Rupert and the Queen, by Kelly Madden. Page 5/5
So we walked into his private chambers and I had to steel myself for what’s next. The king was not attractive, even less so unclothed. But I took the measurements and assured him he’d have the most wondrous suit for the holiday procession ever seen.
The next day I was ushered in and he’s so excited I almost felt bad, but then I remembered my lady’s bruises. I open my pack and show him. Where is it, he said, are you trying to trick me? Oh no, I answered, it’s only the finest fairy cloth in the world. But you see, only the truly wise and intelligent can see it.
Oh you think no one could be that dense? Well, quit interrupting me and I’ll let you decide.
I helped him try the suit on. He did ask about the weightlessness, I’ll give him that, but of course, fairy cloth is as light as gossamer, don’t you know. I threw in a bit about flower sprites gathering spider silk at dawn’s first blush, and he ate it up. And then I repeated the part about only smart people seeing it for good measure.
He fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.
The next day was the holiday procession. You’ve never seen one? I can’t say for sure, but it might be they’re not done anymore, which I can understand after what happened.
Real quick then. In the old days, every holiday the royal court paraded right down the middle of main street. It’s quite spectacular, and I don’t use that word often to describe your events. Everyone came to see, even the fey.
The day of the procession the king called me in for a final fitting. He put on the new suit, and let me tell you, I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, him putting each foot into an imaginary pant leg and pulling on an invisible coat over that big belly. The court attendants were sniggering even though he gave them black looks. I soothed him by saying they were all stupid and he felt better. But he was sweating. A part of him must have known but he was too egoistical to admit it.
So the procession began. The lesser couriers came first, then the court attendants, and finally the king and queen. She told me later his arm was sticky with all the perfumes he used to cover up terrible body odor, but she did it. My lady’s a trooper.
Well, you can imagine. That big, fake smile, a golden crown, and naked as the day he was born, albeit a quite a few more pounds. His belly jiggled like a holiday pudding and the people behind him had a view of, well, never mind. You get the picture.
I’ll wait. You need a glass of water? It is funny, isn’t it?
For awhile it goes all right. The story had spread, you see, and no one wanted to appear less than erudite. The crowd oohed and ahhed. What lovely fabric, what fantastic patterns, and would you look at that cape. He even had some poor page pretending to hold up a train.
But then it starts to get ugly. The crowd begins to titter. The king frowned but he continued. They’re all stupid, see? He’d’ve probably done the whole route with his fat, florid face held high. But then a high yoo hoo echoed across the throng. Just a voice, floating from a high window. The crowd looked up.
The king isn’t wearing any clothes, a young, sweet voice said.
There’s a nice, dramatic pause, and then the crowd exploded.
Well, bust my buttons, you’ve guessed! You’re smarter than you look. Exactly right. As brave as his mother, with just enough craftiness from his father to make it work.
After that you can imagine what happened. The king was deposed. What do you expect, him muttering about invisible clothing and straw into gold? The steward probably would have married the queen and made himself king, but she mysteriously disappeared with the child and was never seen again.
So there you have it. Nothing much else to tell, from your perspective. We lived a quiet, good life. Something to be said for no drama. My sweet lady died a while ago, may she rest in peace. Raised that boy like my own. He moved away and became a famous designer – had a talent for dress making, bless his heart – still comes to visit me when he can.
No questions? Very well. I suppose I don’t need to see the final version. I can see you’re a lot smarter than those brothers…Hans, is it? I’ll trust you to tell the truth. Don’t embellish. And if you’re a mind to hear, I’ve got some more stories.
No, not that happened to me. But like I said, before I got married I had adventures. I know some tales about mermaids, swans, and red shoes that will raise your hair. Nice and melancholy…the kind you like.
Pour some more tea and ink that pen.
Once upon a time…
Kelly Madden lives with a ferocious Ocicat and her husband who is also a writer, but not ferocious. She lives on the edge of a large lake which is as close to beach living as the Midwest gets. She enjoys painting, dancing, and hiking in the woods when she isn't writing. More information about Kelly and her publishing credits is available on her website: http://www.wishingstar.us/worldsofkellymadden/.