The Fairy's Return and Other Princess Tales (18 page)

“T
HE POWDER WAS READY TO TRY OUT
.”

Marigold woke up in the middle of the night. She had dreamed of a secret weapon that would keep a horse and rider from getting to the top of the glass hill. With her secret weapon she wouldn't have to marry someone who was mean and nasty and cruel. She patted Apricot, who was curled up next to her, and fell back to sleep, smiling.

Early the next morning Royal Servants climbed a ladder to the top of the pyramid. They brought with them an outdoor throne, a picnic lunch for a princess and a cat, the basket of golden apples, and a water bowl for Apricot. When they came down, Marigold carried Apricot and the secret weapon to the top. As soon as she got there, the Royal Servants took the ladder away and the contest began.

After breakfast the same morning, Ralph said, “Good day to watch a glass hill.” He guffawed.

Burt guffawed.

Ralph pushed back his chair and walked out of the farmhouse. Burt pushed back his chair and followed him. Cinderellis wondered if the Royal Dairymaid would be watching the contest.

At the workshop cave, he worked on his powder some more. Finally he thought it was ready.

At first Marigold had been ready with her secret weapon whenever a horse galloped at the pyramid. But rider after rider failed to climb up even one inch, so she relaxed and became interested in looking down on everything. The knights and squires seemed no bigger than her hand, and their cries and the neighing of their horses sounded muffled and thin. Only Biddle Mountain appeared as big as ever, looming in the distance, much higher than the glass hill.

The day grew warmer and Marigold grew hot—hot and bored. Apricot was hot too, but he knew his dear lass had brought him up there to show everyone how important he was to her. So he rubbed himself against her leg and purred.

Marigold wished she knew the name of the nice farm lad. Even if she never saw him again, though, she'd remember their conversation forever.

Cinderellis wanted to scream. He'd been putting the copper suit of armor on for hours. He'd finally gotten the tasset and the mail skirt on over his waist and hips. The cuisses and the poleyns and the greaves were on his legs. The sabatons were on his feet. The vambraces were on his arms. The couters were over his elbows.

But the breastplate kept popping off!

Over and over he'd hammered it here and bent it there. And it would hold—for about ten seconds. Then—
POP
!

At this rate he'd never get to the pyramid.

Ten

A
knight on a black stallion prepared to climb the hill. The stallion looked bigger than any of the other horses. Marigold reached for her secret weapon.

But the stallion's hooves slipped off the pyramid as soon as they touched it. The knight made the horse try again—and the horse slipped again. The knight wanted to try a third time, but everybody yelled that he should let the rest of them take a turn.

Burt and Ralph laughed so hard, their sides hurt.

Marigold put her secret weapon down and started breathing again. It was three thirty. Only a few more hours till it would be too dark to see the hill and she could come down. Only a few more hours and it would be over forever.

But then her father would come up with another horrible plan.

Cinderellis had finally wedged the breastplate under the fauld. And he'd managed to mount Chasam, even though it had taken over an hour. He'd picked Chasam because she'd looked so disappointed when he'd tried the powder out on Ghasam.

He pulled the gauntlets over his hands. Now for the helmet. Uh-oh. He couldn't make his hands in the gauntlets do anything. He'd never get the helmet on. He took the gauntlets off again and put the helmet on.

Now he couldn't see to put on the gauntlets. He could only see through one chink in the visor, just enough to steer Chasam.

Well, he didn't need to see. He could feel. There. The gauntlets were on.

Now where were the reins? He couldn't tell through the gauntlets. Were these the reins? He hoped so.

He kicked Chasam, harder than he meant to. She didn't mind. They were off. It was five o'clock.

Two more horses to go. Marigold scratched under her tiara. She felt hot and sticky. Apricot was drinking from his water bowl. She was glad he was up here with her. She wished that kind farm lad were here too. She'd introduce him to Apricot, and he'd invent something nice for a cat.

One more horse to go.

Marigold wondered what her father would dream up next. Maybe he'd make her sit at the bottom of a glass hole, and the horse that didn't crash down and squash her would have her hand and Skiddle, Luddle, and Buffle.

The last horse, like the 213 before it, failed to climb the hill. Marigold stood up. At last. She hadn't needed her secret weapon. Wait! What was that? A cloud of dust coming from Biddle Mountain?

In the field below, King Humphrey III couldn't see the dust cloud. He decided that the contestants could all try again tomorrow. He didn't want to end the contest after just one day when it was so important.

Then he heard people shouting. There was another rider? Let him come, then. Maybe this one would be enough of a horseman to climb the pyramid. Maybe this one deserved Marigold.

Cinderellis saw the pyramid through the chink in the visor. They were almost there.

Everyone was astonished at the beauty and size of the copper-colored mare. Everyone was also amazed that such a glorious horse would let herself be ridden by that nutty knight or whatever he was. For one thing, his armor was tarnished and filthy. His posture was terrible. His hands and the reins were flopping around in his lap. He wasn't even really riding the mare. She was carrying him, like cargo.

Marigold's heart started pounding.

Chasam cantered up to the glass hill. Cinderellis sort of kicked her to keep going. She placed her front right hoof on the hill. She leaned her weight on it. It held!

She started to climb. The watching crowd grew silent.

Marigold didn't know what to do. If this mare climbed the hill, it would be because she wanted to. Any fool could see the mare's rider wasn't making her do anything. But the rider still could be mean and nasty. Marigold picked up her secret weapon.

But maybe he's nice, she thought, as nice as the farm lad. She had to find out. At least she had to see his face. “Sir!” she called. “Please take off your helmet.”

Who was yelling? Cinderellis could see only the glass hill in front of him. He tried to look up, but all he saw was the inside of the helmet. Was something wrong? He tried to push his visor up. Nothing happened.

“I'd like to see your face,” Marigold called.

Somebody was yelling again. Cinderellis decided to take the helmet completely off. He pushed up on it. Nothing happened.

Chasam was a tenth of the way up the hill. The crowd on the ground almost stopped breathing.

He's trying to do what I want, Marigold thought. That's something. And he didn't force the horse up the hill. She laughed. If he couldn't even get his helmet off, he'd never be able to pick up the apples—if he climbed all the way up.

She thought of tossing the apples into his lap. If nobody ever got to the top, the next contest could be worse than this one. Or her father might let this contest go on forever, and she'd spend the rest of her life up here.

She put the secret weapon down. The apples were next to the throne. She took one, aimed carefully, and threw. The apple landed on Chasam's saddle, in the little valley between the saddle and Cinderellis' mail skirt.

Huh! Cinderellis thought. Did something hit me?

Marigold picked up another apple. She would have thrown it, but she got worried. She was taking an awful chance. She hadn't seen the knight and she hadn't talked to him. Maybe they could talk, even if she couldn't see him. “Sir,” she called, “what would you do if you ruled Skiddle, Luddle, and Buffle?”

“What?” Cinderellis yelled. “What? Speak louder.”

A roar came from the helmet. Marigold didn't hear words, just a roar. Whatever was in the armor didn't know how to talk. It could only roar. It was a monster! And she'd given it an apple!

Eleven

M
arigold reached for the pitcher that held her secret weapon. But she hesitated. She didn't want to hurt the horse.

Chasam was a third of the way up the hill. And climbing.

The monster would be up here in a minute. She had to do something! She'd try to use only enough to make the mare slide down slowly. She leaned over the edge of her platform and poured a thin stream of olive oil down toward Cinderellis.

Everyone watching wondered why the princess was leaning over the edge of the pyramid. They were too far away to see the pitcher of oil.

The powder wasn't made to withstand olive oil. Chasam started to slip.

Cinderellis thought, We're going down! Is Chasam hurt? What went wrong with the powder?

Chasam couldn't drop Cinderellis. She loved him too much. She spread her legs so she wouldn't topple over and slid down slowly.

Ralph's and Burt's mouths dropped open. What a mare! Any other horse would have fallen on its head, or on top of its rider.

At the bottom of the pyramid Chasam turned around and took off at a gallop.

King Humphrey III issued a proclamation announcing that there would be a second and a third chance to climb the glass hill.

Cinderellis lay panting in the dirt in front of the workshop cave. Chasam, Ghasam, and Shasam were grazing nearby.

It had taken him a half hour to get his helmet off. Once it was off, he'd used his teeth to tear the gauntlets off his hands. And then he'd squirmed out of everything else.

His powder had failed. He had failed.

Shasam sniffed the golden apple, which had fallen into the parsley patch. Cinderellis picked it up, and Shasam cantered a little ways off, ready for a game of horse-treat catch. But Cinderellis was too depressed for games. Besides, Shasam might break a tooth on the stupid golden apple.

One apple wouldn't buy a workshop in Snetteringon-Snoakes. He wouldn't be able to marry the Royal Dairymaid on just one apple. He might as well not have it.

Still, he wondered how he'd gotten it. The only explanation he could think of was that the princess had thrown it to him. But why would she?

He stood up and carried the armor and the apple into the cave. He dumped the armor on the heap with the other armor and hid the apple behind an outcropping of rock. Then he headed to the farmhouse for dinner.

Ralph and Burt were just finishing up.

“Did anyone win the contest?” Cinderellis asked.

“Not today,” Ralph said. He smiled his special smile at Burt.

Cinderellis didn't even notice.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Burt said.

Tomorrow?

“Or the day after,” Ralph said.

He had two more chances!

“There was a beautiful mare,” Ralph added.

“Mare's rider was an idiot,” Burt said.

“Real idiot,” Ralph said.

They both laughed.

“Work to do,” Cinderellis said. He ran out of the farmhouse. He had to find out what had gone wrong with his powder. And then he had to fix it.

He'd marry that Royal Dairymaid yet!

In the stable cave he lit a lantern and bent over Chasam's left front hoof. She whinnied and blew warm air across his forehead.

Hmm. The hoof looked greasy. Cinderellis touched the greasy spot. He tasted it.

Olive oil! They'd used olive oil to make the pyramid slipperier. How could they do that without telling? It wasn't fair.

What would repel olive oil? Drying powder might help, but drying powder worked best on water. Olive pits mixed with drying powder? Olive pits were surrounded by olive oil right there in the olive, and they never became soggy, so they must repel the oil. Yes, that should do it. He ran to the farmhouse pantry for olives and olive oil.

In the morning Marigold asked the Chief Royal Cook to refill her secret weapon pitcher. But the Chief Royal Cook was fresh out of olive oil. Marigold said walnut oil would be fine.

In the field around the glass hill the contestants prepared for the day's trial. A knight painted sticky honey on his horse's hooves. A squire scraped his stallion's shoes to make them rough. Another knight screwed hooks into his mare's shoes.

Outside the workshop cave Cinderellis poured olive oil down a rock that was about as steep as the glass hill. Then he dusted his new powder on Ghasam's hoofs. She started to climb and then slipped. Cinderellis added a little more olive-pit powder and told Ghasam to try again.

The knight who had painted honey on his horse's hooves galloped up to the glass hill. His horse tried to step onto the hill but slipped right off.

Marigold petted Apricot. It was going to be another long, hot day.

Ralph grinned at Burt. Burt grinned at Ralph. It was going to be another fun day.

It had taken all morning and almost all afternoon, but Cinderellis' new powder was ready. And Cinderellis was ready, in the silver armor. It had been easier to get into, because he'd learned a few tricks the day before. But being inside was as bad as ever. He could hardly see anything, and his hands were almost useless inside the gauntlets. Still, he was in it, and he was mounted on Shasam. Chasam had earned a rest. He'd ride Ghasam tomorrow if anything went wrong today.