The Once Upon A Time Princess

The Once Upon A Time Princess 6

“There you have it, children. That was the story of Joshua and his lovely lady, Sarah,” said Jen.

The children cheered and applauded for they did appreciate the story.

“Now, I don't know if all of that is true,” started Joshua.

“Pish and tosh,” exclaimed Jen, “sometimes legend contains more truth than the actual details.”

Joshua laughed, then said, “Yes, many a time I did make up a story just to calm some nerves. All right, young lady, I thank you for the story.”

“It wasn't meant to be just a story, kind sir,” Jen's face became a little more serious, “It was also meant to be an accolade.”

“An accolade? But you are a milk maid. What honour for a soldier can come from a milk maid? Please stop with your little games, child,” Joshua had begun to become offended.

“I play no games, kind sir,” stated Jen firmly. She then removed her bonnet, shaking her hair free.

“Guards!” bellowed Princess Jeneth as only a queen could.

From the livery came a large man at a run, wielding a sword that he had pulled from behind the door. From the grocer came a slight but agile woman carrying a bow and quiver. Both pulled up behind the Princess as an honour guard. More soldiers appeared about the corners of the square.

The children whispered to each other, “It's the Princess! It's Princess Jeneth! It's really her!”

“Your sword,” the Princess said to the guard. He handed his sword to her. She presented it to Joshua.

“Whose crest do you see engraved upon the blade?” queried the Princess.

“Why, 'tis the crest of the King Himself, of His Royal Guard,” replied Joshua, astonished.

“And do you know who We are?” asked the Princess.

“You are His daughter, the Princess, Jeneth.”

“Would you permit Us the honour of completing the accolade and bestowing on you a knighthood?”

“I sincerely thank the Princess for Her offer. However, I am a simple man who has spent his entire life telling stories to children and townsfolk. A knight would be expected to join in stately affairs. This has never been my place. I belong in the town square, meeting with Her Highness's loyal subjects,” Joshua bowed his head.

“As you wish,” conceded the Princess, “Then, permit Us to salute you.”

“If it pleases Your Highness to do so.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, children,” as many had wandered into the square upon hearing of the Princess's presence, “We have before us a true gentleman, a man who has taken his pledge to the service of the Kingdom to heart.

“He has dedicated his life to ensuring that the people of our Kingdom live peaceably. Although he has never slain a dragon or any other dangerous beast, although he has never fought a war, although he has never wrestled with a rapscallion, nay, he has never so much as harmed a fellow human being, yet, he has been one of the greatest soldier to ever have served our Kingdom.

“His ability to tell a story has delighted, entertained and instructed all of us. He has provided us with examples of how we should live. He has shown us what would happen if we had continued in our foolish ways. And in so doing, he has saved us from the greatest enemy that we will ever face: ourselves. He has shown us that when we work together, we are stronger, healthier and more prosperous.

“To that, Joshua, if there is anything that We can do for you, you have but to ask. For your unending service to Our Kingdom, We salute you.” The Princess stood at attention and saluted Joshua.

With all the formality that he could muster, Joshua returned the salute.

“Thank you, Princess.”

Everyone clapped and cheered and shouted things like, “You're my hero!”

“Don't salute,” whispered a boy to another. “The Princess gets to salute him because she's in charge of the soldiers when the King's not here.”

Joshua noticed a small boy who also had turned to salute him with all of the admiration and earnestness that only a four year old boy could achieve. Joshua tried to stifle a catch in his throat, but could not stop a tear from running down his cheek. Momentarily, he staggered inside, broke and tears ran.

“He's crying,” whispered Tommy, a six year old boy.

“Must be his hay fever,” returned Billy, his older brother, “Soldiers don't cry. Let's go home.”

Adults and older children corralled the younger ones and everyone moved away, leaving the soldiers and the Princess.

“But I sawed him cry,” protested Tommy, later to his father.

“Must 'a' been his allergies, son. Soldiers don't cry,” replied his father and went on with his work.

Undeterred, Tommy went to see his mother and told of what he had seen.

“Tommy, you will understand when you are older,” said his mother, as all mothers do.

“But I wanna unnerstan' now,” demanded Tommy.

“OK, let's see,” said his mother, patiently, “Soldiers have really hard work to do. They have to do things and see things that most of us never want to see and do. And they have to be really strong and not cry when things happen. But sometimes soldiers have to cry. When they do, we pretend that we don't see them do this because we still want them to think that they are strong.”

Tommy thought for a moment.

“Like when I get hurt and I don't want Billy to see me cry?”

“Yes, like that,” agreed mother.

“Mom,” he said thoughtfully, “I'm a runt. When I grow up, I want to be a Once Upon A Time Soldier, too.”

“We'll see when you're older,” diverting him, she added, “Have a cookie.”

He grabbed it and ran outside.

Back at the tree, Princess Jeneth was sitting with the soldier. Joshua was still shaken from the flood of emotion. They both looked up when they heard someone approaching.

“You come with Old Mrs. Hawkins, young man,” said the bent over, old woman. “We'll have tea and talk about things. Come, now.”

Joshua looked at Jeneth. Jeneth nodded.

“Yes, go. Everyone has tea with Mrs. Hawkins when they need it. She has a way of helping people find their way through difficult matters.”

“Come, young man. Let's have tea,” said Mrs. Hawkins, “or maybe we'll sing the blues.”

Princess Jeneth watched them go, then started toward the castle. She could hear Viveka's voice in the back of her head analyzing and critiquing the story.

“Yes, I know,” said Jeneth in reply, “More show, less tell. But if I were to print that story in a book, I would make sure that there was a picture of the villagers with smiling faces, happy that they had a peaceful, prosperous town.

“I must tell Mother.”

Although she never became a rock star, she did merry the prints and lived happily ever after.

The End.