The Princess Rules

by Philippa Gregory

  It wasn’t the end as far as Florizella was concerned.

  She felt that she owed the wolves a debt of gratitude. They could have attacked her, but instead they had shared their cave with her. They could have eaten her up, but instead they had kept her warm.

  So, while the trader was in the castle apologising to the king and queen, Florizella went to the kitchen and fetched a strong basket, lined it with a soft tea towel (which she took without asking!), whistled for Jellybean and set off for the Purple Forest.

  Why did she need the strong basket and the soft tea towel?

  Wait and see.

  Florizella had no difficulty in finding the track, and as soon as she came to the tree that had been struck by lightning she tied Jellybean to one of the fallen branches and set off up the little hill.

  Outside the wolves’ cave she stopped and called softly. If they were still alive she didn’t really want to meet them again. She wasn’t altogether sure that they would be so hospitable on a second visit.

  But there was no noise from the cave except a very soft whimpering, which sounded like cubs.

  It sounded like four very hungry cubs.

  Florizella forgot all about being careful and plunged into the narrow entrance of the cave, blinking so that she could see in the gloom.

  Four little wolf cubs came squirming up and climbed all over her riding boots. Florizella bent down and stroked them. To her horror they were not fat little creatures any more. They were thin, so thin that she could feel their sharp little ribs and the bony knobbly bits on their spines. They had not been fed for several days.

  Florizella put down the basket and, one by one, lifted the skinny, squirming cubs into it. (That was what the basket was for!) When she picked it up, it was surprisingly heavy. She carried it carefully down the hill to where Jellybean was waiting.

  Jellybean didn’t really like carrying a basket of wolves, but he went as steady as a rock all the way back to the castle, because he knew that Florizella had only one hand on the reins. And Florizella was lucky when she got home for there was no one in the courtyard, and no one on the stairs. She got the basket with the cubs in it all the way up to her room, and no one spotted her.

  Then she went straight downstairs to the kitchen and told the cook that she was starving hungry.

  ‘You can have a slice of pie,’ he said, pointing to the larder. ‘There’s a nice steak-and-mushroom pie left over from lunch. Or I’m just about to take a chocolate cake out of the oven.’

  ‘I’ll have some pie, please,’ said Florizella, and the cook was surprised because Florizella adored chocolate cake, but was usually a bit so-so about steak and mushroom.

  Florizella slipped into the larder and took the whole pie – a massive great round one. She carried it carefully up to her room and cut it into four portions and put each slice on the floor. The little wolf cubs fell on it like mad things, and in an amazingly short time the pie had gone and there were four little cubs, with bellies as tight as drums, snoozing on the carpet.

  Florizella fetched a shawl from a drawer and tucked them up under her bed where they would not be noticed, and went down to her supper.

  When Florizella came back from supper, she discovered that keeping wolf cubs is no easy job.

  Keeping wolf cubs in secret is impossible.

  They had made horrid smelly poos all over the floor, which she had to clean up with paper and a bowl of water. They had hunted her bedcover and pulled it to the floor and killed it. One of them had bitten and swung on the curtains, dragging them right off the pole. And worse than all of that … they were hungry again!

  As soon as they saw Florizella, they scrambledall over her, making pitiful whines, begging for more food. Florizella looked down at them like a distracted mother and said, ‘But you’ve only just been fed!’

  The cubs didn’t care. There is a reason why people say, ‘I am as hungry as a wolf,’ and Florizella understood it now. These cubs were wolves and they specialised in being hungry.

  All the time.

  Florizella scowled at them. She knew she would have to go back down to the kitchen. And she was wondering if the cook might not find it a bit odd.

  He did.

  He found it very odd indeed that Princess Florizella should have taken a massive steak-and-mushroom pie up to her room before her supper. He found it very odd that she should have brought the pie dish back quite empty. Then she had eaten a good supper – and one of the footmen had seen her sneak the chop bones off her plate into her pocket.

  Now, less than an hour later, Florizella was in the kitchen again, asking for something to eat.

  The cook looked at her suspiciously.

  ‘I have chocolate ice cream,’ he said. ‘Or cheesecake.’

  Florizella adored cheesecake. She didn’t mind chocolate ice cream, either.

  ‘Do you have any meat?’ she asked. ‘Any of those chops left over from supper?’

  ‘I have twelve chops,’ he said, ‘but they’re not cooked.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right!’ said Florizella hastily, thinking of the hungry little wolf cubs upstairs who would love raw lamb chops. ‘Even better!’

  And to the cook’s utter amazement, Florizella went to the larder and came out with a bowl of uncooked lamb chops, and took them to her room as if she had been having midnight feasts of raw meat all her life.

  The cook had an idea.

  But he didn’t say anything yet.

  Next morning when the cook came down to make breakfast, he found that a great haunch of venison had gone. It had been hanging in the larder and it would have been venison pie for thirty people that evening. One of the maids had seen Princess Florizella taking it upstairs.

  The cook went to find the king and queen.

  ‘I am sorry to have to tell you, but I am afraid that Princess Florizella is under a lion enchantment,’ he said as soon as he was in the royal breakfast parlour.

  ‘In the past twenty-four hours, she has taken from my larder: a steak-and-mushroom pie, a dozen raw lamb chops and a haunch of venison that would have served thirty people.’

  The king and queen gasped.

  ‘What’s a lion enchantment?’ asked the king.

  ‘Someone has put her under a spell to turn her into a lion,’ the queen explained. ‘But surely it can’t be true! Who would do such a thing to Florizella? She’s always been so popular, except for that unfortunate incident with a python.’

  ‘Send for the royal enchanter!’ said the king. ‘This is his sort of thing.’

  (In the Seven Kingdoms you can send for an enchanter like you can send for a plumber or an electrician in our world. They have magic there, but no electricity. (Which would you rather have?) It’s great for spells, but a nuisance when it’s dark, and of course there’s no TV, no phones or drones, not even vacuum cleaners or electric toothbrushes. But there are magicians. The royal palace always has two enchanters on call, day and night, in case of visits from wicked fairy godmothers, accidents with spinning wheels, the disappearance of girls or the arrival of armies of gnomes – the sort of things that happen in fairy tales and are very inconvenient.)

  The royal enchanter came at once, looking grave.

  ‘Eating meat to excess,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘How does she smell?’

  The queen thought hard. Florizella had popped into her room that morning, and after a night with four wolf cubs she had smelled a bit … a bit …

  ‘Whiffy!’ she said honestly.

  The enchanter nodded. ‘Any sign of a mane growing round her neck and head?’ he asked.

  The queen looked horrified. What with hiding the venison bone and mopping up after the wolf cubs, Florizella had not bothered to brush her hair that morning. It didn’t look in the least like a lion’s mane – but frightened people often get things wrong.

  ‘Oh dear!’ the queen said. ‘And her nails!’

  She meant that they were so dirty – Florizella had torn up the venison into little pieces for the wol
f cubs by hand, and she hadn’t had time to wash.

  ‘Claws …’ The enchanter nodded. ‘Very bad indeed.’

  ‘Surely not,’ the king said quietly.

  ‘Only one solution,’ the enchanter announced. ‘We’ll have to lock her up in her room until we can find who has put this spell on her – and how to lift it.’

  ‘I suppose so—’

  ‘Have to,’ the enchanter said briskly. ‘Can’t have her going around the countryside eating people. Very bad for the monarchy. Nothing upsets people more than a royal family eating small children. The very worst thing that can happen.’

  The queen nodded. ‘We’ll have to keep it secret,’ she said. ‘I’ll order the guards.’

  ‘And I’ll tell the cook to keep feeding her meat,’ the king said. ‘Poor little Florizella, she’ll miss her puddings!’

  ‘And I’ll cast spells to look for the wizard who has done this,’ the royal enchanter promised.

  All this time, Florizella was up in her room playing with the wolf cubs, quite forgetting that she was very late for breakfast. She didn’t even notice that it was nearly time for lunch.

  She did not even hear the key turn as they locked her in. One of the puppies, whom she had named Samson, was hiding under the bed and Florizella was trying to tempt him out by waggling her hairbrush at him. His little furry hackles were raised and he was growling through his tiny white teeth. Then he came out, stalking, just like a grown-up wolf, only ten times smaller. Florizella forgot all about going down to breakfast, and poured them some milk from her morning tea tray.

  She was so absorbed she did not hear the tap on the window. Then there was a louder knock. Then there was a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Honestly, Florizella! Are you deaf?’

  It was her best friend, Prince Bennett, clinging on to the ivy.

  Florizella ran to the window. Samson, the naughty wolf cub, took his chance while her back was turned. He jumped up on to her bed, got under the covers and started tunnelling down between the sheets.

  ‘Anybody would think you liked climbing ivy,’ Florizella said scornfully as she opened the window and Prince Bennett climbed in. ‘What’s wrong with the stairs all of a sudden?’

  ‘What’s wrong with you, you mean!’ Bennett said smartly. ‘Guards on your door and the place in uproar? Me forbidden to see you – I came over at once, of course.’ Then he turned round. ‘What was that noise?’ he demanded.

  Florizella grinned. ‘Wolves,’ she said.

  ‘No, not a howling from the forest, a kind of scuffling in your bed.’

  ‘Wolves,’ said Florizella again, and she pulled back the covers. Bennett saw the little wolf cub blinking at the sunlight, very surprised to find himself on the outside.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Bennett, amazed. ‘What a little darling!’ He dropped to his knees to stroke the wolf. At once, two other cubs came tumbling out from underneath the bed. Bennett sat down on the floor and they clambered over him, sniffing and licking and gently nipping him until Bennett forgot all about whispering and roared with laughter.

  ‘What guards on my door?’ asked Florizella, taking one of the wolf cubs from out of her bedroom slipper. ‘Why aren’t you allowed to see me?’

  ‘Oh, that!’ Bennett said. ‘I understand now. You’ve been pinching meat from the kitchen to feed this lot, and they all think you have been eating it yourself! You smell dreadfully of wolf, Florizella. And this room is awful! They’ve taken it into their heads that you’re under a spell and you’re turning into a lion, and they’ve locked you up until they can find the wizard who is doing it to you.’

  Florizella shot one amazed look at Bennett. ‘Oh no!’ She was laughing so much she could hardly speak. ‘And I thought I would keep these cubs with no one knowing. And now the whole palace is going crazy.’

  ‘Idiot!’ said Bennett lovingly. ‘You’ll have to own up, Florizella. You’ll have to tell your parents. They’re really worried about you.’

  ‘Bother,’ she said. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Will the guards let me out if I bang on the door?’

  ‘Try roaring!’ said Bennett with a chuckle. ‘No! Wait, Florizella. Check yourself out!’

  Florizella glanced in a mirror and gave a little gasp. Her hair was as wild as a lion’s mane, and her face and hands were filthy from cleaning the cubs and tearing up their meat.

  ‘A lion!’ Bennett said. ‘Not much risk of you turning into a lion, I’d say. You look more like a werewolf!’

  ‘Roar,’ said Florizella, who never cared what she looked like. She washed her face and hands, brushed her hair, then tapped on the bedroom door and called out, quite politely, ‘Guard! Please tell my mother or my father that I would like to talk to them.’

  Of course, the guard brought the king at once. And the queen. And the royal enchanter. And the captain of the guard. And half a dozen extra guards in case of difficulties. And the local lion-tamer. And the deputy royal enchanter. And another enchanter who had happened to call at the palace that day, and was interested to see a princess turning into a lion.

  They threw open Florizella’s door, with their swords and nets and toasting forks and magic wands and stools at the ready … and saw Florizella, looking quite herself. They also saw Bennett – who shouldn’t have been there at all – but he looked perfectly normal too. And … they saw four hungry little wolf cubs, who threw back their heads at all the noise and the bustle and said, ‘Ki-yi-yi-yi-yi!’

  Florizella had hoped her parents would be pleased to discover that she was not enchanted, but had merely adopted a family of wolf cubs, but she was disappointed. For some reason they were not delighted to see her bedroom wrecked and tonight’s dinner spread around the floor in chewed bits.

  The queen ordered the wolf cubs to be taken to the kennels at once, and told Florizella that she could keep them until they were big enough to hunt for themselves – and then they must be taken back to the forest … At once!

  ‘I never get anything I want,’ Florizella grumbled to Bennett.

  It was fun keeping the wolf cubs, but they grew very fast. Within a couple of weeks they were too big for Bennett and Florizella to play with all four of them. They were too rough – they thought they were just bouncing around, but when two of them jumped up at Florizella at the same time they sent her flying into the straw bales.

  A week later and Florizella and Bennett had to give up taking the cubs out for a daily walk. If they all walked in the same direction, it was just about possible. But when they all went in different directions Bennett and Florizella were towed across the yard like a pair of mad waterskiers behind four motorboats. It was hopeless.

  Worst of all, the cubs thought of themselves as a pack. Samson was pack leader. As soon as they saw any other animal – a hen in the castle yard, one of the guard’s horses, or even one of the king’s golden carp minding its own business in the pond – they got themselves into a pack and stalked it. When the king caught them stalking his fish, he was extremely cross. Not even Florizella could argue that they were helpless cubs who needed protection. They were four half-grown wolves, and they had to be free.

  ‘Take them back to the forest,’ the king said at breakfast one day. ‘Go on, Florizella. It’s kinder to them in the long run. Go with Bennett and leave them somewhere in the forest.’

  So Florizella sent a message over to Bennett’s castle by carrier pigeon. She was in a hurry so she asked the pigeon if it would mind riding a firework rocket, and very obligingly it did. It was there in a whoosh, and Bennett rode over at once. The two of them, with four big wolf cubs loping cheerfully behind, rode into the darkest, wildest part of the Purple Forest. Florizella and Bennett pulled out four large steaks from their saddlebags and put them down on the grass. The wolf cubs leaped on the food as if they were starving. They tried to steal each other’s share, rolling over and over and play-fighting with each other, then snatching the steaks and running off with them.

  ‘Come on, Florizella,’ Bennett said softly. �
��They’re all right. Let’s go before they miss us.’

  So Florizella and Bennett rode away as quickly as they could, leaving the wolf cubs behind.

  Florizella cried all the way home, and Bennett was a bit sniffy too.

  Everyone was very nice to them at the castle because they understood that it was hard to leave the wolf cubs. The queen ordered Florizella’s favourite dinner: roast chicken, roast potatoes, peas and carrots, and plum crumble for pudding. With ice cream.

  The king was very sympathetic. ‘Don’t be sad, Florizella. I’m sure you’ll see them again one day. Undoubtedly. Undootedly!’

  Florizella saw them again sooner than she expected.

  The very next day, in fact.

  She had left their old kennel door open and when she went to see Jellybean the next morning, four wolf cubs came swarming out, thrilled to see her, and hungry for their breakfast after their long trot back from the forest.

  The king and the queen were firm. The wolf cubs must go back to the woods. Florizella tacked up Jellybean, whistled to the cubs and led them off again, deep into the Purple Forest.

  ‘Goodbye, little wolf cubs,’ she said sadly. ‘Goodbye, Samson.’

  When Florizella went to bed that night, she whispered a prayer for her wolf cubs, and Samson the pack leader, and cried herself to sleep.

  She didn’t sleep for long.

  In the middle of the night there was a great ‘Ki-yi-yi-yi-yi!’ from the garden. Florizella jumped awake at once and ran to look out of her bedroom window. There was the fattest, naughtiest wolf cub, Samson, sitting underneath the moon and singing for her at the top of his squeaky little voice. When he saw her face at the window, he stopped and grinned with his white wolf teeth.

  Florizella said, ‘Oh no!’ very softly. She opened her window and climbed down the drainpipe. Samson was delighted to see her and bounced around the garden, wanting to play.