Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale

by Kristen Niedfeldt

  “You don’t have a choice. There’s nothing for you to do here to help us earn a living. To the marketplace you’ll go, whether you wish to or not.”

  Liesel fairly trembled with anger. How dare he be such a tyrant!

  Their exchange was interrupted as Maria opened the back door and ambled outside. “Is something wrong?”

  Roderick ran a hand through his hair and inhaled a deep breath. “No, nothing is wrong.”

  After a few seconds of thought though, his expression changed and a gleam sprang to his eyes.

  Liesel did not like that look.

  “No, nothing is wrong, Maria,” Roderick repeated. “Liesel just informed me that I have her permission to choose any task or chore for her to do here. Any chore.”

  Liesel took a step back. What was he thinking?

  “As it seems that Liesel can’t bear the thought of departing from your hut, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having Liesel be your very own apprentice from now on and follow you around all day to learn everything you do.”

  Maria’s jaw dropped, and Liesel’s eyes narrowed. That was not fair. Such a living would be akin to torture.

  “I’ll go to the market,” Liesel muttered between clenched teeth.

  Roderick smiled. “I’m glad you could be persuaded.”

  Liesel’s grumblings rivaled those of the creaking wheels of the handcart as she walked beside Roderick to the marketplace the next morning. It had taken a great deal of effort to accept her new life as a peasant, and now, only two days later, she felt like she was being forced to undertake more than she could bear. Hard labor had been difficult enough, but now this? Oh, how she wished she could hide her face in shame! How would she possibly endure working in the marketplace where she could be recognized by traveling merchants and noblemen? It was just too much. Private peasantry was heartbreaking. A public demotion was utter humiliation.

  The market was bustling by the time they arrived. Roderick had to maneuver the handcart down several streets in search of an empty area. Liesel clutched the sleeve of his tunic to avoid being pushed aside by the great throng pressing against them. She was sure she would never find him again if she lost sight of him.

  After traversing several lanes, they finally found a suitable space on a quiet side street. “How about here?” he asked.

  Liesel shrugged. It didn’t really matter to her. She was just grateful to be hidden away from the main road.

  He helped her arrange a few pots on a narrow table and then he offered her a small stool to use as a chair.

  She sank down onto the stool and rested her chin on her hand.

  “Such enthusiasm will make the neighboring merchants worry you’ll steal all of their business.”

  “I’m sure they are all trembling in fear,” she muttered as she glanced around at the people nearby.

  He tucked the handcart away behind her and brushed his hands off against his pants. “You should have everything you’ll need so I better be on my way.”

  “Already?” she asked, sitting up straight. She wasn’t ready to be left all alone.

  “I have my own work waiting for me. I can’t afford to linger here. Good luck, Liesel. I’ll come tonight to help you find your way back.”

  “What if something happens before then? What do I do if I need help?”

  He waved around him. “Ask someone for help.”

  “But I don’t know anyone!”

  He put his hands on the table, and leaned in close. “Then I suppose you’ll be making new friends.”

  Liesel scoffed at the suggestion.

  Roderick nodded farewell.

  “Good luck, Liesel. And try to smile,” he added with a wink. “You’ll sell more pots that way.”

  Liesel made a face at his retreating figure before slumping back down onto her stool.

  She tilted her head up just a fraction so she could survey the people meandering down the lane. The longer she watched, the more self-conscious she became of her appearance. More and more, she wished she hadn’t been banished in such a plain peasant dress. Compared to the passing commoners, she looked like a beggar.

  She decided to let out her braid to let her hair hang loose to conceal her face. How she prayed no one she knew would stumble upon her!

  She was thus sitting when an elderly man with long, white hair began setting up his merchandise in the scant space next to her area.

  He shuffled around, carefully setting out fine pieces of jewelry on a small table. He didn’t have much, but the few pieces he did have were breathtaking. Liesel eyed each of the pieces longingly. Her spirits fell, knowing she would never wear such things again.

  After all of the necklaces and bracelets had been arranged just as he wished, he caught her looking at him and greeted her with a nod and a cheery, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she returned, looking away.

  “You are new to this street,” he remarked. “I haven’t seen you before.”

  She nodded.

  “My name’s Albert. What do they call you?”

  Fiddling with her skirt, she wondered how she should answer. She was tempted to lie to better protect her true identity, but his kind smile gave her the courage to at least admit, “My name’s Liesel.”

  Speaking the words aloud made her feel so plain and empty without her title. Her dirty dress didn’t help either.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Liesel. What brings you to these parts?”

  “I need to earn money … so I can be married.”

  “It’s a lucky fellow who has stolen your heart,” he complimented with a kind smile.

  Liesel blushed, but didn’t admit that neither she nor the future groom had had any choice in the matter.

  A gruff, middle-aged man approached, saving her from any reply. She watched him pick up one of her large jugs and inspect it thoroughly, turning it over in his hands.

  “How much for this?” he asked at length.

  She shrugged. “How much do you want to pay me?”

  One of his eyebrows rose with interest. “Two copper coins,” he declared confidently.

  “Suits me,” Liesel said, accepting his money.

  “And two coins for this vase?” he pressed, selecting another item eagerly.

  Liesel nodded. After handing her the money, the man quickly disappeared down the lane.

  The old man beside her cleared his throat and remarked, “Might I offer a suggestion?”

  “If you must.”

  “I think you might have more luck if you set your prices a little higher.”

  “What do you mean ‘more luck?’ I just sold two items.”

  “For very, very little …” Albert replied with a cringe.

  Liesel felt her ears grow hot. How was she to know? Oh, how she hated feeling foolish.

  He patted her hand in an attempt to comfort her. “A simple word of advice—if a customer acts too eager, then you aren’t charging enough.”

  “What should I charge?”

  “That will vary with each item … In the least, you should recommend a price that gives you room to negotiate. People expect as much in the market.”

  Liesel groaned. She did not feel comfortable with these sorts of matters.

  She sat in dejection, worrying over her inevitable failure as a merchant. Her eyes wandered over each of the pots. What price should she ask? They certainly didn’t appear to be worth that much by her standards.

  Fortunately, with her head bowed, she avoided attracting any more customers for the rest of the day so she never had to make a decision about it. Not until she was collecting her pottery pieces to place them back into her handcart, did anyone else approach her.

  A little girl came forward and tugged on her skirt.

  “That boy just stole a cup!” the girl cried, pointing at a retreating figure running down the street.

  Liesel watched helplessly as he disappeared, her hands on her hips. He must have stolen it when she had had her back turned, she realized. Sh
e exhaled a sigh of frustration and turned back to the girl.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said, patting the girl on the head.

  The girl raised her small hand, palm up, and waited patiently in front of her.

  Liesel sighed. The little girl apparently wanted to be paid for her service. She grudgingly relinquished one of her small copper coins and sent her on her way.

  When Liesel had finished packing up all of the pottery, she plopped back down onto her stool.

  “Are you waiting for someone?” the old man asked as he finished collecting his jewelry.

  “My … betrothed is coming for me.”

  “Would you like me to stay with you until he gets here?”

  “No, I will be fine. I am sure he will arrive soon ….” she responded without enthusiasm.

  The old man looked down at her with apparent compassion. “Today was a slow day. I’m sure you’ll have more success tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see.” She wasn’t convinced. Multitudes of people had traveled along the lane that day and obviously her success had been slim.

  “Just wait. All you need is a little time. Farewell. I’m certain I’ll see you soon.”

  “Good night, Albert.”

  “Safe journey home, Liesel.”

  Hardly any time had passed after Albert’s departure before Roderick appeared.

  “How was your first day in the market?” he inquired in greeting.

  She made a face. She doubted he was interested in hearing what she really thought about it.

  “Didn’t you have any luck selling anything?”

  “I did, but …” She wasn’t sure how to reveal the bad news.

  “But?” he prompted. “What did you sell?”

  “I sold a jug and a vase, and had a cup … run away.”

  “What?”

  “A little boy stole the cup! I didn’t even see him do it! The sneaky little thing took it when I was putting everything away!”

  “You need to be more careful, Liesel. At least it was just a cup. But it could be something else next time. Something more valuable. We can’t afford to lose anything. Not even a cup.”

  “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed in frustration. “I didn’t know someone would do such a thing!”

  “Of course someone would do such a thing! You have to be on your guard in the city. I thought you would know better!”

  He tried to set aside his frustrations before continuing, “But enough on that. Let’s see how much you earned today.”

  She could tell he was straining his voice to sound more cheerful.

  Liesel withdrew the three copper coins from her pocket and held them out for him to see.

  “Where’s the rest of it?”

  “There is no ‘rest of it.’ This is it.”

  “What?”

  “Well, there was more, but I had to give one of my coins to the little girl who informed me of the thief.”

  His eyes widened in astonishment.

  “She fairly demanded it,” Liesel defended. “I think she’d still be here if I hadn’t. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Roderick placed his hands on Liesel’s shoulders. “Liesel, every one of the items I gave you to sell is worth more than you made today. Even the lost cup. Just the jug alone should have fetched at least 20 copper pieces!”

  Liesel thrust his hands away. “Well, whose fault is it that I didn’t know? You just dropped me here this morning without any kind of real instructions. You can hardly be mad at me for not instinctively knowing what you wanted me to do and how to do it!”

  Roderick closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge between them. After a sigh, he confessed, “You are right.”

  “Then I can be done with all of this and return to spinning?”

  “Of course not.”

  Liesel threw her hands up in the air. “And why not?”

  “Because I’m not giving up on you yet,” he returned with a smile.

  “I think you should,” she countered. “Why should I have to pay the price of your stubbornness?”

  “Because you can do it.”

  She folded her arms in defiance, but he paid her no heed. Instead, he picked up the handcart and nodded that she should follow him.

  “Come, Liesel. We have no time to waste. As soon as we get home, I have some teaching to do.”

  Liesel dragged her feet forward. She was in no hurry to return to the hut.

  Chapter Eight

  As soon as they arrived home, Roderick retrieved their savings jar from the mantle.

  “Since I won’t be paid until the end of the month, you have the honor of being the first official contributor to our collection,” he declared as he ceremoniously held out the jar before her.

  Liesel actually wished she hadn’t sold anything so she could have avoided the unwanted attention. She felt Maria’s eyes upon her as she grudgingly withdrew her three small coins and plopped them into the jar. The faint tinkle of the small coins echoed in the hollow space.

  “Hmmm,” she heard Maria muse. “At that rate, I’m not sure I’ll live to see the wedding.”

  “This was only Liesel’s first day,” Roderick contended on Liesel’s behalf. “Patience. Just wait until she’s had more practice.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Maria remarked drily. She then excused herself to tend to the livestock outside.

  Roderick hauled in several of the different pottery items and arranged them on the kitchen table. He then waved for Liesel to join him.

  He was all seriousness as he began his lecture. “The first and most important rule of any business endeavor is not to lose money. You’re not going to the marketplace to give things away. You’re there to earn a profit.”

  “An easy task if you know how much was spent on the pottery,” Liesel argued.

  “Exactly. And I accept full responsibility for failing to enlighten you on that subject. Tonight I’ll make a list of the minimum prices that you can afford to sell each of the items. But for now, based on my experience in the market and some rough calculations, I estimate that the cups should sell for no less than five copper pieces, vases should sell for about fifteen, and the jugs, with their fine, sturdy handles should sell for at least twenty pieces.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But the second rule is to set your starting prices high. If you only ask the minimum, then that is all you’ll receive. If your customers accept your first price, then you need to aim higher the next time.”

  Liesel nodded.

  “And the last rule,” he continued with a warning. “You have to be willing to let the customer walk away. There’s no reason to give anything away and if they want it, they’ll spend what they need to get it.”

  He let the rules sink in before he asked, “So are you ready to practice?”

  Liesel couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do less after already spending a full day in the marketplace.

  But he wouldn’t let her refuse. “You’ll remember more if you practice. I’ll be the merchant first. Come … pretend to be interested in one of these pieces.”

  Liesel felt ridiculous participating in his fictitious market, but didn’t see how she could avoid it. She reluctantly approached and picked up the closest item: a stout and sturdy vase.

  “I see the vase has caught your eye,” Roderick stated in his best merchant’s voice.

  Liesel looked at him like he had lost his mind, but he persisted. “And you’re not alone. All my other vases have been purchased today, and this is the last one left.”

  “So this is the vase that no one else wanted?” she contested.

  “No, this one is just as fine as the other vases,” he countered with a smile. “You are just fortunate that the other customers couldn’t afford to buy this one too.”

  “Hmmm,” Liesel answered, looking it over. Warming up to the exercise, she added, “It is attractive, in its own way, I suppose.”

  Liesel pretended to appraise it more thoroughly and then asked, “How
much do you want for it?”

  “Forty copper pieces.”

  “For this old thing?” she exclaimed. “I’ll offer you fifteen.”

  “I’d sooner part with my favorite horse!”

  She smiled. “You only have one horse.”

  “Which is why he is my favorite,” he returned with a wink. “No, I cannot possibly sell this vase for less than thirty.”

  Liesel put a hand on her hip and coolly countered, “Twenty. It’s my final offer.”

  Roderick leaned over the table and answered with equal confidence, “Twenty-eight and it’s yours.”

  She set the vase back down on the table. “I’m tempted to just walk away.”

  He shrugged. “If you’re willing to risk losing my very last vase, what can I do? Perhaps none of these other people will snatch it before you change your mind and return.”

  “That’s right,” she noted, rolling her eyes. “I forgot about all of my imaginary competition.”

  Roderick smiled and then continued to press her, “So what will it be? Twenty-eight or will you walk away?”

  Eager to be done with the exercise, she willingly relented, “Fine. You win. I’ll pay twenty-eight pieces for it.”

  Handing it over, he observed, “Actually, I’m not the only one who won. I know you gave in much too easily because you want to be done with this, but we still both won. I wanted to make a profit, which I did. And you wanted my price to come down, which you successfully achieved. It’s a bit of a game, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. The more you practice, the better you’ll play. Which is why it’s your turn now.”

  He waved her forward to take his place, but when she traded with him, he didn’t take hers. Instead, he started walking toward the door.

  Confused, she called after him, “Where are you going?”

  “To go get Maria,” he responded as if it should have been obvious.

  “What for?” she asked, although she dreaded hearing his answer.

  He leaned back through the door to explain, “To help you practice, of course. If you can successfully sell to Maria, I’m fully confident you can survive anyone in the market.”

  And with a final smile he quickly closed the door behind him, leaving her no chance at all to object.