The Golden Princess and the Moon Read online

  The princess snuggled into his warm chest, burrowing her face among the smooth folds of his robes. She turned her head aside and gazed at the moon through the window and smiled triumphantly.

  “Now, now.” The king gently pushed his clinging daughter away. “Why not go and amuse yourself? In a week’s time, I will bring you the moon.”

  The princess smiled and skipped out into the long hall.

  The queen looked at the king doubtfully, her fine eyebrows raised. “And how, pray, will you bring her the moon?” she asked. “She has become unbearable. I do not understand why you indulge her so.”

  The king smiled ruefully. “I had hoped that you might devise something convincing to show our daughter?”

  The queen shook her head and then knit her brow. “Perhaps,” she murmured after a moment, “perhaps a necklace. She likes those kinds of pretty things. A little round, shiny, silver bauble about the size of the moon from a distance—she might think it was the real thing.”

  “Yes.” The king sighed in relief. “And we will keep her from looking out the window and make her go to bed early for the next few nights. Then she’ll forget about the whole thing like she does everything else. My queen, you should be the one on the throne ruling the kingdom!”

  He kissed her, and the queen smiled wryly. “Truthfully, I would be pleased to simply rule our daughter. But that, I fear, is as difficult as ruling the kingdom.”

  The king strode out of the room, roaring for a silversmith.

  MEANWHILE, instead of going out to the garden to play, the princess sat alone in her room. A large room cluttered with toys, ribbons, and priceless jewels, its walls were covered with intricate tapestries depicting forests and gardens full of playing monkeys and colorful birds. Over the princess’ door hung the woven crest of the kingdom of Aurlia, the Golden Kingdom, with its heraldic beasts on a field of the royal sapphire. A golden gryphon stood emblazoned in the center of the crest, with two birds flanked on either side: a heron on the right and a kingfisher on the left. Seven stars were woven above in the brightest silver thread.

  At the moment, she sat with her brow furrowed in concentration, deeply engrossed in following the trail of a dragonfly hovering over the woodwork of her canopied bed. It settled tentatively on a projecting wooden leaf, and the princess sprang forward to trap it. There was a crunch. She peered under her fingers and recoiled with a cry.

  The crushed dragonfly dropped to the ground, and she prodded it with a daintily slippered toe.

  The princess’ nursemaid burst into the room. “Rosa, we must prepare for dinner! I napped and over-slept, and now we are going to be late. Make haste and let me help you out of your dress.”

  The princess, cross over the dragonfly and despising baths, plopped on her bed and crossed her arms.

  “Now, Rosa dearest, please don’t make this a trial. You know the king and queen wish you always on time for dinner.”

  Rosa narrowed her eyes and waved her hand. “I am the princess and you must listen to me, and, if you don’t, I’ll have you hanged, chopped up, and scattered about in tiny pieces for making me angry. Just like father did to the thief in prison the other day.”

  The nursemaid stepped back in horror. “Princess, what a cruel thing to say! Have I not cared for you since you were a baby? I think you owe your poor Alice a larger debt of gratitude than that. Besides,” said the nursemaid, scooping the girl under her arms and dragging her kicking and screaming to the tub in the adjacent room, “no one else could endure this thankless task of looking after you, and look after you I will.”

  Alice pulled off the princess’ dress, under-shift, and slippers, pinioning her arms and feet so Rosa couldn’t run off. She then dumped the squirming girl into the tub and held Rosa down while she poured bucketfuls of tepid water over her. Sputtering, the princess quieted down and let her nursemaid lather soap into her hair. Rinsing the princess off, Alice helped her out of the bath and dried her.

  Feeling unusually submissive after the warm glow of the bath, Rosa allowed her nursemaid to dress her in a more formal gown, a deep blue trimmed in silver, with a yellow girdle tied about her waist. Then setting her before the mirror, Alice began her favorite task of brushing the princess’ golden waves.

  The princess looked smugly at her reflection in the mirror. She was beautiful and she knew it. But then a somber look settled on her face and she furrowed her brows like she was puzzling something out.

  “Alice, do I always get my way because I am beautiful, or because I am a princess?” she asked.

  Alice paused in surprise and saw the princess’ serious blue eyes looking into hers in the mirror’s reflection.

  “Well…” Alice answered slowly, “you are your father’s only child, and I suppose that many would wish to please you, hoping that you might speak words in their favor to the king.”

  The princess gazed at her reflection again. Abruptly she made a hideous grimace. “So if I looked like this, I would still have what I wanted?”

  “Now stop that!” Alice chided sharply. “Beauty certainly helps in getting your own way. I am sure that, when you reach womanhood, which is sooner rather than later, if one could but believe it, you will have your choice of princes far and wide. So don’t go spoiling your looks.”

  The princess scowled and narrowed her eyes. In a sudden fury, she swept her arm across her dresser, violently knocking over an empty vase, so that it shattered on the floor with a loud crash.

  “If I can have whatever I want, then I want you to pick up this mess. I feel quite prepared for dinner.” With that, the princess flounced out of the room, leaving Alice down on her hands and knees to gather all the broken pieces of the vase.

  THE hours between sunrise and sunset of each lingering day seemed long for Rosa, while she waited for the moon. Finally the seven day cycle passed, and she once again entered the king’s chambers to hold him to his promise.

  “Father, did you bring me the moon?”

  “Of course, my little rose, how could you ever doubt me?”

  On the king’s outstretched fingers there dangled a delicate silver chain on which hung a tiny, silver ball. The princess stopped short and stared at the shining globe with suspicion.

  “I thought the moon was larger than that.”

  “Do not be foolish, my dear,” the king said. “Have you not ever closed one eye and looked out at the moon with the other, and covered the moon completely with the thumb of your hand? See, the moon’s circumference is the size of my thumb. Would I ever lie to my little Rose?”

  The king gently laid the silver moon on the princess’ outstretched palm. She brushed her fingers over the shiny, polished surface with wonder. Turning to the queen, she held out the necklace. “Mother, will you help me put this on?” she asked.

  “Of course, little one, turn around,” the queen replied.

  When her mother had finished clasping the necklace, the princess threw herself at her father crying. “Oh, father, thank you! I am so happy.”

  “Do not just thank me. Thank your mother. It was her idea to put the moon on a necklace,” the king said, extricating himself.

  The queen bent down, and the princess encircled her neck with her arms, raining down many kisses on her face.

  “There now, that is enough,” the queen said in annoyance. “Go be seated.”

  “Only if you kiss me back,” the princess pleaded.

  The queen kissed the princess coldly on the forehead and then gave her a little push towards the seat next to the table at the other side of the room.

  Princess Rosamund twisted the moon about her little finger, while the queen took up her embroidery, stitching golden gryphons on a field of blue. The king poured himself a glass of dark red wine from a crystal decanter.

  A silence and stillness filled the room.

  The silence grew so silent and the stillness so still, that it was almost a tangible thing. Rosa became aware that she and her parents were not alone. A shadowy figure, robed in a cloa
k of dusk that covered its face and flowed down to the ground in heavy liquid folds, was observing them from the corner of the room nearest the door.

  The moment Rosa realized that she was being watched was also the same terrifying moment she realized she could not move. Cold fear gripped her heart and she could feel it thumping heavily in her chest. Her throat felt dry, but she could not swallow.

  The shadowy figure glided across the room, its robes a smooth swish against the marble floors. When it made its way to the foot of the table before the princess, it lifted up its hood to reveal its face.

  Rosa found herself staring into the deep, limpid eyes of a beautiful lady. She had an ageless look, so that the princess could not tell if she was young or very old and wise. Her features were regal, her skin ivory, her hair thick and dark as the night, though mostly hidden beneath her hood.

  Rosa found the spell was broken and that she could move again.

  The king abruptly rose and bowed. “My lady, you should have informed us of your coming. We would have had a room prepared. Be patient but for a moment, and I will order the servants to bring you refreshments.”

  The robed lady raised her hand in silence and continued looking at the princess.

  The king spoke impatiently, “Stand up, Rosa, and present yourself properly. This great lady is your godmother.”

  The princess rose nervously and curtsied. “I am Princess Rosamond, only daughter and sole heir of His Majesty King Aurleon IV of Aurlia and Her Highness Queen Eleanor…” But instead of continuing the memorized address, the princess once again gazed into her godmother’s eyes.

  They shone like twin stars of twilight.

  It was staring into her godmother’s eyes, eyes deep and old as the first dawn that also shone like the new day, that made the princess pause and say, “…but you may call me Rosa.”

  The ageless lady smiled at the girl, and her smile made her look young.

  Encouraged by the smile, the excited princess fingered her necklace and then showed it to the lady. “Look! This is the moon. My father the king gave it to me. I do not think any other princess in the whole world has worn the moon about her neck.”

  The lady’s smile vanished, replaced with a stern look that made her ageless again. She gazed at the princess and then at the king and queen, who lowered their eyes. Then she strode to the large window and swept back the damask curtains.

  “There,” she pointed, her voice ringing as clear as a tiny silver bell, “is the moon.”

  The princess’ eyes widened, and she ran to the window and gazed up at the moon. The moon shone mockingly, and the stars twinkled in laughter. She spun around, ran to the center of the room, and stamped her foot. “You lied to me, you lied! You said it was the moon. I want the moon!” The last she said with a howl and then flung herself on the ground, filling the room with her shrieking. Her parents were aghast at the spectacle, while the robed lady watched the scene in silence.

  After a spell, the lady knelt by the screaming princess and touched her shoulder. The princess quieted down at the gentle pressure and looked up at her godmother with a red, tear-streaked face.

  “You are being very ugly right now, Rosa,” the lady said quietly.

  “I do not care! I never asked to be beautiful.”

  The lady’s silence seemed to engulf all sound. Finally she asked, “Why do you behave this way?”

  Ready to make a quick reply, Rosa was stopped by the keen fire of her godmother’s penetrating gaze. After a moment, she whispered, “I do not know,” and threw herself into her godmother’s arms.

  The princess’ godmother held the sobbing girl tightly to her breast. The king and queen stepped forward, crying in a chorus, “We do not know what to make of her.”

  “She does not usually act in this way.”

  “We will make sure to punish her properly.”

  “What a poor, poor, young girl,” the lady said.

  “What do you mean?” cried the indignant king. “We are the ones who have to endure her constant tempers. She is always in a fury.”

  “We give her everything she asks for,” the queen chimed in nervously. “I have never come across a more indulged and yet ungrateful child.”

  “Furthermore, you could have bestowed upon the princess gifts better befitting the demands of her duties,” the king accused, growing heated. “You could have made her an obedient and submissive child or have given her a sweet disposition. What use is beauty when it but covers this… this fright?” The king pointed to his daughter.

  The lady’s arms tightened soothingly about the girl. “You have no one to blame but yourselves. You gave what was not needed and withheld that which would have made her grow. Together you have both helped squander the gifts we bestowed upon her as a baby, and, coming back thirteen years later, I find her a baby still. You have left her ill prepared for the future awaiting her.”

  At this the two parents fell silent, and the queen looked at her husband with pleading eyes. “But what should we do now?” the queen asked, turning back to the princess’ godmother.

  “You have done enough.”

  The lady swept the princess up into her arms, and Rosa fell instantly asleep. “I am taking her with me. When I deem it good for her, I will bring her back.”

  “Oh, Aurleon,” the queen cried, clutching the king’s arm. “You will not let her do it?”

  “I am not certain I have a choice,” the king said. “And perhaps it is as she says. Maybe the princess should be taken out of our hands. The faerie have better knowledge of the future in store for her than we do.”

  The queen composed her features and loosened her grip on her husband’s arm.

  “Very well.” She turned her back on her daughter and walked out of the room.

  The king watched the robed lady carry away his sleeping child down the hall and out of the castle.

  THE PRINCESS WOKE drowsy and befuddled, trying to recollect the events from the night before. She blinked sleep away from her eyes and, sitting up in her bed, realized she was in the strangest house she had ever seen.

  In the center of the room was a little stone well. Planted around the well, flowers bloomed of all kinds, giving off a sweet, fresh scent—a scent that reminded her of springtime.

  The wall to the left of the well had a large, open window before which was a table set with seven glass goblets all in a row. Each goblet was a different color, blue and gold, red and silver, green and the clearest crystal, and one the color of quicksilver. The sunlight streamed through them and cast their vivid, dancing hues on the whitewashed wall near the fireplace. On the mantelpiece perched two golden statues of two birds, and Rosa recognized them as the birds woven in the tapestry over the door in her room. These two statues were carved so perfectly that she would have thought they were alive if they had not been made of gold.

  Rosa climbed out of bed and made her way to the strange well. She peered down into it, but could not make out its bottom.

  Then she caught something moving out of the corner of her eye, turned, and saw what she thought to be the most wondrous thing of all: in the corner of the room hung eight shining globes suspended in the air. Seven of the globes were each a different color, matching the goblets on the table, and they spun around an eighth globe, which remained still, though it swirled with all the colors of the seven globes together. They whirred about furiously, but did not make a sound, and Rosa was just about to touch one of the globes when she heard a voice behind her.

  “That is a model of Time’s turning wheel. But you must not touch it, for you will stop the spinning.”

  Rosa whirled around to face her godmother in her cloak of shadows.

  The lady smiled. “Come and sit down and I will give you breakfast.”

  The princess nodded, shy before this mysterious woman, and sat down on one of the two wooden chairs by the table. Her godmother plucked a bowl from the wooden cupboard beside the fireplace, and filled it with something bubbling from the pot over the fire
.

  While she was eating, the princess overcame enough of her shyness for her to ask, “Why do you have a well in the middle of the cottage?”

  “Why not? The water is fresh, and I use it for drinking, cleaning, and watering my flowers.”

  “Oh. And why are the two birds on the mantelpiece the same as the two birds in my room?”

  “They are the two guardian birds of Aurlia. Have you not heard the story of The Heron and the Kingfisher?”

  Intrigued, the princess shook her head.

  “Would you like to hear the story, then?” the lady asked.

  At Rosa’s nod, the lady began:

  Long ago, when the kingdom was new, the Golden King wandered throughout his land. He came upon a heron and a kingfisher squabbling by the reedy margin of the water. The king, faerie-gifted with the animal tongue, demanded to know the cause of their discord, and the two birds told him they were quarreling over the best way to catch fish. The kingfisher maintained that it was best to swoop down suddenly from a branch on high, while the heron said it was best to wait motionless by the darkness of water and reed. The king said he would settle their dispute and that the winner in turn would grant him a gift. The kingfisher promised the gift of peace, and the heron promised the gift of prosperity.

  So the Golden King set up a contest to see who could catch the most fish. The first day he had them hunt as they were wont, and, by the day’s end, both birds presented to him seven fish each. On the second day, the Golden King had them hunt again, but this time they switched places, the heron hunted from the high tree branch, and the kingfisher from the reeds in the water. At the end of the day, neither of them had caught a single fish. For the heron could not swoop down from the tree branch fast enough, nor could the kingfisher stand amongst the reeds still enough. The Golden King declared them both winners and losers, and demanded that they both pay him their gifts. The birds were content with his judgment, for they saw it was just and their quarrel foolish and that they were given gifts according to their needs, and the Golden King ruled in peace and prosperity for all his days.