PART TWELVE

{I freely acknowledge my debt to the late Sir Alfred Hitchcock and  the late Daphne du Maurier for one part of the following.  Readers of a sensitive and/or nervous disposition might care to skip the paragraphs marked  with an asterisk (*)}
 

Princess Sara Chapter Thirteen
 

She continued her travels after leaving the boy Klaus with his mother to recover from his abduction, stripping  and beating.  Her white horse continued to lead  her towards the region where she was to spend the winter.  The further south she went, the more arid and parched the land was becoming and she appreciated more and more how fortunate she was to have her by now beloved horse to carry her provisions for her.  And not only her provisions, but another victim of life's misfortunes.

A few miles outside the town where she had deposited the lovelorn youth, she spied another unfortunate.  As this poor man had staggered home from a night during of drinking  not wisely but too well, he  had  been attacked and robbed.  Although this particular set of robbers had left him with his clothes on, the poor victim was so badly injured as to render him totally immobile, lying semi-conscious by the roadside. With much straining and sweating, the Princess had contrived to lift the  poor fellow's dead weight onto the white horse's saddle and transport him to his own village.

With the thanks of his grateful wife still fresh in her ears, she had resumed her journey, returning at the horse's bidding to her ordained route.  It was a few hours later that the worst disaster of her  exile and wanderings occurred.

The horse led her straight through a small town, right along the main street.  She noticed that the townfolk were looking angrily at her and felt  seriously threatened for the first time in her travels. Thus far, something about her had ensured that she had not been subjected to  serious violence, despite the disapproval many obviously felt for her nudity.  She had never lost a kind of innocence in her demeanour,  and this artless charm, together with the air of authority appropriate to her high and noble rank,  had won many hearts and appeased much puritanical wrath.  Te people of this were different.  Very different.  Why has the horse led me through here, she asked herself as the atmosphere became more and more menacing and she began to be jostled by the gathering throng of citizenry who seemed to be pouring out onto the street to vent their rage against her.

"Go on, you can't help me.  Save yourself,  old boy." she muttered to the horse, which, since she was still forbidden to mount it, could be of no assistance to her as a way of  escape from the people's  increasing wrath.  The animal did as she bid, leaving her alone to face whatever fate the angry citizens might have planned for her.

"Shameful."

"Wicked"

"Whore"

"Harlot"

"Scandalous behaviour"

 "Make an example of her.  Whip the skin of off her back and throw her carcass to the wolves!"

At this last cry, she was seized by two of the leading citizens and dragged to the main square where,  her  hands above her head,  she was securely tied to the whipping post, a device much used by the civic leadership in this small community to ensure the maintenance of moral rectitude.  She wondered what would happen to her and she did not have long to wait before she found out!

A strong and muscular man, stripped to the waist, revealing his powerful chest and phenomenal arms, as thick as many a strong man's thighs, came and stood in front of her, holding a long whip  made of some kind of hide, knotted along its length.  It was a devilish implement and, if used on her would be sure to leave her lovely back horribly scarred until the end of her days, if it did not kill her outright, which she feared it surely would.

"Do you wish to plead for mercy, harlot?"

"I do not plead with the likes of you.  I only give commands to my inferiors, and I command you to free me, or it will be the worse for you!"

Enraged by this defiance, the crowd became more insistant in their growled demands that condign punishment  be visited on the shamelssly revealed body of the unfortunate Princess.  The man went round behind her and she heard the voices of the people die away as they silently waited for the show to begin.  They were very moral and upright people and loved to see sin receive its just desserts.

*She scarcely had time to take in the sound of the viciously wielded whip as it descended with lightning like speed on to her delicate young back, whistling and hissing angrily through the air.  All the pain she had so far endured was as nothing compared to what she felt today as the leather tore deep into her flesh, exposing her ribs to the delighted gaze of the spectators.  A cheer went up.  Despite her agony, Princess Sara uttered no sound.  Twelve more times the lash descended and still she did not cry out or beg for the torture to cease.

Despite her silent courage, she knew that this was the end of her life.  Even should she survive, a maimed and disfigured bride would be no suitable match for her Prince, who was now surely lost to her for ever.  She prepared herself to make that most momentous of all journeys, as she felt the life slipping from her and a black shadow seemd to obscure the town from view.

*The fourteenth lash never came.  Because of her agony, Princess Sara had not heard the strange commotion , as of a mighty wind and the sound of a thousand angry squealing, screeching voices, high up above in the skies.  Neither had the townsfolk, fascinated by the  sound of the lash descending on the Princess's torn back and the sight of her blood dripping from her wounds and pouring onto the ground, to form a red pool at her feet.

The first intimation of something extraordinary was when the flogger screamed in pain, dropping the whip and clutching his bleeding face.  He was suddenly surrounded by a flock of birds, crows, starlings, thrushes,falcons, eagles - every kind of bird.  His eyes were pecked out before he had a chance to defend himself and the feathered horde continued to whirl around him, swooping on him and pecking him until he was just a bloody mass of wounded flesh, lying quite dead on the ground.

The sky was utterly black with the incredible concatenation of birds, more of whom were flocking to the scene by the minute,  and the light of the sun could not penetrate the clouds of winged avengers as the fowls of the air set about the townsfolk, driving them hither and thither in a vain attemt to escape the self same vengeance that had just been visited so horribly on the executioner.

Not to be outdone, the dogs of the community turned on their owners, snarling and tearing at them, enthusiatically and savagely assisting the avian horde in rending them limb from limb.

Some of the birds pecked away at the bonds which held the Princess to her place of torture and she was soon free, slipping fainting and weak to the ground, covered as it was by her blood.  Weakly, she rose again, every movement the sheerest agony.  The white horse had returned to her side by this time and she grasped  the reins for support and slowly  the two of them left the scene of carnage behind.

"I did warn him it would be all the worse for him if he disobeyed me, but I never imagined it would be that bad!" murmured the Princess as she slowly and painfully made her way out of the town and into the countryside.  "How very unfortunate for me that the birds could not turn up sooner, though.  I will be disfigured to the end of my days and who will wish to marry me now?  I might as well have died back there.  My life is over."

Still on foot, obedient as ever to the Fairy's prohibition  against her mounting the horse, even in her present weakness and continuing agony, she finally came to a lake, whose blue and placid waters stretched far into the distance.  By the shore, she paused to wash herself and clean away the blood.  She looked down at her reflection in the still water and, this time, she did not see herself!

The face that stared back at her was that of a raven-haired and beautiful woman,  slightly older than herself, her dark beauty  contrasting to Princess Sara's own fair loveliness.

"Welcome, Princess.  Wounded and courageous Princess Sara, you are very welcome here!  Enter the lake of which I am the Guardian Spirit and lower your torn and bleeding body into its deep.  Then continue your journey with my blessings and those of the entire Spirit World!"

Sara obeyed and waded out into the lake, lowering herself into its warm depths as she had been ordered.  As the waters closed over her head, the pain disappeared and her weakness was replaced by returned strength.  She heard the voice of the Guardian of the Lake order her to rise and continue her travels.  Emerging from the water she put her hand behind her, feeling the back which had  recently been  so horribly maltreated.  Her skin was as smooth and unmarked as it had ever been.  Her  terrible wounds were healed!