Prince Charming recognized two famous Irishmen among the guests. They were Cuchulain and Finn McCool. Looking around, he saw other heroes from France, Germany, from the Orient - Roland, Siegfried, Aladdin.
They saw him, and a round of applause went up. There were exclamations of "Well done, old man!"-the words one wants most to hear after having awakened the Napping Princess. They sang a rousing chorus of "For He's a Jolly Good Hero."
Yes, moments didn't get much better than this, Charming decided. Even if bits of your enchanted palace are breaking away, even if Princess Scarlet has a bit more of a whine than you might have wished, his moment of triumph was sweet.
So he felt all the more trepidation when there came a loud pounding on the gate. It reverberated through the castle, and every guest stood still and gazed at the doorway.
Prince Charming said to himself, Rats! Good events don't usually introduce themselves so emphatically.
"Who is it?" he called.
"One who would crave a favor," came a muffled voice from outside.
Charming was about to say no, but then he realized that on this day of his triumph he had to face up to what came along. Storybook heroes who are about to marry the Napping Princess don't refuse to answer the door of the Enchanted Castle to anyone, no matter how bad the premonitory vibes.
"Well," Charming said, "I really don't have time for a big favor, but maybe a little favor ..."
He unbarred the door. The man who entered reminded him of someone. But where could he have met this tall, grim-faced warrior with the brazen helmet pulled down about his ears?
"Who are you?" Charming asked.
The warrior pushed back his helmet. Charming found himself looking into the bearded half-mad face of Frike.
"Frike!" Charming said. "It's you! But there's something different about you ... let me think a moment... . I've got it! You used to be rather small and hunchbacked, and now you are quite tall, well muscled, and with no indication of a limp."
"You are observant," Frike said, smiling in a bloodthirsty manner.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"As for that," Frike said, "my master, Azzie, sent me."
"I hope he is well."
"He is fine. He has sent me here to fetch him something which I shall put in here."
Frike opened a leather satchel he carried. Within it was a sharp odor.
"Vinegar!" said Charming.
"Ye say true," said Frike.
"And why bearest thou a satchel filled with vinegar to this enchanted castle?"
"The vinegar is for the purpose of preserving that which I would bring away with me."
Charming did not much like the way the discussion was going, but he said, "And what would you bear back from here in vinegar, Frike?"
"Ah, lad, it's thy head I've come for."
"My head?" cried Prince Charming. "But why should Uncle Azzie want that of me?"
"He's angry at you, boy, because Princess Scarlet didn't kill you when she was supposed to. Thus he lost the contest between Darkness and Light which is played out on the eve of each Millennium. He's decided you're sly and unreliable and he wants your head."
"But it was not my fault, Frike! And even if it had been, why should Azzie hold a grudge against me merely for trying to preserve my life?"
"It's illogical, I'll grant that," Frike said. "But what can you do? He's a demon, and he's bad, very bad. He wants your head and I'm here to take it to him. I hate to tell you this, for it is your wedding day. But I have no choice over timing. Say good-bye to your Princess. It is to be hoped you have enjoyed her favors betides, because there'll be no aftertides when I've taken your head ensor."
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Charming said.
"Better believe it. I'm sorry, kid, but that's how it goes in fairyland. Ready?"
"Wait!"
"Nay, I wait for nothing!"
"But I have no sword!"
"No sword?" Frike said, lowering his blade. "But you must have a sword! Where is your sword?"
"I need to get it."
"You're supposed to have a sword on your person at all times."
"Give me a break, it's my wedding day."
"Well, go get your sword, but be quick about it."
"Frike, you were practically a father to me. How can you do this?"
"Well, I'm playing a pretty traditional role," Frike said. "The crippled servant who is slightly sympathetic but still has a fatal bias toward evil. Nothing personal, but we must fight it out with swords."
"Well, rats," Charming said. "Wait right here. I'll be back with my sword."
"I'll be waiting," Frike said, and went over to sample the buffet.
When Prince Charming had been gone almost half an hour, Scarlet went to look for him. She found him in what remained of the stables. He had just finished saddling up the swiftest goat he could find.
Scarlet said, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I don't know how to tell you this," Charming said, "but I think I've got to get out of here."
"Coward!" Scarlet said.
"Bitch," Charming said.
"But our new life together has hardly begun!"
"What matter a new life if I'm too dead to enjoy it?"
"Maybe you could defeat him!"
"I don't think so," Charming said. "Frankly, though, I'm not happy about running out like this. I sure need the advice of some wise spirit."
There was a flash of light. A voice said, "I thought you'd never ask." It was Hermes Trismegistus.
Chapter 3
Never had the demigod looked handsomer. His dark cloak, draped artfully over his massive white marble body, looked miraculously beautiful. Every strand of his hyacinthine hair was in place. A faint Oriental tilt to his eyes gave him a look of unutterable beauty and wisdom. The blankness of his eyes, which, in the classic statuary mode, were without pupils, made him seem preternaturally wise. Even his sandals gave off an air of sapience.
"O Hermes," Charming said, "what Azzie is doing isn't fair, sending out Frike to take my head, and all because I haven't fallen in with his scheme of having Princess Scarlet murder me."
"It does seem unfair," Hermes said. "But who ever said demons were otherwise?"
"Has he even the right by divine law to send his servant to take my head?"
"Let me see," Hermes said. He removed from a fold of his cloak a thick scroll. He threw it into the air and it unwound, soaring upward with paper spilling down.
Hermes snapped his fingers and a small spotted owl appeared.
"Find me the relevant passage for laws regulating the actions of demons' assistants," Hermes said.
"You got it," said the owl, and fluttered up into the air, darting close to the endlessly long page of the scroll. Finally it darted in on a section, pinched the parchment in its beak, and brought it back to Hermes.
Hermes read the entry and shook his head sorrowfully. "As I feared. He can do anything he wants with you via a servant, since he created you. Assembled, actually, but it comes to much the same thing."
"But why should that give him power of life and death over me?"
"That's how it goes in the creation game. But you are not without recourse."
"What can I do?"
"Kill Frike."
"You think I might be able to? He looks awfully strong to me."
"Yes, but you're a hero. Maybe if you had a good sword ..."
"I had Excalibur but we parted ways. It was trying to kill me."
"You must get it back. It will take a magic sword to kill a supernaturally augmented demon's assistant."
"I think I ought to mention, I'm very scared," Charming said.
"That's because you were given a coward's heart. Don't worry about it, though. Everyone's scared."
"Everyone?"
"Those who are too courageous perish too quickly to leave a record. Cowardice is nothing to be ashamed of, Prince Charming. It is like measles - most people get it at least once in their lives. Just ignore it and it'll go away. Carry on without it. The metaphor is unclear, but your path of duty is not. Get out of here, Charming, and find the sword. Tell your coward's heart to stop fluttering and get on with destroying this knave of a Frike and claiming your Princess for forever after. She's very pretty, by the way."