Sleeping Beauty 2 – Jennifer Hor Page 1

SLEEPING BEAUTY 2

Right now I'm dreaming that my prince is coming to awaken me with a kiss. This is one of
many dreams I've been having for the past one hundred years. His long red-gold hair streaming
behind him, he rides a black horse and holds aloft his banner of a crowned lion wielding a sword
and trampling on a dragon. His eyes shine with righteous fire and his thin lips are pursed in
anticipation of the many foes and obstacles he is sure to overcome. The air around him is charged
with invisible energy as he goads his mount across the vast grassy plains towards my old father's
kingdom, towards the church where I was baptised as a baby, towards the crypt beneath that church
where I lie and have lain for so long ...

My dreams began when my step-mother pushed me into the world of never-ending sleep.
She hated me. I suppose that's not so unusual. I was young and beautiful with smooth milk-white
skin, deep blue eyes and silken raven-black hair, and a small mouth with curved full lips. She faced
the encroachment of age which already had turned her auburn hair a sickly yellowy-grey colour.
There was the possibility that my royal father would replace her with a younger woman just as she
had replaced my mother. My step-mother couldn't kill me outright in case someone found out. She
sought the assistance of an aged wise woman and deceived her with a tale of a court conspiracy
against my father. The woman readily devised a potion from memory, a potion she hadn't made for
over thirty years, and while making it she forgot one vital ingredient: the drink that was later
presented to me, supposedly to soothe an upset stomach, despatched me to a country of sleep and
dreaming instead of death. Despite the pains my step-mother took to hide her scheme, including the
later murder of the wise woman, in the end she undid herself: my father heard her muttering in her
sleep one day and, arbitrary and vicious man that he was, divorced her and had her executed.

So my step-mother never knew what world she sent me into – a world where I am queen
regnant, where everything revolves around me and conforms to my wishes and desires! If I wish to
visit lands I could only read about as a child, then there in those exotic states I am already by the
transport of thought; if I want to be friends with peacocks and gazelles or with the red-cheeked
silversmith who wears his little black cap while he hammers away at his bowls and plates in his
tiny shop in the town hidden among mountains in a remote Arabian kingdom, I am with them at
once. But if I wish for companionship only, Sunniva, a girl of my age who I wouldn't normally
meet in my father's kingdom, comes to see me. I'm a king's child, she's a peasant's child: I stand tall
and proud while her bent back and twisted leg force her to stoop and hobble as she walks. When
she speaks to me, I hear a hesitant child's voice. Sunniva brings me news of events in my father's
kingdom which is how I learnt of my step-mother's plot against me, what she did to the wise
woman when the drink failed to kill me, and what my father did to my step-mother when she
inadvertently admitted her crimes.

Jennifer Hor Page 1

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It is actually at this moment while I'm dreaming of my prince that Sunniva intrudes. The
dream has to fade away. "What is it, Sunniva?" I ask for she never interrupts me without a reason.
"Is there news of the kingdom?"

"Well as you know, since your father died forty years ago without an heir, your cousins
have been fighting as to who should be king. Their armies criss-cross the land bringing slaughter,
pillage and chaos in their wake, Peasants go hungry and starve, the fields don't yield any crops
because soldiers keep setting them on fire, the farm animals give no meat, wool or milk because
they have nothing to feed on. Villages and towns stand empty while people flee to other countries.
After years of war, your cousins and the clergy have agreed to invite princes strong of arm and pure
in faith to come and awaken you so that you can be crowned queen and help to restore order and
peace. The prince who proves himself most worthy will be allowed to enter the crypt and kiss you
to wake you. Of course, he would marry you. Your cousins have sworn that they will abide by any
laws you and he would pass."

"So what has happened so far?" I ask, "have any princes come to claim my hand?"

"Already twenty fine men have come seeking your hand but it seems those with the most
faith and devotion to our Lord are all too easily killed by your cousins while those skilled with the
sword, the halberd and the lance are found lacking in love and devotion to our saviour Jesus Christ
by the priests."

"Tell me about some of these princes," I urge.

"I'll speak of three fine men for they of all the princes who came seemed the ones most
likely to free you. One came from a far southern land where the sun burns over lands thirsty for
water and people ride strange humped beasts that go without food and water for days. This prince
was swathed in robes of deep blue and sheer white, and rode a wide-eyed mare whose hooves
barely touched the earth when she galloped. He bested all your cousins in close fighting and the
nuns were charmed by his soft voice, his manners, the poetry he spoke and his skill in playing the
lute but when the priests discovered that the people of his country worshipped the Muslim faith as
well as our saviour Jesus Christ, they refused to admit the prince to the crypt. You would have been
pleased to have met this man for he was tall with a hawk's profile and he walked as gracefully and
proudly as did his angel mount."

"Perhaps but the priests denied me that chance. They deny themselves too for such a prince
would have been a champion of our faith. What would it matter to them that he comes from a place
where not everyone knows our saviour Jesus Christ? From what you have always reported, the
bishops, priests and monks are more interested in eating and drinking well than in teaching people
to follow the Christian faith. Are they afraid that Christians will be impressed with the Muslim faith

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and want to convert? May the angels look down on these mongrel clergymen and blast them to dust
with lightning! ... What about the second prince?"

"He came from a far northern country where the sun shines continuously throughout the
summer but hardly rises in the winter. The land is covered in snow and even the rivers freeze over.
The prince arrived dressed in furs on a sleigh drawn by white shaggy ponies. His beard was long
and red and his eyes were ice-blue. He fought your cousins with a hammer and smashed their
swords and shields. Your cousins cried foul and leaned on the priests and nuns not to admit him
into the crypt. So the prince had to leave the kingdom without being able to prove his devotion for
and willingness to fight for our Christian religion."

"So much for being strong of arm! I think my cousins are utter cowards who want to
control the throne. I wish the earth would swallow them all up and digest them slowly and
painfully in the lowest abysses of Hell! ... But please continue, Sunniva."

"There was a prince from a far eastern island country reputed to be the birthplace of the
sun. He was slim and wore his hair long, black and glossy like the silk he wore. He wielded several
strange weapons at once including the shiniest, sharpest sword any of us had ever seen, and he out-
fought all your cousins at once with feats of juggling weapons both steel and wood. Even his bare
fists and feet were weapons to which the only answer your cousins had was surrender. The prince
spoke of our Lord Jesus Christ and the prophets, he also spoke of Lord Buddha, the Teacher Kong
and a great many other saints, so much so that the priests were frightened of him and were full of
hate. And so again the crypt remained closed against a champion."

"So three worthy princes among others from across the world came to claim my hand and
each man proved himself such a fighter that he was rejected?"

"Yes, my princess, that is so."

"Then I tell you this , Sunniva – I wish that the next noble prince would come from the far
west where the sun dies and the lands are cloaked in eternal night and vegetation dies for lack of
light and water. This prince has eyes that burn like flaming coals and his hair streams behind him
like blood. He rides a black steed that breaths sulphur and spawns scorpions, flies and mosquitoes
from the hoof-prints it leaves behind as it races across the plains. The prince carries a banner of a
crowned dragon devouring a lion. He will slay all my cousins with a weapon dipped in poison and
the mere sight of him will cause panic and fainting. He will be the death of all my relatives and
their minions and he will draw his banner across the kingdom in his travels so that all my cousins'
influence can be eliminated and the land can begin afresh."

"My princess, what are you saying? Do you know what you are asking for? Why do you
say such things?"
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"I know what I'm asking for, Sunniva. I've been asleep and dreaming for one hundred years
and I know my time of sleep is coming to an end. I must be free to reclaim the kingdom that is
mine. I must have no interference."

"Oh, what a pity it is you have to leave! Here you are free to visit the Republic of Vada
where the women make laws, govern and fight while the men toil in the fields, kitchens and mines.
You can roam the island sanctuary of Pallel where eagles with crystal-tipped wings fly you to the
summit of Mount Rashida so you can marvel at the rivers that run red and green through forests of
gold-leaved trees and plains of blue-flowered grasses that are taller than palm trees. You can talk to
the golden-antlered deer of Arvania. But when you return to your father's kingdom, you must do
the bidding of whoever becomes your husband when he has kissed you. You cannot have your
freedom and your kingdom both!"

"But that's what I intend to have, Sunniva. Plus when my true prince comes to claim me, I
intend to bring you and all my dreamworld into my kingdom."

He comes coursing through the vast grassy expanses on his terrifying black horse towards
the kingdom and the church beneath which I lie. Every hoof-print the animal leaves generates a
horde of insects and other creatures that sting and bite unwary travellers who later die from slow
and agonising deaths. My prince holds aloft his standard of the crowned dragon feeding on a lion
and the death stench is overpowering. As the steed gallops by, people drop dead of sudden of
sudden afflictions. As my prince approaches, my cousins and their allies continue to pick over
prospective suitors and bicker over small scraps of land they want for themselves , even arguing
over the number of wells on each strip of grass, unaware of the death coming for them. The priests
and nuns continue to guard the crypt, charging the occasional curious pilgrim wishing to see my
sleeping form the equivalent of fifty gold coins for the privilege; the income thus obtained is spent
on fine foods and wines for themselves.

These cousins of mine, obsessed with power and reputation to the extend that they would
(and have) cut one another's throats and rape one another's wives, sisters, mothers and daughters;
and these clergy, concerned with their own comforts at the expense of the poor they are supposed
to serve – these people will soon learn what real power is when my prince arrives. I know he
commands armies that can smite the great emperor Khan and the beggar alike; time and death ride
in his armies' wake. Already he has entered the capital and is making his way to the church while
around him people scream, run about, tear the hair, fling themselves into wells or just fall like
heavy stones to the ground, writhing in death agonies. Rats and fleas flood the streets and the smell

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of plague penetrates the already putrid alleys full of rubbish ... suddenly Sunniva bursts into my
dream.

My princess, the time has come! Your cousins and the priests have found your prince at
last! You will soon be awake! You will be leaving me and your dreamworld forever!"

"They have agreed on someone at last? A prince pure in faith and strong of arm? A prince
who can reconcile all my cousins and compel them to obey him? I find that hard to believe."

"You have no other choice. This prince has made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, he has kissed
the Pope's ring, he has fought and killed Muslims and Damascus and he has slain hundreds of Jews
in Palestine for refusing to worship our saviour Jesus Christ. The priests judge him spiritually pure
and your cousins are so impressed with his feats that they do not bother to test his martial skills.
Even now, the nuns are unlocking the door to the crypt to set up and light all the candles in
preparation for the ritual."

"What does this man look like? Is he tall and gaunt with eyes of red-black fire and with red
hair streaming down his armour like blood? Is his face pale with shadows of decay around the
temples and jawline? What's he like?"

"He's short and bald. He has a red face, a big paunch and a foot that gives him pain. He's
walking down the staircase to the crypt and now he sees the bed. He's thinking of the power and
wealth he'll gain as your husband, not to mention the cellars beneath your father's palace. When he
kisses you, your dreamworld will end forever. You have little time left. More nuns, the priests and
some of your cousins are entering the crypt behind the prince. They're going to watch him kiss you
and wake you. They expect you to awake. How will you bring your dreamworld into the kingdom
once you're awake?"

"Don't worry." I hold Sunniva's face in my hands for the last time. "You've been a good
companion for one hundred years and I shall never forget you. I will find a way to bring you into
my kingdom. Now I believe I must go. Let the false prince kiss me."

Sunniva fades away and where her face once was, my hands are now holding nothing.

While everyone in the crypt watches him, the prince hesitates by the side of the bed, awed
by the adolescent angel beauty with the milk-white complexion and the midnight-black hair asleep
before him. Stiffly, for the gout in his foot pains him, he kneels by the bed, leans over the princess'
breast, pauses to catch his breath (and because a little drama at this point is called for), then kisses
the princess quickly on her curved lips. He draws back, breathing quickly and watching her face
intently. People crowd around him and the bed, eager to see the princess open her eyes.

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One minute passes, two minutes pass. The prince is helped by his squire to his feet. "We all
saw you kiss her, sir," the squire mutters, "why does she not yet stir?"

The prince can feel the perspiration crawling down his cheeks. "I – I don't know," he
stammers. "Perhaps I should –"

"Look!" a nun cries. There is a collective gasp as everyone sees the princess' eyelids quiver
and her lips part slightly. The prince closes his eyes and mouths a prayer of thanks. He opens his
eyes again and sees something move beneath the bedclothes up towards the princess's face.
Everyone dares not speak, dares not even to breathe at the miracle taking place.

A black scorpion crawls out from beneath the bedclothes onto the princess's face.

Some of the nuns scream. "Lord have mercy on us!" a priest cries as the women cower and
warriors draw their weapons. The scorpion scuttles off the princess's face and drops onto the floor.
Someone rushes over to crush it with the hilt of his dagger.

"The princess's face! Look at her face!" the prince's squire cries. The prince turns away
from looking at the crushed scorpion and sees a green-grey tinge rise up through the skin of the
princess's face. He and the others around him stand paralysed as the girl's colour darkens and
strange marks resembling burns and welts sweep across her forehead and cheeks.

Behind everyone the door crashes open. People turn to see a strange figure standing in the
door-way of the crypt. At once, the priests and nuns gibber and laugh in strange tongues and the
princess's relatives fall to the floor, gnashing their teeth and tearing their hair and clothes. Only the
prince and his squire stay standing and calm. A heavy stench of decay burns their nostrils. "Oh
Lord," the squire exclaims softy. The stranger is tall and gaunt with dark grey armour that appears
to seethe with tiny worms and mites. The man's face is pale with green shadows under his
cheekbones and around his brow, his eyes are black yet glowing, his red hair grows long over his
shoulders and seems to drip blood. The emblem he wears on his chest-piece appears to resemble an
obscene winged beast with a gold crown on its head, trampling and tearing at a carcass. Tiny flies
buzz around the stranger and fly out towards the prince. As he tries to fight off the clouds of
buzzing dots and shield his face from the bites and stings, as the poison gradually takes effort and
his body starts its slow painful slide into dreamless death, the prince glimpses a figure rising from
the bed where the princess originally lay. The figure puts its feet on the floor and, hampered by a
bent back and a twisted leg, hobbles with outstretched arms towards the stranger in the door-way.
The squire is standing against the wall, his mouth open in horror as he watches the spectacle, yet he
seems unharmed by the insects and the smell of death. The last thing the prince sees before his
eyesight fades into darkness is the stranger lifting the princess and kissing her full on the mouth.

Queen Sunniva's reign begins at last.

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END

Word Count: 3,200

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