Carol Hughes - The Princess and the Unicorn

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1:

CHAPTER 2:

CHAPTER 3:

CHAPTER 4:

CHAPTER 5:

CHAPTER 6:

CHAPTER 7:

CHAPTER 8:

CHAPTER 9:

CHAPTER 10:

CHAPTER 11:

CHAPTER 12:

CHAPTER 13:

CHAPTER 14:

CHAPTER 15:

CHAPTER 16:

CHAPTER 17:

CHAPTER 18:

CHAPTER 19:

CHAPTER 20:

CHAPTER 21:

CHAPTER 22:

CHAPTER 23:

CHAPTER 24:

CHAPTER 25:

CHAPTER 26:

S winley Castle, that world-famous ancient monument and official Royal residence, stands atop a high hill some thirty miles west of London. It is one of the most splendid castles in the world, and on a clear day the magnificent honey-colored turrets and towers can be seen from miles away

Like many Royal buildings nowadays, Swinley Castle is open to tourists for a small entrance fee. A visitor may view the great staterooms, the chapel, and the Royal kitchens. They may even see a Royal bedchamber or two, but no more. The remainder of the castle is strictly out of bounds. This is because it is still used frequently by the Royal Family. The king, the queen, and their only child, H.R.H. the Princess Eleanor, often occupy a wing of private rooms.

When the Royal Family is in residence, the union flag flies from the castle's flagpole. But don't think that if you are visiting the castle and the flag is flying, you will catch sight of any of Their Highnesses. They tend to keep to their own quarters when the castle is open to the public, and who could blame them? They may be Royal, but they are still people.

Like the castle itself, the extensive grounds of Swinley are beautiful. Within the castle wall there are the Royal gardenskitchen, herb, and formaland a few velvety green lawns where the princess occasionally plays croquet with her governess. Beyond the castle wall a large meadow rolls away to the south. It dips down into a valley and then rises in a long sweep to the edge of the Great Forest of Swinley, one of the last truly ancient forests in Europe.

Swinley Forest is fiercely protected. No human, neither gardener nor tree surgeon nor member of the Royal Family, has set foot in those woods for a century. The forest is an ecological miracle and a national treasure. It is also a little bit spooky.

One summer morning when Their Majesties were still slumbering in their Royal beds, much was happening in a part of their kingdom that none of them knew existed.

The ancient fairy town of Swinley Hope is situated in the exact center of the ancient forest of Swinley, and it is here, in this long-forgotten outpost of the fairy world, that our story begins.

It was market day in Swinley Hope, and although the sun was only just up, carts laden with all sorts of summer goodies were rolling into the market square. Merchants and farmers were setting up their stalls. Wild strawberries as big as a fairy's head, bushels of tiny truffles, and mounds of early cranberries were being carefully arranged on the wooden tables.

It promised to be a pleasant day. Nearly all the fairies, elves, and pixies who lived in the vast expanse of Swinley Forest came to town on market day. They came to sell, to buy, to gossip, or to just enjoy themselves.

High above the square a young fairy by the name of Joyce lay on her belly along a twig at the top of her home tree. Although she'd been up for hours, she was still in her pajamas and her hair was mussed from sleep.

Ah, summer, she said, sitting up and stretching out her wings behind her. Summer is absolutely my favorite season. And she really meant it. Then she remembered that every season was her favorite season, and she laughed, causing the twig to bounce beneath her weight.

Joyce and her family lived, like the other fairies in Swinley Hope, in a house that was built into the trunk of one of the trees. Joyce's house was the last house at the top of a horse chestnut tree that stood along the southern edge of the square.

Being so high up on the tree meant that theirs was not a large house. In fact, Joyce could stand in the kitchen/living/dining room and, by stretching out her arms, easily touch both walls at once. When she and her two sisters and her parents were all in that room together there was barely space to stand, and if her sisters decided to preen their wings at the same time, there was no room whatsoever. Joyce loved their small house, though. Living in the last house on the trunk meant she could climb out and sit in the branches and no one would wander past her on their way home. It was, in her opinion, a delightful place to live.

Joyce hugged her knees to her chest and smiled. In a couple of weeks the school term would be over and she'd be able to spend her days paddling in the brook, or collecting elderflower petals, or even, perhaps, trekking in the forest, where she could spend a quiet hour or two staring into the trees beyond. Who knew, perhaps she'd catch a glimpse of the unicorn. Just the thought of it made Joyce tingle with excitement.

She sighed happily and tilted her face upward. As always in the summer months, the sky was barely visible through the thick canopy of bright leaves. Only small, irregular pieces of it could be seen between the jagged green edges. The sky looked so small from where she sat, but she knew that up there beyond the leaves, the sky was vast and limitless. How high, she wondered, could a fairy fly, if she flew straight up as fast as she could?

But even the fairies who were still young enough to fly were never allowed to fly above the treetops. It was too dangerous. Joyce clearly remembered the day her kindergarten teacher had warned her about it. Most of her classmates had just nodded and accepted what the teacher said without question, but not Joyce. Joyce had always been full of questions.

Why not, Miss Bracket? she'd piped up. Why can't we fly up there?

Miss Bracket had smiled at her indulgently.

Because, Joyce, it's very dangerous. The hot sun would frazzle a fairy to nothing in less than a second.

Joyce's hand had instantly shot up again. What if it's a rainy day? she'd asked. Could you fly up there then?

Miss Bracket's smile had faded. No, Joyce. Don't you remember? Wet wings do not work.

What if it's a cloudy day? Joyce had persisted.

No, Joyce, Miss Bracket had replied with a weary sigh. On cloudy days the wind would snatch you up and blow you into the vast empty sky. Then you'd be lost forever, and how do you think your parents would feel about that?

Joyce had still had questions. What if there was no wind that day? she'd wanted to ask, but the exasperated look on Miss Bracket's face had warned her to keep quiet.