Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale (7 page)

She didn’t wait for a response, but
instead spun back around and quickly exited through the castle doors.

The king was grateful Liesel didn’t
linger to see his reaction. He knew she would have been aggravated beyond
measure by the smile that spread across his face.

He reached for one of the queen’s
trembling hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His chest then swelled with
fatherly pride as he noted to the queen confidently:

“She would hardly be my child if she
didn’t.”

T
he
minstrel eyed his companion warily as they rode from the castle in silence.

What had he gotten himself into?

The princess remained perfectly prim and
stiff in her seat, even as the wagon jostled her up and down over the many
bumps in the cobblestone pavement. She looked straight ahead, her eyes never
straying, refusing to ever glance his way.

That was fine with him. It gave him a
perfect opportunity to study her.

She was beautiful. There was no question
about that. Her long brown hair gently curled to her thin waist, and her
profile was delicate and regal. But the stoic set of her jaw bordered on
petulant, and under her thick lashes, her blue-gray eyes seemed to hold a
storm.

Such clouds did not bode well for his
future.

He wondered what his sister would have
to say when he showed up with the girl at her door tonight. That thought almost
made him smile. Almost.

Time passed and their wagon entered the
forest. He could sense the princess’s growing unease as they departed from her
familiar surroundings. As trees began to engulf them, she broke her stone-like
stance for just a moment to glance back to see her castle one last time before
it completely disappeared from view. Her stoic stare almost crumbled, but she
never gave into her tears. He had to admire her for that.

Such a brave display moved him to
compassion. At a loss of anything else to do, he thought he might attempt to
distract her with conversation. He cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want
to know where we are going?”

The sudden question caused the princess
to jump slightly, but she continued looking forward as she answered, “My maid
already told me.”

The silence stretched on until he tried
again. “Seeing as we now find ourselves betrothed to one another, is there
anything you’d care to know about me?”

“Not really.”

His compassion was certainly waning, but
he refused to give up. Call it stubbornness, but now he was determined to win.

“Is there anything you would care to
tell me about yourself?”

“I’d rather not talk right now.”

“There is one thing I’d like to know,”
he declared and she sighed in exaggerated exasperation. “What did you ever do
to make your father so angry?”

“That is absolutely none of your
concern,” she snapped.

“It is my concern if that is how I ended
up in this mess,” he argued.

“I refuse to be provoked and I won’t
answer any of your questions so it is futile to try,” she quipped, folding her
arms in front of her.

His patience was now waning as well, but
he refused to let it show.

“Suit yourself,” he replied with a grin.
“I’ll just sing.”

Her eyes widened and she finally looked
at him.

“Please don’t. After all, your singing
is what got us into trouble in the first place.”

Ignoring her, he reached for his gittern
and strummed a few chords. He nodded toward her feet and sang:

“There once lived a princess

Who dearly loved shoes.

There was one pair, in fact,

She couldn’t bear to lose.”

“I object to this song,” Liesel
interjected sharply. “Please sing a different one.”

But he just smiled and continued:

“They were a deep purple color,

Just like a turnip.”

“How poetic,” she noted drily.

“And they had buckles so heavy,

They would cause her to trip.”

Her lips twitched, but she fought back
the smile. “Please stop,” she commanded again before adding, “My buckles are
hardly that large.”

“Don’t you want to know how the song
ends?”

“I’d rather have it end now.”

“But if you refuse to talk …” his
sentence tapered off with another strum of notes.

“Fine,” the princess relented. “But if
you must talk, then I have a question for you. What ever possessed you to agree
to my father’s scheme? I would still be safely home if you hadn’t completely
capitulated to him. You know as well as I do that you didn’t mean to propose to
me.”

After a moment of silence the princess
prompted, “Well?”

“Let’s just say I found it a matter of
convenience to agree.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He insisted my song was a proposal and
offered me a life in his dungeon or a life as a free man, if you can call it
that, betrothed to you. I found it convenient to accept the latter option.”

Liesel’s blood boiled hot under her
skin. Her father’s high-handedness knew no limits.

The minstrel pulled the horse to a halt
and stared her down until she looked him in the eye.

“Look, neither of us appears to be too
happy about this arrangement, but I suspect that both of us value honor and are
committed to our word. At least I am. Let’s not make this situation any more
painful than it needs to be.”

Liesel squirmed in her seat, but had
nothing to answer.

The minstrel sighed and urged the horse
onward once again. He had known this was going to be difficult, but he had a
feeling this proud princess was going to thoroughly test his resolve.

A tense silence ensued, but the minstrel
had no intention of breaking it. It was the princess’s turn to take the next
step forward.

A long time passed and he wondered if
they would spend the entire journey in silence. Considering her continued
hostility, he had to admit that wasn’t necessarily undesirable.

But eventually the princess timidly
ventured, “I do have one question for you.”

“Then ask it.”

“I umm … I’m slightly ashamed I did not
ask it before, but … what should I call you? I mean … what is your name?” she
questioned almost meekly.

Finally, here was some hope
,
he thought. He had wondered when it would dawn on her that she had never
condescended to ask.

Perhaps she was not as stubborn as he
had supposed.

“Roderick,” he answered as he turned to
look her squarely in the eye. “My name is Roderick.”

As the day wore on, Liesel began to
wonder if her memory was beginning to fail her. The trees seemed taller, and
even the leaves looked greener than she ever remembered seeing them before.
Granted, she and Adelaide had only ever explored the outskirts of the woods
near their castle, but these trees lining the path were so beautiful, she felt
like she was traveling through an enchanted forest. Such beauty made her begin
to regret that she had not ventured farther from the castle before.

The minstrel hadn’t pestered her to
converse with him for quite some time now, so she was left with just her quiet
thoughts and observations of the landscape around them.

The sounds of a babbling brook could be
heard nearby, but Liesel couldn’t see any evidence of a stream through the
thick foliage around her. The sound grew steadily in strength until they
crested a hill, and she could finally see a small river below.

When she looked to her left, her breath
caught at the sight. A towering waterfall cascaded over tiers of rocks down the
mountain’s side. She had never seen anything so spectacular.

“I didn’t know I had a waterfall,” she
breathed.

“You don’t,” the minstrel countered.
“We’re in Brenhausen now. We left your kingdom a couple hours ago.”

She was taken aback by that. She had
assumed everything she had admired was hers. “This all belongs to King
Thrushbeard?”

“King what?”

She clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t
meant to disclose her own name for the king.

“Oh, nothing …” she casually tried to
deflect his question.

“No, what did you call my king?”

Liesel couldn’t restrain the blush that
crept to her cheeks. “Nothing …” she repeated. “It’s just a bit of silliness.”

“Nonsense. I want to know.”

“I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Surely we can’t begin to have secrets
already, Princess … We haven’t even been betrothed a full day.”

Her heart tripped over itself at his
reminder that they were betrothed, but she buried the sensation with a scowl.

“Well, out with it,” he urged.

She stubbornly gave him a look to inform
him that she had no intention of answering.

“Have it your way,” he said as he
reached for his gittern yet again. “I’m sure I can think of another song to
sing …”

“I concede,” Liesel was quick to relent
at the threat. She took a deep breath and then admitted, “I called him King
Thrushbeard … That’s all. There’s really nothing important about it.”

“What does it mean?” he questioned
further.

“You know …” She shrugged, but he waited
for her to explain further. “The royal family’s beards? So long and droopy?”

One of his eyebrows raised in question
so she demonstrated the drooping arch with her hand. “They’re like the beaks of
thrush birds … but in their case … Thrushbeards …”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“I told you it was just a bit of
silliness.”

“It’s fitting. I don’t think the king
would be amused since his beard is his pride, but it’s an honest comparison.”

“You needn’t worry. I’ll never be in a
royal court again so I can’t offend him with it,” she remarked bitterly.

“That’s true. Minstrels usually don’t
bring their wives along.”

She sighed. That was hardly what she had
meant.

The trail followed alongside the river
through the remainder of their time in the forest. Liesel was grateful for the
soothing rhythms of the water to help calm her fears. Now that she knew she had
long ago exited her own kingdom, she no longer just mourned every step taken,
but she also dreaded every step forward as it brought her closer to her final
destination: her new life as a peasant.

Finally at sunset, they emerged from the
trees to enter a great expanse of farmland that stretched as far as their eyes
could see. At the center of everything, towering over the land in solemn
majesty, stood a magnificent white castle surrounded by a sprawling city.

Remorse pricked her heart as her eyes
soaked in the view.
This could have all been mine,
her traitorous
thoughts whispered inside. Never had she felt like such a fool.

Standing in the shadows of such
splendor, she was humbled by the sight and her face couldn’t hide it.

When she turned to her companion to ask
why he had halted the wagon, she hated the look of triumph she saw on the
minstrel’s face.

“Welcome to King Thrushbeard’s land,” he
announced simply.

His obvious pride caused her own to
flare. If only he knew that the mighty Thrushbeard prince had once been her
suitor! Then he would not act as if she were so inferior to his beloved
Brenhausen.

But if she disclosed such a thing, she
realized she would have to also admit that she had brashly refused to even
consider the prince. And then she would appear very foolish indeed.