Liesel didn’t know what to say so she didn’t answer anything at all.
After the queen finally released her, Liesel turned to face her father.
With her jaw firmly set and her chin raised high, she graced him with a barely discernible curtsy.
He pretended not to notice the slight.
“You are late. The sun has risen. You mustn’t keep your newly-betrothed waiting,” the king greeted instead.
“But of course. I’m looking forward, myself, to this new, grand adventure,” Liesel answered in a bold-faced lie.
“An adventure it will be. Of that I have no doubt.”
Liesel raised an eyebrow, but held her tongue. Against her father’s antagonizing presence, grief was swiftly transforming into resolve.
She hugged Gretchen one last time and then nodded a silent farewell to her parents. Then without another word, she turned to continue on her way to meet the minstrel outside. It was time to confront her future.
As the king watched his eldest child march away, he felt an unsettling uncertainty sweep through him. Perhaps he had been too brash. Perhaps his temper had prevented him from responding reasonably. Perhaps …
His doubts were interrupted when Liesel suddenly spun on her heels to face him one last time.
“You may think that with my banishment, you have won yet another one of your many battles. But I can assure you, this battle in not yet finished. I will find some way to prevail.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but instead spun back around and quickly exited through the castle doors.
The king was grateful Liesel didn’t linger to see his reaction. He knew she would have been aggravated beyond measure by the smile that spread across his face.
He reached for one of the queen’s trembling hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His chest then swelled with fatherly pride as he noted to the queen confidently:
“She would hardly be my child if she didn’t.”
Chapter Six
The minstrel eyed his companion warily as they rode from the castle in silence.
What had he gotten himself into?
The princess remained perfectly prim and stiff in her seat, even as the wagon jostled her up and down over the many bumps in the cobblestone pavement. She looked straight ahead, her eyes never straying, refusing to ever glance his way.
That was fine with him. It gave him a perfect opportunity to study her.
She was beautiful. There was no question about that. Her long brown hair gently curled to her thin waist, and her profile was delicate and regal. But the stoic set of her jaw bordered on petulant, and under her thick lashes, her blue-gray eyes seemed to hold a storm.
Such clouds did not bode well for his future.
He wondered what his sister would have to say when he showed up with the girl at her door tonight. That thought almost made him smile. Almost.
Time passed and their wagon entered the forest. He could sense the princess’s growing unease as they departed from her familiar surroundings. As trees began to engulf them, she broke her stone-like stance for just a moment to glance back to see her castle one last time before it completely disappeared from view. Her stoic stare almost crumbled, but she never gave into her tears. He had to admire her for that.
Such a brave display moved him to compassion. At a loss of anything else to do, he thought he might attempt to distract her with conversation. He cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want to know where we are going?”
The sudden question caused the princess to jump slightly, but she continued looking forward as she answered, “My maid already told me.”
The silence stretched on until he tried again. “Seeing as we now find ourselves betrothed to one another, is there anything you’d care to know about me?”
“Not really.”
His compassion was certainly waning, but he refused to give up. Call it stubbornness, but now he was determined to win.
“Is there anything you would care to tell me about yourself?”
“I’d rather not talk right now.”
“There is one thing I’d like to know,” he declared and she sighed in exaggerated exasperation. “What did you ever do to make your father so angry?”
“That is absolutely none of your concern,” she snapped.
“It is my concern if that is how I ended up in this mess,” he argued.
“I refuse to be provoked and I won’t answer any of your questions so it is futile to try,” she quipped, folding her arms in front of her.
His patience was now waning as well, but he refused to let it show.
“Suit yourself,” he replied with a grin. “I’ll just sing.”
Her eyes widened and she finally looked at him.
“Please don’t. After all, your singing is what got us into trouble in the first place.”
Ignoring her, he reached for his gittern and strummed a few chords. He nodded toward her feet and sang:
“There once lived a princess
Who dearly loved shoes.
There was one pair, in fact,
She couldn’t bear to lose.”
“I object to this song,” Liesel interjected sharply. “Please sing a different one.”
But he just smiled and continued:
“They were a deep purple color,
Just like a turnip.”
“How poetic,” she noted drily.
“And they had buckles so heavy,
They would cause her to trip.”
Her lips twitched, but she fought back the smile. “Please stop,” she commanded again before adding, “My buckles are hardly that large.”
“Don’t you want to know how the song ends?”
“I’d rather have it end now.”
“But if you refuse to talk …” his sentence tapered off with another strum of notes.
“Fine,” the princess relented. “But if you must talk, then I have a question for you. What ever possessed you to agree to my father’s scheme? I would still be safely home if you hadn’t completely capitulated to him. You know as well as I do that you didn’t mean to propose to me.”
After a moment of silence the princess prompted, “Well?”
“Let’s just say I found it a matter of convenience to agree.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He insisted my song was a proposal and offered me a life in his dungeon or a life as a free man, if you can call it that, betrothed to you. I found it convenient to accept the latter option.”
Liesel’s blood boiled hot under her skin. Her father’s high-handedness knew no limits.
The minstrel pulled the horse to a halt and stared her down until she looked him in the eye.
“Look, neither of us appears to be too happy about this arrangement, but I suspect that both of us value honor and are committed to our word. At least I am. Let’s not make this situation any more painful than it needs to be.”
Liesel squirmed in her seat, but had nothing to answer.
The minstrel sighed and urged the horse onward once again. He had known this was going to be difficult, but he had a feeling this proud princess was going to thoroughly test his resolve.
A tense silence ensued, but the minstrel had no intention of breaking it. It was the princess’s turn to take the next step forward.
A long time passed and he wondered if they would spend the entire journey in silence. Considering her continued hostility, he had to admit that wasn’t necessarily undesirable.
But eventually the princess timidly ventured, “I do have one question for you.”
“Then ask it.”
“I umm … I’m slightly ashamed I did not ask it before, but … what should I call you? I mean … what is your name?” she questioned almost meekly.
Finally, here was some hope, he thought. He had wondered when it would dawn on her that she had never condescended to ask.
Perhaps she was not as stubborn as he had supposed.
“Roderick,” he answered as he turned to loo
k her squarely in the eye. “My name is Roderick.”
As the day wore on, Liesel began to wonder if her memory was beginning to fail her. The trees seemed taller, and even the leaves looked greener than she ever remembered seeing them before. Granted, she and Adelaide had only ever explored the outskirts of the woods near their castle, but these trees lining the path were so beautiful, she felt like she was traveling through an enchanted forest. Such beauty made her begin to regret that she had not ventured farther from the castle before.
The minstrel hadn’t pestered her to converse with him for quite some time now, so she was left with just her quiet thoughts and observations of the landscape around them.
The sounds of a babbling brook could be heard nearby, but Liesel couldn’t see any evidence of a stream through the thick foliage around her. The sound grew steadily in strength until they crested a hill, and she could finally see a small river below.
When she looked to her left, her breath caught at the sight. A towering waterfall cascaded over tiers of rocks down the mountain’s side. She had never seen anything so spectacular.
“I didn’t know I had a waterfall,” she breathed.
“You don’t,” the minstrel countered. “We’re in Brenhausen now. We left your kingdom a couple hours ago.”
She was taken aback by that. She had assumed everything she had admired was hers. “This all belongs to King Thrushbeard?”
“King what?”
She clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to disclose her own name for the king.
“Oh, nothing …” she casually tried to deflect his question.
“No, what did you call my king?”
Liesel couldn’t restrain the blush that crept to her cheeks. “Nothing …” she repeated. “It’s just a bit of silliness.”
“Nonsense. I want to know.”
“I’m embarrassed to say.”
“Surely we can’t begin to have secrets already, Princess … We haven’t even been betrothed a full day.”
Her heart tripped over itself at his reminder that they were betrothed, but she buried the sensation with a scowl.
“Well, out with it,” he urged.
She stubbornly gave him a look to inform him that she had no intention of answering.
“Have it your way,” he said as he reached for his gittern yet again. “I’m sure I can think of another song to sing …”
“I concede,” Liesel was quick to relent at the threat. She took a deep breath and then admitted, “I called him King Thrushbeard … That’s all. There’s really nothing important about it.”
“What does it mean?” he questioned further.
“You know …” She shrugged, but he waited for her to explain further. “The royal family’s beards? So long and droopy?”
One of his eyebrows raised in question so she demonstrated the drooping arch with her hand. “They’re like the beaks of thrush birds … but in their case … Thrushbeards …”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“I told you it was just a bit of silliness.”
“It’s fitting. I don’t think the king would be amused since his beard is his pride, but it’s an honest comparison.”
“You needn’t worry. I’ll never be in a royal court again so I can’t offend him with it,” she remarked bitterly.
“That’s true. Minstrels usually don’t bring their wives along.”
She sighed. That was hardly what she had meant.
The trail followed alongside the river through the remainder of their time in the forest. Liesel was grateful for the soothing rhythms of the water to help calm her fears. Now that she knew she had long ago exited her own kingdom, she no longer just mourned every step taken, but she also dreaded every step forward as it brought her closer to her final destination: her new life as a peasant.
Finally at sunset, they emerged from the trees to enter a great expanse of farmland that stretched as far as their eyes could see. At the center of everything, towering over the land in solemn majesty, stood a magnificent white castle surrounded by a sprawling city.
Remorse pricked her heart as her eyes soaked in the view. This could have all been mine, her traitorous thoughts whispered inside. Never had she felt like such a fool.
Standing in the shadows of such splendor, she was humbled by the sight and her face couldn’t hide it.
When she turned to her companion to ask why he had halted the wagon, she hated the look of triumph she saw on the minstrel’s face.
“Welcome to King Thrushbeard’s land,” he announced simply.
His obvious pride caused her own to flare. If only he knew that the mighty Thrushbeard prince had once been her suitor! Then he would not act as if she were so inferior to his beloved Brenhausen.
But if she disclosed such a thing, she realized she would have to also admit that she had brashly refused to even consider the prince. And then she would appear very foolish indeed.
The sky had been dark for quite some time when the minstrel pulled his horse to a final halt.
“This is it,” he announced, waving to an obscure structure before them.
“This?” she questioned. She didn’t quite believe it. It was just so … so small. The tiny hut looked like it could contain no more than two rooms.
“Surely this is a jest.”
“I’m a minstrel, not a jester,” the minstrel countered. “Come in. There are lights inside. My sister must be waiting up for us.”
“You told her about me already?”
“I thought it would be prudent to warn her. Your father agreed to send a messenger ahead.”
He helped her from the cart and then walked her to the door. Liesel had to duck to be able to enter through its small frame.
Once through, she found herself immediately before a tall young woman who appeared to be about her same age. The young woman had a similar thin build, but her features were darker and more striking than Liesel’s. Her black hair was draped over her shoulder in a long braid, and her deep, brown eyes wasted no time before they swept over Liesel, looking her over from head to toe.
Liesel instinctively straightened her spine to try to stand a little taller against the young woman’s measuring gaze.
“Maria!” the minstrel exclaimed warmly as he entered the hut. He dropped his satchel to the ground to greet his sister with a hug.
As soon as he released her, the sister looked back to assess Liesel once more.
“I didn’t believe your letter.”
The minstrel waved a hand toward Liesel. “Now you can see that it is true. Maria, allow me to introduce you to Princess Liesel.”
“Welcome, Liesel,” Maria greeted, pointedly omitting the title.
“Maria,” her brother warned.
Maria was quick to defend herself. “She is no princess of mine. I’m not going to bow down to her when I’m the one who is sharing my home.”
The minstrel didn’t answer his sister, but instead turned back to Liesel. “I suppose it wouldn’t be right to keep the title in your new position here. It would probably turn you into the village spectacle. I’m afraid it’s probably best to be just Liesel from now on.”
Liesel wanted to protest, but refrained. If only it weren’t true, Liesel mourned silently. She felt surprised by how vulnerable she suddenly felt without the title.
“What is the plan from here?” Liesel asked in an attempt to turn the attention away from her reduced state.
“I’ve been wondering that as well,” Maria mused.
“I’m going to take a break from my work as a minstrel and try to find work at neighboring farms for a while. Maria, do you have a jar about this size?” He modeled the dimensions for her with his hands.
She walked to the other side of the room to retrieve a clay jar from a cupboard. “Like this?”
“That should work,” he confirmed as she handed it to him. He blew the dust out of the jar, and then walked over to place it on the mantle over the small fireplace.
&n
bsp; Pointing to it, he declared to Liesel, “When we have saved enough money to fill this, we should have enough to marry.”
“And what am I to do until then? Sit around and wait?” Liesel questioned.
The corner of the minstrel’s mouth turned up in obvious amusement. “No, no. That would never do at all. From now on, you must work to earn your keep as well.”
“Brother, this plan is absurd,” Maria cut in.
“Yes, it is,” Liesel agreed. “What do you plan for me to do? Help in the house here? I have no experience with such work.”
“And I do not need any help here,” Maria added. “I have managed perfectly fine on my own until now.”
“Settle yourself, Maria. Helping here wouldn’t gain us anything. Liesel must find something to do that lets her contribute to our savings.”
“But I haven’t the least idea where to find such work,” Liesel argued.
“Do not fret. I’m sure I’ll be able to find something for you. But not until the morning,” he added with a yawn. “It is late and we should all retire after such a long day. Maria, would you mind lending me a blanket or two? I think I’ll sleep out back in the stables with our horses. Do you have a place for Liesel yet?”
Maria didn’t have a chance to answer as Liesel suddenly interrupted her with a piercing shriek.
“Good heavens, what is the matter?” the minstrel demanded, holding a hand out to assist Liesel down from her new perch on a nearby chair. “Come down from there.”
“That … that mouse ran over my feet,” she explained with a trembling finger pointed at a mouse escaping under some straw in the corner.
“Is that all?” Maria asked impatiently.
“Maria,” the minstrel warned again before reminding his sister, “You didn’t answer. Do you have a place for Liesel arranged yet?”
“I brought some straw in to make a bed for her … over there,” Maria answered with a wicked gleam as she pointed to the corner where the mouse had just run.
Panic seized Liesel and she grasped the minstrel’s arm.
“You cannot leave me here,” she pleaded. “Please don’t make me stay here.”
Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale Page 5