot so hard that he sank into the ground up to his waist. Others claimed that he grabbed his left foot and pulled until he tore himself in two. To be honest I don’t know what happened to Rumplestiltskin just as most people don’t know what happened to me. I suppose they thought that I lived happily ever after in the castle with the King but that wasn’t the case. When I told the king the whole story, he too was furious. Not because he nearly lost his first child, he was less concerned about that because she was a girl and therefore not first-born. No, he was furious that not only couldn’t I spin straw into gold but had most likely destroyed the one person who could. The marriage was annulled on grounds of my deception. My father’s mill was  confiscated but that didn't matter, he had already disowned me. The blacksmith lad had no need of a disgraced mother with a girl child so I could have wound up begging in the streets if it hadn’t been for the disgruntled money lender. He learned of my true skill and looking for a way to get back at the king, lent me a modest sum at low interest, to start my own spinning business. I became known far and wide for my artistry and in no time the loan was repaid.

The funny thing is that calling out the imp's name was purely accidental. The truth I'd learned in the forest wa that the contract was null and voud due to gender. The imp's bargain was for the first-born. Now it may be a legal loop hole but girl's are not entitled to inherit the Kingdom and therefore are not the first born. My child, being female, could not be taken from me.

I felt bad that I was never allowed to present my case but on the other hand I had learned a number of lessons - not the least of which was-

What's in a name?

It's independence and it can be spelled in any number of ways. In my case, the sign above my door spells it as Spinster but my daughter may choose to spell it differently. She may spell it as Housekeeper or Professional or Artist or any way she chooses. The only important thing is that she makes the choice for herself.