“Eight-year-olds!” Princesses Gundersnap and Kristen both exclaimed at once. The four princesses of the South Turret were riding with Princess Parisiana. Princess Morwenna and the other nasty princesses of the North Turret rode directly behind them.
“I don’t approve of any of it,” said Morwenna. These were the first words she had spoken on the ride. It was a perfectly beautiful day. It had been winter at dawn but winter had vanished to be followed by what was called “sudden summer.” Sudden summer simply meant that spring had been skipped entirely—no daffodils, no spring chickadees—but now the trees were a deep deep green, the sun hot, and the lake water warm—warm enough for swimming.
“Princess Morwenna, what do you approve of?” Alicia turned in her saddle and asked.
“I approve of long hours of prayer. I approve of fasting one day a week. I approve of crusades. And most of all, I approve of my patron saint, whose medallion I wear around my neck. This is the only ornamentation I need,” she said, touching the bronze disk at her throat.
Princess Gundersnap guided her horse closer to Morwenna to see the medallion. “It’s only a baby on that medallion. A baby saint?”
“Oh, not Saint Rumwald, puleeze!” groaned Kristen.
“Saint Rumwald?” Alicia asked.
“You know the one, Alicia.” Kristen grimaced. “Poor kid lived just three days. On the third day he announced, ‘I am a Christian’ and promptly died.”
“You’re wearing the image of a dead baby around your neck?” Alicia was shocked. “Totally gross!”
“I agree,” said Princess Parisiana.
“And I disagree.” Princess Morwenna’s face had not changed expression. “It is not gross. It is divine. To know what you are when you are just three days old is a gift of God.”
“Bahksmutch!” Gundersnap exclaimed.
“Baaawhat?” Kristen asked.
“Bahksmutch. It means ‘baloney’ in Slobo. And saying a dead baby is divine is simply baloney—bahksmutch.” Gundersnap spat out the word.
This perhaps was the most philosophical discussion that had ever occurred among the campers. Morwenna’s face hardened into a tight little mask. Her eyes got all squinty, and her mouth became a thin grim line. “I take grave offense at this. I shall report you to Camp Mistress, Queen Mother Adelia Elsinore Louisa.” Then, as she rode off to find the camp mistress, she paused and turned around in her saddle. “Abi in malam rem!” which in Latin meant, “Go to the devil.”
But Gundersnap, not to be undone, trotted right up to her and said, “Abi conbiba ovo,” which meant in Latin, “Go suck an egg.”
Princess Morwenna galloped off in a fury.
In the distance they saw silk tents and pavilions against the flawless blue sky. The colors were magnificent—pink, purple, fiery orange, bright yellow, sapphire blue. And from the top of each tent, snapping in the breeze, were the banners emblazoned with royal crests of the princesses.
“I hope we all get to be together in the same tent,” Myrella said.
“Let’s hope that Morwenna is not with us.” Kristen sighed.
Just at that moment, Lady Merry von Schleppenspiel’s reinforced carriage drove up. She ordered her driver to stop and motioned the princesses over. She was trying very hard to arrange her naturally cheerful face into a stern visage. “Miladies, I have been hearing reports of nasty exchanges in Latin. Princess Morwenna is quite upset. She is requesting to go to the nearest convent to pray for your souls.”
“That’s totally lame,” Kristen said under her breath.
“She’s no more praying for us than we are for her,” Alicia whispered back. “She just wants to get out of going to the ball.”
“Now there is to be no more of this. Nothing is so unattractive as a waspish tongue—even in Latin.” Lady Merry shook a plump finger at them, then ordered her driver on.
“At least if Morwenna stays at the convent, there is no danger of her in our tent,” Kristen muttered. They were approaching the tents now.
“Look!” cried Alicia. “Look! Princes!”
And indeed, what seemed like a legion of princes was riding toward them, each prince bearing a garland of roses to present to the princesses.
Chapter 17
A ROYAL DILEMMA
Princess Gundersnap watched as Alicia danced a very popular circle dance known as the pavane. It looked easy enough. Each princess, holding the hand of her princely partner, made a circle around him. Gundersnap nearly laughed as she saw how the tiny Princess Myrella had to stand on tiptoes while she held the hand of her prince. And even on tiptoes, her hand barely cleared the kneeling prince’s. But she seemed unconcerned about her short stature. Short, however, was different from squat and thick. Gundersnap had many fewer pimples on her face than she had last session, and she hadn’t even used the squished snail remedy. The one good thing she had learned in makeup had helped. It was a paste made of talc, white chalk, and egg whites, and it covered the worst of the pimples. But it made her face feel very much like a thin porcelain teacup. She was afraid it might crack at any moment.
The dance had finished and another began. This was a lively one, and it required quite a bit of jumping about. Princess Kristen had seized a prince by the hand and dragged him out onto the dance floor. She is so daring! Gundersnap wished she had the nerve to just go up and ask a prince to dance. Kristen towered over her partner, but soon they were both leaping in the air. The princess’s fiery red hair, which had been braided over each ear and looked like twin pastries, began to come loose. Her shark tooth tiara was slipping down onto her forehead at an angle some might call jaunty for a hat. It was completely idiotic for a tiara.
“By the bones of Saint Vitus, I have never seen such a princess! What am I to do with her?” Lady Merry von Schleppenspiel had her attendant put down her sedan chair by Gundersnap.
“What’s wrong?”
“Princess Gundersnap, you call that dancing? Look at her! It’s as if Princess Kristen is going to ignite—explode—a royal conflagration! No, a hectic complexion does not serve well.”
She’s having fun, Gundersnap thought. And how, she wondered, can I have fun when Menschmik might be dead or dying? Just as she was thinking this dismal thought, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and a voice from behind her said, “May I have the next dance, Princess Gundersnap?” Gundersnap turned and blinked. A prince stood by the chair where she was seated. He was not squat or thick, nor did he have spots. She blinked once more and he asked once more, “May I have the next dance, Princess Gundersnap?” The princess felt a poke in her side. It was Lady Merry poking her to answer. But her voice seemed to have disappeared. Lady Merry poked her a second time. Finally Gundersnap replied, “Why?” At that moment Lady Merry swooned in her chair.
“Because I thought you might like to dance,” said the prince.
“Yes, I would,” Gundersnap said in a dazed voice.
She then moved to the floor to dance a galliard with Prince Haraldsvar of Svarlandia, a country her mother had not yet even invaded.
“He loves archery!”
“He’s the one who is going to be in the tournament?”
Gundersnap nodded solemnly to Alicia and Kristen. They had returned from the ball and were sitting in their beds in the lavender silk tent they had been assigned to.
“So what’s the problem?” Kristen asked. “You both like the same sport.”
“But it is a problem. I see it,” Alicia said thoughtfully, and scratched her head.
“I don’t see at all,” replied Kristen.
“They’re in competition,” Alicia said.
“Exactly!” Princess Gundersnap exclaimed. “Vot am I to do? Do I try and beat him or lose to him?”
Kristen’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Come again! Did I hear you right? Beat him or lose to him? Is that a question? You beat him! Is the sun yellow? Is the grass green? The sky blue? Duh! You beat him.”
“But it’s more complicated than that,” Gundersnap said.
“Empress Mummy? This is truly a dilemma.”
“What kind of dilemma?” Myrella asked.
“A royal one,” Gundersnap said. “You see, I think I remember Empress Mummy talking about making a match between Glocknia, my third-oldest sister, and this prince’s older brother. If that happened, it would save her the trouble of an invasion. And if I beat him, it could ruin the prospects—Glocknia’s prospects, that is.”
Kristen’s face crinkled into a grimace of pure disgust. “You cannot be expected to plan your sports around the possible marriages of your sisters and brothers.”
Just then a tent maid sent by Lady Merry to remind the girls of their prayers entered. The three princesses scrambled from their beds and knelt. On this night each princess prayed to a different saint.
Princess Alicia prayed to Raphael, who was not just a saint but also an archangel, the angel of romance and love. Princess Alicia had danced with at least twenty princes that night and she felt all fluttery inside. She just loved love.
Princess Kristen prayed to Saint Sebastian, the patron saint of archers, to for heaven’s sake knock some sense into Gundersnap.
And Princess Gundersnap prayed to her mother’s patron, Saint Elizabeth, the patron saint of the battlefield. “Please, revered lady, what would Empress Mummy have me do? I don’t want to spoil everything, but then again, I really love archery, and I really like Prince Haraldsvar. Do you think he would hate me if I beat him? Would Empress Mummy simply blow up if this wrecked Glocknia’s chances? What am I to do for the empire? What am I to do for myself? Just me? Will the prince like me more if I lose to him than beat him? And Menschmik—please, dear Lord, protect my dear pony.”
Chapter 18
THE TOURNAMENT
“Don’t switch bows, Gundersnap. You’re used to shooting with the Dreamcatcher Five Hundred.” Kristen had just burst into the archery tent where Gundersnap was being dressed for the tournament. Over a green and white striped flowing skirt, she wore a snappy darker green fitted jacket, and in her sports tiara there was a vivid red feather. Kristen proceeded to give her a pep talk.
“Now I know you’re upset about Menschmik, but Gundersnap, you’re just going to have to put him out of your mind for a little bit. You need to concentrate on this tournament. You know, if you win it counts toward our points in Color Wars.”
“It does?”
“Yes. So you’re doing this for the Purples and not just yourself.” Gundersnap nodded solemnly. “And promise me there will be no more talk about not winning because of all that nonsense about your sister getting married and your mother’s invasion plans and all that.”
Gundersnap nodded, but she knew it would be hard. Kristen took a step closer and looked her right in the eye. “Gundersnap, go out there and shoot!”
Princess Gundersnap walked onto the archery field. She wore a quiver of arrows on her back. She carried her Dreamcatcher 500, and as she stepped up to the mark, she flexed it a few times. On one side of her was a prince whose name she did not know. On another side was Princess Parisiana, a fair shot, but not nearly as good as herself. Prince Haraldsvar was on the far side of Parisiana. A bugle was blown to announce that the first flight of arrows could begin.
Princess Gundersnap closed her right eye. With her left eye, she looked through the little gap in the bow, the bow sight, focusing on the center ring of the target. “Grusschum, grusschum.” She repeated the word in her head. It meant “steady, steady” in Slobo. She raised her elbow and began to draw, then let loose the arrow. Not a bull’s-eye but close.
Each contestant would shoot three full quivers of arrows. She was uneven on the first quiver, but by the second was improving steadily. And by the third quiver, she had advanced to second over all in the contest, just two arrows behind Prince Haraldsvar. She could feel Kristen’s eyes boring into her. But she could also hear an ominous rumbling voice in the back of her mind—the voice of her mother, Empress Maria Theresa of All the Slobodks. Doubt suddenly washed through her like a tidal wave. Should she try and win? All night she had fretted.
“Princess Gundersnap, an urgent message from your mother the empress.” A messenger had rushed up just as she nocked an arrow.
What in the world! Has the Hottompot invasion failed? She put down her bow and walked to where the messenger stood with a sealed letter. He bowed and handed the letter to her. Gundersnap opened the letter and saw her mother’s familiar script.
Lose the match!
Love and kisses,
Mummy, Empress Maria Theresa of All the Slobodks
Gundersnap blinked in disbelief. She must have spies here all over, Gundersnap thought. She’s worried that if I beat him, it will spoil her plans—her marriage plans for Glocknia and the prince’s older brother. It was as if her mother the Empress not only invaded countries but her own children. She’s a royal control freak!
And deep within Gundersnap, a small royal rebellion began to smoulder. Then rage erupted. “Bahksmutch!” Gundersnap spat the word out. She picked up her bow and marched to the shooting line. Never had her concentration been finer. It was as if her entire body had merged with the bow. There was no separation between the bow and herself. She nocked the arrow, squinted one eye shut, aimed, and released.
“Bull’s-eye!” the crowd roared.
She drew another arrow from her quiver. Her rage at her mother was not a distraction at all, but burned within her, igniting every muscle. She was the bow, and the bow was her. Her vision had never been sharper, her hands steadier. Her fingers pulled taut on the bowstring. Its tension resonated with the fire burning inside her. She released the string and the arrow flew true.
“Bull’s-eye!” the crowd roared again.
Gundersnap pulled a third arrow from her quiver and nocked it. She knew even before the arrow struck. The world went silent, but she felt a glow like gold shimmer within her.
“Bull’s-eye!” the spectators screamed.
Kristen ran to her and picked the squat princess up in her arms. “You won! You won!”
But she had done more than simply win. She had shot a golden flight, three bull’s-eyes in a row.
Prince Haraldsvar made his way over. He bowed and smiled. “May I have the honor of the first dance tonight at the masquerade ball?”
“You still want to dance with me?” Gundersnap asked.
“Oh mercy!” muttered Lady Merry. “Did I hear that right?”
“Of course. How often does one have a chance to dance with a princess who has shot a golden flight?”
Gundersnap felt a storm of butterflies rising in her tummy. “Oh,” she said, and smiled a most dazzling smile.
They were just beginning the fireworks display and Princesses Gundersnap, Alicia, Kristen, and Myrella were about to take off their masks, for their costumes were quite hot. Alicia had gone as a Gypsy. Gundersnap went as a Celtic sprite named Orla, which meant “gold queen.” She carried a quiver with three golden arrows and wore golden wings. She knew her mother would not approve of Orla. The empress thought sprites and fairies and winged creatures with human bodies in general were stupid and a waste of time. Kristen went as a pirate queen who was said to have lived many years ago and plundered ships in all the seven seas. In a scabbard that hung at her side, she carried a sword.
“Look,” said Princess Parisiana, who was sitting near them. “That must be Myrella dressed up as an ugly old wood sprite.”
“No, it can’t be. Myrella went as a moon maid. She’s all in silver and diamonds. Where are you looking?” Gundersnap asked.
“See over there.” Parisiana pointed to a tiny figure who was making her way across the lawn. “No one else is that tiny.”
Oh yes she is! all three princesses thought at once. It was Berwynna! And at just that moment, Myrella appeared. Kristen grabbed the tiny gleaming princess, and with Alicia and Gundersnap they sped to the edge of the lawn, leaving Princess Parisiana wondering what in the world it was that had made them take off
like that.
Berwynna, however, seemed to have dissolved into thin air. “She mustn’t have wanted to meet with us out in the open,” Alicia said.
“But where could she have gone!” Myrella stomped her foot. “Shoot, I haven’t ever seen her and all of you have!” Her anger made her diamonds shimmer even more.
“She’s got to be around here someplace,” Gundersnap said. “Look at that big tree over there!” Alicia pointed at an immense oak with low branches that flowed over the ground like dark rivers in the night.
The four princesses ran over. There on one of the branches, with her short legs dangling in the night, was Berwynna.
“I thought you’d never come!” she exclaimed.
“What are you doing here?” Gundersnap asked.
“Exactly what am I doing here? Out of the Forest of Chimes, exposing myself on a lawn with dancing princesses and princes? Only an emergency would bring me out like this. Why can’t you be where you belong?”
“Where’s that?” Kristen asked. Gundersnap was beginning to have a horrible sinking feeling deep in her stomach.
“In the hidden turret at the tapestry!” She paused. “And Gundersnap, a word for you.”
“What?” Gundersnap’s voice was a raw whisper of sheer terror.
Berwynna began in her creaky voice.
“Take that pouch with threads of gold
To make your stitches thick and bold.
Then a picture will appear:
A creature hurt, a creature dear.
On wings like silk you then will fly,
And let us hope that he’ll not die.”
Unicorns? Get Real! Page 8
