The story is about a cowardly king who must return home, save a princess, and evade an unwanted lover to break a curse. Assistance comes in the form of a magic dog.
Ronald sat meekly at the scrubbed wooden table, stirring congealing yolk around his plate. He stole a quick glance at Tabitha as she bustled around the kitchen and instantly regretted it as instead of her trim form his eyes met the malevolent stare of his furry, black nemesis. The cat had parked itself on the table where it could watch Ronald’s every move, so stealthily that Ronald had not registered its presence until it was too late. He dropped his eyes and went back to berating himself for the fear that kept him from standing up for himself. He was so weak-willed, he told himself, he couldn’t even push a cat off a table.
Ronald sat meekly at the scrubbed wooden table, stirring congealing yolk around his plate. He stole a quick glance at Tabitha as she bustled around the kitchen and instantly regretted it as instead of her trim form his eyes met the malevolent stare of his furry, black nemesis. The cat had parked itself on the table where it could watch Ronald’s every move, so stealthily that Ronald had not registered its presence until it was too late. He dropped his eyes and went back to berating himself for the fear that kept him from standing up for himself. He was so weak-willed, he told himself, he couldn’t even push a cat off a table.
It was only four months since his wife had
died. He had spent the first month hiding in his room, alternately weeping and
raging. On the first month anniversary of her death, he had crept into the
nursery to peek into the ornately carved cradle where his little daughter lay
asleep. This was the first time he had really seen her and he was surprised by
the strength of the love which he felt for her. He had been afraid that he
would blame her for the loss of her mother. Nothing could have been further
from the truth. In the soft curve of her little cheek, the delicate pink of her
tiny fingernails and the sweet promise of golden curls, she was her mother made
new. Ronald gasped as the full sense of his own inadequacy hit him. A vision of
the years ahead stretched out before him and he saw himself failing her, again
and again. He was hopeless as a king. He would be hopeless as a father. Without
his wife to lean on and advise him, he had no chance of meeting her needs – or those
of the kingdom.
Haunted by this fear, Ronald dressed in his
hunting clothes, left a brief and cryptic note for his chamberlain and fled the
palace. He would find a suitable mother for his daughter or he would not come
back at all, he vowed. As he rode away down the gleaming path that led into the
forest, memories of his own childhood arose. His mother had also passed away at
his birth, but his father had been a strong and decisive man, the kind of king
who was happiest standing alone. He had overseen every detail of Ronald’s
upbringing, changing nursemaids and tutors so often that Ronald could no longer
remember any particular name or face, just a ceaseless progression of hands,
dressing, undressing, feeding, teaching, caring for his needs without forming
any connection with him. The only constant in his life had been his father, a
cold demanding presence who constantly expressed impatience with his son’s
cowardice.
After two months of travelling, Ronald was
no closer to completing his quest, but he had surprised himself with his own
resourcefulness and ability to survive. To tell the truth, he enjoyed the
freedom of being on his own and almost forgot to be scared for days at a time.
Then he had stumbled on Tabitha’s cottage, neat and trim, a bank of cheerful daffodils
waving in the breeze. She had welcomed him in and his newfound independence had
rapidly dissolved under the onslaught of her affectionate concern. She was
everything he had been looking for, young and attractive yet motherly, an
accomplished housekeeper, decisive and confident. At first it had been a relief
to surrender to her care, to allow himself to be enfolded in her nurturing
embrace and to relax, knowing that she would take care of everything. It was
the cat which turned out to be the fly in the ointment.
That cat. So smug, self-satisfied and sure
of itself. It was insufferable. Ronald sat contemplating it as has sat in the
garden, having been shooed from the kitchen to sit in the sun while Tabitha
cleared the table. Suddenly, a lean gray dog leapt the fence and charged through
the flower beds. The startled cat bristled momentarily before scrambling into
the safety of the apple tree. The dog turned and grinned at Ronald and then
loped off down the road, stopping only to pee on the front gate. Ronald looked
at the cat, meowing piteously as it clung to a topmost branch of the apple
tree. He laughed aloud and ignoring Tabitha’s call, he strolled behind the
cottage and saddled his horse. With a jaunty wave, he urged his horse into a
canter and set out alone in the direction of his home and his child.
