Once upon a time there was a princess who lived in a glorious castle. She was lovely and fair. She spent her days wandering the castle and being dressed and fed by servants. When she got bored she sat by the high windows and stared out over the kingdom. Or wandered in the back garden. But she was never allowed to do much else for fear she might get dirty or lost or injured.

When she was around twelve years old, she began to grow weak and sad. Soon she stopped eating and then she stopped getting out of bed entirely. She grew very ill. A heaviness had come upon her and she lay beneath it. In her large golden bed, she lay, day in and day out. The king and queen were very worried. And they sent for the doctor.

The doctor came and looked over her frail little body, her empty eyes. After he had assessed her condition he gave the king and queen the news. She had a terrible disease, he said. Incurable.

They were overcome with grief. “What can we do?“ they asked. The doctor gave them some medicine for her and instructed that they give it to her every day. The queen placed the potion on the night table beside her bed and dutifully obeyed.

Months passed. The princess did not get better. In fact, it seemed as though she got worse. Day after day she continued to lay in the bed, not moving, not speaking.

One day a maid approached the queen.

“I beg your pardon, my lady, but I know someone who may be able to help the princess.” The maid told the queen about a healer woman who lived way out on the edge of the kingdom. This woman was known to have great wisdom.

The queen was so filled with hope that she sent for the woman immediately. And the woman came without hesitation.

When she strode into the castle, in came with her a wave of intense peace. She carried a confidence that was seductive and powerful. The queen began to lead her up to see the princess, but the woman stopped her.

“I must first meet everyone that works in the castle,” she said.

The queen was taken aback, but there was a sense that she should trust this woman. A sense that she should not deny her. She called all of the staff and all of the servants to the front hall and lined them up. The woman introduced herself to them one by one, took their hand as she spoke to them and looked them deeply in the eyes. She asked them varied questions, such as their role in the castle, how long they had been there, and strangely, one last question that she asked each and every one of them. Do you love the king? Every one of them answered this last question piously and without hesitation that yes, they did.

Once the introductions were complete she finally asked to see the princess and she was led up to the room where the young girl lay.

The woman went straight to girl’s bedside and knelt. She took the girl’s hand and held it. The girl looked at her with blank tired eyes. The queen then expected the woman to ask her questions about her condition, how she felt and so forth, as the doctor had. But she did no such thing. After a long silence, the woman finally spoke.

“Darling, girl,” she said, “I am in great need of your help.”

The queen was stunned. She had called this woman here to help her daughter, and the woman wanted her daughter to help her? She began to step forward to intervene when suddenly her daughter’s expression changed, a tiny flicker of concern crossed her eyes. The queen paused and watched.

The princess shifted slightly, turned toward the woman just a fraction more.

“You see,” continued the woman, “I have a lamb who has lost its mother. It is not doing well. I fear it will die. I wonder if you would come with me to my cottage and help me care for it until it is strong enough to make it on its own.”

The eyes of the princess grew more and more lucid as the woman spoke. She grew concerned and started to lift her head, then laid it back down, the exhaustion overtaking her.

“I see you are very tired,” said the woman. “I have a carriage outside. If you are willing to help me save the life of this lamb, I will help you to the carriage and bring you to my cottage. Once you are there, you can lay down with the lamb to rest and the two of you will be comforted.”

The queen was appalled. The audacity! How could this woman assume she was going to take her daughter anywhere, and in her precarious state! But again, just as she was about to intervene, her daughter began to shift in the bed, struggling to sit up. The woman helped her.

Then the voice of the princess came, weak at first, then a bit stronger. She said, “Mother, this member of our kingdom needs my help. I will go with her.”

The queen wanted to refuse. Everything maternal in her cried out for her ill daughter to lay back down, to remain safe in her bed. But there was another voice in the very back of her mind. This was the first time in weeks that her daughter had moved or even spoken. The spark of light in her eyes was the first she had seen in perhaps months. Though the queen was afraid and pained, she simply nodded her head.

She watched as the woman helped the princess out of the bed and, supporting her, helped her walk toward the door.

“But she needs to get dressed!” the queen squealed desperately. The princess was wearing only a nightgown.

“No need,” said the woman, confidently. She will be more comfortable in this for a bit longer. And I have something she can wear once it is necessary.

“Her medicine!” The queen shouted. She ran to the night table and pressed the vial into the woman’s hand. Without a word the woman slipped the vial into her dress and led the princess away. The queen watched and followed helplessly, tears in her eyes. Once the carriage was out of sight she collapsed onto the ground and wept.

 

The carriage ride was long and bumpy. The princess lay in a pile of straw in the back. She watched the sky and the clouds overhead as the carriage jostled and lurched along. The fresh air and the sunlight and the sounds of people and animals and activities all around felt so wonderful after being closed up in the castle for so long, especially after being closed up in that stuffy sick room. The princess began taking deep breaths and she felt her lips curl into a tiny smile. This woman needed her help. And she was outside. She was on an adventure. She was going to help save a life. She was feeling delight in the newness of it all, and in the feeling of purpose she suddenly had.

The burst of excitement it all caused even gave her enough strength to sit up eventually, and leaning on the side of the carriage, look out over the land as they rode. She saw farmers and cattle, dogs and pigs and horses, children playing and women washing laundry in big tubs of water. She saw men tilling fields, hot and red and sweaty. She saw flowers and trees and birds and even a fox. She was still very weak, but she couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had felt this good. The woman, as she drove the horse from the front, glanced over her shoulder and smiled warmly upon seeing her upright.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the carriage pulled to a stop and the woman dismounted the front and helped her down from the back. The cottage was small and lovely. There were flowers in pots all around and a curvy stone path and a nice little bench out front. The front door was painted green and the windows were all open. There was a garden just beside the little house, where vegetables grew behind a little fence. And there was a well with a bucket sitting beside it.

The woman led her into the house. The princess felt a fair bit stronger walking in than she had walking to the carriage from the castle. She was amazed at the power the trip had had to energize her.

Inside, over by the hearth, just as the woman had said, there was a tiny lamb curled up in a blanket. It lay still and did not get up when it heard them enter. The woman brought the princess over to the lamb immediately. She made a larger bed with more blankets and the princess lay down and curled her body around the small creature. The lamb shifted and nuzzled into her. Then the woman set to work making a bottle of milk that she brought to the princess.

The lamb took the nipple in its mouth and began sucking immediately. It was very hungry. She giggled as the lamb butted the bottle with its head and she had to use all her strength to hold it steady. The lamb drained the bottle and wanted more. The princess handed the bottle over to the woman, and told her the lamb was still hungry.

“A lamb will always be hungry,” she said. “He will have to wait a couple hours and then he can have more. Otherwise he will eat until he dies.”

The princess was shocked. She hadn’t known this. “How does a lamb keep from eating too much when he is always with his mother?”

“His mother only makes as much milk as he needs,” said the woman. “Not too much.”

 

 

The princess cuddled and fed and played with the lamb for the rest of the day. That night they slept curled up together by the fire.

The next day, the two woke up and started the process over again but by mid-morning they were both getting a bit antsy. The woman led them outside onto the grass where they could lay and play. The lamb got up on its wobbly legs and tried to run around and the princess laughed. Soon she was up too and they were rolling and playing in the grass, chasing each other around as the lamb made happy little noises and the princess laughed. She got tired very quickly, however, and collapsed again soon, the lamb nuzzling into her for another nap. The two slept.

The woman worked in her garden and brought water up from the well for her vegetables and flowers. She sat on the bench and sewed for awhile. But all the time she kept watch over the girl and the lamb. When it was time for the lamb to eat again, this time she showed the girl how to make the bottle and said, “Now this is your job. Every two hours you will make him one and feed him without me telling you.”

The princess swelled with responsibility. And she did it. Every two hours she made the lamb a new bottle and fed him. And the two bonded so that the lamb never left her side, just followed her everywhere she went. By the evening of the second day, when the girl was making the lamb his bottle, she realized she felt something unusual. It took her a moment to pinpoint the feeling.

“Excuse me,” she said to the woman.

“Yes?” the woman said. She was sitting in her rocking chair, sewing again.

“I have a request, but first, what is your name?” She felt horribly selfish and rude for not asking sooner. But the woman seemed not to care one bit.

“Asa,” she said. “And my dear girl, what is your name?”

The princess was a little taken aback. She had not realized the woman didn’t know her name either.

“Antoinette,” she replied.

“It’s lovely to meet you Antoinette,” said Asa.

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” she said.

“And what is your request?”

“I am feeling a bit hungry,” she said. “Might I have some food please?”

“Of course my dear, but we must start slowly, your body is not used to eating much anymore.”

She prepared some squash with nuts and dried fruit and cinnamon sprinkled on top. It was exquisite. The Princess hadn’t eaten much for a long time, and even that, for a while now, had been only broth which tasted bitter to her.

 

As the days stretched out and became blurry, each one blending into the other, she lost track of how long she had been in the cottage with Asa. Asa had taken to calling her Nettie which she loved. She had never had a special nickname before. And Nettie started calling the lamb Butterbean. Butterbean was getting stronger and bigger and eating more and more. She too, was getting stronger and eating more and more. Soon she had enough strength to begin helping Asa in the garden, watering the plants, feeding the chickens and gathering eggs.

One morning Asa announced that she was finished with her sewing and presented a lovely blue dress to Nettie that she immediately put on, happy to be rid of that old nightgown from her sick bed. Asa washed the gown and hung it to dry on the clothes line.  Now the three of them started taking walks together every day down to the river where they threw stones and walked in up to their ankles and splashed each other and took turns making up stories about faraway lands and magical creatures. For meals they ate nuts and fruit and cheeses, eggs, and vegetables, and big heads of green lettuce and kale. The princess grew healthier and healthier, though she did not realize it, for it happened so gradually and she was too busy to notice.

One day it suddenly occurred to the princess that she wasn’t sick anymore. It hit her like a shock and she almost began to cry.

“Asa,” she said, her chin wobbling a little bit. They were sitting beside the creek and Butterbean lay in the shade nearby having a little nap.

“Yes, darling.”

“Am I healed?”

“Yes, my girl, I believe you are.”

“But… how?”

“There are a lot of reasons you were sick. And we reversed them all. So you got better. No one is sick for no reason.”

“Why was I sick?”

“There were things you needed that you didn’t have and things you had that you needed to be rid of. But you have to take great care. Once a sickness knows you it does not forget you. You will have to be vigilant not to let it return.”

 

 

After a few months, the wise healer brought the girl back to the castle. The queen ran to her, shocked. Unbelieving. She burst into tears at the sight of her daughter, unrecognizable. The girl was strong and her skin was tanned.  Traces of muscle showed on her arms and her cheeks glowed pink and full. Most of all there was light in her eyes. She ran to her mother, strong and joyful and they embraced. When the half-grown sheep ran in behind her, the queen just about fainted.

“Mama, this is Butterbean. He’s my friend and he’s going to stay here with me.”

 

The Queen led Asa out behind the castle for a stroll. The princess and Butterbean ran around playing and laughing and bleating.

“I owe you so much, how can I repay you for this? You saved my daughter’s life.”

“Let her visit me, as often as she likes, this is all I ask.”

“Done,” said the queen. “I trust you more with her now than I even trust myself. Please tell me. What did she have and how did you heal her?”

“First, she had a broken spirit. She had no purpose and no work to bring her satisfaction. She had no one to serve and nothing that looked to her for help.”

The queen flushed with embarrassment.

“Second, the idea that she was sick became a sickness itself. She needed to forget it. She needed to get away and become distracted by a new place and new tasks.”

And now the queen felt ashamed. Upon hearing it she knew it was true. She hadn’t meant to, but yes, she could see how she had encouraged her daughter to remain sick, rather than encouraging her to get better.

“And third, she was being poisoned.”

The queen gasped. Who? How? her mind flashed to the cook, the scullery maid, the servants. Panic overtaking her.

“Do not worry, your staff is innocent,” Asa said, seeming to read her mind. “I checked them all over closely. They are pure of heart and devoted to His Majesty. The poison was coming from the doctor. The medicine he gave you to give to her was a carelessly concocted potion. It was harming her inside more than it was helping anything. She was already weak. The last thing she needed was more toxicity to bear.”

The queen was shocked. How could she have allowed this to happen? How had she been so negligent? To give her that potion without even knowing what it was? Or what it did?

Suddenly the queen understood exactly how she had gone wrong. Her daughter had needed sunshine and fresh air, but she was trapped inside a stuffy room. She had needed purpose and responsibility but she was bored and unutilized. She needed adventure and thrill, but her life had just grown emptier as she became sadder. She needed good food, but she wasn’t eating, she was starving. She needed exercise and to play and to work. She needed to be needed.

The queen felt like a terrible mother. This life of ease and privilege. She had felt it was a great honor to give her daughter luxury and comfort and spare her responsibility. But now she saw it made her weak and purposeless. It took away her reason for existing, for thriving.

“I feel so foolish,” the queen said as she fought back tears.

“Do not look behind you unless it is to remind you of where you must go from here. Give her purpose. Give her responsibility. Let her eat robustly, lots of food that comes from the ground. Let her run and play wildly in the sun. Let her get dirty and plant a garden. Teach her to help her people. Teach her to serve more than be served. To think of others more than herself. These things will keep her body and soul strong and free from illness.”

“Thank you,” said the queen. “I promise I will.”

The two women looked on as the princess tumbled into the fountain with Butterbean and the two splashed water everywhere, soaking each other. The queen winced. It would take time for her to fully accept this messier version of her daughter. But she intended to. Because it was the healthiest she had ever seen her.

“I am forever in your debt,” said the queen.

“I did very little, actually,” said Asa. “I just placed her in the right environment.” She nodded toward the girl and the lamb. “And then those two saved each other.”

 

 

 

 

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