The Very Large Princess Read online

The Very Large Princess (A Tale of Love and Romance)

  By Sheela Word

  Copyright ©2013 Sheela Word

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, excepting brief quotations in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  The Very Large Princess

  Midpoint

  The Princess in the Armory (Excerpt)

  The Very Large Princess

  King Piers of Sidslund oft lamented his late Queen. “Whilst your mother lived, I longed to escape her clattering tongue,” he told his daughters. “Yet now would I give all my wealth to hear her speak again.”

  “Bestow your gold upon me, Father, and I vow that your ears shall ring with my scolding,” said Princess Drusilla. The younger princess, Margery, said nothing, but smiled sweetly and slipped her slender hand into her father’s.

  “You shall have wealth enough, my girl,” the King replied to his eldest daughter. “You are richly dowered, and surely you shall be wed before many weeks have passed.”

  Drusilla flushed, thinking of her suitor, Prince Aubrey of Langley.

  Each morn, Drusilla swept into the Great Hall to meet the Prince and receive his attentions. The Prince bowed low over her hand and suggested a walk in the garden, if the weather were fine, or a game of chess, if it were not. Then they would talk as old friends, and never did the Prince fail to smile and make jests, and never did Drusilla fail to laugh.

  But as day followed day, the Prince did not tell his love. More troublesome yet, the times when he drew the Princess aside for private conversation became less and less frequent. Instead he seemed content to sit with her in the presence of Sober John, his companion, who watched them with a stern eye, and little Margery, who quietly worked her embroidery, peeping up at them now and then, with a shy smile.

  “Shall he ever speak?” Drusilla asked herself one night, as she prepared for sleep. “I can wait no longer. Tomorrow, in word or gesture I shall let him know the fullness of my heart.”

  When she entered the Great Hall the following morn, Drusilla knew she looked her best. She had dressed with special care in a gown of crimson brocade, and adorned her brown hair with a jeweled comb.

  Yet her father met her with a frown. “Read this,” he said, holding out a piece of parchment.

  Excellent and most honored King Piers, the letter began. I beseech your forgiveness for departing in such haste. Although I honor and admire Princess Drusilla, I regret that I am unable to offer for her hand. I am of only middling size, and Drusilla is such a very large princess.

  Farewell,

  Aubrey

  Drusilla looked at her trembling hands. They were indeed very large, but she had hoped, nay believed, that he did not find them so. Had he always perceived her thus…e’en during the times he had seemed most tender? How soft his dark eyes had seemed to be when they looked on her.

  “His Highness is a rogue who hath fooled us all,” said the King, seating himself at the high table and selecting a pear from a platter of fruits. “Think no more of it, my dear.”

  But Drusilla could think of little else, and when a second message was brought, she took it from the servant blindly, not knowing what she did.

  “What is this?” asked his Majesty impatiently.

  Drusilla dropped her eyes to the parchment.

  Dear Father, she read. He hath asked me to go with him in the coach, and I cannot say him nay. I hope the journey is not long. I shall miss you and Drusilla very much.

  Your loving daughter,

  Margery

  “What!” shouted the King, pushing himself up from the table so violently that his heavy chair nearly overturned.

  “Sire, what would you?” asked the bewildered servant.

  “Summon my Chamberlain!” shouted the King, and the man hastened to do his bidding.

  Presently the Hall rang with loud voices. The Chamberlain, and all the King’s ministers proclaimed that Aubrey must be brought to earth, like the villainous fox he was.

  “But where is he to be found?!” his Majesty exclaimed.

  “Surely, Sire, in church,” said the Chamberlain, and several heads nodded.

  “Nay,” croaked an elderly minister, running a thin hand over his grey beard. “They shall travel to his father’s kingdom, and there be wed in proper style. And indeed, it may not be a bad match, though Princess Drusilla was the intended bride.”

  “Fie,” said the Chamberlain. “He is such a youth as would wed without his father’s blessing. E’en now he and the Princess are fleeing toward some church or abbey.”

  “Sire, I fear the truth lies elsewhere,” said a young minister who hoped to distinguish himself at Court. “Prince Aubrey is but a tool of his father. He hath stolen the beauteous Margery at his father’s behest. She shall be held captive, and we shall pay dearly for her safe return. Our only choice is war!”

  Silence fell, and then discussion again broke out, louder than before, with some counseling caution (“Let us not be hasty, Sire!”) and others courage (“Your Majesty, bold action is required!”).

  King Piers at last put up his hand to stem the tide of voices, and not a breath stirred while he considered. “We must summon the Captain of Armies,” he said at last.

  “Nay,” said a voice that had not, until now, been heard. Though she had spoken quietly, all eyes turned to Princess Drusilla. “Father, there is ought that I would tell you, but I crave a private audience.”

  The King dismissed his ministers. Ere the heavy oak doors of the Hall had closed on the last of them, however, a barrel-chested man of middling height thrust himself into the chamber, shaking off a servant who tried to hold him back.

  “Do you dare to breach this chamber!” shouted the King, who recognized the intruder.

  Sober John, Prince Aubrey’s companion, stepped forward and made a low bow, then stood up and met the King’s angry gaze with his own steady brown eyes.

  “Have you taken hurt, John?” asked Drusilla, offering her handkerchief.

  “‘Tis only a scratch, m’lady,” said Sober John, ruefully daubing his forehead. “The young devil took my horse, else I would have overta’en them. I was near abreast o’ them when my paltry nag bolted and tipped me off in a bush.”

  “You might have had a courser from the royal stables,” said Drusilla.

  “I feared to be thought a thief. First a Princess, then a royal steed gone missing. Indeed, I am much to blame, for never did I ken that Aubrey would do such a deed.”

  “You have much to answer for,” said the King, “But, quick, man, tell where they may be!

  “Alack, sire, I cannot say! They were on the high road, when last I saw them, but likely have turned off by now.”

  “Yes, they would have turned at Middle Cross,” said Drusilla. “From thence, it is half-a-day’s journey to the Chalet of Duc Pepin De Coeur.”

  “Aye,” exclaimed Sober John, “It may well be so!” And he pulled from his sleeve a piece of parchment that was covered in fine script. “When I woke this morn from a sleep more deep than nature ever wrought, I found this missive tucked up in my doublet.”

  John, he read. You have ever been an over-watchful friend. Yet your eye did miss the draught I poured into your mead last night, and now you lie before me as a felled ox. Perhaps I was unjust to treat you so, but this is the last trick I shall play. I am for a new life. In the words of the immortal Pepin De Coeur,

  Love is like a lake, Lady

  And thou art like a swan

  Thy artless gaze

  Thy gracious ways

  Must draw the lover
on

  Farewell,

  Aubrey

  “The young cur!” King Piers sputtered.

  “Father, Aubrey oft did tell me that he wished to become a troubadour, in the style of Pepin De Coeur,” said Drusilla. “‘If I but had a muse’ he would say, then gaze at me with such a gleaming eye, I took it all for jest.”

  “Aye, and it is naught more than a lad’s folly,” said Sober John. “But it shall take a deal of trouble to convince him so.”

  “Lad or no lad, he shall be dragged back in irons!” bellowed the King.

  “Margery would weep to see him treated thus,” said Drusilla. “And you must know, Father, that Aubrey ne’er would do her harm. No, let him stay with the Duc if he will, but Margery must be brought home.”

  “Aye, that is the best course,” said John. “I shall take to the saddle at once.”

  “Wait,” said Drusilla. “You must not go alone. Father, by your leave, I shall ride with John. Margery, I know, will gladly return with me. Mayhap, we shall all be here to dine with you tomorrow, and this matter put behind us. But you must write a