The account ended abruptly with a slightly crooked final letter, presumably at the point where the sleeping spell had
overtaken the aged scribe. Kedrigern reread the lines with great satisfaction. He had sensed fairy magic, and here it was; his powers were returning rapidly. And if Vorvas had been involved, then Louise’s kingdom might be very near. Things were looking up.
He emerged from the little chamber, and as he stood in the great hall, glancing about, deciding where to look next, he heard a cry. He ran toward the voice and when he reached the staircase, Dyrax appeared at the top, waving wildly to him and looking uncertain. “Master Kedrigern, I’ve found her!” he cried. “I’ve found the sleeping princess! Quickly, come this way!”
AND MEANWHILE,
as Princess and Kedrigern coped with various magics both good and evil, what of Hamarak? Truthfully, not much.
At his first glimpse of Berrian, Hamarak was deeply smitten. She was a pretty girl, and she seemed awed by him. This was something new to Hamarak, and he found it very pleasant. His prior experience with pretty girls had not been encouraging. He had not seen very many of them. The ones he had seen had either ignored him, teased him, or told him to go away. Berrian was not like the others.
In the back of Hamarak’s mind was the vague feeling that if he intended to get seriously involved with any woman, she really ought to be a princess. He was, after all, a king, and kings were expected to marry princesses. If a king decided to marry a goose girl, or a baker’s pretty daughter, it always turned out that the goose girl or the baker’s daughter had been a princess all along, only in disguise. All the tales Hamarak had ever heard worked out that way. He had never been able to figure out the sense of it, but that was the way the tales went. It seemed unlikely to him that Berrian was a princess in disguise. Still, he preferred the prospect of marrying Berrian to that of marrying a princess.
Hamarak’s experience with princesses was limited. He had not gotten to know Louise well, despite their travels together. Besides, Louise was a sword. Even a king was not expected to marry a sword. The only other princess he knew was a wizard and the wife of a wizard, the lady with the wings. She seemed nice enough, but she had the same way about her as Louise, a way of taking charge of things and arranging affairs the way she wanted them. The wizard hadn’t seemed to notice it, but Hamarak could tell.
Berrian didn’t seem like that at all.
Of course, there was the dowry to think of. A king always married a woman who brought him territories and castles and chests of gold, or caused everlasting treaties of peace and friendship to be signed. In Berrian’s case, the dowry would probably be baked goods. They would be delicious, but bread, rolls, buns, cakes, and pies were really not the same thing as castles and provinces.
Actually, thought Hamarak, they were better. Pastry was sure to be a lot less trouble than land full of greedy nobles and unhappy peasants and robbers and enchantments and all sorts of things. Just running Dendorric was going to be difficult enough without adding more problems. Even chests of gold and jewels led to trouble, making people jealous and greedy and ending in raids and maybe even invasion. Pastry never hurt anyone.
Kingship was a lonely job, and the castle was a lonely place. Berrian would make everything nice. And what was the good of being a wizard-warrior-king if you couldn’t have everything nice? Hamarak gave the question much thought.
“HER NAME
is Blamarde. Lovely, isn’t she?” said Kedrigern. He stood at Dyrax’s side, gazing down on the sleeping princess.
Blamarde lay in the center of a broad, comfortable-looking bed. An exquisitely embroidered counterpane was drawn up almost to her shoulders. Her head was tilted to one side, her lips slightly parted. Long golden hair spread like an aureole over her pillow. One hand lay by her cheek, the fingers half closed in a charming childlike gesture.
“I found her lying just like this, Master Kedrigern. I have not touched her,” Dyrax said nervously.
“It was good of you to wait for me, Dyrax. Well, go ahead. Kiss her. Break the spell. Get things moving around here,” said the wizard.
Dyrax looked back and forth between the wizard and the princess. He moved from one foot to the other, but did not get any closer to Blamarde. At last he said, “I’ll have to climb into her bed.”
“It certainly looks that way.”
“But if everyone wakes up, and they find me in the princess’s bed, kissing her
. .
Dyrax shook his head uneasily and took a step away from the bed. “I have my honor to think of, Master Kedrigern.”
“Then be honorable. Marry her.”
“But I don’t love her! I love another. I will always love the fair Kressimonda, always, always, Master Kedrigern!”
“Don’t be obstinate. Blamarde is pretty, and this is a nice castle. They all seem like pleasant people. Besides, if you’re an honorable prince, you have a duty to help a princess in distress.”
Dyrax pondered that for a moment. He moved a step closer to the bed, looked at Blamarde, and said, “She’s blonde. I like redheads. Kressimonda’s hair is like an autumn sky at sunset.”
“Blamarde’s hair is like spun gold. Kiss her.”
After further scrutiny, Dyrax turned to the wizard and frowned. “She’s too thin.”
“She’s willowy, my boy. Svelte. Go on, kiss her.”
Still Dyrax hesitated. He fidgeted aimlessly with his hands and finally began to fumble with the pommel of his sword. “Her skin is dry,” he muttered.
“That’s dust,” said Kedrigern. He leaned toward the sleeping princess and blew softly on her face. A small cloud of dust particles whirled into the air. “See? Dust. She’s been here a long time.”
“Her nose is funny.”
“It’s a lovely nose.”
“And she has freckles. Look at all those freckles.”
“They’re adorable. She’s a charming lady, Dyrax. What’s the matter with you? If I were a hundred and fifty years younger and a bold prince, and single, wild horses couldn’t hold me back. Stop dawdling and kiss the lady.”
In a desperate voice, Dyrax burst out, “If I kiss her and she wakes up, I’ll be bound in honor to marry her, and I’m not ready for marriage! I haven’t accomplished anything! Just kissing a sleeping princess is no great feat. I want to slay a dragon, or overcome an armed host, or something like that. Then I’ll be ready to settle down.”
“You overcame an armed host to make your way to Kressimonda’s side, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but look what happened: the woman I love told
me she would always be like a sister to me. That is hardly a great feat, under the circumstances, Master Kedrigern.”
“Waking a princess from an enchanted sleep and ending a hundred-year spell on a whole castleful of people
is
a great feat, Dyrax,” the wizard pointed out.
Dyrax looked at him anxiously, doubt and hope mingled in his expression. “Do you really think so? It seems so easy.”
“Easy?! You’re the only one who can do it!” Kedrigern cried. “If you walk out of this bedroom, these people will have to sleep forever!”
“They will?”
“They certainly will. On the other hand,” said the wizard in a friendly tone, smiling brightly, “if you bring this off, I’ll see to it that you’re immortalized. I know a man who can make this into a legend. So go to it, Dyrax. Kiss that princess!”
Dyrax blinked rapidly several times and turned to face Blamarde. He unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to the wizard, then climbed into the bed and made his way on hands and knees to the princess’s side. With one last glance at Kedrigern, who urged him on with a stern gesture, he leaned down and gave Blamarde a peck on the cheek.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then she sighed, shifted slightly, and began to snore in a delicate ladylike register. Dyrax looked at her for a time, then turned to Kedrigern, his expression desolated.
“I never had any luck with women,” he said.
“lt’s no wonder, if that’s the way you acted. You’re not kissing your aged grandmother, you know,” said the wizard irritably.
“How should I act?”
“Act like a normal handsome prince kissing a typical beautiful princess. Act natural, you dummy!” Kedrigern snapped.
A look of recognition dawned
.
on Dyrax’s face. He nodded eagerly, and then he clasped Blamarde in his arms
and began kissing her throat, her shoulders, and her lips. She stirred and blinked, raised one arm hesitantly, and then she flung both arms around Dyrax ‘s neck and returned his embraces and kisses with enthusiasm.
“That’s it, Dyrax. You’ve got it now,” said the wizard. Dyrax continued his ministrations to Blamarde, who had entwined her fingers in his hair and begun to nibble at his ear. “I think she’s awake now. You can have your sword back,” said Kedrigern. Dyrax waved him off with one hand, holding Blamarde close with the other arm. Kedrigern heard sounds of life outside the room. “Everyone’s coming in here, Dyrax. Get out of that bed!” he cried.
They both looked at him. Blamarde blinked and rubbed her eyes, into which Dyrax stared in wonderment. She turned to him and said, “Who are you, anyway? Do I know you?”
He seized her hand and kissed it loudly several times. “I am Dyrax, a prince from a faraway land. I have traveled here to free you from your vile enchantment.”
She yawned and said, “You don’t have anything to do with that dirty old wizard, do you? You’re nice, but if you work for him, I’d rather go back to sleep.”
Puzzled, Dyrax said, “Kedrigern is a very clean wizard.”
“Who’s Kedrigern?” asked Blamarde.
“He is,” said Dyrax, pointing. Kedrigern nodded and waved.
“I don’t mean him, I mean the one who smelled like the moat on a hot day. He wanted to marry me.” She paused at the onrush of memory, then blurted, “He cursed me! He said I’d die!”
Raising a hand, Kedrigern said, “Fear not, Princess Blamarde. The curse was mitigated by a friendly fairy. You did not die, but slept for a hundred years.”
Her eyes widened. “A hundred years?” she repeated in a shocked voice.
“It was an enchanted sleep. Very refreshing. You haven’t aged a thy,” he assured her.
Dyrax was by this time at Kedrigern’s side, adjusting
his sword belt and hastily smoothing down his rumpled hair. The sounds outside the room grew louder. Voices called out; footsteps echoed in the corridors; a door slammed; something fell with a loud clatter, followed by angry cries and then laughter. A head poked in the doorway, disappeared, then returned to gape. Another head joined the first. A woman entered, pointed to the bed, and cried, “She’s awake! Princess Blamarde is awake! We’re saved!”
People began to pour into the bedchamber, pointing to the princess and the strangers, whispering excitedly to one another, shouting the good news to those still outside. Kedrigern smiled graciously at the growing crowd, waving in a friendly way, while Dyrax edged to the bedside and took Blamarde’s hand to help her up. A waiting woman dashed forward to fall at the princess’s feet, weeping for joy, and then rose to assist her in donning a fur-trimmed robe. Others quickly placed slippers on her feet and a coronet on her brows, while still others plumped the pillows and smoothed the counterpane, raising clouds of dust that set off a wave of sneezing.
The crowd surged forward and then suddenly parted, to admit the crowned couple that Kedrigern had seen enthroned below. Their crowns were slightly askew, and their chins were reddened where they had rested for a century cupped in the heel of a hand, but they moved smoothly and showed great alertness.
Like a sudden ebb tide, the crowd all around dropped to their knees, and scores of hushed voices murmured, “Your Majesties,” as heads bent. Kedrigern gave a deep bow, but no one seemed to notice.
“My baby! My little baby Blamarde!” cried the queen, running forward to take the princess in her arms and kiss her repeatedly, cooing endearments as she kissed and petted her. “You’re alive! We’re all alive! Oh, bless the good fairy Zickoreena, we’re alive! And who’s
this?”
she demanded with sudden sharpness in her voice, turning suspicious eyes on Dyrax.
“He woke me, Mama. Isn’t he nice?” Blamarde said,
beaming a quick fond smile on the blushing Dyrax. “He kissed me and woke me up, and we’re going to be married.”
Dyrax gave a bit of a start and looked at Kedrigern, who smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Neither man spoke.
“Married?” repeated the queen.
“Yes, Mama. Right away.”
“How long have you been awake?” the queen demanded, her eyes narrowing as she looked from Blamarde to Dyrax and back again. “Don’t you lie to me, now.”
“And who is this fellow? Looks like a commoner to me,” said the king.
Dyrax released Blamarde’s hand, took a step forward, and bowed deeply and gracefully, in the manner of one accustomed to such courtesies. “I am Prince Dyrax, eldest son of Lutermine, King of the Red Forest and the Marshes of Tadraxia. I seek the hand of your daughter in honorable marriage,” he said with dignity.
“Well, at least he’s a prince,” the queen muttered.
“Lutermine? Who’s Lutermine? Nemp rules in the Red Forest, and there are no marshes in Tadraxia. What’s going on here, anyway?” the king demanded angrily.
“If Your Majesties will permit me,” Kedrigern said politely. When they turned suspicious, hostile eyes on him, he explained, “You and your people have slept for a hundred years. Much has happened in that time. Nemp was overthrown by a—”
“A hundred years! That’s what Zickoreena promised!” the queen blurted. “We wouldn’t die, we’d only sleep for a hundred years. And then
. . .
yes, a prince would come here and wake Blamarde and all of us!”
“A prince and a good wizard,” Kedrigern added by way of clarification.
Again came the suspicious glance, even more hostile this time, and the king asked, “Are you the wizard?”
“I am, Your Majesty. I am Kedrigern of Silent Thunder Mountain, master of counterspell and disenchantment.”
“Are you in with that other wizard? The smelly one?” the queen cried, pointing an accusing finger at him.