In Which the Princess Learns Something New

From the diary of Dulcie, Crown Princess of Bentlefay

I ache in every bone and muscle I possess, including a few I never knew I had. How can one possibly strain an eyelid? And yet I seem to have done just that. I don’t know why I’m so surprised now that I come to think of it – it’s not that I thought unarmed combat would be easy, necessarily. But I’m young and reasonably healthy and I’ve always been able to walk or dance as long as I wanted, and I suppose I’ve just never tried to do something utterly impossible before.

When Lynde suggested we train in the afternoons I thought of course that she was trying to coddle me. I was prepared to display dudgeon until I thought of how much dudgeon I’ve been displaying lately, and held off, but a few hours later I only wished she would coddle me a little.

I got to the practice ring exactly on time and dressed in riding clothes, prepared to be a model and unprincessly student, but Lynde looked me up and down and sighed with dissatisfaction.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever worn a pair of trousers in your life, have you?”

I thought it was a joke and laughed, but Lynde remained grave. “Can you imagine Mother and Winnie agreeing to trousers after all they’ve had to put up with?” I demanded in disbelief when I realized she was serious. “I think it would cause a national incident.”

“True,” she admitted, “but it cuts off an entire range of motion. Still, I suppose there are a few things we can still do.”

“We must be in earnest, though,” I warned her. “You can’t make skirts an excuse to play-fight – otherwise how will I learn?”

“Oh, it won’t be a play-fight,” she assured me, and looking back I realize I should have taken that as a warning.

First we got out of the ring altogether and she made me run around it until I was tired. I protested after the fourth round, but she just said that I would have to be in good condition or I would be easy to beat no matter what my skills were. I had no answer for that. Then we stood blessedly still for a few moments while she taught me how to jab with my fists – a quick snap, and then a full strike with my weight behind it. The first few times it seemed easy enough and I thought the worst was over, but Lynde said with that learned, I could “drill.” It sounds very professional and military put that way but all it consisted of was flailing murderously at thin air over and over until I could no longer feel my arms.

It seemed like about a week had gone by once we had finished drill, although I suspect it was only about a quarter of an hour. Still, my streaming face and popping eyes seemed to affect Lynde with momentary pity and she allowed me to stop for breath and a drink of water.

“But none of this will be of any use if someone actually attacks me,” I was able to gasp out between wheezes. “I can’t just drill at someone and expect them to stand there and be hit.”

“You are at the very beginning, your majesty,” she said. “It will be weeks before you are ready to learn to spar. The muscles, the condition, the reaction time – they must all be working together. But,” she went on as I opened my mouth to protest again, “I can at least show you a couple of parries, if that will make it interesting enough for you to keep on.”

So for the next quarter of an hour Lynde showed me how to parry a slap to the face, a strike to the forehead and a choking attempt, and came at me in slow motion over and over while I practiced them. The only thing I could imagine this keeping me safe from was a small child’s temper tantrum, which I would have told her if I had had breath to speak.

After the parries, Lynde looked at me narrowly and asked if I was all right. My spirit was broken by that point and while I wished I had the fortitude to say yes, I fear that all I could come up with was a piteous whimper.

"Very well," she replied as though I had just made a cogent argument, "that is probably enough for our first day."

Thinking, not unnaturally I believe, that she meant we were finished, I reeled away and tacked erratically in the direction of a bench.

"Your majesty, no!" Lynde headed me off deftly and began to walk me around the ring as though I were a horse. "If you stop short after such strenuous exercise, your joints will harden into stone and you will be stiff for a week," she explained. "It's important to keep the limbs loose as you cool down."

So we walked around the ring a few more times -- I gazed longingly at the bench every time we passed -- and when we finally stopped was I allowed to sit down? No indeed, it was still necessary to stretch my arms and legs in a very particular way to keep them mobile, and when I was unable to do this to Lynde's satisfaction she took me by the wrists herself and pulled them behind my back to the point that I am convinced my arms are now at least an inch longer.

Only then, at long last, was I allowed to sit down, and after a second or two I had convinced myself I would never get up again.

"Can you carry me back yourself, or do you think you'd better fetch help?" I asked.

Lynde looked surprised. "It isn't that bad, is it? I don't even think we went half as long as I usually do."

"Isn't it almost time to change for the receiving?" We seemed to have been out for days.

"Oh, no." She squinted at the angle of the sun. "I don't even think it's been an hour. The men aren't done with their archery yet."

"Oh." It seemed impossible, but I was unable to summon up much feeling about it. "Do you think it would be all right if I just lie down here and take a nap?"

I was horrified to see her get to her feet. "If you feel that way about it we'd better walk back before you feel worse."

So I walked back to my room all on my own, step by excruciating step, and fell fast asleep on my bed, fully clothed, during my afternoon rest. I ate dinner in bed, and spent the next twelve hours drifting in and out of consciousness and hardening into stone.

I have hobbled through today like the exhumed corpse of one of my own ancestors. Lynde apologized and said we would train no more until at least the end of the week. Personally, I think a lifetime would be too soon.