The Three Princess SpinstersA story in serial format - Introduction One might assume that the silence of the royal family was from a grief so profound as to decry speech. Not so. This queen was a dabbler in the black arts. And, if she did not ever truly succeed in becoming powerful, she did manage to gain at least a certain measure of control over all the kingdom. Eventually, however, one of her spells of dubious intent backfired, and POOF!, the queen was no more. A profound relief settled over the royal family, indeed over the entire kingdom. Some suffered perhaps, from the guilt at the lack of grief, and did not speak. Others tried only to speak well of the dead, and therefore, had nothing to say. At least one kept silent lest the dead Queen's name invoke the return of her spirit. The others were too practical to believe in spirits, which usually guaranteed a few pranks a week from the disgruntled and ignored spirits who had their feelings hurt. Nonetheless, it is the three princesses that our story most concerns. The King was a thrifty man, and he found princesses to be very expensive. There seemed to be no way out. He had no intention of spending a fortune in clothes and jewelry on them just so he could dower them off. But if he didn't, he feared they would be around forever cluttering up the castle, draining the royal purse, filling the castle with their noise and their silly friends, doing everything completely the wrong way, and being, generally, first-class nuisances. Finally, the harried King formed a plan to stabilize his fortune and to enrich his kingdom. Ye verily, one fine day the King declared unto his daughters that the time had come that they should go forth and seek their own fortunes. So saying, he nudged them out onto the road, gleefully swung the castle doors shut behind them, and had the entire castle redone in white carpeting. Then, he lived happily ever after in his perfectly neat and tidy castle. Or at least, we so assume now. Perhaps at some time we will visit again the land of the Princesses and check. At this point, the three sisters were in some confusion as to what to do. None of them was precisely sure what story line this was following. It did sound a bit, though, like some tales they had once heard. However, there was something, although they could not put a finger on it, that did not seem to be going the right way. Resolving to pay closer attention to the tales should they ever hear them again, the sisters decided to split up. One extraneous princess was bad enough, but a collection was fatal. As the Princesses could not properly pin down the plot of their own drama, it was a bit difficult for the sisters to figure out how to accomplish the next act. Nonetheless, they were standing at a crossroads, and the path leading back to the castle led to a closed and barred gate, so the mathematics of the situation was not beyond them. Keridwen, the youngest sister, chose first. As she was the most adventuresome of the three, she chose the road that led into parts unknown. The fey maid hitched up her gown and strode bravely off, though a bit afraid that she just might be doing something quite stupid. After all, being adventuresome is little more than the art of going forth bravely, when completely terrified. Those who do not fear at all are merely foolhardy, and not brave. Keridwen was not properly either brave or foolhardy. If asked, she was well aware of the potential dangers of her situation. However, on sighting a new path that led off into any interesting area of the royal forest, she would be off in a twinkling. As she rounded the corner, Keridwen caught her gown on a snarled branch, and tore a gaping hole. Pulling back, she stepped upon her hem with her princess-like heeled shoe, and ripped that also. She was, however, unabashed and refused to consider this an evil omen. It was, after all, a fairly normal occurrence. Leaves were magnetized to her hair, and dirt to her nose and cheeks. Keridwen had given up wearing light colored or fragile clothing in early childhood, much to the great relief of the castle seamstresses and laundresses. Her clothes were always made in the simplist patterns the women could get away with, and the coarsest materials. Betris, the eldest sister, tended to be conservative. She worried little for the outcome as long as she was confident she was doing the 'right thing'. Others might call her prissy, or even pushy, but the truth was that she did do a lot of work. And Betris knew that if you always did things right, it would always turn out well. "Bad lives were just bad management," was her watchword. And it can be said of this princess that she managed very well. At least, until now. It was Betris who had concerned herself with keeping the castle workings going, making visiting diplomats welcome, overseeing state dinners, making sure the servants kept the place clean and generally, looking for loose ends to tie up. If you heard the words, 'The Princess', it was sure to be Betris to whom they were referring. As the eldest, and in the absence of a mother, she also made some attempt to keep her younger sisters in line, though she was much less successful at this than at her other efforts. As well, Betris had spent a great deal of time trying to get Keridwen to accept her responsibilities as a princess, but to no avail. Keridwen had never properly understood how anyone could care about anything beyond food and shelter. If there was time after tending to princess stuff, then there were still the stables, the kennels, and the herb gardens to think of. If she ever could escape the watchful eyes of the castle folk, then for her, there were all the lovely wild animals to play with and the trees of the forests with whom she could chat. Alas, for poor Betris, there was no denying that Keridwen was only a liability at a diplomatic dinner, when she could be cajoled into it. The youngest sister was even worse in honeying those faithful vassals whose loyalty supported the kingdom, once having almost caused a civil war with her blunt assessments. As much as Betris loved her sister, she privately wondered sometimes if one of Keridwen's sparrow friends had not mistaken her leaf-strewn hair for a bush, and nested BETWEEN her ears. As much as people groaned at the strictures, Betris really did manage the business of a kingdom quite well, and neither she, nor anyone else ever doubted the rightness of her being born a princess of the realm. People just never seemed to remember that Keridwen xx was a princess, a least by birth. Constantly, rumors seemed to crop up suggesting that she was a poor cousin, a foster daughter, or, perhaps, a changeling. Anyway, every one agreed that however it happened, Keridwen's presence in the royal family was a cosmic error of galactic proportions. Betris also tried to guide Cassandra, the middle sister, along the correct path. Something always seemed to go horribly, yet subtly, wrong with Cassandra about. Nothing you could ever pin down. Not like it was with Keridwen. With Keridwen you always knew exactly what happened. Betris would never forget once when the ill-fated words came out of Keridwen's mouth to Lord Smithson, exclaiming, "Funny, your son looks more like your cousin than he does like you," and dead silence followed. Yet with Cassandra, you never really understood what went wrong. Discord followed her like a vicious and trouble-making pet dog that never bit its mistress. Betris tried not to think too hard about Cassandra. Relieved suddenly of her responsibility for castle, politics, sisters and suitors, Betris made her first decision based solely on her own welfare. Though she didn't do it very well, still in her mind was the responsibilities due to one of royal birth and royal privelege. The closest she could come was to decide that a happy ending for herself was good for the morale of the country. Thus armored with a reason to go on, Betris took the road to the East. There was rumored to be a family of dragons laired somewhere in that direction. Nay, a GANG of the foul beasties, since a `family' sounds much too domestic for dragons. Besides the traditional association of princesses and dragons, this seemed a likely place to find a prince. As everyone knows, princes destroy evil and are rewarded with princesses. Betris had carefully learned all the traditional ballads and knew what she was doing. If she were able to find evil, she reasoned, then she could either wait on the spot, or follow it back to the prince that was sure to come by to defeat it. Feeling fairly certain that this was a good plan to follow, Betris trundled off down the road to seek her inevitably wonderful destiny. The last sister to choose her path was Cassandra. She waved tearfully off at her sisters. When they were finally out of sight, she scuttled down the road to town as fast as her legs could carry her. Cassandra cordially hated BOTH her sisters. Or rather, perhaps, she only greatly disliked Keridwen. It is difficult to hate someone you consider to be a pitiful lunatic. She did find it slightly amusing to manipulate Keridwen, but it was almost too easy to be enjoyable. After all, Cassandra's youngest sister, Keridwen, simply wasn't of much use unless you liked being dirty, cold or consorting with filthy flea-ridden animals or dirty peasants. About the only thing Keridwen seemed good for was an occasional alibi. Cassandra rationalized that it is often useful to have an agreeable and sympathetic sister who really isn't sure what day it is, or what day it was that you were with her. That doesn't mean that she respected or liked Keridwen at all. To Cassandra, her baby sister was just one more rock to be used as a stepping stone. It might be shaped a little weirdly, but she only congratulated herself that she had found some use for it, after all. On the other hand, Cassandra positively loathed her sister, Betris. Countless Betris dolls had been stuck by even more countless pins, and burned and dipped in foul brews. Betris was such a prissy little bitch, and always in everyone's business. If Betris was stupid enough to assume the chores that a good housekeeper could manage, then it certainly wasn't Cassandra's problem. She had other things to do that take up her valuable time with 'chores'. However, she deeply resented Betris' sanctimonious attitude and her pushy insistence in nosing around into Cassandra's life. Cassandra was certainly never idle, unlike Betris' pitiful assumptions. Indeed, that is exactly what Cassandra wished Betris to think. No, Cassandra was very busy taking care of those things that were the most important to her in all the world, which was whatever Cassandra wanted. And she, as well, was very very good at it. Both of her sisters were an embarrassment to Cassandra, and she wished a happy "good riddance" to their departing figures. She was greatly relieved never to have to see the bedraggled half-wit, or the officious busybody again. Or so she believed at the time. Cassandra was much more clever than her sisters, or at least craftier, for she had a stock of jewels that she had appropriated and hidden under her dress. (A woman who listens at keyholes is never caught unprepared ) She gleefully took the road off to town, full of ambitious plans. Her timing seemed good and she was more than ready to shift her operations away from the fussy eyes and conservative attitudes of the castle folk. It took very little imagination for Cassandra to see how to turn all this to her benefit. She had more than enough riches to purchase a small tower on the Eastside and a fabulous wardrobe of velvet and silks, and that was just for starters! And so our story begins... 
 
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