by Sian Norris
Kyrie stood there, her self-possession slipping away as she witnessed the dreadful reception her words had received. For one of the first times in her life, she was at a loss of what to do. Her training in the art of peace and war, her battles and travels, none of it had any meaning here in this land of greed and self-interest. These animals did not care about nature and harmony, they didn’t care about the rules that governed the right way of life in the animal world. She looked up at Greta, who met her troubled eyes.
Greta understood. This was a challenge that she was going to have to face. If only she could think of a plan! The pair stood there as the laughter around them roared, looking desperately at each other, then to the King, and then back again.
‘You foolish cat!’ shouted the Rat King through his mirth, spluttering bits of gnawed food and chewed spittle out of his mouth. ‘Do you really think that I, King of the Rats, care about your foolish code of nature’s laws! If I had done so, why, then I would not have captured your Prince to begin with. I am afraid you must think of a better reason than that.’
Greta stepped forward. She had to take a gamble. The longer she and Kyrie stood standing there, the more at risk they would be, and the greater the danger for Boris.
‘You may not care about the code of nature,’ she began. Her voice was shaky, but at the sound of it, the laughter stopped abruptly. ‘And in that way, you are akin to my species, that of humans. But despite human ignorance and arrogance, we are still a species of honor. So, I ask you now, if we are also the same in that respect?’
The Rat King fixed her with his beady gaze. ‘But of course girl-child. All creatures have a sense of honor. We rats are no different.’
Greta swallowed hard in an effort to stop her voice from shaking. She couldn’t lose her nerve now. ‘In that case, I take you on your honor and challenge you to a contest. Whoever wins will keep Boris.’
The Rat King looked around at his courtiers and smiled lazily. ‘Girl-child, what contest could you possibly conceive of that would mean you would risk the safety of the Prince of Cats? What can you do that would make you so sure of your success?’
Kyrie stared wide-eyed at Greta as she made her pronouncement, her whiskers shaking. The rats moved forward greedily to hear how she would answer.
‘I have only my sense of what is right to guide me,’ she replied, her voice gaining in confidence. ‘I know that my love for Boris makes me invincible against you. Therefore I have no fear in challenging you to a competition.’
‘Strong words, girl-child, strong words indeed. But can you back them up, I wonder? What exactly is this challenge you have set your sights on?’
‘You will swear on the honor of your throne to agree to and accept the challenge, whatever it may be?’ she asked.
‘Yes, girl-child, I do.’
‘And you agree to the terms that whoever wins my challenge is allowed to keep Boris?’
‘I do. Whoever wins the task will have the Prince of Cats. Just name your contest. I am the Rat King. I have traveled the world with pirates, I have kidnapped the Nutcracker Prince, just as I cat-napped your foolish Boris, and I have fought and won many wars. I have no fear.’
Greta took a deep breath. ‘Okay. I challenge you to look in the millpond that reveals your true face.’
The crowd of rats that had been encroaching forward towards the pair collectively gasped, and took several steps backward. Kyrie put her head in one paw sorrowfully, but Greta kept up her steady gaze at the Rat King, awaiting his answer.
It was a long time coming. At her words, the King’s first reaction was a look of horror, which he quickly suppressed and tried to replace with his previous expression of smug superiority. However, he had difficulty maintaining his air of confidence as he fidgeted with his paws and ran his shaking claws over his whiskers. He could not let his rat followers see it, but the prospect of this challenge terrified him.
‘I accept,’ he replied finally. ‘I will keep my word. Whoever stands the test of looking in the millpond will win. If you can face your true self and avoid drowning, then you can take the Prince Boris back to the Kingdom of Cats. If not, he remains my prisoner.’ He laughed a sinister sneer of a giggle. ‘And I have a good mind to take you both as my prisoners as well!’ He turned to his Envoy. ‘Fetch the cat prisoner!’ he ordered. ‘And then we proceed to the border!’
In which the challenge takes place
It was a solemn procession that walked towards the border of the Rat Kingdom and the now united Land of Mice, where the millpond lay. Two rat soldiers led the way, followed by the Rat King on a sedan chair. He was flanked on either side by servants who carried a canopy to shade his ugly head.
Behind him was a line of soldiers, followed by Greta and Kyrie and the Envoy. Next walked another line of soldiers, and behind them came Boris and his prison guards. Greta was torn between sorrow at seeing her beloved cat being treated so badly and pride at his bravery. For Boris was not a cat to be cowed and afraid. Despite being in chains and led by the snarling and smirking rats, his noble head was held high and he maintained a stately pace, determined to show neither fear nor despair at his plight. He bore himself proudly, and despite the dirty dust and filth that covered the floor and walls of his prison cell, he made sure his coat was gleaming and glossy. His eyes sparked with defiance and disdain over the rat jailers.
Greta and Kyrie followed his example. Although terrified inside of the very real possibility of failure, Greta held her chin up and not a flicker of her inner turmoil showed on her face. She was resolute that the rats would not intimidate her – or at least they wouldn’t see that they did.
Kyrie felt equally strong-minded. Despite a nervousness that maybe Greta had taken on more than she could handle with the challenge to the Rat King, she felt that any doubts on her part would only serve to make Greta feel afraid. And Kyrie did not believe that Greta could fail. She knew that she had to keep thinking of success, and pass on her positive thoughts to all around her. They had come this far together and the rescue of the Prince was in their reach. Greta had already faced the millpond and succeeded. Failure, as they say, was not an option.
You might think that because Greta had already faced the millpond and survived, then the task ahead of her was one of sure success. Unfortunately for Greta, it isn’t that simple. In every situation where we are challenged in our self-belief, when we are afraid or when we think things may go wrong, then new obstacles arise that have to be overcome. Where we have succeeded once, we may become cocky and over-confident, leading us to fail a second time. Our selves change every day. Whereas before Greta had to look in the millpond to assert her identity and believe in her inner beauty and truth, she now had to believe in her bravery and ability to overcome terrifying obstacles, such as the threat of being taken prisoner by the Rat King.
As she walked behind the soldiers and ahead of Boris, closely flanked by the Envoy, Greta repeated a mantra over and over in her head. ‘I can do anything,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘I can achieve whatever I want, because I am brave, because I am strong.’
‘That’s right,’ Kyrie murmured to her. ‘That is what you must cling onto, Greta. You can do anything, you are a good person. Your reflection will shine out full of life and promise, whilst the Rat King will see nothing but fear and hate.’
And what was the Rat King himself thinking? He gave out the impression of arrogance and strength, but if you looked closely, you would see his tail shaking from fear. For he had so much to lose in this challenge! He could lose his royal prisoner; he could lose the respect he commanded from his subjects. He could lose his throne. But even those struggles were not as great as his biggest fear of all. For deep down the Rat King had an idea of what he may see in his true reflection. And he knew that what he would see would destroy him, and lose him his kingdom. Although he had no principles or morals, he was no fool. He knew what he was and what it meant. He knew what lay beneath his cruel and tyrannous front. And the thought of it terrified
him.
Of course, his subjects were oblivious to their King’s inner fears. They had a great belief in their leader, one of the few beliefs they had, and trusted that he would have no problem winning silly challenges thought up by little girls. For sure, he had sailed on pirate ships, he had fought and won wars, he had kidnapped the Nutcracker Prince and had the audacity to steal the heir to the Cat Throne. He could not be frightened by some foolish child!
The woods and the castle were rushing away behind them and light was seeping in between the dark and threatening branches of the trees. Tufts of green grass were beginning to appear on the ground beneath their scurrying feet, although the flowers still retreated and hid their faces from the rats. As they got closer and closer to the millpond, a heavy silence weighed down upon the tense procession, as Boris, the Rat King, Greta and Kyrie felt fear and responsibility sit heavily on their shoulders.
‘I can do this, I am brave,’ Greta repeated over and over.
‘Greta can achieve whatever she wants, if she just believes she can, oh please let her see that she can,’ Kyrie said to herself.
‘If I see my true reflection, I stand to lose everything,’ muttered the Rat King. ‘I could lose my entire kingdom, all of my glory! It cannot, it must not, be as I fear.’
‘Greta has come this far,’ thought Boris. ‘She has overcome so much, and she loves me. That will save us all.’
Still, no matter how slowly they walked, how winding a route they took, how much they tried to convince themselves they had many more miles to go, the destination had to be reached some time. Eventually the path became lighter and there in front of the procession was the clearing in the trees where the millpond lay. Greta drew in her breath. How could something so beautiful be so full of danger! She thought of poisonous tree frogs, the terrible strength of gorgeous tigers, painful thorns on delicately fresh roses. Yes, she realized. Beauty and danger can so often go hand in hand.
The shout of the Envoy interrupted her musings.
‘Here we all are, to face the challenge of the girl-child Greta in exchange for Boris, Prince of Cats. Whoever succeeds in facing the truth of the millpond will win the prize of the Prince. Should the girl-child fail, then her fate and that of her companion will be decided by the triumphant Rat King. There is no need to say what will happen if our King fails, as such an outcome is impossible. Hail the Rat King!’
‘Hail the King!’ rang the spitting squeaking reply of the rats.
‘If you would step forward to address the King, girl-child,’ said the Envoy, ‘the contest will commence.’
Greta obeyed. ‘How shall we play this?’ she asked. She was determined to be polite. After all, she didn’t want to anger the Rat King. And she had always been a firm believer in good manners. ‘Shall we take it in turns, or shall we both look at the same time?’
‘Same time,’ replied the King abruptly. He himself was not one for courtesy, and his underlying fear made him even less civil than normal. ‘That way we know straight away.’
‘And if we both succeed?’ Greta asked, voicing her second greatest worry.
‘We’ll see,’ he sneered. ‘Envoy! Count to three and we’ll see our reflections on the third count.’
‘Good luck,’ Kyrie said.
‘Hail the King!’ the rats yelled out.
‘One!’
‘I can do this, I am brave, I am strong,’ Greta muttered in her head. ‘I can do this for Boris.’
‘Two!’
‘It won’t do to lose all of this,’ panicked the Rat King. ‘It won’t do at all.’
‘Three!’
They both looked.
In the cool still waters that showed the inner truth of their souls, Greta saw a face. This time she had no doubts that it was her face looking back at her. She believed that she possessed those strong and resolute eyes, that the calmness born of courage was hers. Her love for Boris shone in her face, telling her that she was a success. She had saved him and nothing could frighten her again. She could take on anything and anyone because her belief in herself and her strength made her great and good. She smiled and the reflection laughed back at her, telling her she had survived the challenge. Kyrie jumped up and down and clapped her paws as Boris purred happily and loudly. She looked up. She had survived.
But the King! Such a happy fate was not for him! Gone was his vast size, his strength and cruelty, the steely glare in his eyes that struck terror into his enemies and enforced obedience from his subjects. Instead, he saw in the water a tiny and frightened rat, eyes wide with horror, shaking in fear. His true reflection revealed him as a coward, someone who hurt others out of fear and insecurity; a coward who bullies others to try and make himself feel good. The arrogant swagger hid a nervous skulk; the cruel glare was transformed into a frightened stare. His whiskers shriveled, his tail swished from side to side in fear, as the millpond began to stir and the weeds began to gather.
‘NOOO!’ he screamed, covering his eyes with his scaly paws to hide his reflection from himself as he jumped back from the edge of the pool. ‘I can’t, I can’t look, I can’t bear it! It cannot be!’
The rats stood around him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed in horror. Their King! Too afraid to look at his reflection! And if it had made him so scared then what a terrible sight it must have been. He stood before them, shaking in fear. He was nothing but a coward defeated by some human girl, not the great ruler of their fearful kingdom.
‘All bullies are cowards,’ said Greta.
‘Take your Prince, take your cat,’ he yelled out, a sob catching in his voice. ‘And get out of my land, get out of my kingdom!’
‘Your Kingdom?’ shouted the Envoy. ‘Why, you have brought shame to the name of rat! You will have to fight to keep your throne from this day on.’ He pounced to grab the crown from the King’s head, as the disgraced King-no-more lashed out with his claws.
Kyrie looked at Greta, and then at Boris. ‘I think we should get out of here, don’t you? Before this fight gets out of control.’
Greta nodded, and hurried over to Boris to undo his chains. His guards had already abandoned their prisoner and rushed into the fray to try and get their greasy paws on the crown.
‘Boris, I’ve missed you so much! I’m so glad you’re safe!’
He nuzzled Greta warmly. ‘My friend, Greta, you have been so brave! You took on the Rat King to save me. You have saved both my life, and the future of the Kingdom of Cats.’
‘Your Highness,’ bowed down Kyrie. ‘I would encourage haste.’
‘Indeed Kyrie. And thank you to you also. Your courage here excels all others once more. And you are right, let’s get out of here! This isn’t going to end well…’
At his words, the three brushed themselves down and walked quietly around the squabbling and screeching rats, as they fought to become the next Rat King. The crown was pushed around on the muddy ground, as the Envoy chased after it, greed for power shining in his eyes.
‘Never learn will they?’ said Greta, as the other two laughed in response.
In which they head back, together again
As they crossed the border into the Land of Mice, Greta felt full of love for all around her. Boris was safe and by her side, Kyrie had become her friend. The Land of Mice was looking rejuvenated and joyful and the traces of the war were fading fast. The rats had learnt that bullying and terrorizing others was cowardly, and she felt good and happy and strong in all she had achieved in the last few days. She kept looking down at Boris, his noble head and gleaming coat, his bright eyes full of love for his human and anticipation for his homecoming. Kyrie looked fit to burst with pride, constantly praising Greta and telling Boris about the adventures they had had together; what Greta had done and what Kyrie had done, who said this and who said that.
Leaving the woods that cast ugly shadows over the Rat Kingdom, they stepped into the sun that shone down on the land before them. The mice were out and about in their newly peaceful home. They waved and smiled warmly at t
he three travelers, offering them food and drink on their way. Everywhere they went, Greta was hailed as a hero of history and the adventuring three were offered the choicest cheeses and the tastiest snacks.
The three travelers called in at the united mice castle, where Snowy and Riverbank welcomed them with open paws – although they had to wait until they had finished another of their never-ending rounds of backgammon before attempting conversation. They were thrilled to hear of the defeat of the Rat King and the rescue of Boris, and once more Boris heard the narrative of how Greta’s wisdom and bravery had put an end to their pointless and squabbling war.
Everywhere they went they were welcomed with smiles and laughter, which, after the dark days in the Rat Kingdom, made every town, village and home seem full of light and joy.
There was no smile larger though than that on Sam’s wise old face as the warrior, the girl and the Prince approached his patient boat at the shores of the Milky Sea. He bounded towards them, hugging his granddaughter, nuzzling Greta and bowing down low to Boris.
‘You did it, you did it! I knew you would!’ he said, tears of joy shining in his eyes. ‘You two girls, so good, I always knew, I could see from the start that you had success in your bones! But there is no time to lose. We must return your Highness to the Kingdom of Cats as soon as we can. As soon as we can!’
The three of them climbed into the old boat and set sail back to the Milky Sea Port, as they excitedly retold the story of their mission. Sam heard how Greta had stopped the war, faced the millpond, won Boris from the rats, and made it all the way back again. He laughed and nodded and congratulated, and soon enough they arrived at the port.
It was an emotional goodbye as they left Sam behind in his old wooden house, after a sit down and cups of tea and milk. Boris promised Sam rewards that he refused, saying that the honor of helping his Prince, Greta and his granddaughter was reward enough. Kyrie hugged him over and over, tearfully promising to visit soon. Greta promised the same, although quite how she would ever find her way back here she didn’t know.