The Wizard, the Farmer, and the Very Petty Princess

by Daniel Fox

  "I know!" said the princess, spinning around.

  "I journey for years upon years to learn my dark arts…"

  "Here I am with my world crashing down around my ears…"

  "…all with the faintest hopes of being in your presence again…"

  "…and all daddy wants to talk about is fertilizer!"

  "…and all this time I could have just invested in some dirt and a hoe?"

  "Stupid farmer!"

  "The miserable peasant!"

  "Well," said Willuna, "I won't stand for it!"

  "This cannot be allowed to stand!" said the wizard.

  "I won't just be cast aside!"

  "I'll show you all!"

  "He wants a serious girl, I'll show him serious!"

  "If not fame, then infamy!"

  Willuna pushed up her sleeves. "Look out world," she said, "here I come!"

  "Prepare yourselves," cried Bodolomous, waving his fist at the sky, "for I bring doom!"

  And then there was quiet from the parapet, just the two of them standing there in their dramatic poses, panting. They looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

  "Did you say something?" said Willuna.

  "Nope," said Bodolomous.

  And off they went, both on their separate way.

  And that was how two sad and overly proud people completely avoided learning anything and inadvertently set in motion events that would threaten everything and everyone they'd ever known.

  Chapter 5

  The next dawn came on thick and muggy. So did the people of the town. Hangovers were the main topic of conversation, and all of those conversations were in whispers. A couple of the braver roosters inside the town's expanse tried to greet the morning, but gave up after boots were repeatedly thrown at their heads.

  Idwal snored away. He was usually up with the first light of dawn, but he'd been kept up very late the previous night, and had been stuffed full of an incredible amount of food. Staggering away from the feast in some small hour of the morning, he'd been escorted by a steward to a guest room in one of the castle's towers. The room was round, the stone walls hung with tapestries showing knights on horseback fighting off all sorts of scary creatures. Instead of scaring him the scenes made Idwal somewhat content, he felt safe knowing there were people trained in the business of bashing goblins in the faces with oversized hammers, chopping off the heads of giant snakes, that sort of thing. The tapestries weren't defined enough to show expressions on the faces of the knights. He wondered if they were scared, or bellowing out some battle charge, or maybe just businesslike as they went through a mental list of all the steps required to slay a dragon. Poke with sword, check; block fire with shield, check; hack off great big head from great big neck with great big sword, check and check again!

  A finger reached out to almost poke Idwal's shoulder. But then it shrunk back. The finger was royal, and not used to touching dirty commoners. The finger withdrew, and was replaced a moment later with a fire poker. The poker jabbed at Idwal's shoulder, gently, then with more force.

  Idwal jerked awake to find the princess Willuna standing over him. "Your Highness?" Idwal tried to bow, though it didn't come off all that well as he was laying on his side. Not that the bows he did while standing up were something to write home about, but at least they didn't make him look like he had a tummy ache. It was after this mockery of a bow that Idwal realized the situation they were in. "You're in my room," he said. And then his eyes went wide and he pulled the blankets up around his chin. "I'm not dressed!"

  Willuna rolled her eyes. "A dream come true for me as well. Clean the great quantities of wax from your ears and listen closely. The man I love, the one I actually find myself attracted to, he's interested in marrying a particular kind of girl."

  "Ah," said Idwal, relaxing a bit, "and that's not you?"

  "But it will be." Willuna put her hands behind her back and paced around the room. "I need a mentor," she said, "someone who can teach me to be serious."

  "Well, it's true I'm not particularly well known for my jokes but-"

  "You?" Willuna snorted. "You're funny. No. What I want is for you to help me sneak out and choose the right person for the job."

  "Sneak?" said Idwal. "There's sneaking?"

  "Do you really think my father is just going to let me openly wander off with some stranger? Of course he isn't. So I must be quick and quiet."

  "Your father is really very fond of you. If he catches us-"

  "Don't worry," said Willuna, "I have a disguise." The princess pulled the scarf from around her neck and wrapped it around her hair. She then proceeded to tuck in her chin and walk around the room with an astonishingly dramatic limp. "Hey," she said in what Idwal supposed was supposed to be a man's voice, "who is that old woman?" Willuna answered herself in a high falsetto. "Not the princess Willuna, that's for sure." She stopped and smiled at the farmer. "You see? Even my beauty can be disguised, if you know what you're doing. So? What do you think?"

  "Your father is going to be so angry."

  Willuna glared. She really didn't know what to do with insults, she'd never heard one before. "He's certainly a very passionate man," she said. "Once he shows an interest in something he can worry at it for years. Did I mention he's taken quite a liking to you?"

  Idwal smiled. "Really? Me?"

  "Absolutely you. You and your silly gift. He's infatuated with the thing. He's sure to try to pry your dirty farmer secrets from your dirty farmer mind. But being such a busy man, he might have to do said prying in dribs and drabs. It could possibly take months."

  "Months?"

  "Maybe even years. Didn't I hear you say you had some girl back home waiting for you? Maybe you're lucky, maybe you have the kind of girl who would wait her entire life for you," she eyed Idwal up and down, "though I can't imagine why. On the other hand, an entire lifetime is a very long time to wait. Especially if you're waiting on someone who is less than perfect. Are you perfect, farmer?"

  Idwal was silent, thinking thinking thinking. He'd always tried to be the best citizen he could be, according to the dictates of his home town. But he'd never been quite right, had he? Despite his best efforts, there were always going to be the whispers and rumours that he had adventuring in his blood. And the giant turnip hadn't made things any better. No, in Gretal's eyes he was probably not perfect. All of a sudden he felt a clock ticking away in his head - how long until Gretal gave up on him?

  He knew the princess could read the answer in his face. She smiled at him. "You have fields that need farming and a girl that needs marrying. Get me my mentor and I'll make sure my father is distracted long enough for you to make your getaway."

  "You're sure this is what you want?" said Idwal, worrying the edge of the blankets with his hands.

  "Aren't you?" said the princess.

  ***

  So down to Owltown they went. Idwal sweated the whole way down, doing his best to give the guards a pleasant nod and tip of the hat. Behind him, shuffling ever so slowly, was the princess in her ridiculous disguise. All the while Idwal trembled, his mind tripping from one corporal punishment to the next should they be caught. Would it be the noose? The executioner's axe? Maybe he would be drawn and quartered. Idwal wasn't exactly sure what that entailed; having your portrait sketched didn't sound so bad, but that "quartered" part sounded awful.

  Finally they made it to the marketplace, the princess dragging her supposedly bad foot behind her. Idwal asked one more time if the princess really wanted to go through with this.

  "Wouldn't it be easier to go back to your life?" he asked.

  "No," said the princess in a hushed voice, "it would not. My normal life involves me not being married to the greatest king in all the lands, and me not being the greatest queen. Who in their right mind would want to be normal?"

  "I would," said Idwal, "there's nothing I want more."

  "Normal is boring. How can you ever win anything by doing the same thing day in and day out?"


  "Maybe one doesn't win anything extra, but one doesn't lose what one already has. Your Highness."

  Willuna flapped a disgusted hand at him "On with it," she said. "What do your peasant instincts tell you?"

  Idwal looked around. The market was packed with all the extra people who had come to the town for the celebrations. The stalls and stores were doing a brisk business. Everyone was smiling at everyone else, which made it difficult to figure out if anyone was of a serious nature. Finally Idwal directed the princess' attention to a woman with thick auburn hair who was giving a coin to a beggar. Idwal pointed and said, "What about her?"

  Willuna peered over at the woman. "She just gave that man money."

  "Yes, that's right."

  "But what did he give her in return?"

  Idwal shrugged. "Satisfaction?"

  "That's it?"

  "What more does one need?"

  "You can't be serious. That woman is unwise and has nothing to teach me."

  Idwal looked around again. He spotted a gentleman with a walrus moustache paying a baker for a loaf of bread. "Will he do?

  Willuna watched the man for a moment. "I didn't see him bargain. He didn't even give the tiniest of debates."

  "I guess not."

  "Then how does he know he didn't pay too much?"

  "Maybe he knows the baker. Maybe he knows already that it's very good bread."

  "He is cowardly and and afraid to fight for what he wants. And you, farmer, are beginning to grow tiresome."

  Idwal was beginning to wonder if there was any sort of punishment for giving a princess, especially a spoiled, vain princess, a good talking to. It might be worth suffering through a thumbscrew or two to give her a piece of his mind.

  But instead he forced a smile and looked around a third time. A high screeching voice erupted from the next row of stalls over. It was a terrible voice to listen to, all whiny and doing a fairly good impression of a couple of crows fighting over some scraps.

  "Blackguard!" yelled the voice. "Criminal! Miscreant!"

  The princess forgot her limp and squeezed herself between two stalls to hurry over and see what all the fuss was about. Idwal was content to let her go, but figured his punishment might be worse if instead of just escorting the princess out of the castle without a guard he actually went ahead and lost her, as pleasant as the thought might be. In that case they might skip right over the pleasant drawing part and go straight to the quartering. He sucked in his belly and squeezed through the stalls after her.

  He found her watching an older man, his skin-and-bones body dressed in black, waving a bony fist at a fish merchant. His face was beet red, the colour travelling over the top of his bald head and down the back of his neck. "You see!" he screeched at the crowd that was forming around them. "Take heed!" He thrust an accusing finger at the merchant. "This crook spies an old face and takes it for an easy mark! Beware the fish monger! Beware!"

  Idwal watched as Willuna took a step forward and addressed the spindly old gent. "Tried to overcharge you, did he?"

  The old fellow grasped the young woman's hands, locking on to the one person in the crowd who wasn't treating this like a spectator sport. There was something about the way the old man looked at the princess, a hungry possessive sort of look, that just didn't sit right with Idwal. He stepped up beside the princess, trying to get her attention. "Maybe we should move on."

  Willuna didn't look at him. "Maybe you just want to go spend your reward."

  At the mention of the word "reward" the elderly gent's greedy look shifted to Idwal, sizing him up. Idwal liked the looks of the man even less now.

  "So," said Willuna, forgetting about the farmer, "you fought back, did you?"

  "I did," said the miser. "Tooth and nail, my girl, tooth and nail."

  "And you're sure you were overcharged?"

  "To a criminal degree!"

  "Oh come now," started the fishmonger, but Willuna waved him off. She might have been in disguise, such as it was, but there was still a presence about her, one that expected her commands to be obeyed, and it was a strong enough force to quiet the merchant. "You're perfect," said the princess, returning her eyes to the old man.

  "Him?" said Idwal. "Him?"

  "I'll be married by this time next week," said Willuna, her eyes never leaving her new prize. "Rejoice, farmer," she said, "you're free to go. Enjoy normality, I know I won't." With that, she took the miser by the arm and led him away, turning a corner out of Idwal's sight.

  There was a moment when Idwal weighed going back to one of the guards and telling them that the princess was walking off with some strange man. But there was that ever-looming chance that he might be held responsible. And the princess was getting what she most wanted, or so she said. Most of all, Idwal just desperately wanted to get back to his life.

  No, it was home for him. Idwal returned to the castle, picked up the bag of coins the king had given him, reclaimed his cart from the great hall, and began the walk home.

  That was how Idwal learned that the princess didn't want to be normal.

  Chapter 6

  Willuna was escorted to the Miser's house. It sat alone, not so far from the city. It was a craggly old thing, the paint peeling from the walls, the walls themselves bowed and sinking at odd angles into the ground. The windows were completely covered over with grime and soot. The walkway up to the door was a bunch of old round slices of log and stones, none of which had been properly sunk into the earth, but just thrown on the ground making a rough wavering path from the roadway to the door.

  The house's insides were no better. Litter and garbage lay on every surface, coated with dust. Old rank unwashed clothing hung from the backs of chairs. The air itself was old and used up. Once inside, the Miser plunked down an astonishingly large laundry basket with a broken handle.

  Willuna edged cautiously toward it. She could smell the soiled clothing in it before she actually saw anything.

  "So," said the Miser. "You're here to learn eh? To become serious. Well, here lies your first lesson of the day." The Miser pulled a sock from the pile of clothing. It was so stiff with grime that he was able to tap it against the side of the basket.

  Willuna's stomach started turning queasy rolls. "What will this teach me?"

  The Miser considered the sock in his hand. "Courage," he said.

  The Miser told her to hop to it, and dashed out the door on some very important business.

  And so Willuna did the Miser's laundry, wondering all the while if Anisim was thinking of her.

  That night she slept in the laundry basket, a rough blanket pulled up to her chin.

  The next morning the Miser kicked the side of the basket until Willuna was awake. He fed her a breakfast of toast crumbs and egg grease, and then hustled her outside. He plunked down a leaky wooden bucket and a wash-rag at her feet.

  "What's this for?" Willuna said, trying to stretch out the kinks in her neck.

  "The windows," said the Miser. "To help you see more clearly. This is the pathway to wisdom." The Miser insisted she hop to it, and then left again to do more of his miserly business.

  And so Willuna washed the Miser's windows, the grime so think that it was like the glass had curtains clinging to them. And while she scrubbed, up and down, back and forth, her hands going red from the water and soap, she wondered how much more Anisim would appreciate her if he could see how much effort she was putting into learning to be serious.

  That night Willuna slept in the basket again, but in the middle of the night the Miser took away her blanket, because he was feeling a chill.

  The third morning the Miser returned with the bucket, this time throwing in a scrub brush that was missing many of its bristles. Willuna stared at the bucket for a moment, her tired mind having trouble thinking of words.

  "The floors," said the Miser, "so you'll learn to poke into every corner. This is the way to build up an enquiring mind." And away went the Miser once again, to do whatever it is that Misers did.


  Willuna looked down at the floors in despair. A cockroach scuttled by, completely ignoring her, leaving a little trail in the dust. She wondered if this was how common people went about their common lives, feeling sad and weary all the time. Or did common people enjoy this? Did common women look forward to a new broom the way that Willuna anticipated her new weekly dress? She supposed that once she was queen she could work out some way to reduce the drudgery of the common person, but what if that meant taking away their source of happiness?

  She pushed that queen stuff out of her mind and kneeled down to get to work. As she scrubbed away she thought of Anisim and how much he better bloody well appreciate her doing all this work just to make herself more attractive to him.

  The fourth morning found Willuna in a better mood. Even though she had barely slept at all in her basket, she was up and awake before the Miser. She waited impatiently for the old man to groan his way out of his bed, and then confronted him in his office. As she entered the Miser hid a small bag from her eyes. If Willuna had cared about such things she might have recognized it as the bag her father had given to that farmer the night of the great feast. But she wasn't interested in bags that morning, her only concern was conducting her business as quickly as possible.

  "Eh? What do you want?" said the Miser, not liking his coin counting to be interrupted. He wrapped his arms around the small bag and peered up with suspicious eyes at the princess.

  "I have hung your laundry and washed your windows and scrubbed your floors. Your horrible, horrible floors."

  "So?"

  "I would like my wages please."

  "But there is so much more I can teach you!" wailed the Miser. "There's the walls that need painting and furniture that needs mending and I won't lie to you, I could use a good foot rub." The Miser propped a foot up on his desk. One of the very ugliest toes ever known to mankind stuck up through a hole in his sock. It was dirty and yellow and shaped like the type of potato you would instantly discard as being inedible.