Around the forgotten parts of the city, the dark corners, the alleyways, hidden from the searching torchlight of police and charity workers, are the lost boys, the abandoned ones. May I gather with them in their loneliness, and tell them a fairy tale to warm their nights, a story of a Prince who – like them – never wanted to marry.


PART ONE


Once upon a time, in a distant land, a baby boy was born to a young king and queen. Their firstborn son, and heir to the kingdom, King Georg and Queen Isabella named him Stefan, after the King’s own father. Proud of their boy and hopeful for the future, they sought a prophecy from a woman wise in magic. The prophecy she gave was most pleasing:

Prince Stefan will be a son to make you proud. He will be honourable, handsome and brave. He will save helpless maidens from fiery dragons, and marry a beautiful princess, inherit the kingdom, and his own sons will happily marry.

As Stefan grew he showed every promise of fulfilling the prophecy. Skilled in horsemanship and swordsmanship, the Prince was fêted as a champion amongst his companions. The King and Queen were proud; he would make a fine king.

When the Prince reached his eighteenth birthday and entry to adulthood, a Royal Ball was held at the palace to mark the occasion. Stefan sat at the head table, dressed in fine brocade, flanked by his courtiers. His childhood friends, now his Royal Companions, danced with the young maidens of the court, daughters of the local lords. Stefan watched as many a fair maiden blushed in the arms of his friends.

Beside him his Chancellor was watching too. He leant over to the Prince and reminded him, “You are a prince. You cannot get as close to the maidens as your friends. You must keep a distance until the King finds a princess suitable for you to marry.” So when it was time for him to dance the Prince held the maidens at a respectable distance. On his return to his seat his Chancellor nodded in approval. However, Stefan had found it easy to obey his Chancellor’s words, for he had felt no desire to hold any of the girls close.

With adulthood the Prince took on more of the Kingdom’s duties. Now Crown Prince, he represented the kingdom far and wide. He had grown tall, dark-haired and handsome, with the same charm as his father. Many lords sought him for his wise counsel and his brave sword, and for marriage to their daughters. He politely spent time with each of the noblewomen, discussing their lands, and their families. Some of the ladies did blush, and felt warm and soft in the Prince’s arms when they danced at the palace balls. Some were very pretty. Some tried to lean in close to the Prince and smile teasingly at him. But not one of them enticed him to marry.

After each ball Stefan would spend the next day in the training yard, practicing with sword and shield. He worked his Companions hard in the drills, winning many bouts. His opponent would be left breathless under him; the Prince’s practice sword pressed hard against him threatening to pierce him, as they called an end to the round.

His Chancellor tried to counsel him. “My Prince, my Prince,” he said, shaking his wizened old head benignly, “when you find a lady who you think could be your friend, then you will find her attractive. All the rest will then fall into place.”

Meanwhile the Prince’s younger brother, Rupert, was to celebrate his marriage. His bride was the daughter of an important nobleman within the kingdom, and a girl Rupert had known since he was a boy. During the wedding feast the two whispered to each other happily, obviously looking forward to being taken to their bridal bed. At one point Stefan caught the eye of Rupert. Rupert smiled happily, raised his glass to Stefan and winked. Stefan tried to answer the gesture with a knowing look. But he felt distant from the whole proceeding.

That night, after the palace had finally quietened, and probably even Rupert and his bride were asleep, Stefan lay awake in his bedchamber thinking of them. He did not envy his brother; he could not imagine how he could perform with a woman in the way his brother was eager to.


One day there came from a distant land yet another noblewoman to petition for marriage to the Prince. Lady Greta was tall, slender but strong-boned. King Georg believed she could produce healthy sons, but he was not hopeful for a match. The Lady was very stately looking, but not beautiful. His son had not taken a liking to any of the gentle and pretty princesses who came before, how would he take to this strong-faced Lady?

But as Stefan danced with the Lady Greta, he liked the feel of her taut body beneath his hands, in contrast to the childlike softness of the other women. When they sat together they discussed hunting techniques, Stefan surprised at the noblewoman’s knowledge. As they talked he watched her move; her body had few curves, but he felt stirred by the sight of her. Stefan took her hand, which was not small and soft but long and slender. He smiled at the hand, and squeezed it tight; he could imagine it fitting easily around the handle of a sword. The words his Chancellor had spoken came to him. He enjoyed the Lady’s company; she could be his friend. He decided. He would be pleased to take the Lady Greta for his bride.

The King and Queen were surprised by the match, but eager to approve. The betrothal would be announced.

Lady Greta was equally captivated by Stefan, and keen to spend time with him. They talked for hours, and the Prince ventured to get as close to the Lady as his guards allowed. One evening she whispered to the Prince to stay up in his bedchamber and try not to sleep, then she slipped away before the Prince could question her.

Deep into the evening when the castle was asleep, Lady Greta sneaked up to the soldier who guarded the Prince’s bedchamber. She handed him some gold and winked. Greta’s maid had spent the previous afternoon with him, so he knew her Lady’s plan. The guard gave a lascivious smile and stepped aside.

Stefan lay on the bed droopily taking alternate turns in a board game, when Lady Greta stepped into the Prince’s chamber, alone. He jumped off the bed. “You should not be here!” he said. “If you are found here the marriage could not go ahead.”

“But what is the difference? Once we are married we will be alone in this chamber.”

“But you must come to me as a virgin, after the marriage – not before.” Stefan could not resist putting his hands on Greta’s arms. “You must go.” And he began to push the girl toward the door.

“But I have managed to get in here secretly.”

“You must go.”

“No, I have to tell you something first.”

“What must you tell me that has to be told in secret?”

Greta stepped away from Stefan. She took off her cape and slowly began to undress.

“No, no.” The Prince was frantic. “Do not do it. Wait, wait! It will not be long until our wedding day.”

“But after you see this you may not want to have a wedding.”

“How could that be?”

Greta continued to undress. Slowly, as she removed some of her clothing, Stefan saw. The Lady was not a woman. Her strong-featured face had turned into the sculpted cheekbones and jaw of a young man. Her slender breast was the toned chest of a trained knight.

Stefan stared in amazement. He did not understand why this man had masqueraded as a woman, just to get into his chamber alone. Had he come to kill the Prince? Or did he simply want his friendship, or patronage?

“Why did you do this?” Stefan edged toward the door, about to call the guard who should have been there to stop the intruder in the first place. “You could have simply enrolled as one of my Companions and we would have worked together with the horse and the sword.”

“Your Highness, ‘tis not your metal sword that I want,” the young man said.

The Prince stopped. “I do not understand.”

But he did understand that he enjoyed this man’s company, that his presence had excited him as no woman’s had, and seeing him now half-naked and for what he truly was aroused him even more.

“Your Royal Highness, I am not ‘Lady Greta’, as you can see. I am Lord Nickolaus, second son of the Duke of the Marshland. I was here some time ago accompanying Marquis Friedricke, my elder brother, on a visit to the King. I saw noblewomen and princesses who came to visit you for a royal ball. My brother thought many of them very beautiful, but I saw that you did not. Not one of them seemed to arouse you. I wondered if any woman could, my Prince. For I know, with myself, no woman has ever aroused me.” The young man raised his eyes and looked at Stefan. “But you have, my Prince.” He looked down again quickly, twisting his hands nervously. “I hoped that, if we could just meet and I could ... make you understand, then maybe ... I could excite you too.”

Nickolaus paused, but the Prince did not respond, so he continued. “But how could we meet, in this way, alone, in your bedchamber, unless I came as a noblewoman petitioning for your hand in marriage?”

Stefan stared at the young man for some time. His hair was unfastened from its pins, and hung unruly around his face. It was a golden yellow with a touch of orange, and caught the light of the small lamp that lit the room. He had removed his outer petticoat and stood simply in the undergarments of his costume. His chest was laid bare. There was no doubting now that he was a man.

The hour was late, and no one in the palace was awake. Stefan knew no one would find out if he made sure that Nickolaus left his room before dawn. He looked at the half-naked young man again, and blushed. He went to him and draped his cloak around him to hide his nakedness. Nickolaus bowed his head, thinking the Prince would send him on his way. But instead Stefan eased him over to his bed and laid him down upon it. Stefan undressed himself and lay next to him. They spent the night together as a man and woman would, and just before dawn Nickolaus dressed again in his costume and left the Prince’s chamber.

The Prince lay in his bed not knowing what to do. He loved Nickolaus, that he understood; loved him as his brother loved his wife. But to make the man his wife? To condemn him to a life of subterfuge? And how long could that last? How could it be kept from the ladies-in-waiting? And the young man could never produce a child, which is the main reason for a crown prince to marry.


Stefan sent Nickolaus back to his homeland. He could not accept his proposal. As Nickolaus, dressed again as a woman, rode away in his carriage, Stefan turned away and did not look back.

“Why did you send the Lady Greta away?” his mother asked sadly, “I thought you loved her.”

“Why did you send her away?” his father asked. “She is the only woman you have ever taken any interest in.” But Stefan said nothing – he just kept to his chamber, day after day. The king had to tell his chancellors that the noblewoman had taken ill and could not promise that she was capable of providing the Prince with sons.

After a time Stefan emerged from his self-imposed isolation and told his father he would now approach his marriage seriously. “I assure Your Majesty I will no longer be so particular. Bring the ladies to me, and I will find one to my satisfaction and to your satisfaction, I promise.” Once again the women were paraded before the Prince. He quizzed his father over which noblewoman of which state would make the best alliance for the kingdom. He himself no longer cared.

But the Prince’s laughter had gone. Georg worried, as each day his son’s countenance grew gloomier, and Isabella was concerned for her son’s future happiness.


Meanwhile the young man who had been sent away was also gloomy. But he would not sit and wait for Fate to make her decision on his life. He went to ask help from the enchantress Timandra, a woman wise in the mysterious ways of magic.

The enchantress, an ancient woman of three hundred and twenty years, looked young and beautiful. She welcomed the young man, “I have been waiting for you, Lord Nickolaus.”

Nickolaus was surprised. “You know me, Mistress?”

“Of course,” she said, and smiled. She gave Nickolaus wine and rich cakes, and sat close by him. Her face had a timeless beauty, olive skinned and violet eyed. Her body was soft and shapely. The fire burned bright well into the night. Often she would let her leg brush by Nickolaus’ and placed her hands upon his arm as she refilled his wineglass.

After watching him closely until the darkness had passed and the cock began to crow, the enchantress could see her feminine charms would not win him. She smiled, accepting the knowledge she had garnered. The young man was honest, steadfast and determined. He had told her all about the bravery and sincerity of the Crown Prince Stefan, and of their secret love.

With the first rays of the morning and the fire burning low, she spoke to Nickolaus of his cousin, the Princess Caroline. Nickolaus sat up and listened. How did this enchantress know of her? She had been missing for five years, lost on her thirteenth birthday, the very same day Nickolaus had turned thirteen. No one in their family had been able to find her. Had his cousin been bewitched?

The enchantress told of an evil warlock who had stolen the Princess on the day following her first bleeding. He had placed her in a tower, which could be entered by no man. Only the wicked warlock could enter the tower. The enchantress nodded solemnly to Nickolaus. “We all know why the warlock wants your fair cousin, do we not?” Nickolaus looked away in horror, understanding how the warlock must be using her as his forced bride.

“But, Enchantress, why do you tell me these things? They do not help me, they simply distress me further.”

The enchantress gently took the wineglass from Nickolaus’ hand and placed it on the mantel above the fireplace. She turned back to look at the young man. “Your cousin needs rescuing. And by so doing you will help yourself.”

“But how?”

“You are wise, and clever. Surely you can see.”

“But how can I rescue her? I do not have the knowledge to compete with a warlock.”

“The tower is guarded by a dragon. The dragon must be killed. Only then can the answer to the riddle of gaining entry to the tower be revealed.”

“But I have not the skill to kill a dragon.”

“Then you need to find a skilled prince who can help you.”

Nickolaus gave a bitter laugh. “Why should I do that?”

“And the spell that imprisoned the Princess can only be broken by a prince – in fact, by the kiss of a prince,” the magic woman continued.

Nicklolaus did not speak for some time. He sat back in his chair and stared at the enchantress. Finally he said, “Well, fair enchantress, I ask you again: why do you tell me this?”

“For you know a prince who is a brave, strong and skilful warrior.”

Nickolaus stood up and leant menacingly over the enchantress. “And I am to ask him to kiss a princess, even if she is my cousin, to save her?”

Timandra merely smiled and touched her hand to his. “He has kissed a lady before.”

“You know that was no lady; it was I.” Nickolaus abruptly pulled his hand away.

“Indeed. And will he not do anything for you?”

“No. He sent me away. He is beholden to his father and his kingdom, not me.”

“Nickolaus, you must find a way. It is the only way to help you and save your cousin. And it will help him too.”

How? Nickolaus thought. He turned and stared into the dying embers of the fire. How will it help? By giving him a Queen?


Nickolaus went away more dissatisfied than when he had arrived. He had been given no spells, no potions, no magic words, just been set an almost impossible task that would not help him, only take his beloved further from him.

But Nickolaus sent word to Prince Stefan about the task, for he could not bear to think of his lost cousin imprisoned by the warlock. And it would at least give them some time together

However, the enchantress was not using Nickolaus for her own gains. Her magic had given her wisdom and her years had given her knowledge. She knew that rescuing the Princess would help the young Lord and his Prince, for she knew the fondness for mating with the same sex tended to run in families. She also knew that the one wish the warlock had blindly granted his enforced wife was that she have the company of her childhood friend Sofia as her lady-in-waiting. She required rescuing as well. Nickolaus and Stefan would make the perfect rescue team for these two.


A message from a nearby state was delivered to the palace for the Crown Prince Stefan. It was a matter of great urgency from a young knight who desired the help of the Prince to rescue his beautiful young cousin from wicked enchantment and a fierce dragon. Stefan agreed to it. It would delay his search for a wife, and perhaps also give him a wife in the end. And if he failed and was killed during the quest? He was willing to take the risk.

The Prince set off to meet the young knight at the appointed place equipped with a long dragon sword and lance, rope and a dragon net. Both he and his horse wore a layer of chain mail, and he had an outer layer of thick armour made of toughened leather covered in gleaming steel. The Prince’s entourage camped at the edge of the forest. The next day they met the knight. The young Lord explained that the dangerous quest must be performed with no other help. He requested that the Prince’s Companions leave the Prince alone, or the magic spell could not be broken.

When Stefan saw the knight, he recognized his stance and the movement of his arms, and when he looked into his face he knew him. He gave the young Lord a quick smile, then turned to his Companions. “I will trust this man with my life, for I know him of old. Do not worry. I must fight the dragon alone, but I know this young man will guard my back safely.”

The Companions did not want to leave the King’s Heir alone, but reluctantly the company obeyed and headed back to their camp on the edge of the forest.

The Prince turned to the knight. He reached out to take his hand, for he knew the knight was Nickolaus.

They rode into the forest, Stefan overjoyed to be with Nickolaus again. He revelled in the feeling of riding next to him as a man; he wished they could continue riding forever. But he did not understand why Nickolaus was asking him to save his cousin. Nickolaus would only tell him, “She is entrapped by a wicked warlock, locked in a tower with no entry, guarded by a fierce dragon.”

“Of course.”

“The only way her spell can be broken is by the kiss of a prince.”

Stefan concentrated on his riding, not able to look at Nickolaus. Was he intending that Stefan save the princess and take her as a bride? The Prince was prepared to complete the deed, because Nickolaus had asked him, but part of him hoped he might die in the process.

They continued deep into the ancient forest. The sun passed overhead, almost hidden by the giant trees. Eventually they came upon a small cave in a range of hills. “This is near the tower,” Nickolaus said. “The dragon is behind that ridge.”

“Then we will stay here for the night, and face the dragon tomorrow.”

The two dismounted and made their camp at the mouth of the cave. They kindled a small fire to warm them and cooked a basic meal, then settled down, each with a cup of mulled wine.

“Why do you ask me to come with you on this quest?” Stefan asked. “Why do you not rescue your cousin yourself?”

Nickolaus looked at his Prince. He saw his own sadness mirrored in Stefan’s eyes. “I cannot save her; only you can.”

Stefan gazed long into Nickolaus’ eyes. “Why do you do this to me, to us?”

Nickolaus shook his head bitterly. “I asked an enchantress for help. She seemed kind and gentle,” he sighed, “but gave me no advice, simply gave me this quest, and told me to entrust it to you. I told her I did not want this.” He looked up at the Prince. “I did not want to give my cousin to you. But you need a Queen, and I would like to free my cousin…” He looked away. “I suppose that was the help she thought I was asking for. If you marry her, at least we can be cousins.” He stared deep into the fire.

Stefan said nothing for some time. The fire crackled in the darkness. He took Nickolaus’ hand. “I suppose ’tis something.” He lifted Nickolaus’ hand to his lips. Nickolaus edged closer to the Prince. Stefan lowered his head and rested it against Nickolaus’ shoulder, drinking in the warmth and the scent of the man.

Nickolaus closed his eyes and allowed the touch of Stefan against his skin to invade his body. If this was all he was allowed, these few nights alone with his Prince, he must make the most of them.


Early next morning, the two comrades reluctantly left their shared blanket to begin their quest. They mounted their horses, climbed up the rugged hillside, and rode warily into the valley. The tower imprisoning the Princess could be seen shrouded in the early morning mist. Near the tower lay a lake surrounded by tall dark reeds. Stefan reined in his horse and pointed to the lake. Between its waters and the tower slept the dragon. From the distance the dragon looked a dank green, like the murky waters of the lake. Breath from its flaring nostrils misted in the cold air. Or perhaps it was smoke.

The men rode their horses along the dewy grass side by side, their horses in step. The Prince carried his long sword and oval shield with his crest upon it; Nickolaus held the rope and dragon net. The dragon lay curled peacefully beside its lake. The two stopped. As Stefan watched the dragon he noticed that it seemed as if it were not quite there; its appearance at times shimmered and threatened to disappear, almost as if only painted onto the scene. But if he turned his head and looked at the dragon from a side view it looked real enough.

The Prince whispered, “I wonder if this dragon is real, or conjured by the warlock? If it were a real dragon it would need a home. Dragons typically live in caves.”

Nickolaus cast his eyes about to see if he could find any high cave within the valley. He saw none.

“Indeed,” Stefan continued, “it is unusual for a dragon to be out so early in the morning. They usually wait until midday to come out and bask in the warm sunlight.”

Stefan reined in his horse and quietly dismounted. He crept slowly toward the dragon.

Nickolaus turned his gaze to the dragon sleeping peacefully in the morning mist. Perhaps the dragon is the warlock, he thought. He could be dragon by day; and come to visit my cousin at night in his despicable human form. The thought disgusted him. In reaction he accidentally jerked at his horses reins. The horse reared slightly and kicked at the ground. Nickolaus quickly pulled him under control.

The Prince’s heart quickened. He had almost reached the lake and had hoped he could dispatch the dragon while it still slept, but the sharp sound of Nickolaus’ recklessness had warned the creature. It stood up, awake, standing twice as high as the men, breathing smoke in warning. Stefan pushed Nickolaus behind him and held out his sword. It was half as long again as a normal sword, with a strong thick blade that tapered quickly into a long fine point made for piercing thick hide.

The dragon rose up high and roared. The Prince went forward swiftly. Holding his shield breast-high, he thrust quickly upward toward the dragon’s neck, hoping to stab into the only vulnerable piece of soft flesh. But he only reached the dragon’s chest, the sword penetrating the scales but slightly. The beast lowered its head, lifted up a foreleg and reached out to slice the Prince with his mighty claw.

Nickolaus rode swiftly past with the Prince’s horse, and Stefan quickly mounted and they galloped out of the valley. Behind them they heard the flapping of wings and felt the heat of its breath as the creature rose into the air.

Once on the outer edge of the valley they reined in their horses and looked back toward the tower.

“Just as well it chose to breathe its fire after us,” Stefan said.

Nickolaus laughed sardonically.

“No, I meant it,” Stefan explained. “For when they breathe their fire they cannot fly quickly, not even magic dragons.”

Nickolaus took a deep breath and hugged himself. Stefan reached out and touched Nickolaus’ hand. “If we do not survive this,” he said, “we will both die together. I do not want to leave here without you.”

Nickolaus allowed himself a wry smile; he knew Stefan would have to leave with the imprisoned Princess as his bride and his own corpse would be forgotten.

They watched the dragon, as it flew around the tower. Finally it began to tire and settled down again by the side of the lake. The two sat watching silently for some time; eventually the Prince motioned to Nickolaus.

They crept slowly into the valley again. Stefan approached the dragon with lance in hand; Nickolaus kept behind upon his horse, holding spare weapons. There was no sound of birds in the air, only the rattle of the dragon’s breathing. Fortunately that breathing seemed to muffle the sound of the horses’ steps.

Stefan was within throwing distance. He lifted his lance high, aimed it carefully and was about to throw when the dragon suddenly lurched upward, wide awake after all. It lashed its forelegs outward toward the Prince, but missed. Instead it slashed the horse’s chest, bringing it to its knees. Stefan leapt off and ran backward. The dragon reached down and gathered up the horse, tearing its body apart. Nickolaus galloped up to the Prince, positioning his horse between the Prince and the dragon. Stefan quickly mounted the horse. The dragon flashed out with its claw again, this time reaching out to Nickolaus. One claw grazed Nickolaus’s leg. Stefan reached around Nickolaus’s body, grabbed the reins and galloped out of the valley. The dragon finished devouring the horse and let out a bellowing roar which echoed around the valley, bouncing off the walls of the tower. As they rode out of the valley Stefan looked back and could vaguely see two faces peering out from the tall window in the tower.


At their campsite in front of the cave, Stefan rekindled the fire then tended to Nickolaus’ wound, cleaning it with fresh water. From the back of the cave he fetched some herbs the witch had given Nickolaus. They had an acrid aroma Stefan was not familiar with – magic perhaps. He applied them to the wound, Nickolaus wincing at the touch. Stefan then dressed the wound and urged Nickolaus to lie down and rest.

Stefan rubbed Nickolaus’ horse down, and gathered some oats from their bag to feed it. He lingered, absently patting the white streak on its nose, thinking of his own horse, which had been his companion for three years.

Nickolaus could not rest. While his own leg burned from the touch of the dragon’s claw, he could not rid himself of the memory of what had happened, and of how close the dragon had been to piercing Stefan in the chest with its great claw. He clenched his eyes tight against the spectre.

“We are pawns in this,” he cried. “We are being used to help my cousin. The witch does not care for us. Why should she? She is a woman too. Witches only look out for women!”

Nickolaus’ words shook Stefan out of his reverie. He grabbed some wood from the pile the two men had gathered yesterday and built up the fire. He saw Nickolaus was shivering. He knelt down beside him and wrapped his arms around him, drawing them tight. “I do not know the way of witches,” he whispered, “but I do know the way of the mortal world. As I have said to you before, my Nickolaus, if we must die, we will die together.”

“I would rather live with you than die with you,” Nickolaus said bitterly.

“If I cannot live with you I would rather die,” Stefan said.

Nickolaus gazed long at the Prince, then slipped his arms around Stefan, holding him as tight as he could.

Night closed in and the fire burned low, Stefan drew the blanket over them both. He lay down beside Nickolaus and prepared to settle into sleep. But Nickolaus lifted Stefan’s chin; the low light of the moon shone into the shelter and was reflected in the Prince’s eyes. Nickolaus kissed him fully on the lips.

“Nickolaus, my love, you are wounded. You must rest.”

But he would not. Instead he pulled Stefan closer, moving his hands across his shoulders and chest, feeling every contour, as if to fix them in his memory forever. Stefan gingerly held Nickolaus, frightened to move him too abruptly. Nickolaus tugged at the Prince’s tunic, and slipped his hands under the cloth. He pulled the tunic away and ran his hands along the muscles of the Prince’s chest, over his tight stomach, then slipped his hand down lower. Stefan closed his mouth over Nickolaus’ and gave to him what they both desired, lying together as lovers under the benevolent eye of the moon.





PART TWO

The next morning the Prince slipped out of bed while Nickolaus slept. He stirred the embers of the fire and rekindled it, bringing warmth back to the cave, then sat by Nickolaus, prepared to wait for him to waken. But as he settled down Nickolaus opened his eyes.

“You have been awake all this time?” Stefan asked. Nickolaus nodded. He checked his wound. “It is healing well.” And did not appear to have been affected by their exertions during the night, he thought. “Perhaps the herbs were magic.” He rebound the bandage and helped Nickolaus to his feet.

“No doubt they are,” Nickolaus said, “but not for our sake. The witch is obviously very keen that we rescue her beloved Princess.”

Stefan paused. He left his hands resting on the young man’s shoulders, and gazed deep into his eyes. He wanted to say something but could find no words. Nickolaus looked back for a moment, then shrugged the Prince’s hands away.

They spent the day at the camp to allow Nickolaus’s wound to heal further, and hopefully cause the dragon, and warlock, to believe they had been scared off. They sat by the cave and considered their options.

“I do not think we will ever be able to kill this dragon,” Nickolaus said.

“If we cannot kill it, perhaps we should try to trap it,” Stefan said.

“Maybe we could trap it while it sleeps?”

Stefan shook his head. “Remember how easily it woke. But we have seen that the dragon does not arrive at the lake until after dawn. We need to prepare in the light of the early dawn, before it arrives. We could use the net. Tie it to the trees so when the rope is broken the trees will spring up, throwing the net over the dragon.”

“But would the beast be hampered by a mere net?”

“It is a magic dragon, an illusion – it has little stamina. Maybe it will hold just long enough for me to kill it. But how shall we get it to come to the exact spot where we will place the net?”

“We would need a lure,” said Nickolaus. “An animal to lead it to the spot, or a person…”


Just before dawn the next day the two men sneaked into the valley. The dragon was nowhere to be seen, but in the window high in the tower a candle burned. Nickolaus watched the flickering light and the shadows that crossed it, his hands clenched. Stefan came over and touched his elbow. “Come,” he whispered, his breath tickling Nickolaus’ ear, “direct that anger toward preparing the trap and playing your part well.”

Nickolaus turned to the Prince; the first morning light sneaking over the hills illuminated him. He needed to complete the mission to save his cousin, but he could not see how it would save him. He slipped his arms around the Prince.

Stefan held him fast against his chest, feeling their hearts beat in time together. “We have come too far; we cannot back out now,” Stefan whispered.

Nickolaus laid his head on Stefan’s shoulder and slowly nodded. Silently they left their embrace and began to set the trap. They gathered reeds, tied them together and threaded them through the dragon net. They attached one end of the net to a mature oak trunk and then picked out two saplings close to the lake. They pulled the tops of these limber trees down close to the ground and attached a corner of the net to each, pulling it taut.

Once finished they stood and peered around for the dragon. It still had not appeared. Stefan placed his hand gently on Nickolaus’ shoulder. “’Tis time.” Nickolaus met the Prince’s eyes, unblinking. Stefan leant toward him and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. He returned a tiny smile. Stefan began to leave, then grabbed Nickolaus in a tight hug. “Oh Nickolaus, I pray that this will work. How I hate myself for having to do this to you!”

“How I hate myself for getting us into this, for getting you into this. Stefan, I do not care if I die – I cannot bear to live without you. Now leave! Let us get this over with.” He pushed the Prince away.

Stefan reluctantly left and walked toward the cover of the trees. He forced himself to concentrate on the job. He had to stop thinking about whether he would ever see Nickolaus alive again.

Nickolaus slowly walked up to the lake at the place where the trap was set. He sat beside the lake and waited. With the dawn the dragon appeared out of the mist surrounding the tower, its nostrils flared at the smell of flesh. It alighted on the ground and slowly crept toward the man who was leaning over the lake seemingly unaware of the dragon’s presence.

Nickolaus easily heard the dragon lumbering toward him. His heart beat furiously but he steeled himself not to look up. He had to trust to the plan. But he felt the falseness of the ruse: if this were no trap, he would have looked up and seen the dragon. Perhaps he should. He took the risk and turned his head toward the sound.

“Aghhh!” he screamed, and feigned an attempt to stand, but allowed himself to topple upon his weakened leg.

The dragon went to spring toward him. Nickolaus leapt into the lake out of instinct and cursed himself for doing so. The waters were still and murky. But the beast continued its pursuit, lifting itself into the air ready to plunge upon its prey floundering in the water. With a snap of ropes and a swish of tree limbs the net was released. The dragon found itself caught in a mass of ropes and reeds. Frantically it twisted its wings and flailed at the ropes with its forelegs entangling itself more. It bellowed a deafening roar, then collapsed, falling with its head in the water.

The Prince came riding out of the trees brandishing his lance. He galloped toward the tangled dragon and drove the lance between the scales on its chest. The dragon raised its head and tried to roar, but spluttered on the slimy water. It tried to breathe fire, but the flames were doused by the water in its throat. The Prince hastily pulled the lance out, retreated, wheeled around and returned to drive the lance deep into the dragon’s neck. It shuddered, then fell into the lake again. Bubbles rose from its last breath. Stefan watched as the bubbles slowly disappeared. The dragon was completely entangled in the ropes, its head still under the water. There was no movement from the beast, no rising and falling of its chest.

Stefan stood and smiled in pride. “Perfect,” he said. “Could not have done better.” Nickolaus came up behind him, dripping water from the lake. Stefan turned to him and said, “Maybe someone is helping us.” Nickolaus just scoffed.

As they watched, the dragon seemed to slowly shrivel, its sheen fade, its scales wrinkle. Stefan went up to the beast and hacked off some of the scales, which came away from the carcass easily. “A trophy,” he said, hoisting them high. Nickolaus gave a weak smile.

“Come,” said Stefan, “we must fix you up.”

“’Tis no matter,” Nickolaus said.

“Yes it is. Those waters are stagnant; poison to an open wound.”

“The wound is clean.” And Nickolaus showed Stefan his wound from the earlier encounter, healed smoothly as if it had never happened. Stefan sighed with relief.

The valley was now eerie with silence.

“Come, we must act quickly,” Stefan said, “before the warlock comes to exact his revenge.” He bundled the dragon scales into his saddlebags, and he and Nickolaus mounted the horse and trotted towards the Princess’s tower, which stood in a clearing nearby. It was four times the height of a man, with smooth mossy walls, no doors, and no stairs. They dismounted and Stefan unpacked the scales of the dragon. They were already shrivelled. He placed them on the ground, then called out to the air, “I have destroyed the dragon. Now the Princess can be free.”

Stefan waited. The cry had echoed around the valley, but no response was heard either from the tower or beyond, from the warlock.

Stefan gathered his rope from the pack on his horse, swung it around his head and threw it up toward the window at the top of the tower. The end reached the window perfectly and fell inside. But the two men watched in horror as the rope against the wall slowly withered and within minutes the rope had disintegrated into dust.

Stefan walked over to the carcass of the dragon which still lay beside the lake. All that was left was a shrivelled husk. He picked up the ropes that had made the net, but they fell apart in his hands. He turned and looked back at Nickolaus. “So just how are we to enter this tower now?”

Nickolaus sighed, “The tower is to be entered by no man. That was what the witch said. I thought that simply meant the rescuer had to be a prince.” Nickolaus returned to the horse and hung his head in despair against the horse’s flank. The he noticed movement at the top of the tower. A woman looked out of the tower window. She had dark hair tied behind her, with one long plait hanging over her shoulder.

“Princess – ” Stefan called out.

“That is not my cousin,” Nickolaus cried in concern, “for my cousin is fair, like me. We have fought this dragon in vain.”

The woman at the window called down to the men, “Lord Nickolaus, you are correct, I am not your cousin. But you are not correct in saying you have fought the dragon in vain. I am the Lady Sofia, lady-in-waiting to your cousin. Have you brought a prince to rescue my Princess?”

“Yes – it is Crown Prince Stefan.”

“Ah, as it has been foretold,” the Lady Sofia said.

Nickolaus sighed. If it had been foretold that the rescuing prince was to be Stefan, he could see no way out of the ultimate end of this quest.

“But Lady Sofia, how are we to help your Princess?” the Prince called up. “How are we to enter the tower?”

Sofia held up a large ball. “I will throw this ball down and you are both to catch it. It is enchanted. Once you hold it you will be able to climb the tower.”

Sofia threw the ball. Her aim was off; the ball bounced past the men out of reach and rolled toward the lake. The two men scrambled after it. They splashed in the edges of the lake and together grabbed the ball. The moment they touched it, they were instantly transformed into frogs.

They sat there staring at each other. A cool breeze skipped across the water and blew gentle sprays of water on to their backs. From the distance of the tower they heard the voice of Sofia calling them. “Please, now you can jump onto the mossy walls of the tower.”

They croaked and shakily hopped to the tower. Their frog feet easily clung to the walls. They made their way up and once they reached the top hopped into the window. The frog-prince saw the Princess sitting against the opposite wall of the tower room. She was indeed beautiful, in a more delicate and softer way than the handsome beauty of her male cousin. Her golden hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She had the same melancholy look in her eye that the Prince was used to seeing in his own when he looked in a mirror.

So ... now what? thought the Prince. But when he tried to speak he merely croaked.

Sofia ran over to her Princess and grabbed her hand. “These are the two who have come to rescue us. I told you the dragon was dead. They have displayed the dragon’s scales as proof. You can see them on the ground outside. Come – we must kiss these frogs and make our escape.”

The Prince sighed. So, the Princess will kiss me and I will be turned into a handsome prince and we will instantly fall in love. But how do we get down from the tower?

Sofia pulled the Princess up from the seat and over to the frogs. How will she know which frog is which? The Prince thought. But she chose the larger frog and placed him in the hands of her mistress. Then she picked up the other frog. “Now my Caroline, we must kiss them; ’tis the only way.” She leant in to kiss her frog. The Princess watched, then slowly closed her eyes and kissed the frog she held.

The Prince felt a very soft brush of lips against his skin. A flash of magic seemed to crash through his body. Then, in front of them, sat two more frogs.

The Prince wanted to laugh, but could only croak. So much for enchantment! But he could sense Nickolaus’ growing despair beside him, although he could make out little expression on his frog face. The Princess must have also been feeling this, for she seemed to slump down, her eyes closed.

But Sofia was not despairing. Instead she hopped onto the window frame, turned to the other frogs and croaked, even lifting her front leg as if to beckon them. Neither Nickolaus nor the Princess moved, but the Prince did. He jumped up, croaked loudly, and jumped onto the windowsill. Of course! As frogs they could escape the tower. He turned to the others and croaked loudly to call them over. After some hesitation they joined the Prince and Sofia on the windowsill. All four of them hopped gingerly out of the window and down the tower walls to freedom.

Once out of the tower the Prince hopped directly over to the lake. He jumped onto the ball that Sofia had thrown out of the tower. But nothing happened. He had hoped the ball would turn him back into a prince. Nickolaus had followed him, but now sat there looking up at him in what could only be seen as frog sorrow. Nickolaus stared long and hard into his beloved Prince’s frog-eyes. The Prince attempted a shrug. He realised that at least as frogs there would surely be no rules as to who could mate with whom. And there were no kingdoms among frogs, so he would no longer be a crown prince with all its incumbent duties. He and Nickolaus could be together. He tried to smile.

The Sofia-frog was hopping up and down frantically, croaking wildly. What could she mean? Stefan wondered. She jumped into the lake and pushed her head up to that of Nickolaus. At first Nickolaus tried to pull pack, but she persisted, and finally their large frog-mouths met. Another flash of magic. The Prince saw the frogs transform, and the Lady Sofia and his beautiful, beloved Nickolaus stood dripping in the lake.

The Lady ran out of the lake over to her mistress. “See, Caroline. It was foretold as such. All you need do is kiss the frog-prince.” She picked up her frog-princess and held her to her face, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Please, Caroline. It will all work, I am sure. So far it has happened just as my ancestress foretold it would.” She took the princess-frog over to the lake. The Prince hopped out of the lake so that the Princess would not have to stand in the water. Having seen Nickolaus again, he was keen to be changed back to himself, even if it did mean marrying the Princess. He could not be Nickolaus’ lover as a frog!

“Please, my good sir,” Sofia addressed Nickolaus, “can you pick up the Prince and bring him over here?” Nickolaus gingerly picked up his frog-prince and slowly came out of the murky water. He placed the frog-prince on the ground next to the princess-frog.

The only way the spell can be broken is by the kiss of a prince.

The Prince stretched out and put his mouth to that of the princess-frog, trying his best to kiss.

!Flash- ka-boom!

The frogs disappeared, and in their place were a beautiful princess and handsome prince kissing each other.

Sofia ran to the Princess and embraced her closely. “Caroline, Caroline, I told you it would work. We are free!”

The Princess Caroline gently pushed her Lady aside and spoke for the first time. “No, we are not.” She turned to the Prince, lowered her eyes and bowed deeply. “Your Royal Highness, I thank you most humbly for the danger you faced in order to rescue my good Lady Sofia and me. In gratitude I would honour you with my hand in marriage, if you would accept it.” She kept her eyes modestly on the ground the whole time.

“You are asking me? And by so asking, you are giving me a choice? I am most honoured to have rescued the cousin of my noble Lord. I do not need you to give yourself to me for life. You are free to do as you wish.” The Prince could hear Nickolaus fidgeting excitedly behind him. But Sofia suddenly interrupted.

“But my Prince, you must!” Sofia interrupted. “’Tis part of the spell. You must marry her!”

Abruptly Nickolaus jumped in. “Why? He had to kiss her to break the spell. He has done so. We are all free of the tower, and no longer ugly frogs. The dragon is killed. What more is needed?”

“The dragon is killed yes, but that was just a mere shell the warlock conjured up, an illusion,” Sofia said. “That is why all that is left of the dragon is its shrivelled outer skin. The warlock will return. The only way to prevent that is for my Lady to marry a prince. It is foretold.”

“By whom?” asked Nickolaus.

“By my great-great-great-great-great-great aunt Timandra. She is an enchantress. When my beautiful lady was first imprisoned on her thirteenth birthday, the day after she first bled, I summoned my aunt to help. She told me the only way that my beloved Lady could be saved from the tower was for a prince to rescue her. She knew it would be you, my Lord Nickolaus, who would bring the prince.”

“Me? How did she know? That was five years ago? I went to see her only five weeks ago.”

“She is an enchantress. She told me: ‘The boy Nickolaus is like your mistress. She is his cousin, born on the same day. He has the same desires, the same needs, for it runs in the family, shared by the egg and the seed’.” Sofia watched Nickolaus, to see if he understood what she was saying. “She went on to tell me she would find the right prince for Nickolaus to bring to the tower, and that once that prince had freed the Princess, he must marry her. It was the only way to help us all, she said.”

“But why?” Nickolaus demanded. “How can that help us? If she knows what our needs are, why does she demand this of us? If she will force this marriage upon us, surely it can only be because she does not want us to fulfil those needs.”

Sofia could not answer. Nickolaus turned away. He walked over to the shrivelled husks of the dragon scales and kicked them. They all listened to the heavy silence of the forest, expecting to hear the warlock return at any moment.

Finally the Princess looked up at Stefan. “My Prince,” she said, “I have been cruelly ravished by the warlock. I am a fallen woman. No man would have me. I would be condemned to isolation, banished to live deep within this very forest. The warlock would find me again. Your bravery would be wasted. If you marry me, no one need tell the secrets we alone know.

“I promise I will bear you two children, no more. I would be most honoured if my noble cousin Nickolaus were to take the hand of my Lady Sofia who has kept me sweet company during these long nights. She will promise to bear him two children and no more. After those children we will never come to your beds again as … we prefer our own company.” She lowered her eyes, and paused, allowing the meaning of these words to filter through the room.. Eventually she raised her eyes and continued, “If I read the words of the enchantress Timandra correctly, it would appear that you two would prefer the company of each other in your own bed as well.”

She stopped, and looked from one man to the other. “I believe ’tis for this reason,” she continued, “that the enchantress chose you, Prince Stefan, the secret lover of my cousin Nickolaus, to save me and my beloved Lady Sofia.”

Princess Caroline looked into the eyes of the Prince for what seemed an age. At last he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I will be most honoured to take you for my wife and Queen.” She smiled in relief then turned to Sofia. They embraced each other tightly, tears of happiness rolling down their cheeks.

Prince Stefan turned to Nickolaus. “In recognition of the bravery you displayed in this quest, I would honour you by requesting that you join my Royal Guard.” He withdrew his sword from its sheath. Nickolaus knelt before his Prince; Stefan placed the handle of his sword into the young knight’s hands. “I proclaim you Lord Nickolaus, Companion of the Royal Guard of Crown Prince Stefan.”

“I swear my loyalty and fealty to you, my Prince.”

Stefan replaced his sword into its scabbard. “And I would be honoured to give you the hand of my betrothed’s noble Lady as your wife.” Nickolaus nodded, still kneeling, his eyes averted. Prince Stefan took Nickolaus’ hand and raised him up. The two gazed into each other’s eyes. The sun had risen high above the lake and filtered through the trees; a stray ray of sunlight shone upon Nickolaus’ hair, and lit it up in gold. Stefan pulled the young man toward him. “The kiss of a prince is magic, so I hear,” he whispered, and folded his arms around Nickolaus as he leant in close and kissed him.




 



            

“Well, fair enchantress, I ask you again: why do you tell me this?”

“For you know a prince who is a brave, strong and skilful warrior.”

Nickolaus stood up and leant menacingly over the enchantress. “And I am to ask him to kiss a princess, even if she is my cousin, to save her?”

Timandra merely smiled and touched her hand to his. “He has kissed a lady before . . .
And will he not do anything for you?”

“No. He sent me away. He is beholden to his father and his kingdom, not me.”

“Nickolaus, you must find a way. It is the only way to help you and save your cousin. And it will help him too.”

How? Nickolaus thought. He turned and stared into the dying embers of the fire. How will it help? By giving him a Queen?