Dinner was held in the Great Hall of Lotharon’s castle. Ordinarily, they would all have supped in the dining room, but, for an event of this importance, that place was simply too small. So tables were placed end to end along the center of the Great Hall, an enormous drafty spot that was given to being chilly even in the summertime. There were many doors and giant entrance ways, and the wind gusts sometimes reached gale force.
This night was more typical than less; the winds whistled constantly and the candles constantly needed relighting, and some of the more daringly dressed ladies shivered. But Prince Humperdinck didn’t seem to mind, and in Florin, if he didn’t, you didn’t either.
At 8:23 there seemed every chance of a lasting alliance starting between Florin and Guilder.
At 8:24 the two nations were very close to war.
What happened was simply this: at 8:23 and five seconds, the main course of the evening was ready for serving. The main course was essence of brandied pig, and you need a lot of it to serve five hundred people. So in order to hasten the serving, a giant double door that led from the kitchen to the Great Hall was opened. The giant double door was on the north end of the room. The door remained open throughout what followed.
The proper wine for essence of brandied pig was in readiness behind the double door that led eventually to the wine cellar. This double door was opened at 8:23 and ten seconds in order that the dozen wine stewards could get their kegs quickly to the eaters. This double door, it might be noted, was at the south end of the room.
At this point, an unusually strong cross wind was clearly evident. Prince Humperdinck did not notice, because at that moment, he was whispering with the Princess Noreena of Guilder. He was cheek to cheek with her, his head under her wide-brimmed blue-green hat, which brought out the exquisite color in both of her largeish eyes.
At 8:23 and twenty seconds, King Lotharon made his somewhat belated entrance to the dinner. He was always belated now, had been for years, and in the past people had been known to starve before he got there. But of late, meals just began without him, which was fine with him, since his new miracle man had taken him off meals anyway. The King entered through the King’s Door, a huge hinged thing that only he was allowed to use. It took several servants in excellent condition to work it. It should be reported that the King’s Door was always in the east side of any room, since the King was, of all people, closest to the sun.
What happened then has been variously described as a norther or a sou’wester, depending on where you were seated in the room when it struck, but all hands agree on one thing: at 8:23 and twenty-five seconds, it was pretty gusty in the Great Hall.
Most of the candles lost their flames and toppled, which was only important because a few of them fell, still burning, into the small kerosene cups that were placed here and there across the banquet table so that the essence of brandied pig could be properly flaming when served. Servants rushed in from all over to put out the flames, and they did a good enough job, considering that everything in the room was flying this way, that way, fans and scarves and hats.
Particularly the hat of Princess Noreena.
It flew off to the wall behind her, where she quickly retrieved it and put it properly on. That was at 8:23 and fifty seconds. It was too late.
At 8:23:55 Prince Humperdinck rose roaring, the veins in his thick neck etched like hemp. There were still flames in some places, and their redness reddened his already blood-filled face. He looked, as he stood there, like a barrel on fire. He then said to Princess Noreena of Guilder the five words that brought the nations to the brink.
“Madam, feel free to flee!”
And with that he stormed from the Great Hall. The time was then 8:24.
Prince Humperdinck made his angry way to the balcony above the Great Hall and stared down at the chaos. The fires were still in places flaming red, guests were pouring out through the doors and Princess Noreena, hatted and faint, was being carried by her servants far from view.
Queen Bella finally caught up with the Prince, who stormed along the balcony clearly not yet in control. “I do wish you hadn’t been quite so blunt,” Queen Bella said.
The Prince whirled on her. “I’m not marrying any bald princess, and that’s that!”
“No one would know,” Queen Bella explained. “She has hats even for sleeping.”
“Iwould know,” cried the Prince. “Did you see the candlelight reflecting off her skull?”
“But things would have been so good with Guilder,” the Queen said, addressing herself half to the Prince, half to Count Rugen, who now joined them.
“Forget about Guilder. I’ll conquer it sometime. I’ve been wanting to ever since I was a kid anyway.” He approached the Queen. “People snicker behind your back when you’ve got a bald wife, and I can do without that, thank you. You’ll just have to find someone else.”
“Who?”
“Find me somebody, she should just look nice, that’s all.”
“That Noreena has no hair,” King Lotharon said, puffing up to the others. “Nor-umble mumble humble.”
“Thank you for pointing that out, dear,” said Queen Bella.
“I don’t think Humperdinck will like that,” said the King. “Dumble Humble Mumble.”
Then Count Rugen stepped forward. “You want someone who looks nice; but what if she’s a commoner?”
“The commoner the better,” Prince Humperdinck replied, pacing again.
“What if she can’t hunt?” the Count went on.
“I don’t care if she can’t spell,” the Prince said. Suddenly he stopped and faced them all. “I’ll tell you what I want,” he began then. “I want someone who is so beautiful that when you see her you say, ‘Wow, that Humperdinck must be some kind of fella to have a wife like that.’ Search the country, search the world, just find her!”
Count Rugen could only smile. “She is already found,” he said.
It was dawn when the two horsemen reined in at the hilltop. Count Rugen rode a splendid black horse, large, perfect, powerful. The Prince rode one of his whites. It made Rugen’s mount seem like a plow puller.
“She delivers milk in the mornings,” Count Rugen said.
“And she is truly-without-question-no-possibility-of-error beautiful?”
“She was something of a mess when I saw her,” the Count admitted. “But the potential was overwhelming.”
“A milkmaid.” The Prince ran the words across his rough tongue. “I don’t know that I could wed one of them even under the best of conditions. People might snicker that she was the best I could do.”
“True,” the Count admitted. “If you prefer, we can ride back to Florin City without waiting.”
“We’ve come this far,” the Prince said. “We might as well wai—” His voice quite simply died. “I’ll take her,” he managed, finally, as Buttercup rode slowly by below them.
“No one will snicker, I think,” the Count said.
“I must court her now,” said the Prince. “Leave us alone for a minute.” He rode the white expertly down the hill.
Buttercup had never seen such a giant beast. Or such a rider.
“I am your Prince and you will marry me,” Humperdinck said.
Buttercup whispered, “I am your servant and I refuse.”
“I am your Prince and you cannot refuse.”
“I am your loyal servant and I just did.”
“Refusal means death.”
“Kill me then.”
“I am your Prince and I’m not that bad—how could you rather be dead than married to me?”
“Because,” Buttercup said, “marriage involves love, and that is not a pastime at which I excel. I tried once, and it went badly, and I am sworn never to love another.”
“Love?” said Prince Humperdinck. “Who mentioned love? Not me, I can tell you. Look: there must always be a male heir to the throne of Florin. That’s me. Once my father dies, there won’t be an heir, just a king. That’s me again. When that happens, I’ll marry and have children until there is a son. So you can either marry me and be the richest and most powerful woman in a thousand miles and give turkeys away at Christmas and provide me a son. or you can die in terrible pain in the very near future. Make up your own mind.”
“I’ll never love you.”
“I wouldn’t want it if I had it.”
“Then by all means let us marry.”