he ower

rincess

TTP

This book belongs to

.............................................................................

..............................................................................

Every effort has been made to acknowledge the contributors to this book.

This edition was published in 2008.

Design and Project Management by

The Branndon Group

http://thebranndongroup.weebly.com

Story written by Marie Brannigan-Donald

Illustrated by Skye Brannigan, Jayde Brannigan

Copyright © Branndon 2008

All rights reserved

ISBN

Written and Printed in the Western Hebridean Isles

he ower

rincess

TTP

A very short, simple version of this inspiring story was told to me by Mairi a Jen. Thank you.

I am grateful to her for the spark she planted in my mind. I have embellished it a great deal,

in my own way, so that only a mere fragment remains of her story. Apologies to Mairi a Jen.

It is a century old oral tradition in the Western Hebridean Isle to tell stories. Few of these have been captured in a permanent form.

It would be a great shame if these stories were entirely lost over time.

In the modern age of DVD’s, and DS Gaming, these stories still have a place in entertaining our children

(and us).

Also thanks to my family who tolerate my constant tapping away at the keyboard at all times of the day and night

and for listening to the fruits of my labours with gleams on their faces, and for their encouragement.

Note: This original story is retold as an amateur children’s story and is not meant to be entirely historically correct.

31 Dec 2008

Acknowledgements

n the mists of time, a young Princess was locked up, in a tower.

It was for her own protection, from raping and pillaging Vikings.

This tower was part of a castle on an island,

could it have been Duart on Mull,

or another......Moy or Drimnin ?

She spent her time there, safe from the turmoil

but trapped and forced to listen

to the wails, squeals and struggles

that occurred in and around the castle and

nearby village.

10

She was sometimes choked by the thick, cloying smoke.

As it rose from the torched dwellings roofs

that had been set alight by raiders, it rose upward

and into her tower.

Sometimes she even heard clanging and footsteps

thumping up and down the stairs to the tower.

On occasions she had cowered in darkness

of the far side from the window,

as loud foreign voices

accompanied the deafening thumps

on the thick, wooden door to the tower.

11

Luckily her grandfather had, had it fortified very well

years before and it never gave way.

That did not stop the raiders from trying.

Once the invading Vikings had destroyed the village

and parts of the castle,

they took what they wanted

and moved on in their long boats

to new places, to plunder more.

They left only death, injury and destruction,

in their wake.

12

She felt angry with the raiders

and longed to chase after them with her own sword.

She had always practised before her tower days

with the stable boys on the haystacks.

She had learnt a few tips on staying alive

whilst they had battered away

with their short, wooden swords & shields,

in their youth.

13

In the tower there was a huge broadsword

but it was far too big and heavy for her to lift;

far less protect herself with it.

On quiet days she used to sit by the window

on a small cushioned ledge

and read for hours

and hours in the dim light

that reached her book.

14

Her tutor had seen to it

that she was well cared for in that regard.

Hundreds of books lined one of the walls

of the tower behind her bed

and dressing table.

15

She had cupboards of clothes too.

In the very beginning she had dreamed and wondered

how she would ever get to wear those clothes

as many were far to big for her.

Over time as she grew & grew. She did get to wear them.

Beautiful dresses - all of them fit of a princess.

16

She used to spend hours brushing her sparkling red hair .

It grew and grew as time passed.

Her once healthy rosy cheeks faded,

as did her freckles;

from lack of summer sun.

When she would plait her long, long hair,

it seemed to take forever.

She tried to remember

all the styles that her mother had taught her.

17

Her parents had visited her in the early days

and then ceased suddenly.

She had not questioned

what she knew to be the cause.

She had cried for weeks; alone and uncomforted.

Until she thought that she would die

of the terrible thirst that pervaded her very being.

18

She missed her parents dreadfully.

She missed her little brother, and her tutor, as well.

She missed the warm, glowing kitchen

where she used to sneak about behind the staff

to sneak odd tidbits.

She was never scolded when caught, they just giggled,

pleased to have a princess in the kitchen.

19

Memory and dream faded like day into night.

At least she had her books and she became a pale,

but beautiful young lady there up in the tower.

Educated and catered for but lonely and alone.

The birds used to come and sing for her

and she learnt their songs too.

She loved their different sizes and colours

and how they changed with the seasons.

The winter days were the worst.

20

She hibernated through those short, cold days.

Climbing down beneath the thick eiderdown on her bed.

She hid there deep in her bed until

she could no longer hear the fierce winds

that howled for days on end outside.

And there she dreamed and dreamed.

Her hair grew longer and longer

and still no one came to let her out!

21

The key to the tower became lost

during one of the Viking Raids

between all the defending, fleeing, raping and pillaging.

Many people were killed

and many more did not return

to the village on the isle.

22

She was there in that castle tower

so long

looking at the stars

and the moon every night,

longing to be freed;

that they became reflected in her eyes.

23

Some of the old kitchen staff came back slowly

and used to send someone up with a plate

of not very Princess food.

Other times they sent up only stores of oatmeal biscuits,

or stores of smoked meats and fish.

Occasionally she got lots of dried fruit and herbs.

She loved the dried apples the best.

She savoured her store of special foods

for she knew there were times

that despite her wailing and bashing,

no one came to feed her.

They came only when they could or when they remembered.24

Sometimes she used to play fiddle for hours on end.

Haunting tunes that her tutor had taught her.

Fast, furious tunes, that had her tapping her

feet as she played.

She danced about her room, fiddle under her chin,

her feet doing ‘padibahs’ by themselves.

She always felt alive and invigotated

after her music session,

but had no-one to share her growing skill

with her fiddle.

25

Nine long years she suffered in that castle tower alone

with only the birds for company.

She grew from a girl into a beautiful,

very long haired beauty of a Princess.

But over time no one remembered who she was.

She became known by the kitchen staff,

who had changed over the years,

as the prisoner in the tower.

No one spoke to her long enough to find out different.

26

No one heard her wailing

and gnashing high up

in the lonely tower

The harsh, wild gales stole

her cries and angry words.

Her pleas for help and rescue,

before they reached the ears of the villagers

who had remained in the village.

27

She had in her mind through many dreams she had,

had as a young girl, the idea that she was going to be rescued

by a handsome Prince from one of the Western Isles.

She had, had these dreams for as long as she could remember.

Long before she had got locked away in the tower.

She knew every curve of his princely face

but as time went on her memory of him faded

and her nightly dreams changed to those of wild ponies.

Beautiful white ponies that roamed the hills.

28

Before she had got locked up in the tower

she had been a horse lover

and had, had a selection of ponies

in the castle stable.

She had ridden

out in the forest with her tutor and cousins.

Who knows what had become

of her beloved ponies through the years.

29

Eventually she got tired of waiting

to be rescued by a handsome prince or a dashing knight.

Everyone seemed to be off killing another clan

or some mad Englishman

and they had forgotten about her there in the tower.

30

She had not seen anyone for weeks

and no one had come to feed her,

rudely shoving a plate under her prison door.

Her supplies had all dwindled away

and there was nothing left

of her treasured special food store.

31

There was an awful smell

coming from the courtyard and the village.

It looked like the figures about were sleeping

but their bloated bodies

gave off such a stench she barely went to her window.

32

She had heard the coughing

and wailing and had seen the villagers cease

to fertilize their fields

with seaweed from the shore.

33

Life outside the tower .......had strangely ceased!

Only the awful black ravens still did their work.

She could not watch them. It made her ill.

Great flocks of black ravens swept the village

at times

like they knew what they were looking for.

No longer content with the odd dead animal

they had moved on to their masters.

Victims of a deadly ill.34

Soon after that she got her very first chance to escape.

She suddenly saw a white pony grazing

the coarse island grass

just beneath her window.

Her breath caught in her throat

and her heart hammered and thumped,

until she could hear nothing else.

She thought she would explode

with the realization that filled her with dread.

35

Being something of a natural with horses,

she gathered up her courage.

Despite her fear of heights,

she had become desperate through the years

and knew for her very survival

she had to resort to the desperate feat of escape

or die trying.

Better that than starvation or worse still,

become another victim of the dis-ease that lurked outside.

36

Would the squawking black ravens come boldly

into her tower

and peck out her eyes ?

This is what they did to the bodies

that lay out in the village and courtyard?

37

She scrambled up onto the window ledge,

it was rough and hurt her.

Due to her lack of meals

she managed to squeeze through the narrow bars

of the small tower window.

She again scraped her knees on the rough stone

of the walls and felt battered and bruised

by the time she managed to get out

onto the balcony outside her room.

38

Never before had she managed

to get through those narrow bars.

Perhaps her recent lack of meals

had been a blessing in disguise.

She offered her thanks above.

39

Holding her breath in a sudden,

violent gulp,

Before she could think and panic,

she did what she knew she had to do.

She blocked her nose and closing her eyes

she stepped off the ledge,

after having climbed over the balcony guard rail..........

40

Quickly and swiftly she

fell through the air.

Her long red plait trailing

through the air

above her

like a rope.

41

After an eternity

she opened her eyes and quickly glanced downwards.

The magnificent pure white pony

was just below her.

It had not noticed her silent approach

as she breathlessly sailed through the air.

42

She assumed the position

and crossing herself;

she very briefly said her prayers

and then landed awkwardly on the pony's back

with a loud thump.

All the air was knocked out of her

and her body felt shocked and sore.

The pony took off with a start.

43

44

She had only a bare moment

to grasp at the long flowing mane

with both fists and clench her legs

about its ample belly, and they were off.

She clung on for dear life

and the terrified pony careered off

through the village and out into the forest.

Her long hair dragged behind her

scaring the pony even more.

45

After what seemed like unbearable time

of scratching passing trees and brambles grasping at her

and ….

The pony suddenly stumbled, collapsed

and lay lifeless!

Just like that.

46

She rolled off and sobbed.

Despair, sadness, loneliness overcame her.

She could not believe that there she was,

in a heap, deep in an unknown forest

miles and miles from the castle that she knew

and weak from days and days without food.

She soon fell asleep.

47

When she awoke

she browsed the forest

for brambles and fresh nettle leaves.

Then she crouched down next to the lifeless pony.

It was such a pretty pony and a stallion, she saw.

What a tragedy.

48

She leaned over and hugged the pony

in gratitude for it rescuing her

however unintentionally

and kissed it loudly on the neck.

Xxx

Xxx

XxxXxx

Xxx49

Her tears soon soaked through

its hair on its neck and her face

became wet with sticky horse hair.

She moved away to stand up

and then she heard a male voice.

50

“ Tapadh leibh ! Moran Taing ! “ the voice said

“W W What…………..” She stammered,

as she looked around behind her.

51

There in the place of the pretty white stallion

now stood the handsomest youth

she had ever laid eyes upon.

Embarrassed,

she clutched at her skirts

and moved away gasping.

52

He moved forward and told her not to be afraid.

He explained that he had been under a curse

that a wicked witch had cast a spell on him

- that he should spend eternity

as the last of a breed of pony

that no longer existed upon the Western Isles.

53

The only thing that could have saved him

was the undying love of a young, virgin princess.

Since everyone knew that princesses

were never virgins these days,

he had long since given up.

54

She could not believe her luck.

She had dreamt about him long before

she was locked up in the tower.

But when she had told her elders about it

they had laughed it off

And told her not to talk of it.

Here was the

handsome prince

that she had

always dreamed of

and had known

was coming to save her.

55

Well that was it.

Love at second sight.

Tucking her long red plait in the crock of her arm

she accepted his offer to help her stand.

Off they strolled arm in arm into the magnificent sunset.

56

As they walked, they blethered away

to each other.

Like newfound friends,

both were so pleased to have someone to talk to.

He was both handsome and kind;

he had pitch black hair the colour of a raven

and eyes as blue as the ocean.

It turned out that they were of the same Clann,

but he was from another of the western Isles

and only distantly related to her.

57

Knowing that there was dis-ease about

they went straight to the coast.

They took off

in a wee, abandoned boat

they found there.

They arrived in the Northern Bay

after eating only

hastily collected and dried brambles

and nettle shoots, for weeks.

for his island

58

They had only a small wooden barrel

of fresh water between them.

Luckily the Isles sea waters were calm

and clear in that good spot of summer,

and there were no sign of the sea monsters.

There was little rain and her strong prince rowed firmly,

with his eyes set firmly on the destination.

They beached the boat on a huge Traigh Mohr

and set off across the hills to find his family house.

59

They were ecstatic to find that he was still alive

after being missing for the years of his cursed life,

and they were delighted that he had brought

a new daughter for his mother.

His family prepared a small feast

of scallops, lobster and herring.

60

They had a ceilidh prepared for that very evening

with the local musicians

and everyone danced the night away

joyously in celebration.

61

Every one of her children and her children's children

for centuries had her 'MacLean' eyes,

with the stars and the moon in them,

from her long time in the castle tower

gazing at the long winter night skies.

62

Unfamiliar Words

ceilidh...................................party/dance

scallops.................................shellfish/seafood

Western Isles.....................a group of islands off the cost of Scotland

second sight......................a gift of seeing into the future

Vikings.................................warlike foreigners

pillaging...............................burning villages and stealing everything

wee........................................small/little

tapadh leibh ! ..................thank you

moran taing......................thanks a lot

padibah................................pas de basques - ballet movement,

(in this case Highland dancing).

63

The Princess was there in that castle tower

so long

looking at the stars

and the moon, every night,

longing to be freed;

that they became reflected in her eyes.