The Tale of the Princess

There is a tale—a tale of the long ago days when dragons walked the earth and castles protected their princess and king.  The days when knights rode their white steeds and battled for justice and goodness.  This tale has been whispered throughout the land of England and through the waves of time, ‘til by some sort of luck or good fortune, it chanced upon mine ears. 

The tale begins with a little girl in a forest—no, I must begin at the beginning.  It begins with a king, the lord of the land, a goodly and kindly ruler.  His castle, encircled by a moat, rested amid a thick forest.  Yet, it rose above the trees that surrounded it and stood among the heavenly clouds.  All those in the town a little distance from the wood, could look up and see the towering stones and wonder if their ruler at that moment was looking down upon them.  Oftimes when this thought would cross their minds, they would stop and think of all the wrongs they had done that day and know that if their lord had seen them doing thus, they should be ashamed.  They would drop their heads and vow to do better the next day. 

So the little village was neighborly, always thinking of each other.  All because of the tower which held their king, ever watchful in the sky.

But do not for one moment think that everything was a utopia in this town.  On the edge of the village lay a stone cottage, a rundown piece of work.  In it lived the town drunk and his daughter.  It is the latter person that we should take a closer look at.  Sarah was the child’s name; it meant “princess,” yet this child was no princess.  She relied on the charity of the village women for everything: for her education, for her victuals, even for her raiment.  The only thing she did not depend on the town for was her entertainment.  From a very young age she knew she was different from the rest of the children.  She was mocked and scorned for her father’s sake.  She longed for solitude, and she found it in the comfort of the forest. 

In the forest, she created her palace of which she was the princess.  The ground was her floor, the damp leaves her Persian rug.  A stump became a table, ladened with every good treat of which a child dreams.  The animals of the forest knew her and considered her of their kind.  They flocked to her to be petted, and she spoke to them in their language.  She knighted the wolf to be her protector.  The fox became the palace jester.  The birds of the air called her their mistress.  But the place for the king was left empty.  Until one day, when it was filled.

She had been sitting in her throne of pine branches, giving orders to her legion of knighted wolves, when a rustling in the trees caught her attention.  Turning around to appease her curiosity, she could see nothing.  But then a deep, rumbling noise came from behind a big oak. 

“Fear me not, little one,” it said.  “I am come to aid you.”  As it said these last words it stepped from behind the massive tree.  It was an enormous dragon, the head of the beast reaching up far into the branches.  The scales which covered every inch of it were large in proportion and a dark brown in colour.  When it spoke, plumes of white smoke emanated from the nostrils of the creature. 

Yet, Sarah did not tremble at the sight of the dragon, like some might expect of her.  Though she knew that if enraged the spirals of steam could blast into streams of fire, she did not fear him.  Her eyes opened wide with awe and wonder, and she recognized that she was in the presence of a great lord over the animal kingdom.  Then she recalled the words he had spoken to her in reference to the help that he could do her.  Bowing herself to the ground, she answered, “Oh great Beast, I know who thou art, yet my diminutive mind cannot comprehend why thou should choose to assist me when there must be many others who are in worse straits than I.”

“’Tis strange that you choose to ask me this question, instead of inquiring from what difficult situation you need saving.  But I suppose you think me able to change your father’s character or the actions of the little village children.”  His words were smooth and not at all the gravely voice one might think would accompany that of a dragon. “I am not here to help you in that manner.  No, but to be the friend that you have not had.  And to teach you in the things of the world that you might not have learned elsewhere.”  And then he added under his breath, “For she is fertile ground.”

As the friendship grew between them, Sarah spent increasingly more time in the wood, engaging in conversations with the Beast and learning many a thing from him.

One day, Sarah was waiting in the meadow where she and the dragon often had their discourses.  As she waited, she spotted a cluster of wild flowers growing in a spot of sunlight that the branches above her head did not shadow.  Her mind on the companion she awaited, Sarah plucked up the flowers and began weaving them together in a sort of crown.

Suddenly, the solitude of the forest was interrupted by a noise of a heated sword fight.  The commotion came closer and then spilled out into the circle of trees.  Surprised by the unexpected companions coming into her grove, Sarah stood up and looked at them mute.

The two boys who had been engaged in the friendly battle, also stopped short.  The eldest of the two was the first to recover and spoke in this manner:  “It seems we have interrupted the privacy of this young maiden. Our apologies, miss.”  He doffed his hat and continued, “We shall leave your presence immediately, if you so wish.”

Sarah, not wanting to be rude to the boys, allowed them that they should stay and continue their duel.  But immediately after the words were spoken, she wished to take them back, for the remembrance of the reason she was waiting in the grove had come to the forefront of her mind.

Electing to stay their fun for a more opportune moment, the two companions sat themselves on the forest floor.  The eldest, being more apt to speaking, began anew, “I suppose it is only proper that we should introduce ourselves.  I am Edmund, the eldest of my family.  And this is my brother Allister, second to me in birth, wits, and eloquence,” he teased.  And in response to the nasty look he received from his brother, continued, “But he is the better in combat.”  He rubbed his arm, which had received a blow earlier in the mock duel.

“What is your name?” the youngest finally spoke.

“I am called Sarah,” she answered simply, still very much surprised that these two boys were acquainting themselves with her.  The memory of the attacks by the village children was still fresh in her mind.

“Sarah, ‘princess,’” Edmund said.

Sarah looked at him with confusion written all over her face. 

“Your name means ‘princess,’” he explained.  “Our family has always pride ourselves on living up to our name.  My name means ‘prosperous one’ or ‘provider.’  And one day when Father dies, I shall be the head of the household and live up to my name by providing for my mother and sisters.”

“My name means ‘defender of mankind.’” Allister did not want to be outshone by his older brother. 

“And he is well on his way to becoming a little warrior,” Edmund agreed.

“So, are you a real princess?” Allister asked, wondering if he was in the presence of a member of the royal family. 

But before she would answer him his question, a deep voice spoke from among the woods.  “Yes.  She is a princess,” it said. 

Sarah turned around, recognizing the voice.  “How is that to be, O Great Beast, seeing that I am not the king’s daughter?” she said, referring to the castle which towered up into the heavens.

“You are my princess, just as I am the king of the creatures.”  The dragon stepped out from amid the leaves of the trees.  At his sight, the brothers started and both drew their swords.

The transformation in the beast was terrible to see.  His eyes which once were a darkly colour, glowed red.  He snorted a plume of black smoke.  “Put those weapons down, boys.”  His voice turned from its soft silkiness to a deep, gravely sound.  Yet, it was not the small swords which the boys carried that made the dragon transform thusly.  It was the inscription written on the swords. 

“Never!” shouted Allister.  Heaving his sword high in his hands, he charged at the enormous beast, screaming an old English battle cry, “For victory and for truth!”  As his brother joined him, the dragon quaked within himself and did not even stand for a moment before the onslaught.  He turned his huge body about and left the battlefield.

As the beast’s tail slinked behind him, Sarah turned to the brothers, her eyes wide and full of questions.  She raised her eyes to meet his gaze as Edmund knelt down beside her. “That beast is not the lord of the creatures, but the lord of deceivers, king of deceit.  He found in you fertile ground to plant his lies.  Had Providence not led us here, you might have fallen prey to his deception.”

Allister crouched on the other side of the girl.  “He was frightened by the only thing that can always win against Deception:  Truth.”  He laid his sword against his palm.  On the hilt was engraved in scrolling letters, the word Truth. 

An adult might understand more fully the great danger that the children so narrowly escaped, but these children soon put the incident behind them.  Edmund determined to knight his brother for his wondrous courage against the monstrous beast.  And so with Edmund playing the king, and Sarah as the princess with her crown of wild flowers on her head, Allister gained his knighthood.

Far off in a castle tower with the golden cloud surrounding it, a king sat gazing on the scene and smiled his blessing on the children.