Princess without a Palace: A King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale by Kristen Niedfeldt Page B

my work
as a minstrel and try to find work at neighboring farms for a while. Maria, do
you have a jar about this size?” He modeled the dimensions for her with his
hands.
    She walked to the other side of the room
to retrieve a clay jar from a cupboard. “Like this?”
    “That should work,” he confirmed as she
handed it to him. He blew the dust out of the jar, and then walked over to
place it on the mantle over the small fireplace.
    Pointing to it, he declared to Liesel,
“When we have saved enough money to fill this, we should have enough to marry.”
    “And what am I to do until then? Sit
around and wait?” Liesel questioned.
    The corner of the minstrel’s mouth
turned up in obvious amusement. “No, no. That would never do at all. From now
on, you must work to earn your keep as well.”
    “Brother, this plan is absurd,” Maria
cut in.
    “Yes, it is,” Liesel agreed. “What do
you plan for me to do? Help in the house here? I have no experience with such
work.”
    “And I do not need any help here,” Maria
added. “I have managed perfectly fine on my own until now.”
    “Settle yourself, Maria. Helping here
wouldn’t gain us anything. Liesel must find something to do that lets her
contribute to our savings.”
    “But I haven’t the least idea where to
find such work,” Liesel argued.
    “Do not fret. I’m sure I’ll be able to
find something for you. But not until the morning,” he added with a yawn. “It
is late and we should all retire after such a long day. Maria, would you mind
lending me a blanket or two? I think I’ll sleep out back in the stables with
our horses. Do you have a place for Liesel yet?”
    Maria didn’t have a chance to answer as
Liesel suddenly interrupted her with a piercing shriek.
    “Good heavens, what is the matter?” the
minstrel demanded, holding a hand out to assist Liesel down from her new perch
on a nearby chair. “Come down from there.”
    “That … that mouse ran over my feet,”
she explained with a trembling finger pointed at a mouse escaping under some
straw in the corner.
    “Is that all?” Maria asked impatiently.
    “Maria,” the minstrel warned again
before reminding his sister, “You didn’t answer. Do you have a place for Liesel
arranged yet?”
    “I brought some straw in to make a bed
for her … over there,” Maria answered with a wicked gleam as she pointed to the
corner where the mouse had just run.
    Panic seized Liesel and she grasped the
minstrel’s arm.
    “You cannot leave me here,” she pleaded.
“Please don’t make me stay here.”
    He peeled her fingers from his arm, and
squeezed them reassuringly. “Believe it or not, the stables are much worse. You
don’t want to trade with me. There are mice in here, but there are rats out
there.”
    Liesel shuddered.
    “You will be fine. That mouse—or any
mouse for that matter—won’t hurt you.”
    “But surely, isn’t there somewhere else
I can go?”
    The minstrel rubbed his tired brow as he
let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry this is hardly a castle, Liesel, but for now it
is your home.”
    He smiled reassuringly and then added,
“And you won’t be alone. Maria won’t let any harm come to you.”
    Liesel’s eyes turned back to the sister who
was still glaring at her and doubted the truth of his words. She felt no more
welcome there in the hut than the little mouse hiding in the corner.
    But at least he can hide ,
Liesel thought enviously.
    She glanced over at the straw uneasily
and tried to gather the courage to approach it. When some of the straw began to
stir she had to bite her lip to stifle the sound that wished to escape.
    She closed her eyes and took a steadying
breath.
    It was going to be a loooooong night.

Chapter Seven
     
    W hen
Roderick entered the hut the next morning, he was alarmed by Liesel’s appearance.
Her face was swollen, her eyes were puffy, and her shoulders were slumped in
defeat as she quietly folded her blankets in the corner.
    “Maria, didn’t Liesel