The Princess-Errant

By her window, Adrianne wove the last wefts of her tapestry. A tear escaped her eye while she tapped the final passage of weft into position. She wiped her face and stood up, cutting down the artwork that had taken a year to create. The pink, read, and green rose pattern draped over her arm as she ran her fingers along the pattern. She then tossed the object on a pile of fifteen others like it and began to weep. Collapsing in the chair by her window, Adrianne could hear the birds that daily kept her company and serenaded her with songs and coos. Now she hated the creatures for they had the freedom to fly far away, while she was trapped here waiting. 

Unable to contain herself no more, Adrianne screamed, scaring the creatures away. She then got up and ran over to the pile that contained her life’s work and attempted to bundle them up in her arms. The weight of the combined tapestries proved to be too heavy, and the woman crumpled to her knees and sat on the floor. 

“My lady,” called a voice from behind the closed door. “Is everything all right?”

“No, no, no, nothing is right,” Adrianne said bitterly. 

Even though the tapestries were too heavy to carry all at once, Adrianne resorted to tossing each out of the window, creating a kerfuffle below. 

“The princess has gone mad,” said one servant only to be drowned out with hushes. 

Adrianne did not care what they said and continued her task until every last tapestry had been tossed from her room. 

“Adrianne!” cried her nurse, Marguerite as she entered the room. “What kind of way to act is this?"

“What does it matter?” Adrianne said through her tears. Her face was now red and wet all over. 

The nurse tried to embrace the woman, but the younger woman pushed the older one away. 

“Marguerite,” Adrianne began, “do you know what day it is?”

“Of course! It is your birthday. We are preparing a lovely feast.”

“Hang your feast! Do you recall that on this day fifteen years ago - FIFTEEN - I was promised that my prince would come? But where is he? Where is he?”

“Now, now,” Marguerite said, attempting once more to soothe the hurt woman, but Adrianne pushed past her. “Where are you going? Adrianne! Stop, Adrianne!”

The nurse followed after her charge, but she did not have the capabilities to keep up with the younger woman. Her legs were short and her feet old and tired. She had to tread carefully as she descended the staircase, finally reaching downstairs when her eyes widened with disbelief. She hurried outside to find Adrianne’s tapestries ablaze in a conflagration. The nurse wept. 

“Somebody! Please! Somebody please put the fire out,” cried the nurse. “Oh Adrianne! How could you? You weave so beautifully! How could you? Adrianne?”

The nurse looked around, but Adrianne was no where to be found. 

***

In a dark room that contained his father’s things, Charles picked up his father’s sheathed sword. He ran his fingers over the decorative hilt and then quietly attempted to un-sheath the heavy object. With a clumsy grip, he revealed the lustrous blade, but also managed to nick himself in the process. 

“Ouch,” he cried out as the sword fell to the floor. 

“Charles!” cried his mother. She swung open the door and came running to his aid. “Why must you go in here and trouble these things. They are dangerous you know. Come,” she said, leading her son to the window. “Hold out your hand.”

Charles obeyed, wincing at the dull pain of the cut. His mother shook her head. She led him to her chamber and sat him down before a box of tinctures and herbs. With her delicate fingers, she applied a salve and wrapped the wound with strips of cloth. 

“There. All should be well.”

“Thank you, mom,” Charles said, embracing her. He kissed her on the cheek, his mustache tickling her skin. 

“Please be careful,” she added. “You are all that I have.”

The man nodded and backed away. “Let me go and pick you some flowers, as symbol of my gratitude,” he said.

His mother smiled. “That would be lovely, but please, Charles, don’t go too far.”

Charles bowed and left his mother’s chamber, departing down the dark stone stairs, and out into the fresh air. He squinted at first, gathering his bearings in the bright daylight and let the warm breeze brush over his body. He kept his promise, keeping close to the manor. He picked an assortment of white and yellow flowers, but when he heard sobbing, he straightened up. 

“Mom?” he called. “Is that you?”

He listened again. The crying was not coming from inside, but to his left from the woods. He took a few steps in the direction of the woods and stopped. He could feel his heart beating faster. 

“Hello? Who’s there?”

The crying stopped. 

“Is anything the matter?” Charles called again. 

“Yes,” called the voice from the woods. “My name is Adrianne. I am hurt. I managed to trip over a stone.”

“Can you walk over to me?”

“No,” she cried. “I’m hurt. Can you help me?”

“Only if you come to me.”

“But I can’t.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

Adrianne did not respond, and Charles turned to go, assuming that the stranger hand made her decision. 

“Wait! Why can’t you come and help me?”

“I promised my mother that I will not go far from her. She needs me.”

“But I need you too.”

Charles remained where he was but could hear the sounds of groaning from the woods. After some time and with great effort, Adrianne revealed herself. She had managed to reveal one arm and her head from the edge of the forest. 

“Can you help me now?” she asked. 

Charles looked at her. She reminded him of his mother. Blue eyes. Blonde hair braided. He shook his head. 

“No I need you to come closer to me.”

The princess frowned, but continued to crawl on her belly until she was right at the feet of the man. 

“Now I can help you.”

Adrianne looked at him, unsure. When he smiled at her, she returned a half-smile. Her smile soon vanished when he tugged her to her feet. 

“Ouch!” she said, collapsing onto Charles. They both tumbled to the ground. 

“Charles! Charles!” they heard a woman call. 

“Mom,” Charles replied getting back up on his feet. "I'm fine."

“Who is this?” she asked.

“My name is Princess Adrianne. I am hurt. I have asked your son for assistance. Something is wrong with my leg. I tripped and fell in the woods,” she said, demonstrating to her leg. 

The older woman drew closer and examined the princess and then looked at her son. She noticed how Charles looked only at the princess. This fact filled the older woman with rage. 

“No, we cannot help you,” she said. “Come along, Charles. Let’s go back inside.”

Adrianne cried out in protest, but nothing seemed to dissuade the odd pair she had just met. She sighed. She continued to lie on the ground. She was hungry and thirsty and it did not seem like anyone would be coming to her rescue. She began to wonder why she had ever left home in the first place and began to cry. She then maneuvered her body and retraced her path back into the woods. 

It was a long crawl. Her hands were cut, her arms sore, and her dress torn, but she managed to reach home well into the night, eventually coming across a member of the search party looking for her. Adrianne collapsed completely to the ground and said, “here I am.”

The man with a torch called out, “I found her! I found her!”

Others gathered around and helped her to her feet, and Adrianne cried out loudly as she had done before in front of the strange man she had met earlier that day. At least this time the servants caught her and carried her back to the house. 

In the middle of the night, Adrianne woke to find herself in bed with a brace on her leg. She looked out at the moon that shined brightly into her room and then at her weaving station. At that moment she found the inspiration for a new project and vowed never to leave her home again.