Chapter 1

Once, many years ago, there lived a King and Queen who ruled benevolently and wisely over their tiny kingdom. This fine couple had been married for some years and, despite valiant efforts, were still childless. The happiness that they both enjoyed, from each other’s civilized company, scintillating intellectual conversation, and the love in which they were held by the simple peasant folk who made up most of their subjects, was not sufficient to overcome their regret at failing to produce a child - an heir - someone who would continue to rule over their land, once they had both passed away.

One day, the King was in the depths of despair. He was also in his office.

“When will the good Lord grant me my desire and present me with an heir to my throne?” he despairingly asked nobody in particular.

A few yards away, on the far side of his large office, a mist seemed to form. King Wilhelm removed his fashionable spectacles and wiped them. He replaced them onto his regal proboscis and looked over the room again. The mist remained. Not only that, but it was increasing in density until it passed into a state beyond mere mistiness to assume quasi-solidity. Seconds passed. The mist grew ever darker and appeared, to the good King, to acquire flesh like form. More seconds passed. Features began to appear and the shadowy apparition became ever more tactile. Finally, the miasma resolved itself into a human and female shape, and one of the most superlative beauty.

“Who are you? And how did you get past Security?” asked the astounded Monarch.

“Don’t you mean the Palace Guard?” replied the Good Fairy (for it was none other than she).

“Course not! I mean Securicor! Those chocolate soldiers so-called Guards! They’re just for show - couldn’t knock the skin off a rice pudding! Bloody bunch of fairies! So sorry, ma’am - no disrespect!”

He reddened at the thought that he might have offended this supernatural being. The Good Fairy looked severely at the King.

“Because you have made a remark, however jocular in intent, betokening the most appalling insensitivity to minority rights and alternative lifestyles, I must give you a message somewhat different from that which I had originally intended.”

She continued.

“Because of my intervention, you will have an heir, but it will be a daughter. For your Kingdom to continue and not become the plaything of other Great Powers, it will be necessary for this daughter to find a husband who will become the next King. Your child will have to pass through many travails in order to secure and deserve the love of her chosen man. There is much grief ahead for you, and even more for her, Your Majesty! That will teach you to make politically incorrect remarks - you Fascist!”

With these words, the vision faded. The Left/Liberal Good Fairy retired to the wings to adjust her make-up and consult her Filofax to see what, and with whom, was her next appointment.

The King pondered the Good Fairy’s remarks for some time. Must be a pretty third-rate fairy, he thought, not to see the kind of guy I really am! For, truth to tell, one reason for the King’s failure to impregnate his wife was his own decided preference for members of his own sex! The bluff joke that he had made to the Good Fairy had merely been an example of the obfuscation he frequently employed to disguise his own sexual proclivities.

That night, with the Good Fairy’s unseen help, the Royal couple managed to get it together. The Queen’s physical charms finally managed to stimulate her spouse, inspiring him to ejaculate such a sufficiency of royal seed into her welcoming womanhood, as to set in motion the wondrous mystery of procreation. Nine months later -to the day - Princess Sara was born.

She was, vowed to all the King’s sycophantic courtiers, the most beautiful baby that had ever been born in the entire history of the Kingdom. In time, this female prodigy grew, matured and developed into a perfectly proportioned and breathtakingly, heartbreakingly, beautiful maiden. The world had never seen a fairer damsel. (Please remember that Hilary Clinton had not yet been born).

As Princess Sara grew up, her parents preferred her to enjoy the company of girls of her own rank and station, but, in a land where a rude and unlettered peasantry predominated, the strict application of this rule would have meant that she had a very lonely upbringing.

So it was that Martha was chosen as her childhood companion. Martha was a peasant child whom the King and Queen had designated to be their beloved daughter’s servant/companion. They grew up together since the time that both were three years old. From the very beginning, Sara treated this peasant girl as her own special companion and beloved friend and confidante. So long as they were both children, all was well, but when both girls started to develop into young women, Sara’s manner became less friendly.

Her parents, ever conscious of the need to treat their subjects justly, heartily regretted their adolescent daughter’s increasingly haughty and imperious treatment of the poor Martha, but such was their love for her that they failed to do anything about it, other than mildly and ineffectually, to rebuke her from time to time.

The King, in particular, was so devoted to his increasingly lovely offspring that her every little whim became his command and, in the words of an old saying, she was able to wrap him around her little finger. This unchecked pride and haughtiness made Princess Sara feared and almost hated by the servants. I almost hated it, because there was always about her the odd redeeming flash of kindness, and she was so amazingly wonderful to behold, that no one who saw her could ever fail to be utterly bewitched by her great beauty.

Many young men felt utterly and hopelessly in love with the fair Princess, but most of these men were of inferior rank and so ruled out as proper suitors. Those who were of sufficiently high estate were rejected by the Princess, who had shown herself to be an accomplished scholar from her earliest years, as being either too stupid, too ugly, or both. As her eighteenth birthday drew nigh, there was no sign that her parents’ dream of finding a husband for her and a future ruler for the kingdom would be realized in the near future - if ever.

One morning in late March, Martha came into the Princess’s bedroom and playfully pulled off the bedclothes, as had been the way with the girls over the years. One morning it would be Sara pulling off Martha’s and the next the positions would be reversed. This would usually be the signal for some wild horseplay and a pillow fight, culminating in the giggling pair rolling affectionately around on the floor together, before they dressed and went down to breakfast. Of late, however, Sara had been growing more conscious of the great disparity of rank between her and her peasant companion. She was becoming prouder and ever more conscious of her own exalted station in life. What was more, this particular morning she was in a very disagreeable mood indeed, thanks to a very disturbing dream she had just had.

The enraged Princess leapt out of bed and struck the poor girl hard on the face. Martha shrank back fearfully - when would she learn that the happy carefree days of their shared childhood were past, she asked herself?

“Get out of my room this instant. Never come in here again unless ordered to. How dare you be so insolent?” she stormed at the poor girl. Poor Martha retired in tears.

After she had dressed herself (she hated to have anyone else see her nudity, even Martha), she went out to the antechamber where the sobbing girl was sitting, her face in her hands.

“Get on your feet at once! How dare you be seated without my permission, you lazy good for nothing! I’m going to punish you for your insolent behavior and teach you a lesson you’ll never forget! Stay here until I return. No breakfast for you today - and that’s just the beginning of your troubles, my girl!”

As soon as the angry Princess had left her, poor young Martha abandoned herself to her grief, still obediently remaining standing. She did not mind the taking away of a meal, or whatever else her mistress might have in mind for her. It was the awful loss of a beloved childhood friend that was causing the tears to flow. She prayed for the proud Sara’s heart to be softened and for the good days to return so that they could both be happy together again.

When Sara returned, she was smiling. Unfortunately for Martha, it was not a nice smile that adorned the proud young Princess’s face. She had decided how she would discipline her servant and teach her not to get ideas above her station ever again.

“Get undressed at once - you peasant! I will take all your clothes and lock them away until I decide to let you have them back. You can perform all your duties naked until further notice. Go and tell my father I shall be going riding later! Then prepare two horses - you are coming with me, as usual.”

“What will the King think if he sees me like this?” asked a trembling Martha as she stood naked before her erstwhile friend.

“Tell him you are being punished. Now get out of my sight and be outside the stables in twenty minutes with the two horses ready.”

The distressed and embarrassed girl did as she was told, feeling everybody’s eyes on her pale and naked body as she made her way through the corridors of the palace to the King’s apartments. She entered shyly, blushing from head to toe. She wished she could become invisible and had never felt such utter shame in her life before. How could my dear Sara, whom I love so deeply and would die to protect from harm, do this to me? she asked herself as she tried to fight back the tears.

The King looked up as the naked girl came into his room. He looked devastated and went red with anger.

“What is the meaning of this, Martha? Have you gone mad?”

“I am being punished by the Princess for being insolent and for forgetting my lowly station in life, Your Majesty.”

The King recovered his poise.

“And do you deserve this treatment, Martha?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The wise old man knew this to be untrue. The girl was just trying to cover up for his daughter - he could see that quite plainly. He sighed and wondered how he could prevail on his proud and imperious young Sara to mend her ways. Something MUST be done, he told himself. She was becoming worse by the day. And then he thought of those blue eyes and golden hair and her soft warm lips as she kissed him, and his determination wavered.

“The Princess is going riding this morning, Your Majesty, and I am to accompany her as usual. May I please be allowed to leave and prepare the horses?”

“Very well, Martha. I expect she will allow you to dress for the ride. I certainly hope so!”

She explained that she was to go straight out to the stables and be waiting ready for her mistress. No clothes for me today, she thought. The King allowed her to leave and she made her way outside. As soon as she left the warmth of the palace, the early morning chill began to penetrate her body and she shivered.

She instructed the leering groom, who had long had a fancy for her, which horses to prepare and then stood holding the bridles as she waited for Sara to come out for their morning ride, usually such a pleasant experience for them both.

The vindictive Princess, still deeply disturbed in her mind by her terrible dream, looked out of one of the palace windows at the shivering Martha - it was early in the day, and Spring had only just arrived. She allowed her companion to stand in the cold for over half an hour before finally going out into the yard and mounting her proud jet-black steed. Martha gratefully mounted her own horse and the pair made their way slowly towards the Forest. Sara made no attempt to force her horse into a trot for some time, preferring to cast the occasional glance at her shivering friend, who was obviously praying for the chance to move faster and generate some heat for her body.