Of Ladies and Tigers

(Inspired by and heavily referencing Frank R. Stockton’s The Lady, or the Tiger? from 1882. Highly recommend reading his story.)

I sat in my moonlit cell filled with dread for the coming dawn. Soon after the morning rays breached the hills I would be taken to the arena and presented with two choices; behind one of the ever changing doors would be a ravenous tiger, the other concealed a fair maiden of the king’s choosing.

I had seen justice from the arena many times. One could not deny the fairness of the ordeal, for it was only by the criminal’s own hand that he faced death or life. There were many doors leading into the circular arena, and when the time came a torch would light over two of them. The accused would then make his fateful choice. Open the tiger’s door and death was certain; open the maiden’s door and be wed to her on the spot.

It was also not so simple as to walk up to one door and inspect it, then turn to the other if the first seemed deadly. The king had made certain that the arena’s doors could not be used to tell what lay beyond. One man, a respected scholar who had made the mistake of challenging the king’s legitimacy, had spent nigh on an hour before each door before he made his choice. A tiger had greeted him. Another, the town drunk who had made the inebriated mistake of pissing on the king’s carriage, had walked right up to his door and opened it. He too met the tiger, but his drinking buddy did the exact same the next month and now has four children.

There was no order needed to survive the arena. It was simply a matter of instinct for the accused. A most barbarian method, but one with some form of polish. One I had never wanted to be part of.

What crime had led me here? No worthy crime have I ever committed except for the crime of loving a woman. Though a common peasant I had caught the eye of the princess some months ago, and we had become fast friends. She proved both cunning and jealous, finding ways to slip out of her court to seek me and knowing the full of what I did when we were apart. We made love and spoke often of running away. She confided in me matters of state, and I saw several of my suggestions make their way into her father’s laws. She and her trusted handmaidens knew my family and a few close friends, though their true identities were concealed.

What a thrill it was to have the princess by my side! I dare say that it would have gone further still, even to some far land, if we had not been caught by some missed step or another. On our last secret rendezvous we were cornered like rats and taken by the king’s guards to face sentencing.

The king, from whom the princess had inherited her cunning, would not punish her directly. He loved her too much to send her to the arena, but that was where I came in. She was told to sit at his side as he passed sentence on her lover. I was swiftly sent to the cells and the arena was made ready.

The sky was beginning to turn, and I thought to the princess. She would surely find some way by which to determine what lay behind each door. She would stop at nothing less than that answer. Then, in the midst of the crowd, when all eyes were on me, she would signal to the door I should take. I was certain of this mercy.

And yet, her jealousy remained, and so the choice of instinct was voided to me.

Had I not discovered her jealousy, I would have faced the day without such anxiety, but knowing it I could not help but dwell upon it. Could she abide me being wed to another, one who must surely be of lower station than she? I had even heard a rumor passing through the cells that the maiden chosen was from among the few who knew of our secret. It brought less comfort, for the princess would then lose me to a trusted friend no less, perhaps even the one whom had given away our rendezvous.

Rumors all, and yet all I had to hold to were rumors and speculation. If today were not the day, I might well worry myself to death trying to understand the mind of the princess.

Cunning would unveil the doors, but would love or jealous win?

The guards came to the door almost the moment the sun’s rays hit me. One last touch of warmth before I reached judgement. They led me through the darkened tunnel that connected the cells to the arena. I saw the bright opening long before we reached it, and when I stepped through it was to the cheer of thousands.

Of course so many would come to see my decision. My crime involved no less than the princess. No greater intrigue had ever graced the arena before, and they all wanted to see what judgment decided.

The king gave a command, and two torches were lit on the far side. The doors were right beside each other this time. The special doors that emitted no sound or odor, the doors that gave no hint as to what lay behind.

Despite myself I waved to the crowd. It was a superstition that those who played to the crowd might win the favor of fate in the final hour, that those who showed a disdain for death would not face the tiger. A superstition that I had seen fail, though admittedly those seemed few and far between whenever the memories were brought up. The crowd cheered me on, and admittedly I gained confidence from their voices.

After appeasing fate, I turned to the king, seated in his royal box that moved between each visit to the arena. As I knew she would, the princess was seated beside him with her handmaidens, except one was missing. The princess was paler than normal. Was it because she worried about my fate? Did it mean she was submitting me to the tiger? Or was she pale because she would surrender me to another and jealousy was fighting for control?

I gave a bow, then lifted my eyes to her. Her hand made a gesture to the right, subtle such that it would have seemed like nothing to anyone else. There was no hesitation in her command. 

My mind was made in that instant, foolishly or not. I turned and walked confidently to the door on the right. I reached the door and threw it open with a simple question in mind:

Did the princess betray me?