Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale (5 page)

T
he
next few days were quiet and awkward in the castle. It was difficult for Liesel
to balance giving her father enough space to allow his anger to cool while
participating in just enough of the courtly activities to avoid angering him
further.

And while the king and princess
constantly skirted around each other in a stiff and stifled manner, the queen
seemed to always be everywhere at once, working to try to mend and pull the
damaged threads of the family fabric back together.

After four such days had passed, the
queen called the family into the great hall for an afternoon of fine dining and
soft music.

The king ate great quantities of the
succulent meats in silence. Liesel merely pushed the food back and forth across
her plate. Occasionally she would poke at something for good measure. The queen
exerted all of her energies trying in vain to engage anyone other than just
Adelaide into her conversation.

Right when the queen looked ready to
abandon her hopes of gaining any traction in forging a reconciliation between
her husband and daughter, a servant appeared in the doorway.

“There’s a traveling minstrel at the
gate requesting admittance. Should I let him in?”

“Good heavens, yes,” the queen replied
strongly. Regaining her usual composure, she then added in a more gentle tone,
“That would be lovely. Please escort him in.”

A moment later, the servant returned
with the minstrel. The man paused at the threshold with his hat and instrument
clutched in his hands with his head humbly bowed.

“Well, are you or aren’t you going to
come in?” the king questioned irritably.

The servant nudged the man forward and
the minstrel hustled across the hall to stand before the king.

When he raised his eyes to greet the
king, Liesel’s curiosity was piqued. He certainly didn’t have the usual looks
of a timid man.

“What would Your Majesties desire that I
should play for you today?”

“It makes no difference to me,” the king
muttered.

The queen gave her husband a reproachful
look and then corrected, “The king is kind to let me choose. What varieties of
songs do you sing?”

“Anything that would please your court.
I have hundreds I can sing at your request. Histories, fables, tragedies, tales
of bravery, tales of love …” he listed.

“Oh please do sing a song of love,”
Adelaide pleaded to Liesel’s chagrin. “If that is fine with you, of course,
Mother.”

“That suits me just fine,” the queen
replied. “Please proceed.”

The man returned his hat to his head and
brought his instrument up to cradle it against his torso. He then strummed a
quick prelude and began:

There once lived a princess

In a faraway place

Blessed with humor and kindness

And an ever-smiling face.

Her grace was unmatched,

Her beauty surreal,

Dozens of suitors filled

Her court at every meal.

Liesel felt her father’s gaze turn toward
her. She squirmed a little in her seat, but she didn’t dare glance back.
What an unfortunately awkward song
, she grimaced.

She watched the minstrel continue to
stroll around the great hall. His lyrics faded from her mind as her focus
turned to his person. The longer he sang, the more confident he seemed. His
voice was rich and thick like caramel. He was no longer bowed in deference, but
instead his tall and erect presence commanded the attention of everyone in the
room.  

As he paused just a few feet from her to
stand before her parents, she allowed her eyes to scan his face. He had dark
brown eyes framed by a strong, tan face. His short hair was dark as well and
neatly combed. She was completely mesmerized by the way his eyes seemed to
sparkle when his mouth would offer just half a smile every now and then as he
sang his song.

When he walked over to stand before her,
she quickly looked down. Although she refused to look up at him again, she
still felt the heavy weight of his gaze upon her.

She was so engrossed in her own
thoughts, she was surprised when the king suddenly interrupted the minstrel,
blurting, “What was that you said?”

The minstrel’s words registered
belatedly in her mind and she felt her heart plummet within her.

The king leaned forward, and the
minstrel’s strumming trailed off into silence. Liesel held her breath as she
waited for the minstrel to respond.

“Pardon?” the minstrel questioned.

“What was that last phrase you sang?”
the king repeated.

“Father, I do not believe this man
wishes to be party to any of your absurd jokes,” Liesel cut in angrily.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t dare make a joke
about such a matter. Minstrel, please repeat that last line.”

“Father,” Liesel growled.

“Silence, Liesel. Repeat your song,
minstrel.”

“Just the last stanza?” the minstrel
queried, obviously confused by the sudden request and new tension in the room.

“Yes, yes. Now get on with it,” the king
commanded.

The room seemed frozen as even the
servants stopped their activities to give heed to the performance. The minstrel
cleared his throat and then obeyed.

“The final suitor gathered courage.

He bowed before the princess on one
knee.

Offering his hand he then asked her,

Will you please marry me?

Will you please marry me?”

“Ha! I knew it,” the king declared with a
clap against his knee. “That sounds like a veritable proposal to me!”

The minstrel’s instrument almost fell
from his hands.

“Richmond, what are you doing?” the
queen demanded.

“I refuse to be teased like this,”
Liesel protested, rising to her feet.

“Sit back down, Liesel,” the king
ordered.

“Mother!” Liesel implored, her voice
becoming frantic. “You cannot allow Father to make such a ridiculous assertion.
The man is only singing a frivolous song!”

“We all heard what he said,” the king
responded calmly. “And we all watched him say what he said while he stood
before you. He appeared to do so most purposefully.”

“I assure you, I did not,” the minstrel
responded fervently.

“I must disagree. But whether you did or
did not, it does not matter. You still sang her that verse. My honor dictates I
must insist on your marriage.”

“I really must object,” the minstrel
argued.

“You object? I object!” Liesel
screeched.

The minstrel removed his hat once again
and clutched it before him. Bowing before the king, he pleaded, “Please let me
excuse myself as a foreigner who is very unaware of the strange customs of your
court. I did not mean to make any such advance. If you will allow it, I will
leave at once and never return.”

“Nonsense,” the king waved his request
aside. “What objections can you have to the match? You’re not already married
or betrothed are you?”

“No,” the minstrel reluctantly admitted.
“I am neither.”

“Then there is no reason this engagement
shouldn’t proceed.”

“There are plenty of reasons it shouldn’t
proceed!” Liesel cut in, and then turned again to the queen in desperation.
“Mother!”

The queen was tongue-tied but the
minstrel jumped to her aid. “I agree.”

Leaning forward, the king scowled down
at the minstrel. “I would have thought you’d be honored. Princes have traveled
far and wide to court Princess Liesel.”

“That is a fine thing for a prince to
do. But look at me—a traveling minstrel! I can’t afford a wife. And even if I
could, I certainly wouldn’t choose one who appears to have never worked a day
in her life! She would be useless to me.”

“Who do you think you are to insult me
in such a way?” Liesel demanded.

It was now the queen’s turn to jump to
her feet. “Richmond, I must demand a word with you in private. Now!”

The king appeared startled by the
queen’s consuming anger. “Of course, Marlena. You are quite right. This is a
private affair. Minstrel, please come with us. The queen and I would like to
have a word with you.”

“
After
I have had a word with
you,” the queen pointedly instructed the king.

“Father, this is not what we agreed to,”
Liesel contended. “To call that song a proposal is preposterous.”

“Perhaps we can remedy that,” the king
offered. 

“Enough, Richmond,” the queen commanded.

“Come, minstrel. Please follow us.”

Liesel watched the minstrel reluctantly
follow her parents from the room. Before he disappeared from sight, however, he
glanced back at her, shaking his head in apparent disgust.

Liesel was mortified beyond measure.

“What is father doing?” she breathed.

Adelaide was instantly at her side,
grasping her hand and holding it tightly. “Please don’t despair, Liesel. Mother
is as horrified as you are. I’m sure she’ll talk some sense into him.”

Liesel clutched her sister’s hand,
grateful to have something tangible to hold onto while she felt all of the hope
in her heart slipping away.

Fortunately, Adelaide didn’t seem to mind
and squeezed Liesel’s hand in return.

Liesel looked over as Adelaide offered
her a reassuring smile. She tried to return the look, but she knew she failed
miserably at it.

Closing her eyes and inhaling a deep
breath, she squeezed her sister’s hand again and offered a prayer that Adelaide
would be right. If not … She shook her head to chase the thought away. The
alternative was unthinkable.

Liesel stood in the center of her room
and clutched the message the servant had just delivered with trembling hands.
She was more than a little surprised to be receiving a message so soon. Only an
hour had passed since she had left the great hall, but it appeared her parents
had already made their decision.

After offering one last prayer, she
finally unfolded the message. Her eyes grew as she scanned the page. She
couldn’t believe it. She looked down at the message in her shaking hands and
read it again. The words crushed what little hope she had managed to cling to,
and she felt a sharp pain slice through her heart.

Liesel crushed the paper in a tight
fist.

Her mother was simply writing to command
her to begin her preparations for departure.

“I’m not going,” Liesel swore in a
whisper.

But what else could she do?

She threw the paper aside and began
pacing the room as she considered her options. She couldn’t hide in the castle;
she would undoubtedly be found in less than an hour. Hiding in the village or
farms surrounding the castle was not a viable option either as it would surely only
defer her detection a day or two more.

She stopped at the window for a moment
and gazed at her beloved mountains. For the first time in her life she realized
that she had no idea what really laid beyond the valley that had embraced her
since she had first entered the world.

And that terrified her. 

If she even dared to flee her father’s
kingdom, she had no idea where she would go. She knew the names of the places
that surrounded the valley, but little else.

She buried her cold hands in her empty
pockets, and another thing suddenly occurred to her. Even if she did have a
plan, she had no money of her own to execute it. She was horrified at the
prospect of a life of poverty being married to the minstrel, but ironically,
she realized that without the promise of her inheritance and the frequent gifts
from her parents, she was actually already poor.