Erika M. Walker
St. Gregory the Great and St. Gertrude Writing Groups
“Princess Sharon?” The nervous voice of Sharon’s maidservants startled her awake. Sharon groaned, “What is it now?”
“Today is . . . well it’s . . . the Royal Charity Ball is tonight!”
Sharon sat up at once, as her heart jumped into high gear. Her first real ball!
Images of dancing played in her imagination all day, and she stifled a shout of joy when the first fancy carriage arrived. Lords and ladies dressed in their finest soon made a grand procession. Sharon stuck up her nose and smiled; none wore anything as lavish as her dress. She went to admire her dress again. The exquisite shade of purple was the rarest of hues. She traced a shimmering pearl flower and studied the intricate lace work.
A knock came, and several maids entered. A flurry of action ensued, and the dress was whisked onto Sharon. Before she had time to catch her breath, she was rushed down the hall toward the ballroom to be presented before the kingdom.
A striking male attendant met her at the door and took her arm. Her brother was being announced, and she heard the applause from behind the doors.
She squinted as the doors cracked open, filling the hallway with an unnaturally bright light. The attendant led her forward, and she tried to smile as her name was called out. The light bounced off the pearls and gems on her dress, sending rainbows dancing into the crowd. Dazzled by the lights, the crowd sounded pleased, but once she reached the banister the sounds abruptly changed.
Many gasped, while others cried out, “What’s wrong with her?”
Nobody clapped. Sharon felt beads of sweat running down her lower back and legs, everything started to sound far away, and black spots began to swim into her vision. In all the excitement, she had almost forgotten her birthmark! Now, the large patch of discolored flesh covering the left side of her face grew hot, and she instinctively hid her face in her hands. The attendant whisked her away to a dark corner. As she caught her breath, the cheering resumed when her younger sister entered the room.
As the pounding in her head subsided, tears began to flow freely. She was left alone, and all eyes were glued to the royal family, her family. She stumbled out a back door and ran. The dark disoriented her, but when she heard the sound of the horses snorting, she stopped.
Manure came flying out of the stable window, almost hitting her.
“Hey, watch it!’ she cried out.
“What’s that?” came a man’s voice, “Is someone there? Don’t mind me. Just cleaning the stalls.”
Her heartbeat slowed at once at the mention of cleaning. Cleaning was her secret joy. She couldn’t fix her face, but she could fix her environment.
“It’s just me, Sharon,” she said.
“Ah, princess! Shouldn’t you be at the ball?” the man asked.
“All of the people there are cruel, and it was boring anyway,” she lied.
“I wonder what a princess is supposed to do anyhow?” the voice said.
Sharon considered that. She looked down at her sparkling gown. She had lived for the moment of being shown off like some kind of animal at a fair.
“Look at them stars, they was made to shine, wasn’t they? Are you a star?” The man stopped talking, and more manure flung out the window.
After what seemed like a long while, she admitted quietly, “No . . . I’m a princess.”
He poked his head out from around the corner, and Sharon gasped. He was only a young boy, but his voice sounded much older.
He grinned at her, “Go be one then.” He ducked back behind the wall.
Somehow, his words made her stop worrying about the birthmark, and she walked back to the castle with a newfound sense of dignity. Maybe she could do so much more than stand still and try to look pretty.
The next morning, her mother came to wake her. “I’m dreadfully sorry about last night, dear. Of course you may remain in your room forever. We will see to all of your needs.”
“Mother, I think the people need to see me more often, not less. I wonder if there is anything I can do for the people?”
The Queen opened her mouth, but shut it without a sound. She lifted a finger but dropped it again, unsure of what to say. “Let me talk to your father,” she said, and left the room.
That evening, the King slammed his goblet down in the middle of supper, and scrutinized Sharon for several full minutes before saying, “So you want to serve the people of our kingdom, Sharon?”
Sharon glanced at her mother, who was sitting very straight and stiff. She refused to make eye contact. Sharon managed a slight nod.
The King grinned, “I think it’s a fine idea! You two could learn something from your sister,” he said to her siblings. “I’ll make all the arrangements; you have my blessing to go out whenever it suits you.”
“Thank you so much, Father,” she managed to say.
As Sharon got dressed the next morning, she imagined taunts and cruel stares. She nearly lost heart when a maid handed her a basket of bread, “Madam Baker heard word of your plan and sent these up.”
With a strengthened resolve, she headed out the doors and over the bridge.
The market was crowded; men and women called out loudly announcing their wares. Children yelled and ran with wild abandon, nearly crashing into her. Strange smells of foods she had never seen before came in an odd mixture that nearly made her gag. She started to sway, and her knight rushed to catch her, but she shook her head and steadied herself.
Awkwardly, she held out loaves of bread to everyone she passed by. Children snatched them out of her hands, while a woman in a fancy dress raised an eyebrow and brushed past her.
To her relief, the stares and name-calling she had feared were absent. These poor people, she thought, as she noticed the man at the fish stall who wore an eye patch, and more than one person who limped along with a crutch. Beggars sat in filthy corners, their clothing often torn or hanging limply.
“What’s that, Mommy?” an innocent little boy’s voice cried out.
Sharon stopped; time seemed to slow down, and suddenly all eyes were on her.
“That, that on her face, Mommy! See!” the boy insisted.
Sharon turned, and saw a frantic mother attempting to stop her two-year-old from pointing. She picked him up, and rushed away as he thrashed, still screaming, “That, that, that!”
Sharon couldn’t move; her eyes narrowed, and her teeth clenched. Once the sound of the little boy faded away, she noticed the quiet. It was clear that everyone in her vicinity recognized her despite her common garb.
She swallowed hard, unsure of what to do. She managed a forced grin, and suddenly, in spite of herself, she began to giggle until a full belly laugh burst forth. It seemed as if everyone’s collective breath was released, and laughter rang out all around. Then the market life resumed once more. Sharon sighed, relieved to find that the initial knot of anger in her gut was gone.
From then on, every day was much the same story, and before she knew it, a whole year had gone by. Some ran to greet her whenever she arrived, but others scoffed or spat. She always ran out of bread before every mouth was fed, and more often than not returned home too exhausted to be happy.
One night she just couldn’t sleep. Were her efforts even making a dent in the atrocious levels of poverty? She made her way back to the stable: “Is the stable boy here?”
“Boy? What boy?” an old man asked.
Disappointed, she turned away.
As she headed home, a charming sound of a little pipe roused her from her ruminations, and she spotted the boy. He was seated in a nook in the castle wall. He stopped playing when he spotted her, and grinned, beckoning her over.
He stared at the sky for a moment then locked eyes on hers: “My princess, you’re not afraid of yerself anymore! That’s good. But yah need to let them teach you.”
Confused, Sharon started to ask what he meant, but before she could object, he jumped from the wall into the tall grass below, and disappeared.
Teach me? Teach me what? She played the words over and over but remained puzzled.
The next day she left the bread behind and went out to the market in disguise. She watched a little girl chase a butterfly. Then she noticed for the first time that the one-eyed fish dealer gave out bundles to every beggar, and they joked with each other like old friends. A boy rushed to help an old woman when she lost her footing and dropped a bag of fruit.
That night she lay awake in bed again, but she felt different. Is this what happiness feels like? She wondered. Suddenly she couldn’t stop grinning as the scenes of the day replayed in her mind. Before, she thought she had to single-handedly save these poor people from their unfortunate lives, but now she realized maybe they didn’t need saving after all . . . maybe she did.