Now, before I can go any further in my tale, to tell you how Prince Cheerful fared on his journey or to describe the prince-induced hysteria suffered by Beauty and Serenity's mother, you and I (of course I must come - otherwise you would have no storyteller) must don our seven-league boots and hurry to the neighboring kingdom. This was the Kingdom of Lochlein, and it possessed every good thing that a respectable kingdom ought to have: crystal lakes and streams, rugged snow-capped mountains, lush fields, and forests even deeper and darker that the one next to the woodcutter's cottage. And in the exact center of the kingdom was the castle of the King of Lochlein, which was marvelously built out of granite and marble and full of furniture so splendid that it is beyond my poor powers of description.

The King was a stern man, but any faults in his character were happily overlooked by the many princesses and other ladies of noble lineage who sought him in marriage - for when confronted with a noble forehead, a strong jaw, silky brown hair and eyes like liquid amber, who minds a little stiffness of manner? The ladies came from far and wide to present themselves at the court of Lochlein, and after each had made her curtsey before the throne, she was welcome to stay in the castle until the King should choose a wife. In the meantime, the women went around oohing and aahing over the tapestries, inlaid mosaics, stained glass, gilt-edged mirrors, and other decorations in the castle, imagining how wonderful it would be to be queen there. And despite the exceedingly fierce competition for the King's attentions, the ladies did their best - with varying degrees of sincerity - to be pleasant to one another, in the hope of being chosen as one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting in the event they could not be the queen herself.

However, even though he owned a castle unmatched by any in seven kingdoms, and even though the residents of the kingdom loved him greatly, the King of Lochlein was unhappy, because he was pleased by none of the ladies who wished to be his bride. One was too tall, one was too short, one had a big nose, one had a piercing high-pitched giggle, one did nothing but play her mandolin all day - out of tune, too! - and most of them cared more for the furnishings of his castle than they did for him. (Or else they viewed him as one of the furnishings, which is also possible.)

At just about the time that you and I arrive (and you're not even breathing hard - aren't seven-league boots wonderful?), the inhabitants of Lochlein are facing the terrible news that a powerful sorcerer has come to the kingdom. (Since this story now has a witch, a prince, and a king, it seems only fair to have a sorcerer, after all.) If the rumors were to be believed, he had conjured seven giant eagles out of the air, and the giant eagles then proceeded to carry off all the best flocks of sheep. The good citizens hid in their cellars and locked their shutters up tight, for fear that the sorcerer would bespell them all, and they sent a messenger to the castle in order to beg their king to do battle with him.

In the usual bureaucratic manner of castles, the message went first to the guard at the gate, and then to the major-domo, who dodged several gossipy princesses to take the message to the King's most trusted advisor, Counselor Gallant. This Counselor Gallant was the King's cousin (thereby making a few noblemen who had wanted positions on the King's council grumble about nepotism), and he was a wise and fair-minded gentleman who had given the King good advice in many difficult situations (including the King's decision not to attempt to win the Princess on the Glass Hill, but that's another story). The counselor was also blessed with a pleasing manner and handsome visage, so he had to evade the increasing population of noblewomen at Castle Lochlein almost as often as the King did.

In order to reach the King's private chambers, the counselor had to win through three countesses, five duchesses, and a marquesa, and in desperation he eventually left the main corridors and passed through the servants' quarters. He was so out of breath from this obstacle course that he became a little confused and told the King that seven giant sheep had stolen all the eagles in the village; however, he quickly corrected himself after consulting the scroll which the original messenger had brought. When he heard that a sorcerer was involved, the King immediately started polishing his best suit of armor, thinking that he preferred vanquishing a sorcerer to dealing with the hordes of husband-hunting women who were starting to overflow his castle. (There was even a Princess Winifred who had swum the moat to get in - really, these ladies were quite persistent.)

However, I must tell you that this sorcerer (like many other people in this tale, you will notice) was not entirely what he seemed. It is true he possessed some magic, but he was really only an average wizard who used his talent for illusion to deceive people into thinking he was more powerful than he actually was. He hadn't conjured any giant eagles out of the air at all: he had simply used an illusion to make the sheep look like rocks and bushes, so the townspeople only thought they had been carried off, and perhaps there had been a hawk flying overhead at the time; the normal progression of gossip did the rest.

To sum up, this wizard was a born troublemaker with a book of spells - and his most prized possession was a magic orb that he had stolen from a real (but rather drunk) sorcerer he had met in a pub. Now, the wizard wasn't quite sure how to work the orb, but he was convinced it contained more power than he had ever been able to command before, and he intended to use it to create his most astonishing illusion yet, thereby guaranteeing his fame as a sorcerer for ages to come.

And if this astonishing illusion could make his fortune at the same time it made his reputation, so much the better; for having heard that the King of Lochlein kept the most magnificent treasure hidden in his castle, the wizard was determined to obtain it for himself. When he heard that the King was polishing his best suit of armor and readying his war horse in order to do battle, the wizard suffered only a moment of doubt. Since he wasn't really a sorcerer, he knew he would never have a chance against the King in a pitched combat. He would have to keep the King busy somehow if he was going to steal the treasure, master the orb, and cast his astonishing illusion. So, he wove a spell that made a hideous fire-breathing basilisk appear in the town square.

The townspeople, even though they were cowering in their cellars and behind their shutters, considered a hideous fire-breathing basilisk much more of an immediate threat than giant eagles that carried off sheep, since everyone knows that even a sidelong glance from the basilisk's wicked beady eyes could turn fifty strong men to stone. Another messenger was sent to the castle to beg the King to slay the basilisk before he vanquished the sorcerer. The King shrugged and agreed; as long as his armor was well polished, it didn't matter to him whether the basilisk or the sorcerer was dispatched first.

The King was a fine sight to see, as he rode out of the castle gates in his gleaming armor and on his coal-black steed, but the wizard, who was hiding in the shadow of the wall, hardly noticed. Amid the confusion of men cheering and women throwing flowers as the King cantered away (at least, those men and women who were brave enough to leave their cellars), the wizard slipped unnoticed into the castle. Always keeping to the shadows, he stalked through the rooms, silently sneering at the fine furnishings and laughing at the hordes of women who were now discussing the basilisk along with their chances of becoming queen. The wizard reassured himself that he would have a castle twice as beautiful and twice as many women fawning over him, when his reputation as a powerful sorcerer was established.

The wizard sought high and low through the turrets and dungeons of the castle, impatient to find the treasure before the King returned. However, none of his magic arts revealed any secret doorways or false panels behind which a magnificent treasure could be hidden. Eventually, the wizard found himself in a lovely garden in the center of the castle, and there he beheld something that made him catch his breath in wonder.

Sitting there on the edge of a marble fountain was the most beautiful maiden the wizard had ever seen: she had a cascade of flaxen hair, crowned with a slender golden circlet; she wore a flowing gown of the finest rose silk, clasped with a girdle all encrusted with precious stones; and her dove-grey eyes were as cool and gentle as mist on a mountain stream. For amusement she was letting the music of her song mingle with the music the water made as it tumbled down the fountain. Her name was Princess Graceful of Lochlein, and she was the King's young sister.

The wizard hardly had enough heart to deserve the name, so I cannot tell you he was instantly smitten with love for the Princess; instead his greed filled the place of every other emotion, and he knew he would never be content if he could not possess her. It never occurred to the wizard that the Princess herself might be the treasure which the King of Lochlein guarded so jealously (which she was, of course); he only thought that now his invasion of the palace would be doubly successful, if he could gain riches and seduce a princess as well.

At this point, the wizard threw caution to the winds. He wanted to impress the Princess with a grand entrance, so he conjured a blinding flash and a cloud of blue smoke from which he seemed to magically appear. Taking advantage of the Princess's surprise, he threw his arms around her and proceeded to tell her an amazing (and entirely fabricated) tale of how he, the world's most powerful enchanter, had seen her image in a magic mirror, and how he had traveled thousands of leagues on land and sea, battling monsters at every step, to come and claim her as his bride.

Princess Graceful, however, had no intention of being claimed as anyone's bride, especially when the prospective bridegroom appeared in such a violent and previously unannounced manner. So she did what any sensible maiden in her position would do: she screamed loudly for help, stomped viciously on the wizard's foot, and succeeded in freeing herself from his unwelcome embrace. She then stepped out of his reach, assumed her most regal posture, and said in her most imperious tones that she would never deign to consider marriage to anyone who had not been introduced to her properly, enchanter or not.

This speech took the Princess to the end of her courage, for although she was a well-brought-up princess who had been thoroughly trained in royal behavior by her brother the King, she was still very young. (No doubt you and I would also be rather frightened if a complete stranger appeared before us in a blinding flash and a cloud of blue smoke, so we will not criticize her.) So the Princess began to be a little afraid of how this so-called "world's most powerful enchanter" would react to her declaration.

To say he was not reacting well would be something of an understatement. For one thing, he was now hopping about on one foot, with his eyes squinted in pain, holding his other foot which the Princess had stomped on. For another, he was not at all used to rejection. When one is a wizard with even a minute amount of power, one gets rather spoiled from being able to get almost everything one could possibly desire, just for waving a wand or muttering a charm -- and this wizard was no exception. When he was done hopping around, he turned to the Princess again, and the expression on his face was blacker and more terrible than the fiercest thunderclouds that ever piled themselves above the deep, dark forests of the kingdom of Lochlein (or so the Princess thought, and since she was not normally very good with metaphors, this may show you just how nervous she was becoming).

The throbbing of the his stomped foot had put a very nasty idea into the wizard's head, and he intended to use this nasty idea to revenge himself. For of course it would never do for word to get about that this wizard -- or sorcerer, as he was advertising himself -- had let some upstart impudent princess get the better of him. He took a deep breath, gathered together as much of his magical power as he could, and spread his arms wide while intoning a fearful chant:

A Beast thou shalt be
With fur blacker than soot
Until someone squints at thee
While hopping on one foot!

The Princess quailed against the edge of the fountain when she heard this, since she didn't especially like the idea of being turned into a Beast, but she was too frightened to move and could only watch in terror as the wizard's arm came sweeping down (with a very theatrical billow of his robes) to cast the spell. However, just at that moment, the King came charging into the garden.

I'm sure you have been wondering where the King has been for all this time. Well, he went trotting out of the castle gates while all the watchers cried "Hurrah!" and a short ride after that took him to the market square, where he found the hideous fire-breathing basilisk, just as the messenger said he would. The King had a great deal of dragon-slaying experience, so he thought a basilisk -- even a hideous, fire-breathing one -- would pose no trouble at all. He couched his lance, brought his shield up before his eyes so the monster's baleful glance couldn't turn him to stone, set spurs to his coal-black war horse, and charged! There was a glorious loud moment of confusion as the monster roared and the King yelled and the horse neighed and the King's armor clanged and the villagers peeking through their shutters gasped -- but then the King's lance touched the monster's hide, and the illusion shattered.

The King and his horse came clattering to a rather inelegant stop on the far side of the market square, pulling up short just before they tumbled through the front door of the tailor's shop. Raising the visor of his helmet, the King looked around for a moment, as if wondering where the basilisk had gone -- perhaps it had turned itself into a mouse and run away? But in a flash -- since he was a very intelligent king, in addition to being a very handsome one -- he realized that the sorcerer must have created the hideous fire-breathing basilisk as a diversion to get him out of the castle, and he also realized that he had left Princess Graceful alone in her garden, which made him wheel his horse and gallop back up the road as fast as the faithful animal could take him.

His servants were surprised to see the King return so soon and in such a hurry, but he gave them no time to ask questions. He hurled himself off his horse, throwing the reins to his groom, and raced toward the garden, removing his armor as he went, like a large bird molting iron feathers -- gauntlets there, greaves here, helmet one way, breast plate another, and so on. He arrived at one archway leading to the garden just as the wizard (or sorcerer, as the King and local gossip still imagined him to be) finished his chant; but before he could lower his arm to throw the spell, the King leapt upon him.

And so it was that the wizard's aim was spoiled, and instead of hitting Princess Graceful, the magic's full force hit the King of Lochlein.

(c) 1998
By Liz McKenna
All Rights Reserved
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