“Just bring that man to,” said the Princess.
The pages bowed low, and went and shook the Chancellor violently. He showed no signs of recovering, so one of the pages turned to the Princess and said:
“May it please your Majesty, but the Chancellor refuses to come to, and we can’t bring him.”
“So he refuses to obey my orders,” said the Princess. “He must be punished for this. However, now go and get a bucketful of water and pour it on him. Perhaps that will bring him to.”
Now when she said he was going to be punished, she was only joking, but she said it very gravely, so that many people might have thought it was quite in earnest. Meanwhile the pages departed to fetch the water. They soon came back and brought a large pailful.
“You had better not throw it all over him,” said the Princess; “just let it trickle over his face gently.”
So one of the pages began to do as he was told, but somehow—either he had a sudden push, or as he said afterwards, the Owl looked at him, and startled him—he let the pail go, and all the water and the pail too fell over the unlucky Chancellor. This really did bring him very much to—much too much to, in fact—for he sprang up in such a rage that the Princess really wished herself out of the room.
“You jackanapes,” he screamed at the unfortunate page; “you ape, you boar, you cow, you clumsy monkey, I’ll be revenged on you.”
But the Princess, who had gained courage while he was screaming, said:
“You will not be revenged on him.”
“But I shall,” he said.
“Indeed you will not,” said the Princess, “for he did it by my orders,”
“Oh! he did it by your orders,” said the Chancellor; “then I’ll be revenged on you too,” and he began to move uncomfortably near to the Princess. But the three pages threw themselves on him and tried to drag him back, but he turned suddenly on them.
“What,” he said scornfully, “you try and stop me—ye frogs! Ah! a good idea—by virtue of my magic power I command you to turn into water-rats; then perhaps the Owl there will eat you up.”
No sooner said than done, and the three pages instantly became water-rats, squattering in the water that was still in a pool on the floor.
Somehow the Princess did not seem to be frightened at this; she was only very angry.
“I thought I told you not to hurt those pages.”
“Who cares what you say?”
“Dear me,” thought the Princess, “he is getting excessively insolent—I shall have to be severe with him in a moment.” So she said:
“Turn those pages back again.”
“I shall not.”
“Then leave the room.”
“I shall not.”
The Princess did not know what to do; he was really very rude, and he was walking towards her evidently intending to attack her. When he was within ten feet of her he stopped, and though he tried to get nearer he could not.
“Ha! ha!” he cried; “you think to keep me off by magic, but it is not so easy, I can tell you. I command you to turn into a mouse.”
But the Princess, leaning her head against the soft feathers of the Owl, only smiled, and did not turn into a mouse at all.
The Chancellor seemed perplexed.
“Is that not enough for you?” he said; “I thought I told you to turn into a mouse.”
But the Princess smiled calmly and said:
“Do you suppose I am going to do anything of the sort—you have forgotten your manners to speak to your Queen thus. I believe there is a fine of five shillings for any one who speaks to the King or Queen without saying ‘your Majesty.’ You had better pay it, Sir Chancellor, and turn those pages back again, or I shall have you turned out of the kingdom.”
But the Chancellor laughed, “You can’t send me out if you wanted to. Meanwhile I shall not turn those rats back, for if I am not much mistaken your Owl there will carry them off.”
It really seemed as if the Owl were going to obey him, for greatly to the Princess’s surprise it sprang off her shoulder and seized the three rats, one in each claw, and one in its beak—but it returned at once to her and laid them squeaking on the table in front of her—but no sooner did they touch the table than they turned into men again just as quickly as they had become rats. When Merrymineral saw this he became perfectly frantic, and tried in vain to get at the Princess—he even went back a little and tried to run at her—but it was no use, for no sooner did he reach a certain spot than he was suddenly stopped, just as if he had run against a wall. At last he became so frantic that the Princess could stand it no longer. So she said:
“Will you be quiet, you naughty old man?—leave the room or I will send for the police.”
But Merrymineral answered:
“Oh, send for the police and the soldiers and sailors and candlestick-makers.”
So the Princess rang the bell that stood on the table: a page at once appeared at the door.
“Send for a policeman and ask him to step this way.”
The page looked astonished, but he saluted and left the room. Almost immediately a policeman came in—for you see there was one always on the palace steps. He entered the room with a low bow.
“Take the Chancellor out of the room,” said the Princess, “and put him in prison for three days.”
But the policeman shook his head.
“Excuse me, mum—I mean your most gracious Majesty—but it is against the law to imprison a member of Parliament, much less a chancellor.”
The Chancellor laughed sarcastically.
“Oh, is it?” said the Princess; “never mind, take him into custody; I depose him—he is no longer Chancellor.”
Merrymineral looked astonished but the policeman cleared his throat and said:
“Come, I say, young fellow; will you go quietly, or shall I make you?”
“Oh, make me, by all means,” answered Merrymineral.
So the policeman advanced and held out his hand to take him by the collar, but had no sooner touched Merrymineral than he fell to the ground as if he had been thunderstruck.
The Chancellor smiled. “I told you so,” he said.
The Princess was now thoroughly nonplussed. However, she rang the bell again. Again the page appeared.
“Summon the Lords of the Council; let them come here at once.”
Almost immediately afterwards the lords appeared. As they came in each one bowed profoundly to the Princess. But in spite of their grave appearance they could not help looking astonished at the policeman who was lying on the floor, and at the three pages who were still sitting on the table—for as they had not yet been told to go they could not depart.
But each one took his seat without questioning. Last of all came the Court doctor, who looked in an alarmed manner at the Owl—nevertheless he took his seat.
When all was quiet the Princess began to speak.
“My lords,” she said, “I have been obliged to assemble you on the first day of my reign; but the matter is a very grave one. I have found it necessary to dismiss the Chancellor, for these reasons: first, he attacked these three pages who were executing my bidding; next, he attacked me; and lastly, he attacked the law, in the person of the policeman there, whom he knocked down. Now I ask your advice as to how I am to get rid of him, for he refuses to leave the room at my command.”
So spoke the Princess, but before any one could answer Merrymineral spoke:
“My lords,” he said, “are we, we, the lords of the kingdom, to be governed by this schoolgirl, who is not even a magician as we are? What good has she ever done us? What power is to keep us from deposing her and electing as a ruler one of ourselves?”—but before he could finish a perfect uproar of shouts of rage interrupted him.
The Princess put her fingers in her ears to keep out the sound, and when the lords saw that the noise was annoying her they stopped at once. When they were quiet the Princess spoke again:
“What he has just said is right,” she said;
“I have no right to reign over you, for I am but a girl. Do ye therefore elect a ruler.”
For a moment all was silence in the Council, but all eyes were turned on a lord who stood next to Merrymineral in rank. He was a portly man, and a great magician too, though his power was not quite so great as Merrymineral’s. When therefore he saw that all eyes were turned on him, Lord Licec, for so he was called, rose.
“Your most gracious Majesty,” he began, “although you had no need to command us to elect a ruler, we are of course bound to obey your commands, whatever they are. I therefore speak, giving my vote, and I believe the vote of all the rest of the assembly, that you shall be our ruler according to the oath which we sware to your father.”
And then turning to the rest of the assembly he said:
“Am I not right, my lords?” and with one voice they answered:
“We will die for our Queen Ismara.”
Only one voice objected, but as that was Merrymineral, no one noticed him.
So the Princess rose and thanked them for their confidence in her, though, to tell the truth, she had known all along what they would say. That done she said:
“And now what are we to do about turning this man out? for he refuses to go of his own accord.”
No one could suggest anything better than to send for the Lifeguards and let them carry him off. But before this was done they decided to try to persuade him to go. But it was of no use, for he stood on the spot where he had stopped, with his arms folded and his hat on, looking down at the ground in a brown study, and he took no notice of anything they could do, even though they rang the bell close to his ear. Now he did no particular harm as he stood here, but you see no one could tell whom he might attack next. So they determined to send for the Lifeguards as a last resource.
So they were sent for, and in a short time they came, although they left their horses outside in the courtyard. Fifty of them were then marched into the hall and they were ordered to move the man out. So they divided into two parties of twenty-five each, and they put a rope around him, and each body of twenty-five took an end of the rope and pulled, but it was no good, for he took no more notice of the pulling than if he had been Samson or any other strong man. So the fifty gave up the attempt in despair; the only thing to do seemed to be to cut him to pieces. So they drew their swords and hacked at him, but it was no use: the swords bent or broke just as if they had been bulrushes or paper, and still Merrymineral took no notice in particular. So they gave up the attempt in despair when they had broken up all their swords. However, they did not give in, for they called in the best horseman in the regiment and told him to charge on horseback with his lance in rest. So the soldier rode in on his horse; this was not so difficult as it may seem, for the council chamber was on a level with the ground, and a lane was opened in between the chairs to where Merrymineral still stood with his arms folded.
At the word of command the soldier rode at full speed towards Merrymineral, aiming his lance at the centre of his face—that is, his nose. His aim was true, and the lance hit fair, but it might just as well have been made of macaroni, for it crumbled just as a stick of that delightful eatable would do if you ran it against a wall. The horse, however, swerved just in time, although it pushed against him in going by; but even this made no difference to Merrymineral. As a last resource they suggested putting a lighted match under his nose. Whether this would have succeeded or not I can’t say. But just at this moment Merrymineral seemed to wake up again.
“Ah,” he said, “I see you have not yet managed to get me out of the room. However, as your soldiers have been practising on me for some time past, I think it only right that I should try my hand on them a little. I used to be thought rather strong in the arms at one time, and I have cut down a good many trees in my time. Just see how you like that,” he said to the man on the horse as he swung his umbrella round his head and brought it down with a tremendous thwack on the horse’s side. In fact he hit so hard that the horse and man were knocked right through the window into the courtyard below. With three more blows he knocked twenty more of the men through the same window, and the rest made their escape as fast as they could by the door.
“I see I have not quite forgotten how to clear a room yet,” he said, as he once more folded his arms in the same attitude and relapsed into silence.
“What am I to do?” said the poor Princess, wringing her hands and almost crying with vexation.
A voice came from the far end of the room, and every one turned to see who it might be. And all saw it was the Court physician who spoke. “If I might be allowed to make a suggestion,” he said, “I would say that the best thing your Majesty could do would be to request that gentleman who is sitting on your shoulder to turn him out. From my own experience I should say he was very competent to perform such a task. And if I might be allowed to add yet another suggestion it would be, ‘to be well shaken before taken,’ as they say in prescriptions.”
As he said this an extraordinary change came over Merrymineral. He pressed his hat on his head, put his umbrella under his arm, and began to put on his gloves in such a hurry that he mistook the left for the right hand. As he did so he said:
“Do you know, I can’t stop any longer; so sorry, but I have an engagement and I am rather in a hurry. Good-day.” And he began to walk quickly towards the door. But the Princess had already whispered to the Owl, “Catch him, dear Owl.”
And however fast he went the Owl caught him up, and taking him by the middle of his coat-tails—and I am bound to say some of his skin too—he shook him violently, and flew round and round the room, banging him violently against any high piece of furniture that was convenient.
“O-o-o-h,” shrieked the wretched man, “I say, do you know you’re tearing my best coat, and your beak is awfully sharp? O-o-ouch,” and he filled the room with his shrieks. After they had continued like that for some minutes the Princess said:
“I think he has been punished enough now, cherished Owl, so let him down.”
The Owl did as he was told, not, however, without giving him a sly tweak with his bill that must have hurt him a good deal.
“I’ll be revenged on you,” roared Merrymineral; “you’ve spoilt my Sunday coat, and I shan’t be able to afford another for I don’t know how long. I’ll be revenged on you.” And he took out a red pocket-handkerchief and began to suage the blood that was coming from the bite, all the while abusing the Owl and the Princess and threatening to be revenged.
“You had better be quiet and go,” she said.
“I shall not.”
“Oh, very well,” she answered, “perhaps you would like to try the Owl again.”
At the same time the Owl gave him such a look from its gleaming eyes that he turned first red and then white with fright. He made a dash for the window, and he was in such a hurry that he left his umbrella and one of his gloves behind him.
He jumped right through the window high into the air, and as soon as he got outside, strange to say, he began to burn furiously, and he went gradually up into the sky like a fire-balloon—just as when a piece of tissue-paper is put on the fire, if you are not careful, it will fly blazing up the chimney.
They watched him out of sight, and then the Princess said with a little sigh of relief:
“That’s an end of him at last.”
But the Owl shook his head—he knew better.
When he was thus at last got rid of the Princess said to the physician:
“How can we ever thank thee enough, good doctor, for thy timely suggestion!”
“Oh, your Majesty,” said the blushing doctor, “experience does it; and I had plenty of that this morning. Do you know, I think I shall never be free again from pain—although I have bathed in opodeldoc and arnica, and I am clothed from head to foot in court plaster.”
The Princess smiled and said:
“I am afraid the Owl is a little over-vigorous in such matters; however, I will give orders to the court apothecary to supply y
ou with remedies at my expense until you shall be cured.” She then said to the three pages who still sat on the table:
“I must ask you to depart now as Parliament cannot carry on business with strangers in the house. However, ye are, I believe, pages; I will turn over a new leaf and will advance you each a step in rank. Now, however, go.”
Thanking her profusely they went. When they had gone the Princess turned to the Councillors and said:
“As there seems no further need to keep you, I will detain you no longer.”
Having her permission the Councillors left the hall. Last of all was Lord Licec, and he remained as if hesitating whether to go, or to stay and speak to the Princess. She, noticing his hesitation, said:
“Ah, Lord Licec, hast thou something to ask me?”
The old lord made answer:
“I would ask your Majesty’s permission to enter the room of the late King, your Majesty’s father, for, as you are aware, it is against the law to enter the royal presence without royal permission.”
“You have my permission of course; but ought not some preparations to be made for the funeral?”
Lord Licec answered:
“They are already made. For as the late King had announced his intention of dying yesterday at half-past six P.M., there was ample time.”
“Let us then go together to the room, my lord,” said the Princess.
So they went together, the Princess leaning on Licec’s arm, and the Owl sitting on her shoulder.
The guards of the room saluted as they passed in, but what was their astonishment on entering to find that the King had disappeared. When they asked the guards who had come into the room during the day, they replied that no one had been near the room during their watch, and the guards of the watch before said exactly the same thing. All over the palace inquiries were made, but to no purpose, and the rumour gradually spread to the town, and throngs of anxious citizens flocked about the palace gates to ask, but neither they nor any one else ever heard what had become of him, and it is my opinion that the King himself is the only person who knew anything about it. It came out in the course of inquiries that when the attendants had rushed in on hearing the Princess’s call for assistance the night before, they had not seen the King on the bed, but in his place had sat an enormous owl, and this owl had insisted on accompanying the Princess wherever she went.
The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (The Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 36