Unicorns? Get Real!

by Kathryn Lasky

  Chapter 7

  BASIC UNICORN

  “You can’t cut Basic Unicorn,” Kristen pleaded when Gundersnap said she planned to stay behind and work on the tapestry.

  “You’ll get into trouble,” Myrella said.

  “I am already in trouble,” Gundersnap said. “How can I care about a fantastical beast?” Then she muttered something about not giving a royal hoot about unicorns and that all she cared about was her own tapestry.

  “How can you care about a fantastical tapestry?” Alicia rejoined.

  A flush crept up Gundersnap’s cheeks.

  “Touché,” whispered Kristen. “Point won.”

  “Come along now, Gundersnap!” Alicia took the princess’s hand and gave her a yank.

  “Oh, all right!” Gundersnap said, and then muttered something in Slobo under her breath.

  The princesses were to report to the riding counselor and head unicorn wrangler, Lady Frances, known as Frankie. They made their way to the royal stables in the inner ward of the castle, along with a dozen or more other princesses. All were careful to pick up their skirts as they daintily stepped over piles of horse poop.

  “Is it true that unicorns drool gold spit when they’re nervous?” one princess asked.

  “And what about the jewel at the base of their horns?” said another.

  “Oh, I think only one in a thousand unicorns has that.”

  “More like one in a million!”

  None of the princesses had ever been on a unicorn roundup. They crowded into the small tack room of the royal stables, where the saddles and the bridles of the ponies were kept. This was where Frankie liked to have her “get ready, get riding” sessions, as she called them. Today, however, it was a little different. When the princesses entered, there were three posters on easels.

  Lady Frances came in through another door. She had a loping stride somewhat similar to a horse in a slow canter. Frankie was unlike any other counselor at Camp Princess. She always wore her hair braided into two very long pigtails. On her head she wore a bizarre contraption that had a deep brim and tied under her chin with a leather cord. The weirdest thing of all was that she wore breeches like a man, and then over those, beautiful leather pants. But the pants had no back to them, and instead were tied onto the front of her legs. She called them “chaps,” a term few of the princesses had ever heard before coming to the camp.

  “All right now, settle down, Princesses. Parisiana!” she bellowed out.

  She fired a fierce look at the Princess Parisiana, a pretty girl from the Majestic Realm of Chantillip. “Put a button on it—as in ‘louffe’—mouth! Yeah, yeah, I know how to speak Chantillip.” Despite Frankie’s harsh words, all the princesses secretly admired her.

  “Now take a look at these posters,” said Frankie. “I want you to understand this.” She paused dramatically and pointed to the detailed illustration of a unicorn. “This is a unicorn.” She then pointed to the one next to it. “This is not a unicorn. It is an antelope. An antelope is not—I repeat, not—a unicorn. Not even a kissing cousin. An antelope has two horns, as you can see from this poster. Not one—duh! Why people confuse them, I’ll never know. What other differences do you see?”

  Princess Myrella raised her hand.

  “Yo!” Royal titles were usually dropped with Frankie. She often addressed them with a “yo” or “y’all,” short for Your Highness, Your Majesty—whatever.

  “Well, the antelope’s horns are curved. The unicorn has a single horn, and it is very straight.”

  “Right. Now please look at the third poster. Would anyone care to read these facts out loud.” A very pretty princess with a mass of frizzy black curly hair that stuck out like an immense halo from her head raised her gleaming dark hand. “All right! Princess Ruby, take it away!”

  Princess Ruby began reading the poster aloud.

  FACTS ABOUT UNICORNS

  Unicorns generally travel in herds, but are solitary when they arrive at their destination.

  Unicorns will not drink from still water.

  Unicorns are symbols of purity—so don’t think dirty thoughts or speak swears when around them.

  One touch of a unicorn’s horn can stop the flow of blood from deep cuts.

  Only young girls can ride unicorns well. But men, boys, and old ladies often try to with little success.

  When the princess had finished, Frankie flipped the poster over. Another princess was asked to read aloud. This time it was Kristen.

  FICTIONS ABOUT UNICORNS

  A touch of a unicorn’s horn does not cure acne.

  Unicorns are not cupids. They do not cause people to fall in love.

  Unicorns do not pee, poop, or drool gold.

  “And now, princesses”—Frankie placed another poster on the stand—“we have to discuss the unknown.” She gave a special and almost mysterious emphasis to the word “unknown.” “There are many things said about unicorns that are unprovable. We know not whether they are fact or fiction. I call them ‘factions.’ Princess Gundersnap, will you kindly read these.”

  Gundersnap sighed somewhat mournfully and made her way slowly to the poster. Suppressing a yawn, she began to read aloud.

  QUESTIONS OF FACTION

  Can unicorns cover vast distances in very short time, which the ancients called “flash time”?

  Can unicorns sprout wings and fly?

  Can unicorns turn blood to rubies?

  Can ordinary horses or ponies be turned into unicorns?

  Gundersnap appeared totally bored and somewhat distracted as she read the faction poster. When she returned to her seat, Frankie stood up.

  “Although you might not have known it, given the manner in which Princess Gundersnap read, these factions are considered fascinating, and many scholars have devoted years of research to just these questions and several more factions. Now, Princess Kinna, can you give us a slightly more lively reading of the other side of this poster.”

  Frankie flipped the poster, and Princess Kinna from the Queendom of Mattunga came to the front and began reading. Kinna was cocaptain of the Purple team, and if there was ever an enthusiastic, gung-ho princess, it was Kinna. She paused, looked at the poster, and then began reciting it in a rhythmic beat as she slapped her hip and bopped about, making it into almost a song or at least a cheer like the Royal Cheersters would cheer at Color Wars games.

  HOW TO TRACK AND CAPTURE A UNICORN

  Unicorns have a lovely roselike scent. So keep sniffing.

  Look for the gleam—the gleam of the unicorn’s pure ivory horn.

  When approaching a unicorn, do not look it in the eye. Hum softly and try to think pleasant, sanitary, squeaky clean thoughts.

  Unicorns are very neat. They avoid mud and slime.

  Your lariat is made of finest satin. When throwing it, aim for the horn. If you are successful in your lassoing, drop to your knees instantly and bow your head. The unicorn will then trot directly to you.

  Never pull on the lariat. Pulling on the lariat could injure the horn.

  “All right, y’all,” Frankie continued. “These are some of the basics. We shall be setting off soon. Now, your footmen who usually attend your carriages and horses have already gone ahead to make camp, and I want you all to be ready to leave within the hour. Got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they all answered in unison.

  “Oh, and by the way, I know that in your home kingdoms you are accustomed to riding sidesaddle in your gowns. But not here, y’all. None of this petticoat and gown business. Here we ride western style—facing front. How in the name of Saint Dude do you expect to see anything facing sideways? I’ve always found that those loose over-gowns, kirtles, whatever you call them, are a complete nuisance. And no big wide sleeves, no trains, no veils. We can’t have you flouncing around out there on the plains in all that court getup. You’ll wear chaps like these over breeches. Your hair shall be braided by the hair maids into two sensible braids. You shall wear a hat—yes, this is a hat, eve
n if you’ve never seen one quite like it,” she said, pointing to the odd thing on her head. “It will stay on when you gallop, and it will protect you from the sun.”

  Frankie’s hat had not quite done the job. She had a solid band of freckles across her nose and stretching from ear to ear.

  As they left the stables, Princess Morwenna, who was walking beside Alicia, said, “I don’t think it’s godly for us to wear these britches and chaps, as she calls them. And to ride western style. Outrageous.”

  “Whatever!” Alicia muttered.

  Chapter 8

  ROUNDUP

  The silk tents in pastel colors glowed under the light of a pale moon. Twenty princesses gathered around the campfire. They leaned against their saddles—the velveteen, super-cushie, butt-friendly princess pony models from the Royal Outdoor Life Catalogue. It was a starry night, and as Gundersnap looked at the heavens she thought, I should be so happy here. She was out on the plains of Wesselwick tracking unicorns. Drifts of stars flowed through the night. Her difficult mother, the Empress Maria Theresa, was far away. And Frankie was just the best! But she was far from happy. She felt as though she were drowning in a grief as huge as any ocean. Menschmik! Menschmik, where are you? She tipped her head back and looked up at the stars. Please, dear Lord, save my pony.

  Gundersnap settled back now against her pony’s saddle and listened to the strange ballad that Frankie was singing. Frankie’s sweet, sad song wove into the night and through the stars that seemed close enough to touch.

  “Oh give me a home where the unicorns roam

  And royal gals gallop and play,

  Where seldom a flounce is able to bounce

  And our hair stays braided all day.

  Home, home on the plains

  Where royal gals gallop and play,

  With skirts left behind, our lassos unwind

  And our pigtails are flopping away.

  Oh give me a land where the sky is so grand

  And stars from the blackness beam,

  Where falcons glide and princesses ride

  In search of the unicorn’s gleam.”

  But where might her dear Menschmik be now, at this very moment? Gundersnap hated to even think about it. He could be in a battle. Yes, they would cover him with leather and all the horse armor, but that would make it even harder for him to gallop. She imagined Menschmik gasping and stumbling across a battlefield, his small lungs crumbling inside his narrow chest. Many of the princesses had set up their lanyard hooks while Frankie sang and were braiding great lengths of satin ribbon using the diamond or spiral braid pattern. But the long satin ribbons lay lank in Gundersnap’s lap. She had not braided half an inch.

  “Not making yourself a lanyard, lass?” Gortle came up to her. He had come along on the unicorn hunt, helping to set up the tents and doing odd jobs around the campsite.

  “I don’t have the heart, Gortle. I just can’t stop thinking about Menschmik.”

  “I know, dear, but I think that there’s a very good chance, Menschmik being as fast as he is, that the empress won’t use him in battle, but only as a messenger pony.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, I know, Gortle.”

  Gortle blinked and thought that his mistress knew him too well. “Well, you can always hope, dear. What’s life without hope?” He paused, smiled, and then whipped out a lanyard. “Or without rope.”

  “Where’d you get this, Gortle?”

  “I made it for you. Had a feeling you wouldn’t be up to doing one yourself.”

  “You’re too good to me,” Gundersnap said, taking the lanyard. She looked at her friend, who now sat next to her sharing the large velvet cushion. The flames of the campfire cast bright shadows across his whiskered face. “Did you always hope, Gortle?”

  “Hope for what?”

  “Hoped when you were young? Did you hope to grow taller, to not be a dwarf?”

  “Of course I did. Don’t know a dwarf who hasn’t hoped for that.” He chuckled softly and looked up at the starry sky.

  “But then when you didn’t grow, did you stop hoping?”

  Gortle’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Stopped hoping for what I couldn’t be, but tried to hope for what I could be.”

  “And what was that?”

  “A decent man with some learning. No one in my family had ever read a book. That to me is a lot worse than being short. That’s how I got my job in your mum’s court. I was the librarian. I could scramble up all those bookshelves good as any monkey, except I read.” He laughed.

  “So why aren’t you still doing that? Why are you just used for tumbling and all that vile silly stuff?”

  “Your mum got Arthur.”

  “Arthur the Giant?”

  “Yes, she had wanted him for court entertainment, but he was not very entertaining.”

  “I can believe that!” Gundersnap said. There was never a man with a more doleful face than Arthur.

  “But he was tall and could reach for those books. So I became the entertainment.”

  “But that’s so sad. You loved working in the library.”

  “Hey, I can still read, can’t I? Just have Arthur fetch the books for me now.” He paused and then gasped, “Look, a shooting star!”

  “I see it!” Gundersnap exclaimed.

  “That means good luck.”

  “I need it.” Then she thought, Or Menschmik needs it!

  “All right, Princesses.” Frankie had put aside her guitar and ambled to where the princesses sat at the campfire. “We always set out a watch on roundup to look for the gleam of the unicorns. You can split up into twos and take two-hour shifts until dawn. Anyone spots a gleam, come immediately—that’s boute mooey in Chantillip, and how do you say ‘immediately’ in Slobo, Gundersnap?” There was a long pause. Gortle nudged her. “Gundersnap! You paying attention?”

  “Oh, sorry, Frankie.”

  “How do you say ‘get me immediately’ in Slobo?”

  “Garschmicht,” Gundersnap replied.

  “Garschmicht,” Frankie repeated. “Oh! I like that Slobo talk. It’s a language you can really bite into—like a good hunk of meat.”

  Princess Gundersnap and Princess Alicia agreed to take the shift from two in the morning until dawn.

  “Oh, I hope we spot something.” Alicia yawned as she and Gundersnap took their posts. “And do you think it’s true—this rumor that boys from Camp Burning Shield might be out here somewhere looking for a herd too?”

  “Alicia, it’s unicorns we’re after, not boys. Besides, the boys have no luck with them. Frankie says they can’t ride them at all.”

  “Might be fun to see them try,” Alicia said.

  “Ya ya,” Gundersnap replied in a distracted voice. “Alicia,” she said. “You know how my mudder does not believe in unicorns.”

  “As you have said many a time.”

  “I’ve been wondering. Do you think that the reason the stitches got all messed up and the tapestry didn’t work is because Mudder does not believe in unicorns?”

  Alicia looked straight at her friend. “Princess Gundersnap, it is what you believe that counts, not what your mother believes. Do you believe in unicorns?”

  “Well, yes, I mean, I think so. Why would we be on roundup if they don’t exist?”

  “But do you really believe in them and their magic?”

  “Frankie didn’t really say anything about their magic. Well, the faction stuff sounds sort of like magic.”

  “Does she have to say it for you to believe in it?”

  Gundersnap furrowed her brow. She turned to Alicia again. “Can magic be practical?”

  “Practical?” Alicia sighed. This was so like Gundersnap. “I don’t know, but even if it isn’t, what does it matter?”

  Gundersnap had no answer to that. And what was magic, anyhow? Gundersnap suddenly realized that despite her overwhelming sadness, this night, so different from her life at home in Slobodkonia, did seem almost magical. It was just as she was
having this thought that Alicia cried out, “The gleam! I see the gleam!”

  Chapter 9

  LOST, THEN FOUND!

  In less than four minutes, the princesses were into their chaps, out of their silk tents, and mounted on their ponies. In less than five minutes, they were pounding across the plains of Wesselwick. Their pigtails flapped madly as they followed Frankie’s lead.

  “Yee haw!” Frankie whooped. “The herd is splitting!” She yelled, “Team captains, listen up.” She turned around in her saddle and, while still galloping, called back directions. “Crimson team, head due east. Purples, due west.”

  Nine princesses on the Purple team followed Maggie, the Schottlandian princess known for her superb riding abilities.

  “Hey, Gundersnap!” Kristen rose in her saddle. “Get with the program! This way!” She turned to Alicia as they crouched low in their saddles and hammered across the plain. “Good grief—literally grief. She is so distracted by that pony that she went off in the wrong direction!”