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There once was a princess in a land far away.
 Exactly why, we do not know, but this beautiful princess was a
sad and lonely figure as she stood high on the tower overlooking
the land.
Perhaps her sadness came from the loss of a loved one; perhaps
her loneliness was that of one raised apart from the people. It
may also be that her emotions reflected the landscape -- often
harsh -- or the hard times: wars; droughts; or social upheaval.
These things we do not know.
There is, however, a record of the visit of a wandering storyteller
-- a bard. According to the record, the bard was commanded to
give a performance for the princess and the court.
The bard refused -- insisting that the story he had to tell was
only for the princess. This was agreed to, and the bard was brought
to the top of the tower.
When they were alone, he insisted that the princess close her
eyes. He described a puppet theater -- the blue velvet curtains,
the sound they made as they were drawn back, the hush of the audience
as a beautiful princess appeared on the stage.
Those near the stage could easily read the sadness in her eyes.
Her long, blonde hair shone like a fairy tale, but she was dressed
plainly -- her mood was not in tune with royal garb.
She stood high on the tower overlooking the surrounding farmlands.
Somehow her gaze did not fall to the small village below, but
followed the road westward. An overcast day, late in fall, the
cold wind cut through her clothes, but she did not seem to notice.
No other humans around, she spoke to her dog as if to her most
intimate friend.
She spoke at great length of her sorrows. Her mother lay ill,
unable to care for herself. A friend had never returned from a
trip and was presumed dead. The people in the land suffered from
the harsh climate of recent years. Friendly and generous townspeople
had become cold, even greedy.
These and other things weighed heavily on her so she felt sometimes
as if her heart would be crushed by it all.
But even so, she spoke matter-of-factly -- simply describing what
was true for her in the moment. She did not cry, nor did she need
to fight back tears -- she merely described a situation. The dog
watched and the cold wind carried the words away.
Then she described her most cherished dreams. The ones she kept
entirely to herself so that even the bard did not reveal them.
He did describe her smile and feelings of joy as she imagined
her dreams coming true.
All this the princess had done night after night so that it had
become a ritual. In fact, this was the fortieth time she gradually
opened her eyes, praying for some sign that her dreams might come
true.
And this night, as she opened her eyes, she saw that the cold
wind slicing at her cheeks had blown the clouds out of part of
the sky. At first she could see several stars. Then she watched
while the whole sky lit up with stars, bright as candles, twinkling
in the cold. On into the night she took comfort in the stars and
ignored the wind.
The next morning, though, she herself was ill. The faint hope
she cherished just before fully waking faded quickly when she
realized her body's condition. In a castle, late in the fall,
it is easy to become ill, and very much more difficult to become
well.
She lay sick in bed for more than a week, forgetting her ritual.
Even her fond dreams she rarely remembered. Fever gave her restless
dreams -- half asleep, half awake.
Finally she was well enough to get out of bed, though not to go
outside.
And so it happened that her father and the other people of high
position were away from the castle, leaving her behind. On this
particular day, a caravan came from the west. There were trades
to be made and future deals to be arranged.
Also with the travelers was a man who claimed to be a healer.
And indeed the princess felt better after drinking some of his
tea, and even her mother seemed to have more color in her cheeks.
The princess arranged with the healer that he should stay on,
and with him a slightly mysterious, younger man stayed as well.
At first she thought the younger man to be the apprentice, but
sometimes it seemed almost as if the healer was an advisor to
the young man.
The young man had sad eyes, like the princess. When their eyes
met, each felt as though they were looking in a mirror. They were
very formal towards each other, befitting her station. Yet somehow
they drew comfort from one another and each of their hearts grew
warmer.
The princess's father noticed her spending time with the young
man, and that displeased him. But her mother, whose health was
improving, noticed the change in the princess's mood: a particular
smile; the way she sometimes cocked her head; and that sometimes
she was out of breath from running up the stairs. The healer
agreed that the two should not be kept apart.
One evening -- suddenly very warm -- the young man and the princess
were on top of the tower as the sun set and the stars began to
come out.
The young man spoke of how he had left his home -- to his father's
wrath -- because he was convinced he was missing something that
he would never find there.
The princess revealed some of her cherished, secret dreams, and
observed that her mother's healthful recovery now seemed assured.
The young man revealed some of his most cherished dreams as well.
He said that in his travels he had discovered a sense of humility
and gratitude.
Very shyly, realizing it for the first time himself, he told the
princess that what he could not have found at home was a woman
in whose eyes he could read the passions, desires, and sorrows
of his own heart.
Her face turned very red, but she kept looking straight into his
eyes as she told him that she too had dreamed of a man into whose
eyes she could look when she needed to find herself.
Momentarily they kissed, tenderly. Then they embraced one another
gently, her head on his shoulder, his face pressed against her
silken hair, tears flowing gently down each of their faces.
As they held each other, the princess's father and the healer
approached. Another caravan had come through the village, and
a trader had revealed that young man and healer were actually
a prince and his teacher from a land nearby.
So it happened that both older men were pleased with the gentle
love they saw in the young people before them.
It came to pass that a wedding was arranged for the spring. The
prince returned to his land for the winter, which was still difficult.
Fortunately the weather was gentler than usual, and spring came
early that year.
Because of new possibilities for cooperation, the peoples of both
lands hoped for a better life. The love between the prince and
princess was a rallying point for enthusiasm among the people.
With spring came the wedding. Splendidly dressed though the couple
was, onlookers near enough could see plainly that the splendor
and joy flowed out from their hearts and the wedding garments
were but pale reflections.
With a final kiss the curtains drew shut on the stage. The audience
applauded with great laughter and renewed hope for themselves.
And so came the bard's tale to an end. There is no record of what
other stories he told or where. Neither do we know anything more
of the fate of the princess left alone on the tower at the bard's
departure.
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