Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale

by Kristen Niedfeldt

“What would Your Majesties desire that I should play for you today?”

  “It makes no difference to me,” the king muttered.

  The queen gave her husband a reproachful look and then corrected, “The king is kind to let me choose. What varieties of songs do you sing?”

  “Anything that would please your court. I have hundreds I can sing at your request. Histories, fables, tragedies, tales of bravery, tales of love …” he listed.

  “Oh please do sing a song of love,” Adelaide pleaded to Liesel’s chagrin. “If that is fine with you, of course, Mother.”

  “That suits me just fine,” the queen replied. “Please proceed.”

  The man returned his hat to his head and brought his instrument up to cradle it against his torso. He then strummed a quick prelude and began:

  There once lived a princess

  In a faraway place

  Blessed with humor and kindness

  And an ever-smiling face.

  Her grace was unmatched,

  Her beauty surreal,

  Dozens of suitors filled

  Her court at every meal.

  Liesel felt her father’s gaze turn toward her. She squirmed a little in her seat, but she didn’t dare glance back. What an unfortunately awkward song, she grimaced.

  She watched the minstrel continue to stroll around the great hall. His lyrics faded from her mind as her focus turned to his person. The longer he sang, the more confident he seemed. His voice was rich and thick like caramel. He was no longer bowed in deference, but instead his tall and erect presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

  As he paused just a few feet from her to stand before her parents, she allowed her eyes to scan his face. He had dark brown eyes framed by a strong, tan face. His short hair was dark as well and neatly combed. She was completely mesmerized by the way his eyes seemed to sparkle when his mouth would offer just half a smile every now and then as he sang his song.

  When he walked over to stand before her, she quickly looked down. Although she refused to look up at him again, she still felt the heavy weight of his gaze upon her.

  She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she was surprised when the king suddenly interrupted the minstrel, blurting, “What was that you said?”

  The minstrel’s words registered belatedly in her mind and she felt her heart plummet within her.

  The king leaned forward, and the minstrel’s strumming trailed off into silence. Liesel held her breath as she waited for the minstrel to respond.

  “Pardon?” the minstrel questioned.

  “What was that last phrase you sang?” the king repeated.

  “Father, I do not believe this man wishes to be party to any of your absurd jokes,” Liesel cut in angrily.

  “Nonsense. I wouldn’t dare make a joke about such a matter. Minstrel, please repeat that last line.”

  “Father,” Liesel growled.

  “Silence, Liesel. Repeat your song, minstrel.”

  “Just the last stanza?” the minstrel queried, obviously confused by the sudden request and new tension in the room.

  “Yes, yes. Now get on with it,” the king commanded.

  The room seemed frozen as even the servants stopped their activities to give heed to the performance. The minstrel cleared his throat and then obeyed.

  “The final suitor gathered courage.

  He bowed before the princess on one knee.

  Offering his hand he then asked her,

  Will you please marry me?

  Will you please marry me?”

  “Ha! I knew it,” the king declared with a clap against his knee. “That sounds like a veritable proposal to me!”

  The minstrel’s instrument almost fell from his hands.

  “Richmond, what are you doing?” the queen demanded.

  “I refuse to be teased like this,” Liesel protested, rising to her feet.

  “Sit back down, Liesel,” the king ordered.

  “Mother!” Liesel implored, her voice becoming frantic. “You cannot allow Father to make such a ridiculous assertion. The man is only singing a frivolous song!”

  “We all heard what he said,” the king responded calmly. “And we all watched him say what he said while he stood before you. He appeared to do so most purposefully.”

  “I assure you, I did not,” the minstrel responded fervently.

  “I must disagree. But whether you did or did not, it does not matter. You still sang her that verse. My honor dictates I must insist on your marriage.”

  “I really must object,” the minstrel argued.

  “You object? I object!” Liesel screeched.

  The minstrel removed his hat once again and clutched it before him. Bowing before the king, he pleaded, “Please let me excuse myself as a foreigner who is very unaware of the strange customs of your court. I did not mean to make any such advance. If you will allow it, I will leave at once and never return.”

  “Nonsense,” the king waved his request aside. “What objections can you have to the match? You’re not already married or betrothed are you?”

  “No,” the minstrel reluctantly admitted. “I am neither.”

  “Then there is no reason this engagement shouldn’t proceed.”

  “There are plenty of reasons it shouldn’t proceed!” Liesel cut in, and then turned again to the queen in desperation. “Mother!”

  The queen was tongue-tied but the minstrel jumped to her aid. “I agree.”

  Leaning forward, the king scowled down at the minstrel. “I would have thought you’d be honored. Princes have traveled far and wide to court Princess Liesel.”

  “That is a fine thing for a prince to do. But look at me—a traveling minstrel! I can’t afford a wife. And even if I could, I certainly wouldn’t choose one who appears to have never worked a day in her life! She would be useless to me.”

  “Who do you think you are to insult me in such a way?” Liesel demanded.

  It was now the queen’s turn to jump to her feet. “Richmond, I must demand a word with you in private. Now!”

  The king appeared startled by the queen’s consuming anger. “Of course, Marlena. You are quite right. This is a private affair. Minstrel, please come with us. The queen and I would like to have a word with you.”

  “After I have had a word with you,” the queen pointedly instructed the king.

  “Father, this is not what we agreed to,” Liesel contended. “To call that song a proposal is preposterous.”

  “Perhaps we can remedy that,” the king offered.

  “Enough, Richmond,” the queen commanded.

  “Come, minstrel. Please follow us.”

  Liesel watched the minstrel reluctantly follow her parents from the room. Before he disappeared from sight, however, he glanced back at her, shaking his head in apparent disgust.

  Liesel was mortified beyond measure.

  “What is father doing?” she breathed.

  Adelaide was instantly at her side, grasping her hand and holding it tightly. “Please don’t despair, Liesel. Mother is as horrified as you are. I’m sure she’ll talk some sense into him.”

  Liesel clutched her sister’s hand, grateful to have something tangible to hold onto while she felt all of the hope in her heart slipping away.

  Fortunately, Adelaide didn’t seem to mind and squeezed Liesel’s hand in return.

  Liesel looked over as Adelaide offered her a reassuring smile. She tried to return the look, but she knew she failed miserably at it.

  Closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath, she squeezed her sister’s hand again and offered a prayer that Adelaide would be right. If not … She shook her head to chase the thought away. The alternative was unthinkable.

  Liesel stood in the center of her room and clutched the message the servant had just delivered with trembling hands. She was more than a little surprised to be receiving a message so soon. Only an hour had passed since she had left the great hall, but it appeared her parents had already made their decision
.

  After offering one last prayer, she finally unfolded the message. Her eyes grew as she scanned the page. She couldn’t believe it. She looked down at the message in her shaking hands and read it again. The words crushed what little hope she had managed to cling to, and she felt a sharp pain slice through her heart.

  Liesel crushed the paper in a tight fist.

  Her mother was simply writing to command her to begin her preparations for departure.

  “I’m not going,” Liesel swore in a whisper.

  But what else could she do?

  She threw the paper aside and began pacing the room as she considered her options. She couldn’t hide in the castle; she would undoubtedly be found in less than an hour. Hiding in the village or farms surrounding the castle was not a viable option either as it would surely only defer her detection a day or two more.

  She stopped at the window for a moment and gazed at her beloved mountains. For the first time in her life she realized that she had no idea what really laid beyond the valley that had embraced her since she had first entered the world.

  And that terrified her.

  If she even dared to flee her father’s kingdom, she had no idea where she would go. She knew the names of the places that surrounded the valley, but little else.

  She buried her cold hands in her empty pockets, and another thing suddenly occurred to her. Even if she did have a plan, she had no money of her own to execute it. She was horrified at the prospect of a life of poverty being married to the minstrel, but ironically, she realized that without the promise of her inheritance and the frequent gifts from her parents, she was actually already poor.

  And that was depressing.

  An unknown amount of time passed before a knock at the door startled her from the depths of her sorrow.

  “Liesel?” Adelaide called softly as she entered the room. “Why is it so dark in here? Would you like me to fetch you a candle?”

  Startled, Liesel looked around at the dimming room. So consumed had she been in her thoughts, she had not realized when the cloak of night had begun to fall.

  “That’s not necessary. I don’t need light to think.”

  “But you’ll need light to pack.”

  “Pack what? I’m forbidden from taking anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s in mother’s message. You can read it … where did I put it?” Liesel scanned the room. “Oh, over there. On the bed.”

  Adelaide retrieved the wad of paper and smoothed it against her skirt. She held it up by the window to try to read its contents. “You need light to read too,” she hinted after a moment.

  Liesel lit a candle and set it on a nearby table.

  Adelaide thanked her before beginning to read the message softly to herself:

  “Your father and the minstrel have reached an agreement. As the minstrel is without the means to marry at present, it has been agreed upon that the minstrel will take you to live with his sister while he works to save for a wife. You will leave tomorrow at dawn. Your father says that since you are now betrothed to a peasant, you are only permitted to take what is suitable for such a position. Namely, the dress you wore to the banquet.”

  Adelaide’s eyes trailed up from the message in shock.

  Liesel curled up in her window seat and looked out to hide her pain. To hear the words read aloud had cut her deeply yet again.

  “I can’t believe Mother and Father are casting me off in such a casual manner. They are dismissing me more like they would a truant servant than a daughter. Mother didn’t even have the courage to tell me herself. Who casts off a daughter with a scribbled piece of parchment?”

  Adelaide rushed over to take her sister’s hand.

  “Mother has been beside herself all afternoon. She locked herself in her room and has refused to see anyone. I could hear her sobbing from the hall. She’s devastated by all of this.”

  “She’s devastated? She’s not the one who has to marry the man. I would pity her if it wasn’t in her power to reverse this decree.”

  “There must be some hope. At least Mother and Father aren’t making you marry him right away.”

  “I would refuse.”

  “Could you?”

  Liesel faced her sister with defiance. “I will go with him tomorrow, but I will never marry him. I will eventually find some other place to go.”

  “Perhaps you’ll never have to leave with him. Look below. Is that him by the wagon? Is he sneaking away?”

  Liesel’s hopes soared momentarily before crashing back down when she noticed the line of guards standing nearby.

  “He is only fetching something from his wagon. The guards will never let him escape.”

  Adelaide nodded, acknowledging that Liesel was right. Her lips trembled as she then asked, “How can I bear to lose you, Liesel?”

  “How can I bear to leave?” Liesel answered in a whisper, fearing her voice would crack if she spoke any louder.

  Adelaide threw her arms around her sister and hugged her tightly.

  Liesel couldn’t help the tears that began to flow. Her sister’s embrace had completely disarmed her.

  “Oh, Adelaide,” Liesel mourned. “If only I hadn’t been so foolish.”

  “How were you to know what would happen?”

  “I should have resisted the impulse,” Liesel sobbed. “I shouldn’t have underestimated father’s temper. I, of anyone, should have known better. Instead, I wore a horrid, ridiculous dress … and now … now that dress is all I have left.”

  Before slips of sunlight had begun to tease the eastern horizon, Liesel had already dressed in the appointed dress and had squared her shoulders against her fate. After tucking a blanket around her still slumbering sister, she sat for a while at her side.

  She rubbed her swollen, tired eyes, but resisted the urge to cry as she realized that morning was finally upon her. Sadness had disrupted her sleep, but she was determined that courage would rule the day. She was a princess, after all.

  Gretchen soon arrived with her breakfast tray, but Liesel waved it aside.

  “You have a long day ahead of you, Princess. You’ll need your strength.”

  “But I have no appetite.”

  “But you have so far to travel … please try.”

  Liesel reluctantly picked up a piece of bread, but only nibbled off a small bite.

  “Where is he taking me, Gretchen?” the princess suddenly blurted. She couldn’t bear not knowing any longer.

  Gretchen gave her a kind smile and wrapped an arm around the princess’s shoulders. “The minstrel’s sister just lives in Brenhausen. You’ll only be a long day’s walk away.”

  “Brenhausen?” Liesel whispered. “The Thrushbeard King’s land?”

  “Why, Liesel, you’ve lost all your color. What is wrong? I thought you’d be relieved to be so close.”

  Liesel closed her eyes. How could she explain the deep mortification of being a subject in a spurned suitor’s land?

  When it was clear Liesel had no intention of answering, Gretchen didn’t press her but instead reached for a nearby brush.

  “Would you please allow me the honor of brushing your beautiful hair one last time, milady? It would sure bring relief to your old maid’s aching heart.”

  “Of course, Gretchen. I’d be most grateful.”

  Liesel savored every comforting sensation as Gretchen brushed her long, light brown locks. Oh, how she would miss this!

  “I see Adelaide has stayed by your side through the night,” the maid noted. “Have you said your goodbyes to your brother?”

  Liesel’s throat felt too thick to answer so she just nodded. She had slipped away during the night and had held the sweet baby for hours.

  Trumpets blasted and Gretchen reluctantly set down the brush.

  “Are you ready, Princess?”

  Liesel stood and forced a smile. “I don’t think that matters.”

  “Come, Princess. I’ll escort you to your parents.”
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  “Are you afraid I’ll run away?” Liesel teased.

  Gretchen smiled. “No, I just can’t stand to part with you yet. You’ve been mine since you were a baby, you know.”

  Liesel hugged her maid tightly before returning to Adelaide one last time. She kissed her sister’s brow and quietly said goodbye.

  After taking her maid’s arm, Liesel almost made it from the room before she abruptly turned on her heels.

  “What are you doing, milady?” the maid questioned.

  “I almost forgot my shoes. You wouldn’t have me walk all the way to Brenhausen barefoot, would you?”

  “The shoes that match your dress should be in your pine box, Princess,” Gretchen supplied helpfully.

  “Those aren’t the shoes I’m looking for,” Liesel answered. Gretchen groaned, but Liesel ignored her.

  At last, she found the pair she was seeking and slipped them onto her feet. They were a rich, royal purple and had solid silver buckles. She then retrieved the old, brown peasant shoes and placed them next to Adelaide. Her sister would know what to do with them when she finally awoke so they wouldn’t be discovered by their parents.

  “I’m ready now, Gretchen.”

  “I see. Are you sure you’re willing to risk your father’s wrath one last time?”

  “I think you’d be secretly disappointed if I wasn’t,” Liesel answered with a smirk.

  Gretchen shook her head, but Liesel could tell by her face that her maid knew she was right.

  The king and queen were waiting for their daughter in the corridor by the castle’s great hall below. When Liesel emerged from the winding staircase, she froze at the sight of them, but Gretchen prodded her forward.

  Liesel proceeded on, but only took slow, small steps, ever careful to keep her shoes hidden beneath her thick, coarse skirt.

  The slender queen looked more fragile than normal this morning. Almost like she would shatter if pressed. But when she opened her shaking arms to her daughter, Liesel rushed forward without hesitation into the familiar embrace.

  The queen clutched her daughter close to her heart and whispered, “Oh my precious daughter, please forgive me.”