The Official Guide to Rescuing and Maintaining Damsels in Distress

by K Alexander

  "I might need that."

  The voice came from behind her. With a suppressed little squeal she jumped up and spun around, surprised to find the young actor standing behind her. Tousling his brown hair further with one hand he gave a crooked smile. "I need to replace some of the props."

  "Oh. Of course. I'm sorry." Helena stepped away from the chest. "Your play was charming, by the way."

  "Thank you." He displayed an impressively white even smile and stuck out his hand. "I'm Philip, by the way. Philip Kerr." When Helena extended her hand he shook it enthusiastically, obviously not au fait with royal treatment.

  "Pleased to meet you, Philip. I'm Helena. Princess."

  "Oh." His green eyes darted around animatedly while he thought about it. "Oh. You're a princess? A real one? Pshaw. What am I saying? Here you are, you are most obviously real. Thought you were calling me princess there for a moment, though."

  For once not the person to babble, Helena watched him with a smile.

  "I met a princess once in Aminstoat, but she looked as if she'd been trampled by a rampant cow. We performed "The courtier's bustier" for her… or was it "The dressmaker's décolletage"? Either way she yawned too much and laughed in the wrong places, and then she tried to stick her hand down my… But see how I'm just rambling along, why don't you tell me all about you?"

  "Well." Helena thought about all of the activities she'd been involved in lately. "I really can't give you a brief version - that would take a whole lot of time. Suffice to say that I am the daughter of King Gregor of Bernam, and until a few days ago I was waiting patiently in my tower for a suitable knight to rescue me from Boris. And then that blasted Crispin appeared and yanked a clump of hair out of my head."

  Philip's mouth formed a comical "o". "No, no, that definitely won't do. You can't start a story like that and then just abandon it. I won't stand for it."

  Noticing the lengthening shadows Helena suddenly realised that she'd spent a lot more time at the square than she'd thought. "I have to go back, Philip. Oh, Crispin has probably been thinking up heinously evil things to do to me. Will you still be here tomorrow?"

  "Aye." He nodded. "We have our last performance in the afternoon and then we roll west out of town day after tomorrow."

  Deciding that he was bound to be terribly interesting (not to mention dashingly handsome) Helena made a quick decision. "Would you like to meet here tomorrow morning? We can have a light meal together at a nearby inn and then I can tell you my ever so sordid story."

  His eyes darted around again as he pondered the idea. "Aye, that would be a pleasure. But…" Helena thought she heard a note of nervousness creeping into his voice, "wouldn't this Crispin character have something to say about it?"

  "Naturally." Helena's voice was dry. "But I have never paid much attention and I do not actually intend to start now."

  When they had finalised their plans for the next day and parted cheerfully, Helena returned to the Inn. She'd half expected Crispin to be waiting at the door with a lecture about the lateness of the hour, but the knight was nowhere to be seen. Upstairs in their room a small package had been laid on Crispin's bed, yet there the knight was also missing. Fighting the urge to tear off the paper wrapping and peek inside the package, Helena wandered back downstairs to ask Kate if she'd seen the absent knight. Before she could find the cheerful Innkeeper, however, an ebullient shriek from the courtyard attracted her attention. Sticking her head around the doorway she fleetingly glanced outside, her mouth dropping open witlessly when she realised the cause of the high spirits.

  Crispin was sitting at one of the wooden tables, her head barely visible over the shoulders of a man who sat with his back to the peeking princess, but even at that angle Helena could see the dark woman laughing riotously at something her cohort was saying. Between the two on the tabletop stood a multitude of empty upside-down ale mugs. When the knight had regained her breath she said something in a muted voice and leaned over to grasp the man's cheek affectionately between two fingers, causing him to let loose a hysterical roar.

  Incredulous at this display of liveliness, Helena let her feet carry her reflexively towards the two animated companions. They were so engaged in their hilarity that Crispin only noticed the princess when she was right next to the table. Leaning back the dark knight let out a muffled giggle at Helena's amazed expression before she slapped a hand over her mouth, smothering a series of hiccoughs. From the dip in his torso the man opposite Crispin appeared to be kicking her under the table before he jumped up and presented the most well groomed hand Helena had ever seen on a man.

  "Eric De Fontenèt at your service, my lady."

  When she extended her hand he took it lightly in his, kissing her knuckles chivalrously. Eric's manners matched the rest of him. Light golden hair framed a fine-featured clean-shaven face and striking blue eyes. His trim body was elegantly clothed in a pair of tight black breeches and a perfectly tailored luxurious purple tunic with golden braiding which had obviously been very expensive to create. Wondering about his relationship to the aggravating knight on the other side of the table, Helena slid into the bench next to him at his polite request.

  Arching her black eyebrows irreverently Crispin tilted her head at the young man. "Suddenly so very unassuming, dearest? You do know how the ladies love the title." With a broad smile at Helena she bluntly ignored his petulant look. "Helena, this is Prince Eric De Fontenèt himself, at your royal service." The man in question leaned back a little and slid down his seat, obviously connecting his kick this time as Crispin yelped sharply and shifted away before she continued, apparently quite unfazed by his action. "Bugger, I'm afraid I'm feeling rather common now, between the pair of you."

  Before Helena could respond with a suitably acidic reply Eric leaned over and grasped Crispin's hand in a histrionically affectionate way, his tone fond. "You, my love, could never be common. Your sense of style, perchance. Your vocabulary, most definitely. Your footwear, without a doubt. But you yourself will always remain completely exquisite." He landed a smacking kiss just above her knuckles, chuckling deep in his throat when she knocked him lightly under the chin with the back of her fingers before pulling her hand away.

  Helena, feeling rather left out by their noticeably familiar banter, almost didn't realise it when Crispin directed the conversation back at her. "Pardon?"

  "Eric and I are old friends. We met just after he relinquished his throne to his younger brother and went on a quest to find his … true calling."

  "Some lovely adventures we had, I recall," Eric interrupted with an affectionate smile.

  "And some really terrible ones," Crispin finished. Pursing her lips she studied the two royals side by side. "Such a lovely pair you make. I'm betting that by now princess Helena is vigorously wishing prince Eric had rescued her from the tower rather than I."

  "It's never too late." Helena shot the knight a cool glare. "I would run off with Eric the moment he said the word."

  The blonde man gave the princess a kindly pat on her hand. "Ah, as exceptionally charming as you are, my dear, I have abandoned the royalty game for good. And also there is but one woman for me."

  "Who?" It was a puzzled question.

  "That woman sitting right there." He pointed at Crispin, who batted away his hand nonchalantly before she stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes rudely (much to Helena's vexation). "She is a vision of loveliness - though maybe not right at the moment - and I do simply adore her with every fibre of my being."

  Crispin spread a slightly unsteady hand on her chest, roughly where she imagined her heart to be (which was completely and utterly wrong). "And of course you are, as ever, the only man for me, Eric."

  "Oh, my darling." Wiping away an imaginary tear he rolled his eyes in mock worship before he turned to Helena. "And so - regretfully, my lady - I cannot take you off Crispin's hands. Though from what I have heard of their competence I would suggest that you take advantage of your position and let …"

  "Eric!"
Leaning over the table Crispin smacked him soundly on the shoulder.

  Helena (who had not been able to follow their conversation at any rate and was getting rather annoyed at being ignored) decided to take the dialogue into her hands and into a new, distinctly more sensible direction. "I met a rather nice man today."

  "Pshaw." Crispin poked her empty ale mug crossly. "It's only Eric."

  "Hey! How come I suddenly get relegated to the name behind 'only'? I'll have you know that I'm a paradigm… paragon of something or the other." With a desultory pout he lifted an eyebrow at one of the serving girls, relaying as if by magic the need for another round.

  "No, not Eric - he was a player with the…" Helena began, but the more evil half of the terrible twosome interrupted her without noticing.

  "A paragon of craftiness, your highly wileness. Wily highness, I mean."

  With a small scowl Helena looked first at the empty mugs, and then at Crispin's face with new awareness. "Are you … drunk?"

  The knight chortled at her outraged tone. Puffing up his chest Eric nodded fiercely. "Indeed she is, by my utter masculinity."

  Sniggering so liberally that she fell prey to an uncontrollable fit of coughing, Crispin managed finally to regain control of herself. "If that were the case then I could just as well commit myself to a vow of sobriety here and now, my darling Eric."

  "Harpy."

  "Troll."

  Bursting into gales of hilarity they left a speechless Helena staring from one party to the next. Rarely had the princess seen the generally controlled knight so abandoned, and for a moment the strange and inappropriate thought struck Helena that sitting there on the bench with her bright blue eyes sparkling and her black hair tumbling around her shoulders, Crispin really was almost as exquisite as the prince declared her to be. With an impatient shake of her blonde head she rejected the odd thought and stood up. "Well. As much as I have enjoyed meeting you, my lord…"

  "Eric, if you please."

  "Eric. I have things to attend to, but I am quite sure we'll meet again." Dipping her knee graciously at his courteous bow she turned to glare at the madly grinning knight. "Goodnight, Crispin. I hope that when I see you again you'll be... yourself."

  Solemnly the knight rose and dipped her head. "Good night, Helena. I would kiss your hand … but I can't trust my teeth so close to you." Presenting all of the said teeth in a beaming smile she waited agreeably for the piqued princess to storm back into the Inn before she plonked down opposite a silently giggling Eric.

  "I say. Feisty little creature."

  The next morning when Helena awoke Crispin was spread across her own pallet in a tangled heap of limbs and a disarray of clothing. Stepping around a bare bronzed leg that hung precariously off the edge the princess dressed and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. No doubt the knight had only returned to the room in the early hours of the morning, and would be asleep for some time to come. And after her disorderly behaviour the previous evening, the princess had no desire to tell Crispin where she was going anyway. Sniffing haughtily in the direction of the door she walked out of the Inn to her meeting with Philip.

  She spied him the moment she stepped around the corner. Dashingly clothed in a flamboyant tunic he seemed to be in serious and intense conversation with a shabbily dressed older man, occasionally nodding or sketching gestures in the air. When he caught her eye he said something to his companion, who turned his head and scrutinized her quickly, giving her a clear view of his eye patch before he walked away. Presenting her with the broad white smile that she remembered from the previous day Philip waited until she was close before he extended his hands and clasped hers between them.

  "How pleased I am to see you!"

  Helena returned his pleasant beam. "Me too, Philip. But who was that you were arguing with earlier?"

  His smile weakened for a moment before he shook his head emphatically. "No, no. We were merely … disagreeing. Claude would have preferred that I do some things for the troupe this morning."

  "Oh." The princess frowned worriedly. "If you would rather…"

  "Definitely not. I would rather spend my morning in the presence of a beautiful woman." Grinning slightly at her blush he continued. "Besides, he could send anyone. Anyone at all. Now, have you decided on an establishment for our light meal?"

  They chose a tavern with a pleasant front and strolled inside, choosing a table where they could watch the passing amblers at their leisure. Ordering simple dishes from a friendly barmaid they soon fell into a comfortable and pleasant discussion. Though Philip had seemed rather erratic at their first meeting he turned out to be a charming escort with an engaging manner. In telling the story of her adventure with Crispin again, Helena found herself playing down the more comic aspects and appealing to Philip's sympathy, which he contributed accordingly.

  "This Crispin seems a positively horrid type of person."

  "Well…" for no good reason the princess suddenly found herself loathe to be too derogatory, "not horrid. Perhaps a tad… insensitive to my situation."

  "If I met this fellow I would knock him senseless for treating a lady in such a way."

  It was a moment before Helena realised the misunderstanding that the actor was labouring under. Pondering quickly she rationalised that if he knew Crispin to be a woman, he would most possibly be a little less sympathetic. And he was never likely to meet the knight, was he? What harm would it do to have a concerned friend of her own? Poking out her tongue mentally at the insufferable dark woman Helena shot a sweet smile across the table to her new friend. "As much as I would like to see that happen I will most probably go back to my father's castle for Crispin to claim the reward. And then…" she sighed, sincere this time, "I will almost certainly be married to Sir Gunther Totherington or another such foul doddering old fool."

  "But that's atrocious!" Philip was outraged. "How can a knight carry you to such a fate?"

  "It's what knights do. I would have had to marry Crispin, had it been possible."

  "What makes it impossible?" He continued before Helena could find a suitable answer. "His harsh nature, I'd bet. Yet it's a blessing in a way. Could you even imagine spending the rest of your life with Crispin?"

  "We would throttle one another soon enough." Her tone was dry. "Let's talk about something else, Philip."

  "Oh, do pardon me. Here I am indulging in the subject when you must want nothing more than to escape from your position for a time." And with just the proper amount of sensitivity he turned the discussion to plays and poetry.

  The morning went by quickly, and when it came to noon he regrettably had to excuse himself. "It is time for me to go and prepare for the afternoon play now, but I should like it very much if you came to watch the show."

  "I would be delighted," Helena assured him with a smile. When he had left her with a small warm grin she wandered between the stalls, browsing amongst the interesting wares. Once or twice she actually considered going back to her Inn and informing Crispin of her whereabouts, but the memory of the previous night and the knight's shocking behaviour put her off. Sticking out her tongue mentally (or so she thought, but a suddenly protruding pink tongue quite startled a passing man) at the dark-haired woman she decided to go straight to the play. And so she did.

  The play that afternoon was every bit as entertaining as it had been the previous day, and after it had ended she felt no need to press closer, staying instead where she was to applaud. The players shook hands warmly, and when Philip caught her eye over the head of an enthusiastic spectator he gave a broad smile and a slight self-deprecating lift of the shoulders. She waited until the mass had scattered before she approached Philip, who was once again stuffing props back into the large trunk.

  "That was delightful, again."

  Wrinkling his nose he shook his head. "The writing is quite formulaic, you know. I would rather have been in a troupe that performs the works of that great dramatic playwright Artoïs, though this certainly outshines being a bla
cksmith."

  "Is that what your father is?" She watched curiously as he threw a cloak into the trunk with a slightly venomous air.

  "No." His speech was clipped, and after a deep breath he seemed to regain his composure. "I apologise. I'm not on a good foot with him. He is in the same profession as I am."

  "Oh." The princess pondered the thought of leaving the subject be, but subtlety had never been a strong point. "Is he in this same troupe?"

  "No. He is not in this troupe." Philip slammed the trunk shut, resting his hands on it for a moment before he turned to her, all signs of sullenness carefully removed from his face. "When will I see you again, Helena?"

  "Would you like to see me again?" The question was out before she could stop it, and Philip turned it around in his mind a few times, his eyes darting in that familiar manner before they came to rest on her face.

  Taking her hand in his he pursed his lips. "I would. I don't think that anyone should treat you as a possession. This Crispin fellow definitely does not have your best interests at heart. What is it that you want?"

  Sudden images of her journey with Crispin came flooding into her mind, and as indignant as she sometimes felt towards the knight she could not help but suspect that she had enjoyed the adventure rather more than an authentic princess should have. Clearing her throat she pulled her hand smoothly from his. "I… erm, I am not sure, Philip. Though Crispin is really not that bad. Honestly."

  "Well," he shrugged, "he must have you under some kind of spell. Should you realise your error … you are most welcome to join the troupe for the rest of the season. I am quite sure that we could transcribe that story of your journey into a good dramatic piece. And who better to play the princess than the princess?"

  As unfamiliar as the idea was, Helena had a vision of herself singing on the stages of the great theatres, roses streaming down at her feet, before she collected herself. "Thank you, Philip, if I change my mind I'll take you up on that offer." It was said more as a finish to the conversation, but the young actor seemed satisfied.