The Princess and The Reluctant Knight

Episode 13

In his modest quarters, Simon sank onto his lumpy mattress with a sigh. Partly because he noticed the drastic differences between his and Princess Eleanor's plush mattress, and partly because by now word of his late-night visit to Eleanor had likely spread halfway across the castle, thanks to Jeanette's wagging tongue.

Not that she was a dog.

Or that she wagged her tongue.

No, it was that their private bliss had probably become a public spectacle.

Perhaps secrecy was illogical. Would it be so outrageous for a knight and princess to pursue affection openly? Without shame?

Society's harsh judgment seemed the true obstacle to their romance.

Simon shook his head ruefully. If only eleventh-century attitudes were not so harsh. Still, propriety had never concerned him before. His love for Eleanor need not bow to anyone, whatever their objections.

So, why was he bothered by Jeanette's discovery of their budding affair?

He had once pined for Jeanette, but she had never given him the time of day.

Tomorrow he would speak with Eleanor, and confess his intentions before the court. They would forge their path, norms be damned! Society's scorn paled beside Eleanor's radiant smile, the melody of her laugh, the rightness of her hand in his.

However, he was to depart at dawn, so it would have to wait until his return.

In the meantime, he decided to let gossip spread its insidious vines - it could not reach the heights that love had raised them. Noble in spirit if not in name, their bond was armored against conventionality's blows.

Simon lay back on his lumpy straw mattress, its discomfort now barely noticed. He daydreamed of stealing Eleanor away to a quiet life in some distant village, where only open fields and bright skies could intrude upon their joy. But her bed was better than his by leaps and bounds, so her chamber would have to do.

Soon the new day would dawn, ripe with possibility. Until then, Simon surrendered himself to dreams of Princess Eleanor and the life they would surely now create together. For once the heart has taken flight, no earthbound tethers can restrain its ascent.

Simon's heart soared high on the wings of love, only to be clipped if his plan to have Princess Brittany's hand in marriage fails and King Dave orders him beheaded for touching his beloved niece.

***

In the cramped, creaking confines of The Siren's Serenade, Sir Alvin lay sprawled across his hammock. The ship's sleeping quarters were a terrible chorus of snores and the occasional groan of wood that seemed to complain about the sea's restlessness.

Sir Theodore, perched on the edge of his hammock like a gargoyle of vigilance, his gaze fixed on a creased and much-abused map of their voyage.

"I tell you, Theodore, this mission is folly," grumbled Alvin, swinging his legs with the petulance of a child denied dessert. "We have been at sea so long I have forgotten whether trees are real or just a poet's fancy."

"The mission is as serious as the dragon's flame. We cannot turn back now. What of Princess Brittany?"

Alvin sat up, his hair a wild crest of rebellion. "What of my bed? What of a meal that does not sway with the tides? The princess has surely found her way home by now. I heard she is resourceful, like a cat that always lands on its-"

"She is alone, in uncharted lands, possibly in the clutches of the dragon. We are her hope, Alvin. Her only hope."

Alvin huffed. "Hope? I had hope once. It was a Tuesday, I recall. A most peculiar day-"