The Unhandsome Prince

by John Moore

  “Oh no.”

  “No,” added Caroline.

  “No,” said Emily.

  “Not really.”

  “Right,” said Emily. “Not really flirting.”

  “Maybe we smiled a little.”

  “Smiling isn’t flirting. It’s just smiling.”

  “That’s all,” said Caroline.

  “Sure,” said Hal, who knew full well what a smile from the right girl could do.

  “Did you give the King the philosopher’s stone?” asked Emily.

  “Yes. He said thanks. Turns out that he already knows that it’s unusable. When I went in he had a couple of magic books on his desk. He didn’t even touch the stone. So he knew.”

  “So all your trouble was in vain. I’m sorry.”

  “Water under the bridge,” said Hal. “Let’s eat.”

  The palace contained a number of public dining rooms that served meals with various degrees of formality, as well as a very small dining room for the exclusive use of the royal family and a slightly larger one for their personal guests. This room, paneled in carved oak, with high south-facing windows, had a table that could seat perhaps a dozen people. It was to this room that Hal brought Caroline and Emily, and it was here he found his brother Jeff, seated at one end of the table with a stack of ledgers.

  Jeff was a year younger than Kenny, but nearly identical in height and build. He wore a jacket of gray woven cloth, with gold braid on the shoulder and sleeves, not as gaudy as Kenny’s, but certainly finer than Hal’s, a white linen shirt with a gray silk sash, and one ring, a gold signet with the royal seal. He kept his hair cut shorter than Kenny, but his eyes were just as blue, and a whole lot brighter when he fixed them on Hal.

  “Hal!” He jumped up from his chair and pounded his brother on the back. “Am I glad to see you. Mom cried for days when she heard about the frog thing. I wanted to look for you myself, but Dad absolutely forbade it.

  Too risky, he said. He didn’t want another son being enchanted.”

  “I understand.”

  “Have a seat,” said Jeff, pulling out chairs for the girls. “They’ll be serving in a minute. Tell me about the spell. It must have been awful. But you got kissed and rescued.” He looked the girls over. “We have one of you to thank, I take it?”

  “Right,” said Hal. “This is Caroline. Caroline, my brother, Prince Jeffrey.”

  Caroline tried to untie her tongue, but before she could say anything, Jeff took her hand in both of his and squeezed. “It’s an honor to have you here. Good job on finding and rescuing Hal here. The whole family is grateful to you.”

  “Oh, it was nothing,” Caroline managed to say, keeping her hand in his. “Any girl would have done the same.”

  Jeff turned to Emily. “And you must be Rapunzel.”

  Emily looked surprised. Before she could say anything Hal shook his head. “Ah, no. She’s still back at the tower.”

  Jeff looked reproachful. “Hal.”

  “Give her time. She’s running low on supplies. She’ll be out of there by the end of the summer, I’m sure of it.”

  “What?” said Caroline. “What’s this about? Rapunzel?”

  A waiter came in with a basket of rolls. Hal took one and started buttering it. He looked at Jeff and shook his head slightly. “I did my part.”

  Jeff looked embarrassed. “We need that fee, Hal.”

  “What fee?” said Caroline.

  Hal said, “Rapunzel’s family won’t pay the rescue fee until Rapunzel actually returns home.”

  Caroline looked shocked. “You charged money to rescue that girl? Hal! That is so mercenary.”

  “Not my choice. The King sets and collects the fees.”

  Jeff said, “Dad wanted Hal to just stuff the girl in a sack and bring her in. Hal refused. Dad’s been kind of cool toward Hal since then.”

  “Not,” said Hal, “that we had a warm relationship before.”

  “And then Dad got some idea in his head about turning lead into gold . . .”

  “Brass,” said Emily.

  “. . . only then he found out it doesn’t work, but he’d already sent Hal off. So Hal hasn’t been around to do more slay-and-rescues and we lost those fees, too. Which Dad thinks is Hal’s fault for letting himself get turned into a frog.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Caroline. She watched a waiter came in with a soup tureen. He set it on the table, then started ladling it into porcelain bowls. She looked at the table. There were four spoons in front of her, and they all appeared to be real silver. She made a mental note to see which spoon Hal used and turned back to him. “You’re giving me the idea that money is tight here. I thought the royal family was rich.”

  “We are,” said Hal. “We have plenty of money coming in from our estates, and we get a generous allowance from the Council of Lords. If certain people would just show some fiscal responsibility, we’d be fine.”

  “Okay, Hal,” said Jeff. He tapped the ledger books. “You’re preaching to the choir here.”

  “But,” said Caroline, “can’t the King raise taxes if he wants more money?” Then she frowned inwardly. Emily and Hal were both eating soup, and she missed seeing which spoon they used. It was annoying. Why put all this silver on the table when they were just having soup for lunch?

  Jeff shook his head. “Not in Melinower. The Council of Lords sets the taxes and controls the budget. And they pretty much told Dad that enough is enough. But listen, I don’t want to bore you with family matters. Tell me about yourselves.” He looked at Caroline. “How did you break Hal’s spell?”

  “Oh,” said Caroline. She flipped her blond tresses back over her shoulders, while returning his gaze, deciding that she liked it when he looked into her eyes just like that. “Well, it was just persistence and a lot of luck.” She gave a brief rundown of the grid method for searching the swamp and the ditches she dug for drainage. Hal offered some descriptions of her frog nets and traps. Jeff, when he heard the story, was full of praise.

  “That,” he said, “was clever. You know, it’s probably just as well I didn’t go out there myself. I’d have just been tramping around in the swamp, catching frogs haphazardly, then dragging them back to the village trying to persuade girls to kiss them.”

  “Well, thank you. It just took a bit of planning.”

  “And netting out the tadpoles. I don’t think anyone has ever thought of that before. That was brilliant.”

  “You really are too kind.” Jeff really did have the most lovely eyes, Caroline thought. Being a beautiful girl, she was used to praise from boys and normally tended to discount it. But when Jeff spoke, she couldn’t help doing a little wiggle.

  “I’m glad all your hard work turned out to be worth it in the end. Hal’s very lucky. I know you’ll be very happy together. Have you met our mother yet? When is the wedding?”

  “Hey, where are my manners?” said Hal. “Would anyone else like a roll?”

  “I’ll take one,” said Emily.

  “These are wonderful rolls,” said Caroline, breaking one open. “I love the way the outside is so crispy.”

  “Yeah, they’re great. We don’t make them here. We buy them from a bakery in the city.”

  “What?” said Jeff. “What did I say?” He looked perplexedly from Hal to Caroline.

  There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Hal said, “Caroline doesn’t want to marry me.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet,” said Caroline. She looked at the table. There were at least three knives that could have been butter knives.

  “She wants someone, um, taller.”

  “Hal’s a great guy,” said Jeff, loyally. “But if you don’t want to marry him, well, it’s your decision. Certainly Dad will be happy.”

  There was more silence. This time Emily broke it. “Why? Why will the King be happy?”

  “Dowry,” said Hal. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Dad’s kind of hung up on money,” said Jeff. “It takes a pretty stiff
dowry for a commoner to marry into nobility. And to marry someone who is in line for the throne, well, it’s impossible. That’s why the frog spell is so famous. The common girl gets to marry the noble son, no strings attached. She leapfrogs over the dowry requirement, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

  Caroline exchanged glances with Emily. Emily had an I-told-you-so look. A servant came through, took away Caroline’s soup plate, and set before her a giant plate containing a whole roasted duck. She looked at it, momentarily distracted, wondering if she was expected to carve this for the group and what knife to use. Then she looked up and realized that each person at the table was getting an entire duck, something that, in her experience, would feed a whole family. Another waiter came through and set beside her a platter of roasted potatoes. And another set down a plate of green beans with slivered almonds. And more servants were coming behind him.

  And this was just lunch.

  The rich, she thought, were very different from the poor.

  She started thinking about dowry.

  It was while they were eating that yet another servant arrived to tell Prince Hal that rooms were ready for the two girls, and that their luggage had been stowed in them. Shortly afterward two matronly women in maids’ uniforms arrived and offered to show the girls to their rooms when they were ready. Caroline and Emily left rather hesitantly. They were in a strange palace in a strange city, and the only person they really knew was Prince Hal. Now he had vanished, lost among hundreds, perhaps thousands, of strangers in a vast and labyrinthine palace. They followed the women meekly.

  Caroline found herself in a small bedchamber. Small by the palace standards—the room was five times the size of her house. A thick rug lay across the stone floor, and the walls were hung with tapestry. A four-poster bed, with heavy ticking and a thick pillow, stood with its headboard against the wall. A bed key hung beside it. Two wax candles stood on a dressing table, on either side of a washbasin. The table also held a pitcher of water, a stack of folded towels, and a silver hand mirror. Her bags were piled by the dressing table. The maid poured some water into the basin and stood beside it, waiting.

  Caroline stood in the center of the room and waited for her to leave. When it became clear after a few minutes that the maid was not leaving, she cleared her throat, and asked, “Um, am I supposed to tip you?”

  The woman smiled gently. “No, miss. Would you like me to help you undress?”

  “Ah, no. I can manage by myself.”

  “When you’re ready to open your bags, I can unpack for you.”

  “Ah, actually I think I can manage that by myself, also.”

  “If you prefer, I can leave now. When you need me, there is the bellpull by the bed.”

  “Ah, great, yes. That will be fine. Yes, thank you.”

  When she was out of the room, Caroline opened the window and looked out, hoping to see some view of the city, perhaps some glimpse of the countryside beyond it. But the window looked into a wide courtyard, with a sunny garden, and a fountain, and a steady stream of people walking to and fro. For some reason this made her sad, and she turned away and lectured herself sternly.

  “Get ahold of yourself,” she whispered. “So you’re homesick. You couldn’t see Ripplebrook from that window anyway. Start thinking about a dowry. You’ve come this far, you’re not going to be stopped now.”

  She washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and resolutely set to unpacking. Untying her bundles she took out three dresses, donated by her girlfriends. Two of them were almost new. The women of Ripplebrook had held a hurried meeting, then presented Caroline with their verdict. “Keep it simple,” they said. “We can’t keep up with the fashions in Melinower, and they won’t expect you to. They’ll know you’re from the country, whatever you do, so don’t try to look like you’re not. Just be yourself.” The dresses they chose—one white, one pale pink, and one pale blue—were simple and unadorned, but very well made and of quality material. Each had short sleeves, leaving the arms bare in the country style, and a loose waist, with neither stays nor sash. Caroline unfolded them and hung them in the wardrobe. Just looking at them gave her new confidence.

  At the bottom of her pack was a small wooden box. Caroline pulled it out and looked at it curiously. It had no lock. In fact, it appeared to be one of those oriental puzzle boxes. After a bit of pushing and pulling she got the lid to slide out. Inside were two tiny parcels of folded paper.

  She unfolded them both and laid them on the dressing table. The first one contained a set of gold earrings with tiny diamonds. Caroline recognized them. They were the proudest possessions of her friend Ashley. Printed on the paper, in neat block letters, were the words, “Well, we can’t let you appear in court without proper jewelry, can we?”

  The second paper had been wrapped around a coil of thin gold chain, from which was suspended a small sapphire. It was the most cherished possession of her friend Brenna, and the paper held the girl’s loose scrawl. “Don’t shame us, lassie. And write and tell us everything.” The word everything had been underlined three times.

  Her friends. Now truly homesick, Caroline held the papers to her breast and let a tear well up in each eye. Then she blinked them away, stowed the jewelry back in the tiny box, and placed it on the bed, beneath the pillow. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to will her mind to become calm and logical.

  Dowry, she thought.

  Prince Hal’s room was on the southeast corner of the palace. To the south, large French windows faced the harbor, always bustling with merchant ships, naval vessels, and fishing boats, and the wharf itself, with its shipyards and ropemakers and sailmakers and sailor’s pubs and, of course, the fish market. To the east another set of windows faced the common market, the last stop for many of the goods that came in on those merchant ships before they were dispersed among the populace, and on a hill beyond that, the broad greens and ivy-covered towers of Melinower University. A wide stone terrace ran around the outside of the rooms, so that Hal could throw open a set of windows, step outside, breathe the fresh air, and look out over the city. He did this sometimes, and most often it was to the south, over the harbor and out to sea, to the distant horizon where adventure beckoned young men, as it has since the first boy gazed seaward, lo those many years ago.

  But there was no time for woolgathering now. Hal pushed the French doors open with one foot, climbed onto the terrace, and walked along it until he came to another set of French windows. He rapped twice with his knuckles by way of announcing himself, pulled the doors open, and stepped down into the spacious quarters of his brother, Prince Jeffrey. He looked around and gave an admiring whistle.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Jeff. This is amazing. I can see what you’ve been doing since I’ve been gone. I didn’t think you’d be able to get it all together.”

  Jeff was sitting behind a leather-topped desk, with sheets of foolscap, a blotter, quills, sealing wax, and two big pots of ink—one black, one red—in front of him. The desk was wide enough that it took up nearly the width of the room. Extending forward from each side of the desk were two long—very long—narrow tables. It was these two tables that elicited Hal’s comment, for when he last saw them they were piled high with box upon box of bills and invoices, some of them nearly crumbling with age. Now the boxes were gone and in their place the bills and invoices were in orderly stacks, held in place by metal spikes, and next to each pile were one or more leather-bound ledger books, their columns filled with neatly penned numbers.

  “Thank you,” said Jeff.

  “I mean it. I’m really impressed. This was one hell of a job.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Every time I thought I had a grip on it, more bills would come in. Or they’d find another box somewhere. There must be twice as much here as when you left. Dad, of course, just denied everything. Kenny took his side, as usual.”

  Hal opened one of the ledgers, winced slightly as he saw that it was marked mostly with red ink, an
d closed it again. He opened another one. This time his pained expression was more perceptible as he noted that nearly all the numbers were in red. He closed it and turned to Jeff. “So how bad off are we?”

  “It’s not good,” said Jeff.

  “Whom do we owe money to?”

  “Hah. Better to ask if there is anyone we don’t owe money to. Then I could give you a simpler answer. No.”

  “Fill me in on what I missed. Are we bankrupt, then?”

  “No. Not quite. Not yet, anyway. I’ve talked to the biggest moneylenders about some of Dad’s debts, and they’re willing to stretch out the payments. He’s owed some of these debts for years, so they’re willing to wait a bit longer. In fact, it’s kind of a prestige thing to them, having the King on their books. With the money from our estates and the royal allowance, we can meet our interest payments, our expenses, and still pay a little on the principal. So if Dad and Mom and Kenny would just control their spending—”

  “Dream on. Is it my imagination, or do we have even more servants than when I left?”

  “We have more. And more horses. To pull the extra coach we bought. And more stable hands to take care of the horses. And we’ve pretty much bought more of everything else also.”

  Hal just shook his head.

  “Of course,” said Jeff, “we’ve got the tournaments coming up, so that will bring in some cash. But then if Dad is forced to abdicate—”

  “What! What? Someone is suggesting that Dad abdicate the throne?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Prince Jeff. “I guess you wouldn’t have heard about that. We’ve managed to keep it in the family and in the Council. Apparently the Council has been checking their own records, back to a dozen years or so. And they’ve raised a question of—how did they put it—‘misappropriation of funds’ was the term they used.”

  “How nice to be King. I suppose for anyone else this would be called embezzling.”

  “Possibly. Anyway, the Council is putting pressure on Dad to name his heir and move on. They really want him out of here. So they’re hinting that if he abdicates, he’ll avoid the charges and the scandal.”