The Princess
returned to her room to find Melissa sweeping the floor with a long handled
besom.
"Welcome
back, my sweet,” the maid said. “I had not expected you to return so soon.
Come, sit on the bed while I finish my sweeping. Does all go well with you
today? How is the King?"
"No Melissa,
today has been an ill day," she replied. The Princess vainly tried to
smile but the effort was too great. "My father and I are estranged,
perhaps forever. I have tried to find it in my heart to forgive him but I
cannot. My mother will not let me. I must leave today. I cannot stay, not here.
It is all too painful." The maid laid down her besom and wrapped her arm
around the Princess' shoulder.
"You
must, as we all must, do what you deem is best," she said. "But one
so young should not be bereft of both parents, even though only one is truly
dead. Can you not find some forgiveness in your heart for our King? He has an
onerous task and he has need of your support and your love." The Princess
started to weep.
"I have
tried, really, I have tried. It will not come," she sobbed. "It will
not come! No, I must be away! Perhaps elsewhere I will find some contentment,
some peace. Perhaps in time, the pain will lessen?" She paused. "No,
I think not. I am sorry that our time together has been so brief, Melissa. I so
see my grandmother behind your eyes and I would have liked to see more of her.
I have missed her wise counsel these past days but, alas, I shall be gone in
little more than hours." She sobbed again, her body shaking. "Come
for a visit when you are able,” she continued through her tears, placing her
arms around the maid. “If you wish me to pass word to the overseer, I will. I
am, after all, still a Princess and I have some rank here. A sojourn in our
little village would suit you well, I think. I will leave directions so that
you may find my humble dwelling.
"It is
doubtless a long way to go and my frail, old body will stand the rigours of
travel much less than yours, my lady," the maid replied, a glimmer of a
smile across her lips. "And alone? In these troubled times? No, it will be
pleasure enough to dream, I think." Melissa wiped the Princess' tears from
her cheeks with her forefinger. "Come, my sweet. If you are to be away a-horseback,
such finery as you wear now will be ill suited to the journey. Wash and change,
while I finish my cleaning; though of little use will it be now."
The Princess
washed and changed into the garb in which she had arrived while Melissa
finished her final sweepings. When the Princess was satisfied with her attire,
she walked across to Melissa and wrapped her arms around her so tightly that
Melissa gasped.
"I shall
miss you, Melissa," the Princess said.
"And I
you, little one," Melissa replied. They both laughed at the self same
memory.
"Must we
always repeat ourselves?" the Princess asked.
"It
would seem so," Melissa softly replied, as the tears fell slowly and
openly down her cheeks.
Taking her
leave of Melissa, the Princess strode purposefully towards the stables near the
gate tower. The walk was not short but eventually she found Bull and Toad
waiting in the farrier’s yard, the two roans laden with their saddle sacks and
her grey, as before, between.
"Bull
and I have been remarking," Toad said, as the Princess approached.
"We led them out and that's the position they took up. It would seem that
even our mounts are on guard duty!" The Princess laughed.
"So
Bull, do you know of an inn we might reach by nightfall?" She asked.
"Do
bears defecate in the woods? Begging your pardon, my lady," Bull replied.
It was beyond nightfall when the
three riders came upon the sign of ‘The Raven’, the inn Bull had chosen for
their overnight sojourn. As they rode through the gate in the wall before the
inn, the courtyard within was faintly illuminated by the glow of the lamps hung
inside each of the windows and by the faint moonlight which filtered through
the thin clouds which hung, as though suspended from heaven on gossamer
threads, far above their heads.
The courtyard was bounded by
three high walls set at right angles to each other, each with a large arched
entrance with thick, wooden gates, which had been thrown back parallel to each
wall, and a small postern set into the stonework. The three-storied inn itself
made up the fourth boundary. Bull
dismounted from his horse and, drawing his bare sword from his belt, placed it
into the scabbard which now hung from his saddle. He gently waved his hand to
the right of the inn and the Princess was just able to discern what appeared to
be a small stable, set a little way back from the courtyard next to the inn.
“Toad,” Bull said. “Wake the
farrier from his slumbers and quarter the horses, if you please; I will go and
re-acquaint myself with the innkeeper and find some rations and some beds for
this night.”
“It is not the best inn in these
parts,” Bull said to the Princess apologetically while Toad dismounted.
“However, I know the innkeeper and his wife and they are wont not only to keep
their ale fresh and sweet but the food, though plain, is always most handsomely
prepared and cooked to perfection. The rooms are small and the beds somewhat
hard, which the meagre palliasses do little to lessen, but with ale and good
food, this is but a minor, insignificant irritation.”
“I bow to your superior knowledge
and wisdom, Bull,” the Princess replied with a grin. “I could care not a jot
were I to sleep on the bare stones of the castle keep, so weary am I after
hours in the saddle.”
The Princess dismounted in turn
from her horse but was unsure of who she should follow, Toad or Bull. As she
stood there, clearly at a loss, Bull waved her to the right.
“You will want to be ensuring
that your horse is settled and comfortable,” Bull said. “It is not your own
horse and, were it me, I would wish to take especial care that he was in the
best of hands. Go with Toad, he will
surely protect you from any untoward advances from the farrier, and settle your
horse.”
Bull strode off towards the
entrance to the inn, a low wooden door but bound with iron to protect it if the
inn should come under attack from the Incursors out of the Far Reaches. Bull
paused at the threshold and turned briefly, as if to make certain that all was
still well, before unfastening the latch and stepping inside.
“Come, my Lady,” Toad whispered.
“I have Bull’s mighty steed as well as mine. You need only lead your own.” Toad
smiled.
In truth, Bull’s horse was no
more, and no less, a mount than either Toad or the Princess possessed but Bull
was wont to inflate both the horse’s size and his prowess as a Percheron when
in conversation with strangers or pretty women. The pair walked in silence
towards the stable. The Princess had become genuinely fond of the two soldiers
who had ensured her safety on her journey to her father’s castle and from there
to this inn and she felt that this silence did not become her. It made her feel
as if she were a true, high-born Princess, unaccustomed to speaking to low-born
soldiers, except perhaps to give them orders or instructions, which she felt
certain was not how she wanted to be. She had, since her arrival at Natalia’s
cottage all those years ago, believed herself, in spirit, to be a peasant girl
first and foremost and a Princess only by default; a mere mischance of birth.
“It is very mild tonight,” she
said suddenly to Toad. “I do hope that it will not be too warm for sleep of
which I am, truly, in sore need.”
Toad called out to the farrier.
“Raise yourself, oaf,” Toad
bellowed. “I have three of the King’s horses here and a Princess to boot,
although happily you are only requested to house the three horses!” Toad turned
his head towards the Princess and smiled. “Step lively, man, we are waiting!”
The farrier appeared at the
doorway to the stables, a small side door alongside the closed gates to the
actual stabling area itself. He appeared, as Bull had foretold, to have been
abruptly awakened from slumber and he rubbed his eyes wearily as he sought to
gain command of his wits. The farrier was a large man, a head taller than Toad,
the Princess thought, and girt in a leather apron which came down to his
ankles. His broad chest was bare, no doubt as a result of the mildness of the
evening, as were his feet; further evidence of his recent slumber. His arms and
shoulders bore witness to the many hours labouring under the hammer and the
furnace.
“Aye, hold your horses, man!” The
farrier said and smiled at his own lame pun. “A prial of the King’s horses, you
say; we are honoured to put our humble premises at your disposal; and a
Princess to boot, you say. Is that her?” He said pointing at the Princess.
“Looks more like a serving wench, if you ask me, beggin’ your pardon Miss, if
indeed you be a real Princess.” Toad glared at the farrier and made a move
towards both him and to his sword, which still hung scabbarded on his belt.
“No offence meant, really,
beggin’ your pardon, kind Sir. It’s just that she don’t look much like a
Princess, beggin’ your pardon, Mistress. I thought Princesses, well I thought
they were all dressed in silks and gold and dainty slippers and such like;
never seen a princess decked out like a serving wench, what with the linen
trous and a shirt and boots, beggin’ your pardon, Mistress, your Highness, my
Lady.”
“Oh, you are forgiven, kind
farrier,” the Princess said. “I must confess that I do not feel much like a
Princess tonight. We have ridden far today and our horses need rest and good
food and fresh water, as I do. Will you not make haste and open up the doors so
that we may bed the beasts down for the night and also be away to our supper
and our own beds soonest.”
The farrier disappeared into the
stable the way that he had came and, with much cursing and shouting to himself,
finally managed to unbolt the main stable doors and to fling them wide open.
“Please to bring your horses
inside,” the farrier said. “These three stalls are the best that I have to
offer,” he said, indicating three stalls to the rear of the stable, away from
the draught that must surely come from the ill-fitting doors. “I will fetch
fresh hay and water while you prepare the horses for the night.”
As the farrier disappeared once
again into the depths of the stable, Toad led the two horses into the two
stalls which he had chosen while the Princess led her own into the one
remaining, empty stall. As she undid the
girth, unbuckled the crupper and slipped the saddle from the horse’s back, the
horse tossed its head to the side and caught her a glancing blow on the jaw.
She dropped the saddle which made a loud ‘thump’ as it hit the ground.
“Are you alright,” exclaimed
Toad, wheeling around from his own horse. “Are you hurt?”
“I am well, Toad,” the Princess
replied. “I should pay more attention. It is one thing to be able to ride but I
forget that horses are ten times more dangerous when you are standing beside
them than they are when you are bestrides them.”
“Just like Bull,” muttered Toad
beneath his breath.
The Princess picked up the saddle
and laid it over the rail at the side of the stall. Removing the bridle and
bit, she hung it from a hook on the very same rail. She turned and gave the
horse a few pats across the cheek under the eyes and a few hearty slaps across
the croup for good measure. Unexpectedly, the farrier suddenly appeared out of
the gloom of the stable, a mere shadow
of a man away from the dim light coming through the doors, for all his height,
and threw bales of hay into each of the feeding troughs which lay at the far
end of each stall. Running a hose from a standpipe by the entrance to the
stables, he filled three buckets to the brim and placed one of them in each of
the three stalls.
“There, me beauties, all set up
for the night, they is,” the farrier said. “Now, you just get along, missy,
your Highness, I’ll keep watch over them, never fear. They won’t come to any
harm while they’re in my stable!”
The Princess held her hand in a
raised salute and bid farewell to the farrier. Turning to step away from her
horse, she collided heavily with Toad who was standing directly behind her.
Shaken by the impact, she leapt away from him as though she had been stung.
“My Lady, you are not hurt, I
hope,” said Toad apologetically. “It is never wise to leave too great a
distance between your charge and the outside world of danger but I fear I have
erred in standing too close this time; my sincere apologies, m’Lady. Please
forgive me.”
“You great, big lummox,” the
Princess exclaimed. “No, I am not hurt, merely surprised; I did not expect you
so close. However I am glad to see that you take your duties so seriously.
However, a little more distance would be nice next time that you feel that I need
to be protected. Besides, standing so
close, how would you draw your sword?”
“Ah, you can leave that to me, my
Lady,” said Toad as he drew his sword vertically in front of this face,
brushing his breastbone and his nose with the fuller before extending his arm
to the side to wave the blade. “As close as we were, my Lady, your back
wouldn’t have felt even the wind of my blade’s passing.”
The Princess laughed. “I had
forgotten that there are swordmasters who have yet to learn what you have
already laid aside, Toad. Forgive me, you know your own dexterity; I will put
my trust in that skill, ever my trust in that.” She laughed once again and
prancing round to the other side of the soldier, she wound her arm around his
free arm and gambolled her way to the doors of the stable, leading the helpless
soldier in her wake.
As they started to make their way
across the courtyard and towards the door to the inn, Toad scabbarded his sword
once again in one easy movement as if the point of the blade knew its home so well
that no mind need to be given to its housing. He tried vainly to disengage his
left arm but the Princess had locked it firmly by now clutching her other hand
around her right wrist.
“Princess,” whispered Toad. “This
is unseemly, to be so entwined like foolish lovers besotted with wine. I think
you should unhand me before someone sees you cavorting with a lowly
foot-soldier.”
“Oh Toad,” the Princess said with
a disappointed sigh that seemed all too deep for the emotion that she felt. “I
will unhand you, of course I will, it is but friendship, although I do not know
why you should be so concerned. I am
not, after all, in my father’s house, am I? You will not suffer an untimely
death at the hands of the palace guard for such presumption, although the presumption
is not yours; nor, worse still, a marriage unlooked for. Moreover, I do not
consider you to be so lowly, man of infinite skill! However, I should, if I
were in your boots, consider myself fortunate to contract to such a seamstress
as I.” The Princess laughed again but released his arm and, swinging her arms
now to and fro like some soldier on the parade ground, she sauntered up to the
door of the inn.
Toad opened the door and, with
his back against the iron which bound the wooden planks, bowed low and waved
her into the inn with a flourish, as though he were ushering her into a stately
ballroom courtesy of the King himself. Toad stepped away from the door and was
surprised when, all of its own free will, the door closed behind him. He
thought at first that some charm or other had been placed on the entrance by
some elf, more knowledgeable than he, but, in glancing upwards towards the
lintel, he descried the spring that was the real instrument of this magic.
Disappointed, though he knew not why, he turned sharply back to take in the
ambience of the room and saw that it was almost empty; just a few lonely souls
sitting alone at scattered tables nurturing their isolation in between gulps of
ale. Looking around, he could see Bull standing at the oaken shelf that served
as a bar in this inn, propping his elbows on the glazed surface as though he
could no longer support his own weight. The Princess was already moving towards
him; Toad decided to join them.
“Well met, again, Princess,” Bull
shouted. “Holla, Toad, your turn to stand the round, methinks! Too long have you kept your silver coins in
your purse, Master Pinchpenny! Barkeep, two flagons of ale! And what of you, my good Princess? Some of
Master Elias’ fine matured barley wine, or perhaps some Korn tempered with a
little water; what say you? Be not slow otherwise my good friend Toad will
surely pass you by and leave you thirsty.”
Toad was smiling as he approached
the bar, his hands rummaging in the small money purse hanging at his belt. He
had become accustomed to Bull’s accusations of miserliness and he paid it no
more heed than he had done on countless occasions before.
So, what is it to be, my Lady?”
Toad said as he came up from behind the Princess. “I will surely not pass you
by and yet you had better be quick, else Bull and I will have finished and you
will scarcely have started.”
“Innkeeper, Elias, do you have
any mulled wine?” The Princess asked. The innkeeper nodded. “A glass of mulled
wine then please. Do you have a cinnamon stick to spare that you may add it to
the wine?” The innkeeper nodded once more and turned to enter a narrow door
that led to the kitchen and the kettle of steaming wine. He returned a minute
or so later and laid the two flagons of ale and a pewter goblet of steaming wine,
with two cinnamon sticks, onto the bar.
“That will be four groats, Master
Toad. Will you pay now or shall I tot it all up for when you are so far into
your cups that you will have forgotten all that you have done this night and I
shall have to sweep you up the stairs to your beds with my besom!”
“Oh, just as you wish,” said
Toad, feigning exasperation. “We will pay later when we have finished for the
evening, or perhaps tomorrow morn’. No doubt, you will diddle us, as is your
wont, but it is of no matter. Tonight we sup with a Princess and that is a tale
to tell for such as I and worth every silver penny, I’d wager.” The Princess
flushed and rapidly took a sip of the hot wine.
“Tell me, Master Barkeep,” said
Bull. “What do you have for supper? Something toothsome, I hope; we entertain
royalty tonight! I have assured my good Princess that the food here is as good
as, if not better, than that at the King’s own High Table. Do not disappoint!”
“Ah, you have the very luck of
the Dark One tonight,” replied the innkeeper. “My wife has prepared venison
stew with bay, garlic and the blood of the stag for a party coming in later
this evening. Needless to say, she has produced enough to feed a regiment of
hungry soldiers even though only sufficient for eight was required. We have
taters, carrots and turnip to accompany. Will that do for your Princess, do you
think?” Toad and the Princess nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, I suppose it will have to
do,” Bull smiled. “Enough to feed a regiment, you say? Then bring it on, man,
and extra gravy; a soldier needs to feed on blood every once and a while and
stag’s blood is just as nourishing as an Incursor’s! We will sit over there, by
the window; it will be cooler, methinks.”
The three hungry guests, each
carrying their own drink, made their way to the table that Bull had indicated.
Sitting themselves down, the Princess took a deep breath and asked, somewhat
apprehensively:
“You don’t really drink Incursor
blood, do you, Bull?”
“No, it would taste fouler than
the most noisome beast but it never hurts to spread a little mischievous
rumour. News and rumour travel fast, especially so in the direction of the Far
Reaches. Perhaps, the tale does need a little embellishment; what say you,
Toad? Shall we put it about that not only do we drink their blood but we do so
only when they are still alive and conscious! Lapping it up like bats from the
open artery.” Toad guffawed.
The innkeeper brought a large
tray to the table and started laying out the plates and the cutlery while his wife,
a large and robust woman with child bearing hips and thighs that looked to Bull
as though they would crush the life out of him in two seconds should he decide
on a brief dalliance, laid out two huge tureens and a basket of bread. As she
removed the lids of the tureens, the heady aroma of venison blood could be
smelt intermingled with the sweet scent of carrot and minted potatoes. After
the meal had been laid out, the pair bowed gracefully as though this were a
much practised act for which they perhaps wanted some applause but, in its
absence, they left the travellers to dine in peace.
As the three spooned large
gobbets of venison onto the plates, it became clear that the innkeeper had been
too frugal with his list of ingredients. In addition to whole cloves of peeled
garlic, there were shallots, gently sweated whole before joining the stew; bite
sized pieces of celeriac; broad beans; courgettes, sliced thickly to preserve
the flavour and finally a kind of fungus that only the Princess had any
knowledge of; ‘little pigs’ they were called, she had said, but difficult to
find. She had once found them by a tree in Natalia’s garden but that was the
only place that she knew that they grew for certain. Old Ramly, the Spicemaster
in the village, had told her that they were safe to eat and given her a name to
call them by; their flavour was richer, darker and more intense than other
fungi and was made all the more powerful when dried when they soaked up
whichever sauce might be in the stew.
As Toad called for more bread,
the party, to which the three weary travellers owed such a sumptuous meal, came
into the inn. They quite clearly had
been visiting other ale-houses in the area and the innkeeper visibly raised his
eyes to the ceiling as if praying for some divine aid or succour.
“Well met,” cried the innkeeper,
although he did not think that these fellows were indeed ‘well met’. “Come,
your table awaits you. Wine is laid upon the board and your meal will be served
as and when you please! It simmers on the hearth as I speak.” The innkeeper
grimaced as one by one the party made their way over in his direction, some
more unsteady than others. Two of the females could barely stand and yet the
only support which they had was the other; the remaining members of the party
had clearly decided to disown them. As the party eventually attained some kind
of equilibrium on the chairs around the table, after much changing of seats and
raucous laughter in between, the innkeeper was already beginning to seriously
regret having accepted this party, for all that it had paid well; in advance
too.
The Princess found the
interruption to her meal somewhat annoying. She was enjoying the food and, if
truth be known, the two soldiers made excellent dining companions; much better
than their captain she considered. Her
thoughts were interrupted as a young girl, little more than perhaps seven or
eight summers old, appeared suddenly at the side of the table carrying a basket
of bread, although where she had come from and who she was, the Princess did
not know; perhaps a daughter of the innkeeper, a tiny helpmate if the inn
became too busy for one man and his wife. Toad turned around on his chair
opposite the Princess to accept the basket from the girl; her eyes were barely
level with the table. As he took the basket from her hands with his left, he
tousled her hair with the other.
“You have keen ears, little one,”
he said. “To hear my call over such din and clamour as that rabble is making.
Thank you, I am much in your debt. Here’s a groat for your trouble; buy
yourself a little treat in the village when next you go, some candied fruit or
other such sweet trifle. Now run along and get back to your mama, she is
missing you already.” The child, clearly
elated at such a vast sum, to her, as a gift, disappeared behind the bar as
quickly as she had appeared, if not as mysteriously.
“Heaven, they’re a pain in the
rump, make no mistake, Princess,” said Toad, as he tore off a huge chunk of
bread and dipped it into the gravy on his plate. “Twill be no better if we
retire to our rooms, I fear; they are immediately above them if I am any judge.
Let us finish our meal and retire to the open air; I am sure that the innkeeper
will not mind us taking the chairs outside. The noise might somehow be bearable
in the courtyard and it is still a mild night; there is little chill in the
air.”
The Princess and Bull both
nodded, although perhaps all the Princess wanted was her bed; still, in this
Toad was right, they would get no sleep while that party remained in the inn.
At last, there was nothing left in the tureens, Bull had used a spoon and the
last of the bread to mop them dry and was leaning back, his hands clasped
behind his head, a grin of extreme satisfaction on his face.
“Go,” he said. “I have some
business with the innkeeper that will not keep until morning. Go take the night
air, I will join you shortly. Perhaps you would check on the horses also, while
you are out there, I never trusted, or trust, that farrier, although, in truth,
I had and have no reason. Go, gather up your drinks and retire to the night
air; I will return shortly with more ale, have no fear.”
Bull rose from his seat and
walked off in the direction of the bar, and the innkeeper, while Toad swept up
both his own chair and Bull’s in his hands and, bidding the Princess to carry
what remained of their drinks, went out into the balmy night air. Casting around for a suitable place to sit,
Toad espied a small feed station, for horses or mules, which was partially
covered by a plank set over it to keep the rain out. Thinking that it would
make a makeshift but excellent trestle, Toad laid the chairs at the side of it
and bade the Princess to sit.
“If Bull wants to go and check on
the horses, let him go himself; I have no such worries about our good master
farrier!” Toad said as he sat down. “Besides, it would be an insult to the poor
man to wake him yet again from his slumber for such a paltry reason as
mistrust, wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”
“Most certainly, Toad!” she
exclaimed, smiling. “A grave insult, to be sure!” She chuckled but just at that
moment, as she began to relax into her chair, a chill gust of wind made her
shudder, as though someone had walked across her mother’s grave, and she felt
the gooseflesh slowly creep all over her body.
“You are cold, m’Lady?” asked
Toad. “Come, let me offer you my jerkin, I have little need of it.” Toad took
off his leather jerkin and laid it across the Princess’ shoulders, fastening it
around her throat with the two small, fine leather straps that made the only
closure.
“I thank you, Toad, for your
kindness,” the Princess said. “Perhaps you would gather me closer to you; I
feel somewhat more chilled than this night air should warrant; perhaps I am
sickening for something or evil, perchance, is afoot.” The soldier laid his arm across her shoulder,
as gently as he might, and gathered the Princess as close as he thought decorum
would allow. As she laid her head onto his shoulder, the door to the inn swung
wide yet again. However, instead of Bull’s re-appearance with ale and wine, the
two females, who had earlier relied so heavily upon each others’ support, came
into view, no less in need of support. As they stumbled away from the door, the
taller of the two looked in Toad’s direction.
“Well, what have we ‘ere,” she
bellowed. “Two young lovers, a-billing an’ a-cooing; ah, ain’t it sweet.” Toad
immediately took his arm from around the Princess’ shoulder and quickly grabbed
hold of his flagon of ale.
“You’d think she could do better
than some old battle-scarred soldier to go-a-romping with, wouldn’t you; she
ain’t what I would call, well, beautiful, especially in those clothes, but I
doubt that even she could be so desperate!” She gulped at the bottle of wine
that she was clutching to her breast. “ My, my, what a sight! He surely
couldn’t have come out from between his mother’s legs like that, the midwife
would still be in shock! Perhaps she still is!”
The woman cackled. As the laughter took hold, she lurched forward and
her companion barely caught her in time before she nearly pitched headfirst
into the well-pounded dirt which made up the floor of the courtyard. Regaining
her balance, the taller of the two continued with her diatribe.
“Perhaps she is blind, my sweet,
my good friend, my partner-in-crime and can no more see the face of her beau
than I can see the inside of the King’s citadel. Yes, that must be it! Blind,
and stupid too, if I am any judge. To
walk beside such as he, even if besotted by wine, would be more than I could
bear. Heavens, it would fair shame me, have no doubt!”
The Princess bristled with anger
at such an affront to her integrity but more so, if truth be known, for Toad;
he who risked life and limb every day in the protection of their people, and
herself, and merely on the command of a Captain and his own sense of duty; what
it was to do right. She felt genuinely sickened by what she was hearing.
“Pay it no heed, Princess,” Toad
whispered. “It is merely the bravado of those all too far into their cups to
notice what it is that they say. It is of no import; do not trouble yourself
with this. It is all but wind, no more.” However, the taller of the two women,
despite her companion’s attempts to calm her down, would not be quietened.
“Hah! Do you think he has to pay
for the privilege, I wonder? Not for all the cinnamon tea in the world would I
step out with such a one. Fair makes my eyes bleed just to consider it! Still,
once a doxie, forever a doxie; just close your eyes now, dearie, it will all be
over in a trice and then you’ll be that silver penny the richer!”
As the door opened once more and
Bull stepped into the gloom, his arms laden with a tray of ale and wine, the
Princess launched herself away from her chair and positively vaulted over the
feed stall. The chair clattered behind her as it turned cartwheels across the
courtyard. With her fist held high, she bore down on the two women as though
she was a banshee sent from the Dark One himself; and there was murder in her
eyes.
Toad sprang from his chair,
upsetting the flagon of ale which fell, emptying its contents and soaking the
parched earth of the courtyard and went in pursuit as fast as his long legs
could carry him. Bull let the tray that he was holding tumble to the ground as
he too made to head off the Princess in her rage. Mere inches away from the
hapless pair of women, Toad managed to grasp the Princess’ wrist and spun her
around just as Bull made fast her other arm.
“Let me go!” the Princess
screamed. “She will pay for what she has said; and pay dear! I am a Princess
and he is a noble and courageous soldier. By his skill, and the skill of him
and his companions only, are you protected from the Incursors; I will have just
recompense for this affront!”
As Bull and Toad struggled to
hold the Princess in check, the two women cowered in the doorway, retreating
there in the face of the Princess’ onslaught. As inebriated as they were, still
they possessed enough wit to be frightened and both tried to make profuse
apology to the Princess, claiming ignorance or jest as a way of mitigating the
insults whilst fumbling in vain with the latch of the door.
Bull, still with both hands
clasped around the Princess’ wrist spoke calmly, a voice like gilded draperies
gently fluttering in the breeze; a voice which the Princess had never heard
before and so unlike the Bull that she thought that she had come to know.
“Get along inside, you two, or
better still, be off to your beds. She is indeed a Princess and a better blade
than you will find in all the kingdom of the Elves. As angered as she is, it
would not be wise to anger her still further by your pathetic whining, lest she
take my good friend’s sword and skewer you where you stand.” He paused briefly.
“Come, Princess! Toad will fetch us more ale, for I fear that what I have
brought has come to naught, and we will sit again and speak of ‘cabbages and
kings’. These sad wretches do not deserve even the anger of the fairest of the
fair, whatever their fault.”
As Toad released the Princess’
wrist and released the latch, the two women passed back inside of the inn,
Toad followed, and closed the door
behind him; off for some more of the ale that Bull had so wantonly poured into
the earth of the courtyard. The Princess snickered as Bull let go of her wrist,
which bore the marks of how tightly he had held her and the strength of her
struggle to release herself.
“A better blade than in all the
kingdom of the elves,” she said with a smile. “I wish it were so, Bull. You
tell a fine lie, a pretty story, so you do; oh, and how I wish it were true!”
“Come, Princess,” replied Bull.
“I know not what occasioned this outburst but warranted I fear it was. I have
never seen you so incensed unless it were after your audience with the King and
yet, that was tempered by sadness, by regret. Here was only blind rage, I
think. It would be imprudent to ask why you should thus take matters so far
into your own hands. Is that not what Toad and I were sent on this journey for;
to prevent any peril befalling our good Princess? Perhaps we have been remiss,
Toad and I; perhaps the greater peril lies within, not without.” He smiled.
“Still, nicely done, m’Lady, whatever the reason; I was almost frightened
myself!”
Bull led her to the feed stall,
their makeshift trestle, and righting the chairs bade her to sit. As she sat
down, she peered up into his eyes and then away to the door and back up into
his eyes. As she looked to the door once more, she could see Toad appear; he
was carrying a tray laden with ale and wine and oaten cakes topped with cream. As he started out on the short walk across
the courtyard, towards where she was sitting, she hung her head and averted her
eyes, as though in shame, although she felt none, merely a sense of pride at
what she had done.
“I understand, Princess,” Bull
whispered. “Yes, I think that I may understand. Come, let us wait on our drink,
and lo, what do I espy? Cakes and cream, Princess! And a pot of strawberry
preserve! O, good man, Toad, good man. A fine dessert, a drink and then we
shall be off to bed as soon as we may. It has been a long day, and a long
night, and we have still a way to go tomorrow.”
The return
journey was as uneventful as the outward and, as they arrived at the outpost,
the Captain was surprised to see the Princess so soon after her departure.
"Nothing
went ill, I hope, Princess?" he asked, as the Princess dismounted.
"Nothing
that your two gallant guardians could have prevented," she replied.
"Captain, your elves have done sterling service and had little more reward
then a sore rump from days in the saddle. May I join you in your quarters, I
wish to propose something to you." She smiled.
"Bull!
Toad! Dismissed!" the Captain said.
Seated at the
same small table as before, the Princess sipped the small glass of wine the
Captain had provided. "Captain,” she said. “I would like Bull and Toad to
escort me for the rest of the way to my cot. “When I am safely home,” she said.
“I will return them to you. I would then like you to send them with a carriage
and this letter to the ‘overseer of maids’ at the castle. They may stay at the
castle, free of all duties, until the appointed day contained in the letter,
two sevendays hence. I would then like them to escort the carriage, its
occupant and themselves to my cottage. There you will give them a further
sevenday to make themselves acquainted with the local flora and fauna."
The Princess smiled. "They will then be returned to you. Is this
acceptable?" She asked.
"I think
that I might be able to accommodate your suggestion, Princess," the
Captain replied. "Some more wine?"
After another
small glass of wine, the Princess made her farewells to the Captain and left
for the short journey to the village.
As the trio
meandered along the winding paths towards Natalia's village, the Princess
turned to Toad. "Toad,” she said. “When we reach the village, I must
return this horse to its rightful owner. May I ride your roan for the trip from
village to cot? It is not far."
"Gladly,"
Toad replied. "My mount would not forgive me if I did not allow him such a
privilege, gelding though he is!" He laughed.
"Do not
tarry on the return journey, Toad," the Princess said. "The Captain,
and I, have another errand for you." She smiled.
The ostler
was astonished to see the Princess in the company of so fierce a duo of
warriors as they stood in front of the stable; Figo's grey was loosely tethered
to a post, and the Princess was mounted on a roan, Toad's horse.
"Your
weskit! I have not forgotten! Bring me the skins on the morrow," she cried
and Figo knew that there was no need for concern for her safety, however
fearsome her companions may have appeared. The trio turned, Toad striding by
the Princess' new mount, and they continued down the lane that led to the
seamstress' house. At last, Natalia's cottage came into view. The Princess
smiled, something, which despite her sadness, had happened all too frequently
these past two days. Pausing at the gate, the Princess dismounted.
"Toad!
Bull!” She said. “You were well met indeed! Take good care of our kind and,
please, no foolish, suicidal squabbles over poor and innocent maidens; our
people have need of you! Fare Well!"
"And we
you, my lady! Fare Well!" The pair replied in unison.
The Princess
walked the short path to the door under the gaze of her erstwhile guardians
and, pushing it open, declared with a flourish:
"Well,
I'm back!"
Thanks, acknowledgements but no royalties to:
Sandy Denny and Fairport Convention and Fotheringay for ‘Fotheringay’
‘Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves’ for Bull
Jean Anouilh and ‘Antigone’ for the climax
J R R Tolkien for the last words
The Elfin Princess for the story. I hope that you find a better resolution.
Any other indebtedness is shameless plagiarism and I await the solicitors’ letters with eager anticipation!
Ever tried to sue a penguin?
