Once on a Time

  CHAPTER X

  CHARLOTTE PATACAKE ASTONISHES THE CRITICS

  The Lady Belvane sits in her garden. She is very happy. An enormousquill-pen, taken from a former favourite goose and coloured red, is inher right hand. The hair of her dark head, held on one side, touchesthe paper whereon she writes, and her little tongue peeps out betweenher red lips. Her left hand taps the table--one-two, one-two,one-two, one-two, one-two. She is composing.

  Wonderful woman!

  You remember that scene with the Princess Hyacinth? "I feel we want alittle outside help in our affairs." A fortnight of suspense beforePrince Udo arrived. What had the ring done to him? At the best, evenif there would be no Udo at all to interfere, nevertheless she knewthat she had lost her footing at the Palace. She and the Princesswould now be open enemies. At the worst--those magic rings were sountrustworthy!--a Prince, still powerful, and now seriously annoyed,might be leagued against her.

  Yet she composed.

  And what is she writing? She is entering for the competition inconnection with the Encouragement of Literature Scheme: the lastscheme which the Princess had signed.

  I like to think of her peacefully writing at a time when her wholefuture hung in the balance. Roger sneers at her. "Even now," hesays, "she was hoping to wring a last bag-full of gold from herwretched country." I deny emphatically that she was doing anything ofthe sort. She was entering for a duly authorised competition underthe pen-name of Charlotte Patacake. The fact that the CountessBelvane, according to the provisions of the scheme, was sole judge ofthe competition, is beside the point. Belvane's opinion of CharlottePatacake's poetry was utterly sincere, and uninfluenced in any way bymonetary considerations. If Patacake were rewarded the first prize itwould be because Belvane honestly thought she was worth it.

  One other fact by way of defence against Roger's slanders. As judge,Belvane had chosen the subject of the prize poems. Now Belvane andPatacake both excelled in the lighter forms of lyrical verse; yet thesubject of the poem was to be epic. "The Barodo-Euralian War"--noless. How many modern writers would be as fair?

  "THE BARODO-EURALIAN WAR."

  This line is written in gold, and by itself would obtain a prize inany local competition.

  _King Merriwig the First rode out to war_ _As many other kings had done before!_ _Five hundred men behind him marched to fight--_

  There follows a good deal of scratching out, and then comes (a suddeninspiration) this sublimely simple line:

  _Left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right._

  One can almost hear the men moving.

  _What gladsome cheers assailed the balmy air--_ _They came from north, from south, from everywhere!_ _No wight that stood upon that sacred scene_ _Could gaze upon the sight unmoved, I ween:_ _No wight that stood upon that sacred spot_ _Could gaze upon the sight unmoved, I wot:_

  It is not quite clear whether the last couplet is an alternative tothe couplet before or is purposely added in order to strengthen it.Looking over her left shoulder it seems to me that there is a linedrawn through the first one, but I cannot see very clearly because ofher hair, which will keep straying over the page.

  _Why do they march so fearless and so bold?_ _The answer is not very quickly told._ _To put it shortly, the Barodian king_ _Insulted Merriwig like anything--_ _King Merriwig, the dignified and wise,_ _Who saw him flying over with surprise,_ _As did his daughter, Princess Hyacinth._

  This was as far as she had got.

  She left the table and began to walk round her garden. There isnothing like it for assisting thought. However, to-day it was nothelping much; she went three times round and still couldn't think of arhyme for Hyacinth. "Plinth" was a little difficult to work in;"besides," she reminded herself, "I don't quite know what it means."Belvane felt as I do about poetry: that however incomprehensible itmay be to the public, the author should be quite at ease with it.

  She added up the lines she had written already--seventeen. If shestopped there, it would be the only epic that had stopped at theseventeenth line.

  She sighed, stretched her arms, and looked up at the sky. The weatherwas all against her. It was the ideal largesse morning. . . .

  Twenty minutes later she was on her cream-white palfrey. Twenty-oneminutes later Henrietta Crossbuns had received a bag of gold neatlyunder the eye, as she bobbed to her Ladyship. To this extent only didH. Crossbuns leave her mark upon Euralian history; but it was a markwhich lasted for a full month.

  Hyacinth knew nothing of all this. She did not even know that Belvanewas entering for the prize poem. She had forgotten her promise toencourage literature in the realm.

  And why? Ah, ladies, can you not guess why? She was thinking ofPrince Udo of Araby. What did he look like? Was he dark or fair?Did his hair curl naturally or not?

  Was he wondering at all what _she_ looked like?

  Wiggs had already decided that he was to fall in love with her RoyalHighness and marry her.

  "I think," said Wiggs, "that he'll be very tall, and have lovely blueeyes and golden hair."

  This is what they were like in all the books she had ever dusted; likethis were the seven Princes (now pursuing perilous adventures indistant countries) to whom the King had promised Hyacinth'shand--Prince Hanspatch of Tregong, Prince Ulric, the Duke ofHighanlow, and all the rest of them. Poor Prince Ulric! In themoment of victory he was accidentally fallen upon by the giant whom hewas engaged in undermining, and lost all appetite for adventurethereby. Indeed, in his latter years he was alarmed by anythinglarger than a goldfish, and lived a life of strictest seclusion.

  _Twenty-one minutes later Henrietta Crossbuns wasacknowledging a bag of gold_]

  "_I_ think he'll be dark," said Hyacinth. Her own hair wascorn-coloured.

  Poor Prince Hanspatch of Tregong; I've just remembered about him--no,I haven't, it was the Duke of Highanlow. Poor Duke of Highanlow! Amisunderstanding with a wizard having caused his head to face thewrong way round, he was so often said good-bye to at the very momentof arrival, that he gradually lost his enthusiasm for socialenterprises and confined himself to his own palace, where hisacrobatic dexterity in supplying himself with soup was a constantsource of admiration to his servants. . . .

  However, it was Prince Udo of whom they were thinking now. TheMessenger had returned from Araby; his Royal Highness must be expectedon the morrow.

  "I do hope he'll be comfortable in the Purple Room," said Hyacinth."I wonder if it wouldn't have been better to have left him in the BlueRoom, after all."

  They had had him in the Blue Room two days ago, until Hyacinth thoughtthat perhaps he would be more comfortable in the Purple Room, afterall.

  "The Purple Room has the best view," said Wiggs helpfully.

  "And it gets the sun. Wiggs, don't forget to put some flowers there.And have you given him any books?"

  "I gave him two," said Wiggs. "_Quests for Princes_, and _WildAnimals at Home_."

  "Oh, I'm sure he'll like those. Now let's think what we shall do whenhe comes. He'll arrive some time in the afternoon. Naturally he willwant a little refreshment."

  "Would he like a picnic in the forest?" asked Wiggs.

  "I don't think any one wants a picnic after a long journey."

  "I _love_ picnics."

  "Yes, dear; but, you see, Prince Udo's much older than you, and Iexpect he's had so many picnics that he's tired of them. I supposereally I ought to receive him in the Throne Room, but that'sso--so----"

  "Stuffy," said Wiggs.

  "That's just it. We should feel uncomfortable with each other thewhole time. I think I shall receive him up here; I never feel sonervous in the open air."

  "Will the Countess be here?" asked Wiggs.

  "No," said the Princess coldly. "At least," she corrected herself,"she will not be invited. Good afternoon, Countess." It was likeher, thought Hyacinth, to arrive at that very moment.

  Belvane curtsied
low.

  "Good afternoon, your Royal Highness. I am here purely on a matter ofbusiness. I thought it my duty to inform your Royal Highness of theresult of the Literature prize." She spoke meekly, and as one whoforgave Hyacinth for her unkindness towards her.

  "Certainly, Countess. I shall be glad to hear."

  The Countess unrolled a parchment.

  "The prize has been won," she said, "by----" she held the parchment alittle closer to her eyes, "by Charlotte Patacake."

  "Oh, yes. Who is she?"

  "A most deserving woman, your Royal Highness. If she is the woman I'mthinking of, a most deserving person, to whom the money will be morethan welcome. Her poem shows a sense of values combinedwith--er--breadth, and--er--distance, such as I have seldom seenequalled. The--er--technique is only excelled by the--shall Isay?--tempermentality, the boldness of the colouring, by the--howshall I put it?--the firmness of the outline. In short----"

  "In short," said the Princess, "you like it."

  "Your Royal Highness, it is unique. But naturally you will wish tohear it for yourself. It is only some twelve hundred lines long. Iwill declaim it to your Royal Highness."

  She held the manuscript out at the full length of her left arm, struckan attitude with the right arm, and began in her most thrilling voice:

  "_King Merriwig the First rode out to war,_ _As many other kings----_"

  "Yes, Countess, but another time. I am busy this afternoon. As youknow, I think, the Prince Udo of Araby arrives to-morrow, and----"

  Belvane's lips were still moving, and her right arm swayed up anddown. "_What gladsome cheers assailed the balmy air!_" she murmuredto herself, and her hand when up to heaven. "_They come from north,from south_" (she pointed in the directions mentioned), "_fromeverywhere. No wight that stood----_"

  "He will be received privately up here by myself in the first place,and afterwards----"

  "_Could gaze upon the sight unmoved, I wot_," whispered Belvane, andplaced her hand upon her breast to show that anyhow it had been toomuch for _her_. "_Why do they march so----_ I beg your RoyalHighness's pardon. I was so carried away by this wonderful poem. Ido beg of your Royal Highness to read it."

  The Princess waved the manuscript aside.

  "I am not unmindful of the claims of literature, Countess, and I shallcertainly read the poem another time. Meanwhile I can, I hope, trustyou to see that the prize is awarded to the rightful winner. What Iam telling you now is that the Prince Udo is arriving to-morrow."

  Belvane looked innocently puzzled.

  "Prince Udo--Udo--would that be Prince Udo of Carroway, your RoyalHighness? A tall man with three legs?"

  "Prince Udo of Araby," said Hyacinth severely. "I think I havealready mentioned him to your ladyship. He will make a stay of somemonths."

  "But how _delightful_, your Royal Highness, to see a man again! Wewere all getting so dull together! We want a man to wake us up alittle, don't we, Wiggs? I will go and give orders about his room atonce, your Royal Highness. You will wish him to be in the PurpleRoom, of course?"

  That settled it.

  "He will be in the Blue Room," said Hyacinth decidedly.

  "Certainly, your Royal Highness. Fancy, Wiggs, a man again! I willgo and see about it now, if I may have your Royal Highness's leave towithdraw?"

  A little mystified by Belvane's manner, Hyacinth inclined her head,and the Countess withdrew.