Under the Silver Moon

After the wedding banquet, the new queen's favoured servant – Kara, a woman of thirty-six wearing black satin and a string of pearls – approached her and whispered in her ear, “Your Majesty, a storyteller has requested to be allowed the honour of entertaining you with a tale.” The queen gave a gracious nod. As her servant disappeared to fetch the storyteller, she turned to her husband and told him that she had arranged some entertainment for them. The area was lit only by candles, and by the light of the silver moon that shone down on the faces of everyone present.

The storyteller appeared. To the great surprise of the attending nobles, they were faced with a woman. A woman of indeterminate age who covered her head and shoulders with a navy scarf of silk. The only features on her face that were clearly visible were her eyes – and what eyes they were! Dark, dark holes that seemed to absorb into them everything they saw, with irises that seemed to be made of more absence than substance. As they swept across the table, everyone went silent. They rested at last on the king. He seemed to tremble under them – He, who had faced armies with a smirk on his lips, looked assassins in the eye with a level gaze.

The woman gave a low, deliberate curtsey, her eyes never leaving those of the king. Then she spoke, and it was as if the pale, beautiful moon had been given a voice and a vessel to speak from. “I have come to tell you a story, Your Majesties. A story of the past. It is a story of love, of loss, of youth and folly. Perhaps it tells of more than that... It is for you to discover.”

She took a breath before speaking again. The faint flutter of air as it left her lips was audible, so quiet were the awaiting listeners. “Once, there was a prince. A prince among men – and the one who loved him took that meaning far beyond merely his bloodline. Bright-eyed and passionate, she would have given him the benefit of a thousand words if she had thought they would do justice to his infinite perfection. She would have declared him anything but ideal as unreadily as she would have declared herself worthy to receive his attentions... yet receive them she did.” The teller paused for one moment. “But I have overreached myself.”

“This prince... He inhabited a castle, as princes do. He lived a life of luxury, as princes do. And he had servants... as princes do. Among these, there was a young maid. Nervous, clumsy, unused to her work, she was often scolded for the many mistakes she made. Never allowed to show sadness, exhaustion, exasperation, she had taken to crying alone at night as her only outlet for the feelings that welled up inside her. No one in the world could she claim as a friend, for her parents had abandoned her when she was but a baby, and an unwanted infant seldom finds herself wanted as she grows.”

She paused for a breath. Every eye was on her, every ear waiting hopefully for her next words. The king especially was staring intently at her. She kept her eyes on the ground, either oblivious or unbothered by the attention she was receiving. “Unbeknownst to her, the prince had often heard this little maid cry at night. Hesitant and unwilling to invade her privacy – as well as having the weight of their differences to dictate his every move – he never even spoke to her... until one day. The girl had been singing softly to herself in the gardens when a woman had come and scolded her for not working. The prince, wandering as he always did in the mornings, had come across them and saw the maid crying. And... he protected her.” She paused, and repeated it. “He protected her.”

Such simple words, yet everyone present could feel them. No longer were there doubts that this was her story. Three words of happiness... yet those who heard them were given an overwhelming sense that this was not a happy story.

The storyteller must have known what was going on in the heads of the surrounding nobles – but if she did, she gave no indication of it. She continued calmly. “That was the start of her love. When she looked up and saw his face staring down at her, smiling softly, asking if she was okay... suddenly nothing else mattered. She wanted to know him, look at him, talk to him – to be with him for every moment of her life. It was as if the sun had shown itself, breaking through the clouds for the first time, and she wondered how she had ever lived in any other way. Her work suffered, of course, because she could not think of anything else but him, but that did not matter to her.”

“She never expected her love to be returned. She never expected to be anything but a servant to the one she thought so highly of – which is why it was such a surprise to her to find Him standing in the gardens that night, to see him smile as he saw her, to realise that she was the reason for his coming.”

The storyteller closed her eyes as if she continued. Her voice grew softer as she seemed to relive it. “And so began the happiest period of her life. Every night, he was there. Both knew that it was forbidden, that it would never end happily, but neither cared. Only those moments mattered. It was a secret love, known only to themselves and the stars that shone their light on the two lovers. Fear of discovery made them cautious, but never turned them away from each other. Nothing would have separated them.”

Those who listened knew that the happiness would come to an end. They knew it even before the next words left the storyteller's lips, though each one wished they could change it, twist the words and reality to hear the tale end happily. The king turned his head away, as if to refuse to listen to what came next. “Then there came an a visitor from another kingdom. The little maid knew not what he came for, confined as she was to the lower sections of the castle. All she knew of it was taken from the way her prince avoided her eyes when he met her that night – the kisses that seemed empty, distracted, his grip on her that seemed not so tight, not so warm. She wondered what had upset him so, but she did not mention it. Perhaps it would pass, perhaps he would be better the next night...”

“But the next night came, and nothing changed. She grew scared. She looked him in the eyes and asked him if he still loved her.”

The storyteller took a deep breath before proceeding. “He looked at her, then. He looked deep into her eyes. The moon came out from behind the clouds and shone on his face as he answered... He told her that the stars would burn out before he stopped loving her.” She paused. Her voice grew quieter, so that the listeners all leant forward to hear. “She didn't noticed the light that went out in the sky above her.”

She opened her eyes at last. There was no malice, no spite or anger in those eyes. Only sadness... sadness, and regret. “The young maiden trusted him. There was a light in his eyes, and she named it love. She kissed him, and declared that the moon would grow dim before her love for him faded.” The storyteller looked up at the sky. The silver moonlight shone down on her face and lit up a tear that had begun to form in her eye.

“One week later, minutes before the time when she would meet her prince in the gardens, the little maid was crying on her bed. Her head rested on her legs, her arms wrapped around herself. She had been dismissed. To leave the castle, to abandon the one she loved, was the worst torture that could have been inflicted on her. Yet there was nothing she could do about it. She would not have been able to bear saying goodbye... so she did not meet her love that night.” The storyteller paused. “Perhaps it was better that way; he did not come either.”

“As she walked away from the castle a few days after, her heart was breaking. She was sure she would never see her love again. She could not look back even once, to see the castle she had left, the prince she had deserted. Perhaps that, too, was better... She did not see him standing by a window, watching her leave without a single tear in his eyes.” She looked up and met the eyes of one of the listeners. There was more than just sorrow in her eyes, now... There was confusion. Why, they asked. And the listener couldn't answer.

“There was news, of course. He was a prince – nothing he did was not publicised. Which is how she heard of his engagement, to the princess of the neighbouring kingdom. It was not too hard, then, to account for his distraction on that fateful night after he had been visited... so many years ago.”

She looked down at the ground in front of her. Her voice grew quieter, and all who listened could hear the heartache in it. “The little maid knew she would attend his wedding. There was nothing she could do about it – the pull of her heart was too strong. To see him was all she longed for, even if it was to see him in the arms of someone else. She could not help it.”

Her eyes lifted, and met those of the king. “She will never forget the day she heard him say 'I do' to another woman.”