Turn Me Back!

Episode 9 - A Plot Foiled

The princess and her ladies await the prince's message with bated breath.

"He said..." I pause, racking my brains. Blast it! This is why I'm a mercenary and not a messenger.

"Yes?!"

"He said he'd be happy to cook your lunch, the stars fall out of your eyes into his soup bowl and he hopes your lustrous hair and perfect ankles will never give him indigestion." Or something along those lines.

While the princess and her attendants are gasping and speculating over the message, I topple into my bed and steadfastly refuse to respond to their efforts to wake me to take a reply back to the prince. What do I look like, a child labourer? I fall into a blissful sleep, undisturbed by the whispering and exclamations.

But even royal travelling parties don't escape the start-at-dawn rubbish. It's horribly early the next morning, when I'm awakened from my familiar nightmare by a chorus of shrieks. I leap blearily out of bed, grabbing several knives from under my pillow, poised to strike down the princess's attacker.

Instead I'm confronted by the sight of my goatly steed from last night, standing next to my bed, chewing my silk sheets. "Oh for goat's sake," I growl, and collapse back onto the bed, tugging the sheets away from it. It has a stronger grip than I thought, so I end up with goat breath uncomfortably close to my face.

"Willa," comes a quavering voice from the other side of the tent. I raise my head. The ladies-in-waiting are clustered in a quivering mass with the princess's rumpled head sticking up behind. "Is that your... goat?" enquires one of them.

The goat licks my cheek lovingly.

If the royal carriage wasn't already something to exclaim over, it's nothing compared to the spectacle it makes with our new, four-legged escort running alongside. Try as I may, I cannot persuade the stupid thing to go back with its herd. Appealing to Goat Man is useless. He merely shrugs. "Goats is goats."

"But can't you make it get back into the cart with the others?"

"No need. He likes running."

I'd have stabbed the man in his hairy heart, except I would have ended up losing another knife. The three I threw at him still haven't recovered from their traumatic experience.

Once the princess and her ladies have got over their shock at the sight of the goat, they progress from shrieking terror to doting affection. They spend the day's journey jostling each other for a window seat and squabbling over names.

"May I be so bold as to say that he looks like an Archibald."

"Oh no, observe the reddish sheen in his coat. Jasper suits him much better."

"William!" barks the stone-faced matron. "Billy for short."

Come evening, Billy and I resume our messenger duties. I could complain to Kayla that carrying messages for the princess wasn't in my job description, except it all counts toward my quota of helpfulness, so that's a good thing. Also, I have to admit I'm starting to enjoy myself a little.

"Your Highness," I tell the prince pompously. "Princess Isla says she hopes you never see a sunset without admiring the rising of her moon."

The prince's eyes grow wide. "Tell her it is my heart which rises and sets with every breath she takes. I pray our years together will be blessed with the peace and plenty of fruitful prosperity."

After a short gallop back to the princess's side:

"Princess Isla," I announce, "the prince said his heart rises and sets in your breath and he prays your years together will be a piece of fruit."