Once upon a time, a very long time ago, somewhere in the middle of England, there lived a lady, Aurelia, who took for her second husband, Jeffrey, a very haughty and arrogant older man.

He brought with him to the marriage two sons who, if possible, were even more obnoxious and despicable than he.  

She had a child of her own, a young man, who was sweet by nature and who had the "milk of human kindness" coursing through his veins.

Aurelia thought she had married for love.  She had been blinded by loneliness and a desperate need to experience once more the thrill of cupid's arrow.  A terrible misjudgment of her husband would lead to tragedy especially for her beloved son.

Once the interminable wedding ordeal was over, and now that that he had full access and control over his wife's money and estates, Jeffrey no longer needed to hide his true colors.

He merely tolerated Aurelia but hated his new stepson with a vengeance.  The boy was just too good to be true.  He never talked back, not like his own two indolent good-for-nothing wretches.  He never complained.  He willingly did whatever was asked of him.

He was also far too intelligent for a simple man like Jeffrey to even fathom what he was talking about half of the time.

John lived in his own world.  He liked numbers and was always scribbling away in his notebooks and journals, playing with figures, manipulating and adding them up in his head.

"What a colossal waste of time", Jeffrey would roar cuffing the boy's head.  "There's work to be done!  I will not have someone who shirks his duties living under my roof."

Obediently, John would put his books away and do his step-father's bidding.

Fair Aurelia grieved over her enormous mistake in marrying such an odious man who was now so often cruel with her in words and to her son in actions.  Where was the honorable man who had courted her so steadfastly? 

She mourned so intensely that she took ill and had to be confined to her bed.

As he saw his mother's health decline rapidly, young John spent what little free time he had from his chores by her  bedside.

One day she weakly stretched out her hand and limply brushed the dark curls from his face.

"John, forgive me.  I never should have trusted my heart again.  It betrayed both you and I."

Between her rasps to draw breath, John wept holding tightly to her hand. 

"Mother, please you have to fight.  I cannot bear it if you should succumb and give in.  You are so strong, much stronger and braver than I.  How will I endure if you go and leave me all alone?"

He felt guilty and selfish in saying such words.  He was only thinking of himself and how lost he would be without her constant and deep abiding love.

Aurelia looked into her boy's beautiful blue-green eyes for the last time.  "I will always be with you my son.  From wherever my spirit flies, I will ensure that you are taken care of."

A mother knows her children best.  Aurelia recognized that John was too gentle a soul to battle against the likes of Jeffrey and his step-brothers.

"When the time is right, you will meet someone who will cherish and love you even more than I, and since my love is infinite, you will be treasured above all things."

As the tears streamed down his face, John held fast to his mother as she died in his embrace.

Jeffrey publically mourned for his wife as appearances required it.  Privately, he was glad to be rid of her.  Her beauty and refined manners had first made the wooing of her surprisingly pleasurable.  Once they were man and wife, those same genteel characteristics were quick to irritate him.  She was quiet but insistent in her defense of her son.

Now that he was free of all restraint, he soon became merciless in targeting and upbraiding John.  Jeffrey assigned him the most menial and humiliating tasks he could dream up in his mind.

John had to sweep and scour the floors, wipe the dishes, wash the clothes, fetch the water from the well, feed the livestock, chop wood for the four fireplaces and keep them stoked.  The house was large and drafty.  To tidy and clean all of the rooms kept John busy and on his feet all day.

His step-brothers, Sid and Hando, took little pity on him.

"You missed a spot, Johnny," Hando would gleefully call out as he tramped in fresh dirt from outside.  The heavy dark boots that Hando favoured would leave deep scars and pitted grooves in the wooden floors.

Sid, who always looked pristine in well-tailored outfits, would insist that John properly press his garments leaving not a crease.  "Come now John, you've left a score of wrinkles in my trousers.  How do you expect me to impress the fair maidens looking like an unmade bed?  Shall I dress like you?"

Sid and Hando would both then giggle a high pitched sound that literally drove Jeffrey to drink.

John would look down in shame at his own poor attire.  His shirts, though well-made by his mother, were so old and crusted with dust and charcoal that they could never be made whole.  His pants he had outgrown and were much too short.  They were faded with several holes in them. 

He often would go barefoot as his shoes were too small and caused great blisters to form on his heels.

Jeffrey would not supply any money for him to purchase new clothing.

"Why do you need new ones?  Those you have are perfectly fine for one who brushes away the cinders and gets down on his hands and knees to scrub the floor.  Do you think money grows on trees?"

John didn't say it but thought about Sid's huge wardrobe allowance.  Hando, no doubt, spent his on painting more pictures on his skin.  John couldn't make head or tail of the ghastly designs.

He tried to stay out of Hando's way.  He always had a sneer on his face and a brutal insult ready to spring from his lips.

Sid was a different sort of man altogether, reptilian nonetheless.  He liked to slither around John and make oily remarks like, "You should be more like me John.  Even though you don't have a chance in hell in attracting the gentler sex, if you walked straighter instead of that slouch you attempt, you might look more human."

Again, John didn't say that his heavy burden of labour made his back ache so that it was excruciatingly painful to try and unbend.  When his work was finished for the day, he would retire to his little room in the attic and by the dim light of a single taper; he would take out his precious notebooks and work on formulas and theories.

Exhaustion though would usually prove victorious over him, and he'd fall asleep at his table, still in his clothes, his head draped over his arms.  All too soon, morning would arrive and he'd be up at dawn cooking the large breakfast that his step-father would devour.

As Jeffrey would eat eggs, slabs of bacon and ham with scones slathered in jam, John would be given dry stale crusts of bread and luke-warm gruel with weevils swimming through it.

The days were predictable in their sameness until one day; Sid pranced into the parlor, his face animated with excitement.

"There's going to be a ball!  The king is throwing one for his daughter."

Jeffrey at once perked up.  A ball at the king's palace!  That would mean he'd have even more chances to enlarge his purse and lands.  He would meet the cream of society which would include all the rich dowager spinsters or widows.  It would also mean that he could possibly marry off his two boys and procure their wives' dowries.

Jeffrey knew his sons' faults well.  Sid was vain, lazy and insufferably stuck-up.  Hando was rude, violent and in an angry passion all the time.  They would need help...lots of help in finding suitable partners.  Glancing at his two sons, Jeffrey shook his head.  What an onerous endeavour to undertake.

Sid gushed on with all the details.

The king felt it was high time that his eldest was made a bride.  She was far too independent and free-spirited.  It was time to settle her down.  Though she had pouted prettily and pleaded with her father to let her choose in her own time, he remained firm.  She would make her selection of husband at a ball that would be open wide to all men and women of the gentry class in the country.

Karen was sorely distressed that she was being forced to find a mate at such short notice.  In fact, she didn't wish to choose any man at all at this time in her life.  What was the hurry?  She was still young and was very aware that once she was wed, control of her life would pass from her father to her husband.  With the former, she still could usually twist him around her little finger.  Her freedom was not unduly curtailed.  That could all change if she married.

Her brother, Jeff, did not share the same dour sentiments as she.

"Just think about all those handsome blokes you'll meet.  Look at the bright side, Luv.  Just pass on some of your rejects.  I'll make fine use of them."

Karen smiled and inwardly chuckled.  Jeff was incorrigible.  She loved him dearly, but it was so clearly obvious to her that he preferred men to women.  He kept his secret well-hidden for the most part, but Karen and he shared everything together.  He had discreet encounters, and Karen would often cover for him with their father.

In her heart, she wished it were otherwise.  Her brother loved family and adored little ones.  Jeff would never know the wonder of having his own children unless he took a bride himself simply as a ruse.  No, he would never permit himself that luxury.  It would be dishonest and above all unworthy to force someone else to live a lie.  He was indeed a prince when it came to honor and doing the right thing. 

She squeezed his hand as he winked at her.

Instead of looking at this ball as a long chain with her liberty dangling at the end of it, Karen would do her best to make her family proud.  She would remain dignified and civil with all suitors.  She had lots of practice at playing pretend games and make believe.

Karen could just close her eyes and envision a man who would be tall, dark-haired and incredibly breath-taking in looks.  More importantly, this man must be kind, sensitive and know how to compete with her bright, lively mind.

Most men were astounded by how well-read she was and how she kept abreast with the day-to-day events in the kingdom.  She could converse on almost any topic with a high degree of knowledge and competency.  This fact daunted a lot of her beaus.  Smart women were not usually the first thing men looked for in a conquest.

She sighed again.  Was there such a man out there as she imagined?  Would she be required to settle and compromise her dreams and desires?  She feared the answer to her questions.

Jeffrey spared no expense once the formal invitation arrived.  He dispatched a messenger promptly to summon the finest tailor in the district.  The best materials were chosen to weave the final suits of clothing for the three of them.

"I look like a flaming ponce," Hando cursed seeing his reflection in the looking glass.  "I ain't wearing this."

For once, Jeffrey stood up to his son and ordered him not only to wear it but to shut up grousing about it.

"You'll not only wear it as it befits your station, but you'll do it and me the honor and respect and wear it with pride.  I will not be made a laughing stock in front of the king and the elite.  You will not disgrace me, boy."

Hando, enraged, gave his father an evil glare that would have cowed most people, but in the end backed down.  He didn't want to be disinherited.

Sid, on the other hand, couldn't be more delighted.  He preened forever and a day when they had their final fittings.  He constantly held up his attire for inspection and brushed away invisible lint.  He gave John detailed instructions on how to hang it and care for it until the time came for it to be donned.

John couldn't help but naively ask when he first heard news of the ball, "What am I to wear?"  He couldn't wait to see the princess.  He had been told she was quite beautiful.

Jeffrey bellowed with laughter.  Sid snorted.  Hando just rolled his eyes.

"What makes you think you're going?" his step-father asked with deep derision in his voice.   

"I thought the invitation was for all the occupants of this domicile", John replied quietly.

"The invitation clearly states 'of the gentry class'.  Do you think you qualify?"  Jeffrey's eyebrow rose and raked down John's body.

John gathered up his courage.  "My mother was Lady Cornelius.  My great-grandfather was Duke of Lancashire."

Jeffrey drew up to his full stance in front of his step-son.  They actually were of the same height yet Jeffrey with his hefty build and pompous airs seemed to tower over John.

"Your mother was married to me, you young whelp.  She died not the high-bred woman you would esteem her to be but a foolish, irresponsible child.  She would have run her property into the ground, so laden in the debt that your father left her with was she, until I salvaged it.

John reddened at the jibe about his father.  It was true that the man who had sired him was a gambler and had carelessly squandered his mother's fortune.  But it was also true that she had loved him passionately until his death from the black plague.  John had good memories only of his father, and Aurelia had instilled in him proper deference to his authority.

"Why am I wasting my breath?  How can I expect a bastard to understand social position and entitlement?"

Clenching his jaw, John felt such a white-hot anger sweep through him.  His step-father just had to throw his illegitimacy in his face.

Hando, who never realized the circumstances of John's birth, widened his eyes.  "Born on the wrong side of the sheets eh, John-Boy?  You're just full of surprises."

Sid merely sniffed the air and said, "Good breeding always make itself known.  I always felt John was of common stock."

"The bottom line is you're not going.  You're needed to take care of the chores.  Who would do them in your absence?"

It obviously was a rhetorical question as Jeffrey continued on.  "You're to help your brothers prepare.  Whatever they need and ask, you'll do it."  He gave his step-son a final withering glance before departing.

Hando snickered darkly as he thought of a way out of wearing those sorry-arsed pansy clothes. 

John didn't like the look that crossed his step-brother's face.  What was the vile brute up to now?

Sid mimicked his father.  "Just remember, John.  You're to do everything we say and ask."

Bridling his temper, John went out to finish feeding the chickens.

The day of the ball dawned soon enough, and John was kept busy running back and forth from Hando's to Sid's rooms.  His step-father did not bother asking for his assistance.  He didn't want John's big and filthy hands anywhere near the clean linen he was to put on.

Hando waited until John held out the silk pantaloons for him to step into.  With one quick thrust, he put his heavy boot through the thin shiny material and tore it.

"Now look what you've gone and done, Johnny!" Hando yelled.  "You've ruined this fine suit.  Father spent a mint on it."

John was clearly disturbed.  Oh my, he was in for it now.  Jeffrey would have his hide.

"Here, I can mend it."  John hastily reached out a hand.

Hando just smiled and jumped joyously up and down all over the pants.

John watched helplessly in horror as dark smears of what looked like black paint and tar were permanently stamped on to the delicate fabric.

Sid and Jeffrey rushed in at the racket that Hando was making.

Hando hearing the heavy tread of his father's footsteps leaped away from the scene of his crime and yanked John forward so he fumbled and fell sprawled across the clothing.

Jeffrey entered to see John face first in silk.

"What is going on?" he shouted.

John slowly recovered and tried to untangle himself from the swaths of material.  In his swiftness to unravel, he managed to tear even more of the outfit.

"What have you done?"  Jeffrey quite frankly lost it when he saw the remains of the very costly garment.

Fearing a fierce beating, John fled with his step-father racing behind him.

Sid glanced over at a very cocky and smug Hando.  "That was well-manufactured, little brother."  He limply clapped his hands together in tribute.  "Father doesn't have any time to requisition yet another."

Hando grinned and gave Sid a bizarre open-armed salute.

Already dressed, Sid clucked at the waste of such exquisite finery.  "But I need John to do my hair and nails.  You have father chasing him all over the premises."  Sid pouted.  "Couldn't you have at least waited until I was completely groomed?  You can be so self-centred sometimes, Hando."

Hando just threw him a 'look who's talking' smirk.

They both could hear the tell-tale noises of Jeffrey giving John a sound thrashing.  They didn't care, as long as he wasn't whaling on them.

Some time later John crept back into the house.  He was too old to cry at his step-father's harsh punishment.  He took it stoically like a man and never raised a hand in protest or defense. 

He silently took up his work where he had laid off.  He washed, combed and oiled Sid's hair.  He then gave him a thorough manicure without whining or whimpering. 

Only once did Sid catch him wincing as he bent down to polish the fine leather soles of his shoes.

Sid almost admired him for his forbearance but then quickly reverted to character.

"Not so rough John.  You'll rub off all the shine.  Save your energy for when we come home in the wee hours.  You'll have to disrobe, brush and press everything painstakingly."  At last Sid got the satisfaction of seeing irritation cross John's features.

Jeffrey came in just before they left to give his final orders about work to be done.

John kept his head bowed as his step-father's voice droned on and on.  Inside, his heart was simmering with barely repressed wrath.  Oh, were his mother alive to see his ill treatment, she would no doubt have found a way for them to escape Jeffrey's heavy-handed tyranny.

Appearing lastly, Hando was clad in the same clothes he always wore--white pants of a sturdy denim cloth, burgundy coloured shirt and a long blue frock coat.  He hadn't even changed out of his boots.

Jeffrey glowered at him and merely shook his head in revulsion.

The three of them vanished into a coach with Aurelia's family's coat of arms engraved on it.

John, left alone at last, sank to his knees in despair.  The pain of the beating he had endured had left its marks not only on his skin but in his very soul.  He hung his head, and only when he heard the flapping of a large bird's wings did he raise his eyes.

At first, John was blinded by a bright blue light that dazzled all around him.  As he blinked and lifted his hand to block out the glare, he plainly heard coarse cursing that would make a sailor blush.

"Infernal damnation!  Hell and Death!  Soul to the Devil!"

As John's eyes adjusted to the light that had dimmed somewhat, he saw a huge shape lumber towards him.  He stepped back reflexively.

The figure emerged into that of a tall, powerfully-built man who was clad in what looked like a naval uniform.

John gawked at the vision before him.  The man's hair was long and tied back in a queue.  It was a bright yellow in color, the exact shade of buttercups.

As John completed his inspection, the man coughed impatiently.  "Have you finished, lad?  Do I pass muster?"

John was flabbergasted by the loudness of the deep baritone.

"I've had a damned unpleasant time of finding this infernal place.  But now that I have, I must get on with my task."

When John looked blankly at him, the man snapped his fingers.  "Look lively, John.  There's work to be done, and we've not got a moment to lose."

"You know my name?" John asked astonished.  "I don't believe we've ever met."

The man held out his hand and as John tentatively took it; his arm was pumped up and down most mercilessly.  "Name's Aubrey, Captain Jack Aubrey of his Majesty's Navy."

Okay, that would explain the uniform, John thought as he tried to get the blood flowing again in his hand and arm.  "Do you have business with my step...with Jeffrey?"

"With that wretched scrub?  Hardly.  Let me speak plainly.  I'm here to turn the tides of fortune in your favor."

John had no clue as to what the big man was on about.

Jack sighed.  It was always this way.  People either didn't believe in him or trust the magic that he brought to render transformations. 

"I'm your godfather, John." Jack finally announced.

The young man didn't remember his mother ever speaking of such a relative, but that didn't mean one still didn't exist.

"Right then.  Many a stitch saves time, so let's get on with it shall we?"

As Jack started moving around the room looking under tables and foraging through cupboards, John dared to ask two more questions.

 "Why are you here?  What is it you are seeking?"

Could the dossier he gathered on this boy be wrong?  He had been informed that this man was quite learned yet he was acting like he was not the sharpest spoon in the tool chest.  No that wasn't quite right.  He was acting like he was not the full sixpence.  No, that ain't it either.  Damn!  He gave up.

"What a fellow you are, John", Jack clapped him on the shoulder.  "I'm here to get you ready for the ball."

John suddenly sat down on the couch.  "The ball?"

"Yes...the ball...soiree...large party, whatever you wish to call it."  Jack held up a well-calloused hand to forestall any more queries.  "We're in a hell-fire hurry, John.  We've got to get you properly attired and sent off in style."

Jack gazed out the window and bolted for the door throwing it open with a slam.  "Bear a hand.  Fetch me those pumpkins there."

Doing as he was told, John lugged two of the biggest back to his godfather.

Unsheathing his sword from his side Jack merely touched the rough outer shells.  In an instant, the pumpkins vanished and a magnificent coach gilded with gold took its place.

Gaping, John rubbed his eyes.  It was still there!  "How did you...?"  He didn't end the sentence as Jack was already scurrying around again trying to find something else.

John touched the door of the coach.  It was real...substantial under the touch of his fingers.

"That was as neat an action as you would wish.   But we must have horses," Jack muttered out loud.

John hastily shut the door to the house so that the field mice would not get inside.

"Stand fast there!" Jack roared out.  "I said avast!  Belay, you scallywags!"

Startled by Jack's shouts, John leapt back.

His godfather had managed to trap six of the rodents against the oaken door.  Once again, he reached out his sword and pricked the back of each. 

With loud whinnies and neighs, they all were changed into dapple grey steeds.

Struck dumb by the sight, John still managed to grab the reins of each and strap them to the carriage.

He now had his first impressions confirmed.  He turned back to Jack.  "Are you my fairy godfather?"

The big sailor's face flushed deeply.  "You judge a pudding by its fruit, John.  I am as manly as the next person, never you fear, my boy."

It was John's turn to be embarrassed.  Jack had taken his remarks the wrong way and deemed them to be a slur against his manhood and virility.

"I didn't mean anything by those words.  I only meant that I have heard tales as a child about such beings, but I never gave credence to them."

Jack harrumphed.  "That word has caused more ill begotten ideas and connotations than any in the English language.  I value authors of these stories extremely, but they have done a great disservice to people employed such as I."

"Now we need a driver and footmen."

John wishing to make amends for his offence scrambled down to the pond and netted three bull frogs.  Before his eyes, they were mutated into plump, jolly coachmen.

"Something's missing."  Jack touched a finger to his lips.  "Don't tell me.  It's on the tip of my tongue."

John impatiently rocked back and forth on his heels.  Finally, when he could stand the suspense no more, he cried out, "My clothes.  I need something to wear."

"Blast it, boy!  Did I not just tell you not to tell me?" Jack thundered out.  "It just slipped my mind.  I would have got around to it eventually.  I should be uncommonly obliged if in the future, you take closer heed of my words.  "Insubordinate sod", he grumbled under his breath.

Too excited to take much notice, John eagerly asked, "What do you need me to bring?"

Jack took a slow turn around John.  He tsked and he tsked.  "No, this will never do.  You look like a proper flat.  Upon my word, here's a pretty kettle of fish."

John was quickly getting discouraged.  "This shouldn't be a difficult obstacle to surmount.  If you can change pumpkins into a coach and mice into horses, it should be child's play to create something suitable for me to wear."

"Lord, John, don't get yourself all in a passion.  It is my duty to prepare you.  Pipe down and recollect yourself!" Jack admonished lightly.  "This will be as easy as kiss my hand."

He stretched out the tip of his sword and stroked John's pants, shirt and sandals three times.

Feeling a slight tremor run through him, John opened his eyes and looked down.

His drab and soiled clothes had turned to cloths of gold and silver, all beset with the tiniest and rarest jewels.  His shirt was snow white.

Exhaling deeply, John spun around.  "Oh, I must see how I look!"

He raced to the looking glass that took up most of Sid's chamber.  In utter amazement, he pinched his face.  The dirt and mud that habitually darkened and stained his skin was washed clean.  His hair grown long and unruly was now clipped neatly in the latest trend.

Rubbing his chin, he noted that the bristles were gone as if he had just shaved with the most acute razor.  He looked down at his feet.  The sandals had been replaced by impossibly black and shiny leather shoes.

John was a good looking man, but he never realized it and certainly never felt like it.  Gazing into the mirror, he didn't recognize himself.  Who was this strange young man staring back at him with his own two eyes?  He gave off a solid impression of self-confidence.  John most assuredly had never been conscious of such a trait in his life.

Jack was tickled pink that the final metamorphosis had turned out so well.  His protégé was indeed splendid.  Sometimes he didn't have a whole lot of raw material to work with, if you know what I mean.

"I can't thank you enough, Captain Aubrey," John gratefully effused to his benefactor.

Reddening again, Jack shook off any praise.  "No need, my boy.  I give you joy at the party."

As John was aided into the coach by a footman, Jack stuck his head in the window.  "Now remember, lad, quick's the word and sharp's the action."

John didn't know what that meant so he smiled and nodded.

"I will be with child waiting to hear all the details.  In the meantime though, carry on and do me proud."

John beamed once more and again reached out to shake farewell with his godfather.  This time he was prepared for the bone-crunching grip.

As the driver spurred on the horses, the coach started moving.

"I'm forgetting something," Jack mumbled.  "Damnation!"

As the coach gathered speed, he remembered.  He called out, "John, you have to be back by twelve bells.  D'ye hear me, there?"

It was too late.  The coach had turned the corner.

The ballroom of the palace was already rapidly filling up with invited guests,

Karen peeked out nervously from behind a lace curtain.

"Whoa, two o'clock alert!  Check out the size of those biceps on that gent with Lady Umidia."  Jeff let out a wolf whistle.

She peered out again.  "Ah yes.  That's Rodney.  He's her gardener and also her Wednesday lover, or is it Friday's?"  Karen would have to think about that one.  "It's so hard to keep up with the daily hearsay."

Jeff continued to gawk at all the studly male specimens on display.

Karen curled the tendrils of her hair around her finger, a habit she only took to when she was really out of sorts.

"I can't believe I have to choose the man I will be with for the rest of my life tonight.  It's ludicrous."

Jeff was not attending which didn't appease her foul mood at all.  She began to pace.  She already had worn a hole in her bedroom's carpet.

"Would you chill," Jeff finally tore his eyes from the curtain.  "You look bonzer."

He grabbed her hand and led her to the mirror in the small dressing room.

Taking a deep breath, Karen raised her eyes. 

Her gown was lavender in color and floated from her narrow waist to the floor in a wide arc.  The bodice fit nicely across her small but firm breasts.  Indeed her corset had been laced so tightly that they were pushed up and out and were plainly visible, more so than was modest in her opinion.  She winced at the sight feeling over-exposed before she even made her appearance.

"You gotta show the gold, Luv," Jeff smiled.  "You can't look like a bloody tomboy every day."

"Why not?" she pertly inquired.  "I feel ridiculous."

At least her hair was presentable.  Normally, her waist-length auburn tresses were all askew and topsy-turvy.  Her hairdresser had taken great pains to tame and sculpt it into a high chignon.

"Oh, oh.  Father has just come into the room," Jeff grimly reported.

They both looked at each other and made a face.  It was pretend time for both of them now.

Jeffrey, Sid and Hando presented themselves to the guard at the door.

He looked them over suspiciously and frowned as he got a load of Hando.  The man had shaved his head!  He also was not dressed for such an occasion.  What the hell were those marks on his skin?

"I trust our invitations are in order," Jeffrey finally said peeved at the man's lengthy examination.

The guard looked straight into the silver-haired man's eyes.  "When I'm fucking good and ready, I'll let you in and not before.  So hold your horses, old man."

Jeffrey, clearly taken aback by such coarse language, gaped.

"Close your mouth, shitbird.  You'll catch flies."

This time Jeffrey drew himself up to his full height.  

Unfortunately, he was as tall as the guard, no taller.

The guard, sensing the man was trying to diss him, straightened himself and puffed his formidable chest out.

Jeffrey nearly bounced off the powerful pectoral muscles.

"What is your name?  I want to report your insolence to the king at once.  He'll have your job and your head."

The guard pushed closer to Jeffrey.  "It's Bud.  Shall I spell it for ya?  B...U...D.  Do you want to take this outside?  We can do this right now."  Bud continued to invade Jeffrey's personal space by getting in his face, almost nose to nose.

At the last second, Jeffrey retreated.  He might damage his suit if he deigned to teach this young blackguard a lesson in dealing with his betters.  "I don't want any trouble.  I just want to go inside."

Bud scowled.  Too bad.  He could have used the excuse to beat the crap out of this cocksucker.  He stepped aside and let Jeffrey pass but blocked the way for Sid and Hando.

What's with this guy's hair? Bud thought as he actually had to raise his eyes to see over the top of Sid's coiffed hair style.  The hair alone gave him an added two inches on his height.

"Is there a problem, Buuuuud," Sid dragged out the guard's name.  "Ladies are waiting, and they're waiting for moi.  We mustn't disappoint them."

Well, that just got Bud all riled up again.

"Why don't you dance with a man for a change, shit for brains?"  Bud doubled up his fists.

Sid grinned snidely.  "How barbaric.  Yes, I would love to rumba with you, my primordial friend, but I'm afraid my dance card's rather full at this time.  The only guy I got on it is Parker.  You're not him.  Excusez-moi."  Sid pushed past the guard.

That left only Hando outside.

Bud just crossed his arms in front of him.  "You're not wearing the required apparel."

Hando merely cocked an eyebrow.  "Didn't know there was a code.  Wasn't on the invite."

Bud frowned at the surly tone.  He didn't like this punk.  "What's with the badass attitude?"

The corners of Hando's mouth rose in a sneer.  "I'm just here for the sheilas, mate.  It's been awhile since I've had a root with a bird on the right side of the tracks.  You know what I mean?" 

Here, Hando winked and nudged Bud who recoiled at his touch, just in time for Hando to squeeze by him and make his entrance.

Karen clasping tightly to Jeff's arm walked into the ballroom.  She had begged her father not to announce her arrival.  He had relented.

"Ease off, Luv.  You know I have sensitive skin."

She loosened her death grip and tried to smile, but her lips felt like they had a life of their own.  They quivered as her eyes swept around.

My, my, there were a lot of people here that she didn't know or had ever seen.

"Eight o'clock alert.  Adonis personified."

Karen glanced in the specified direction.  Yes, there was quite a handsome, well-built man staring at her brazenly.

"Eight o'clock alert.  Arrogant, conceited jerk," she replied.

Jeff took another gander.  "Probably right," he admitted.   "Betcha he would look absolutely pervy in a speedo though."

Karen snickered in spite of herself.

The king approached, and she was forced to relinquish her brother as her father started making introductions.

While Jeffrey was chatting up a few of the blue-rinsed set, Sid oozed out charm and was actually making progress with a few of the women.  When he behaved himself, which was a rare occurrence, Sid could be quite successful in boldly getting what he wanted.

"Enchante," he smiled and kissed the  hand of the young woman  whom he had just made acquaintance with.

The pretty young thing who had not a brain cell in her head gleamed up at him.

Prey number one, he thought to himself.  He led her right down that old garden path and outside to the back lawns.

Hando went straight to the refreshment table.  Where was the friggin' ale?  He only saw decanters, bottles and barrels of wine:  claret, port and sherry.

"Wow, I could have had a VB."  He smacked his hand to his forehead.  He should have brought some from the pub near home.

He leaned back against the wall.  Look at the tits on that dumb cow, he thought but luckily didn't say aloud.  The Countess of York would not have been impressed by his mental description of her generous endowments.

So, where was this hoity-toity princess?

The minstrels had started playing their music.  The dance floor was now open.  An audible "Awwwwwwwwwwh" went through the crowd as the king led his daughter to the centre.

Hando looked over heads to see the main attraction.  Spying the tiny figure whirling around in a cloud of purple, he gave her the once-over.  Actually, she wasn't half-bad.  She was slim, petite and her equipment spilling out of her dress was still more than a mouthful.  He was intrigued.

The coach came to a flying stop.  The driver tore open the door and put a hand in to help the young gentleman disembark.  Nothing reached out to take it.  In fact, he couldn't see the young man at all.

"Sir, are you there.  Sir?"

He heard a groan and then someone lunged off the floor and staggered out the door just in time to heave on the grass.  He looked away not wishing to embarrass his patron.

John finished throwing up his lunch.  He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.  He was just a little agitated.

He wished with all his heart that his mother were here with him.  She would be so happy to see him so elegantly clad and being part of the life she had so wanted to give him.

Aurelia had made sure that John was well-educated in not only the academics but also in the arts and culture of high society.  She, herself, had been the one to teach him to dance. 

He remembered standing on her feet as a small child while she showed him the various steps.  Over and over she would make him practice till he knew every dance perfectly.  He hoped to heaven he would be able to recall that knowledge now.

Karen perused her dance card.  For pity's sake, she didn't have a free moment to herself until after the minuet.

"I believe I have the honor your Royal Highness."

She turned to her next partner and gazed up into a gorgeous set of aquamarine eyes.  In fact, everything about this man before her was pleasing to the eye.

Drawing an arm around her waist, he reached for her other hand. 

Without a word, she pressed it in his.

He led her superbly about the floor.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Sir."  Karen lowered her eyes coyly.

She heard a soft chuckle in response.

"Terrence Thorne at your service."

She batted her eyelashes coquettishly.  "Terrence, what a lovely name.  And is there a Mrs. Terrence Thorne on the premises?"

He smiled down at her, full with amusement.  "I'm not a marrying kind of man."

Before she could ask what he meant, he took her breath away by suddenly dipping her deeply.

Then the dance was over.  With a low bow, he left her to her own devices.

Karen was oddly put out.  He hadn't shown the slightest interest in flirting with her.  After all, this was her ball, and men had been staging fights all over the realm to get a prized invitation to it.

"Who was that demi-god you were just with?"  Jeff sidled up to her.  "The ratings for him go off the bleeping radar screen.  Talk about god's gift to poofters."

Karen pursed her lips.  "His name is Terrence Thorne.  He actually spurned me."

Jeff hid a smile.  His sister was clearly vexed.  She wasn't used to rejection of any kind.

"Chirp up.  I'm sure the rest of the dags on this list will be besotted with ya."

"Perhaps," she vaguely answered.  "Jeff, will you fetch me a drink.  I find myself parched."

As Jeff moved off, Karen took a moment to grab some fresh air and regain her composure.  She went into the back gardens.

She was drawn to a rustle in the nearby bushes.  "Hello there.  I say, is anyone there?"

Two heads popped up.

"Oh," Karen awkwardly let out a gasp of surprise.

The heads were attached to two bodies in varying stages of undress.  Most of the male was naked.

My, my, she had interrupted a shagfest in her own backyard.

Sid made a movement to stand.  After all, he was in the presence of royalty.

"No, no, that's quite all right," she hastened to assure the man.  "We don't need to stand on ceremony here."

Karen didn't need to see the parts of the man she'd rather leave to the imagination.

"Just for your own information, there's a very nice little grove of trees about half an acre down that way."  She pointed to it.  "It would be more appropriate for your intentions."

She felt the blush rise on her hot cheeks.  She hurried back to the palace.

Sid grimaced as the young lady who had been entertaining him started flinging on her clothes.  It seemed his idyllic interlude was to be momentarily nipped in the bud.

Karen rushed back into the ballroom.  She was burning with embarrassment.  Without watching where she was going, she bumped into a tall, lanky man.

"I'm so sorry.  Forgive me."  Her words caught in her throat.

The man she had stumbled into was wearing a grey suit of clothing and had a fedora on his head.  

The hat should really have been taken off at his entrance she couldn't help thinking.

"Your Highness.  I've been looking for you.  I'm Alexander Ross, and I believe this is our dance."

His voice was low and rumbly.

She didn't want to be impolite and tell him that dancing was the last thing on her mind, so she followed his lead onto the floor.

The man kept up a steady stream of conversation to which she listened only half-heartedly.  The incident in the garden had shaken her completely.

No, she wasn't naive in that she knew what men and women did in the dark and who were in love.  She just had never experienced such intimacy.  Of course, the couple in the bush had merely been copulating and not making love.

Still, a nervous simper crept up to light her face.  She was sure the encounter had been stimulating for both participants.

Alexander seeing her visage illuminate was smitten.  The princess was really quite attractive.  At the end of the dance, he asked if he might escort her around the gardens.

"I've just come back from them.  I'm really rather tired.  Perhaps another time?"

He didn't say what was obvious.  What other opportune time would there be?  The ball was only for this night.

Karen didn't take note of her semantics or her partner's predicament but walked away looking for Jeff and her beverage.

Ah, there he was.  She saw him with a tall and ebony-haired man who was most definitely rather effeminate.

Good God, it was a waiter.  Didn't Jeff have any sense of propriety at all?  So much for her brother's discretion.

"There you are Darling.  I've been looking everywhere for you."

She circled to her father.

"Have you seen, Jeff?  There's people he needs to meet."

As her father continued searching the sea of people, Karen frantically tried to get her brother's attention.

Dash it!  That's all their family would need--a scandal of epic proportions.

At last, Jeff must have sensed her burning holes into his back and met her eyes.

She made a slashing motion across her throat and jabbed a thumb in their father's direction.

Jeff paled and said something very quickly to the waiter and then nonchalantly walked up to meet them.

"Karen, Father.  It's turned out to be quite an evening hasn't it?"

"Jeff," their father acknowledged him.  "I need you to meet the Forbes tonight.  They're some of the upcoming young barons who will be taking over the merchant trade."

Jeff briefly nodded to his father and as they left, he mouthed a thank you to his sister and raised his eyebrows in vast relief.

Karen wagged a finger at him.  How many times now had she rescued him from his own folly?  He had forgotten her drink too.

She approached the beverage table and helped herself to a glass of punch.  As she sipped it, she became acutely aware that she was under someone's intense scrutiny.

It unsettled her as she pivoted to find herself the object of a lust-filled ogle.

Not being easily intimidated, she met the eyes of the brash, forward young man and matched him stare for stare.

A shiver ran up her spine as the man's eyes dipped to her décolletage and then back up to her face.

He was decidedly odd looking.  His cheeks were unshaven but his head was.  His eyes were riveting.  

She had never seen such heavy material as his trousers were made of.  On his feet were rugged dark boots.

So, this man didn't do a lot of dancing she instinctively knew--at least not conventional dancing.  However, a dance of another kind, she could see him partaking in.

As the provocative thought flitted through her mind, a flood of arousal ran through her lower body.  

She didn't feel safe around this man.

He came closer.  What were those dark marks on his neck and arms?  Some sort of birthmark?

"G'day Luv."

Did this man actually speak thus to her?  She was a princess, and formal niceties were expected to be observed.

"I believe it's protocol to address me with my title," she said haughtily.  She didn't even give him the common courtesy of calling him Sir.

The cad had the audacity to laugh at her.

"I don't know what I said that's so comical.  It's indeed poor manners to not only not be civil but to also laugh at something that's not intended to be funny."

There, she had properly put him in his place.

To her dismay, he laughed again.

"Fuck!  That must be some poker you've got stuck up your arse.  Don't ya find it kind of uncomfortable?"

Karen was stunned to silence.

"I've watched you play silly buggers with all the dreck here tonight.  Thought you'd might like a real man to tango with."  As he said this, his hand reached out to wipe away a spot of punch that had dribbled down from her lips.

She quivered at his touch but didn't withdraw.  This man was very dangerous, but strange bodily sensations were flowing through her just by the sound of his voice.  She felt damp down below, almost as if she had wet herself.

The man smiled at her apparent discomfort as if he could read her mind.

"So Princess, why don't you say we sod off, leave the wankers to bash the Bishop and have an old lay in the hay?"

What did he just say to her?  His use of words she had never heard before.  Was he not English?

Karen sensed the gist of his intent.  He wanted to have relations with her, without benefit of the marriage bed!  Shockingly, she found herself tempted.

"I don't even know your name, and you're asking me to couple with you?"

"It's Hando, and no, I'm not askin'.  I'm telling you.  You could use a good fuck.  It'll help dislodge that poker.  Remember?  We talked about that."

Karen raised her hand to strike him, but he caught it easily like it was expected, almost an everyday occurrence for women to try and slap him.

"I wouldn't, Princess.  I don't take kindly to little girls who put on fancy airs and think their shit smells sweeter than mine."

She tried to free her hand but he held on to it fast.  She anxiously looked around for someone to help her.

"If you don't release me immediately, I'll cause a scene."

Hando again just smiled condescendingly but let go.

Giving him a final imperious look, well as much as she could muster, she marched off with the sound of his laughter ringing in her ears.

How dare he!  She was truly incensed.  Stalking over to the nearest water closet, she attempted to gain control of her wits.

Her undergarments felt slick with sweat and a sticky residue.

John's eyes apprehensively examined the male guests.  He didn't see his step-brothers, but he had noticed Jeffrey speaking with an elderly lady whom he recalled was a baroness or some other titled position. 

He looked away filled with loathing.  His mother had not yet been in her grave six months.

He was not cognizant that several of the younger ladies were studying him closely.

"Who is that?" they whispered among themselves.  "He must be a lord of some kind.  Look at his fine clothing and the way he carries himself."

John's tendency to stoop because of the constant pain in his back had been overcome.  The pain was gone the instant Jack had touched his sword to his skin.

The murmurings of the women didn't reach his ears.  He wondered where the princess might be.  All that he had endured today would be worth it to get one glimpse of her.  He didn't dare hope to meet with her.  He only wanted to gaze into those famous sapphire eyes that he heard so much of.

Abruptly, he was almost knocked off his feet by a man hurrying past.

"A thousand pardons," the man called over his shoulder not stopping to see if he was all right.

John's heart flipped into his throat.  That had been Sid!  Yet nothing earth-shattering had happened.  He hadn't been recognized.

Karen stayed in the WC until her heart beat returned to normal, and perspiration stopped dripping down her neck and breasts.  Her run-in with Hando knocked her for a loop.

She had never met such a rude, brazen, uncivilized...Pig in her life.  At the same time, she also never had felt such a potent desire to be taken and toyed with as this man's plaything.  She was immensely infuriated with herself for not being more self-disciplined and in control.  Really, she was acting like some common tart ready to peddle her wares for the first john that came along.

What she had momentarily felt for Hando was nothing more than unadulterated wantonness.  She dismissed him from her mind.  The man obviously was on a power trip.  Well, she would not be trifled with, and she would not hide herself away any longer.

Karen refreshed her makeup, held her chin up high and strode out of the ladies' facilities and smacked right into a tall bearded man.

She spilt his tankard of ale all over the front of his shirt.

"Shit!  I mean...sorry," the man exclaimed.

"It's all right.  The fault was mine," Karen tried to dab at the spot that rapidly formed on the man's shirt with her handkerchief.  She was making it worse.

"Here, allow me."  The man took the hankie and tried to remedy her efforts.

"I should have been more careful.  I've been bumping into people all night," she apologized again.  "Haven't even had a speck of wine to drink either."

"Uh...I could get you one if you want," said the man feeling clumsy himself not knowing how to talk to royalty.

"That would be lovely." She smiled up at him.

He took off.

"How klutzy can you be," she berated herself.  "Will this night never end?"

He was back in two minutes with a cup for her.

Thanking him, she politely asked him to dance.  It was the least she could do for ruining his suit.

"Yeah, sure.  We could do that."

He made no moves to take her hands.  Karen made the first motion herself and brought her hands to his.

They started to glide around the floor.  He wasn't a bad dancer, but she could tell he'd rather be doing anything else.  He had a very annoying habit of pulling at his collar as if he were not used to it.

"May I know the name of the man I'm sharing this dance with?" she finally asked.

"Oh, right.  Grant...Zachary Grant."

"Very nice to make your acquaintance Grant...Zachary Grant."

He sheepishly grinned back at her.

As soon as the music stopped, he nodded at her and took off...again in an all fire hurry.

"Where's the fire?" Karen pondered.  Was she that frightful to be with for any length of time?  Her father couldn't be serious that she had to choose from the drongos she had met so far.

"Let's tally the score."  She went over in her head the ones who had made an impression on her so far.

First of all, there had been Terrence who was devilishly handsome, silver-tongued and who couldn't wait to tell her he was off limits.

He was followed by that nice young man with the hat who really didn't float her boat.

She conjured up a few others.  There had been the man in the garden where even though she had been flustered to see him partially nude, she had still not been quite flustered enough to avert her eyes before catching a goodly portion of him.  He had an amazing body, especially the posterior side of him.  Nice buns, she recalled.

Then...there had been Hando.  She flushed again as his image etched across her brain the way those pictures were etched on his arms.  "Let's not go there," she warned herself.

That led to her final session with Zachary who would most likely rather be at a cricket game than here with her.

"I'm not doing great."  She came to that disheartening conclusion.  Jeff was probably having more luck than she.

"No one seems to know who he is", Tabitha relayed to Cordelia who whispered it to Regan who told Goneril.  Goneril told two friends and they told two friends and so on and so on and so on.  You get the picture.  Everyone who was anyone wanted to know the name of the dishy young man in the richest clothes who walked with such presence and refinement.

Several women had approached him.  He spoke with all civilly, asked them their names and memorized their faces so he would remember them in the future.  He made sure each and every one had their needs met...that is to say, had plenty to eat and drink.  He politely declined all offers to dance.

John still hadn't seen her.  He fretted.  He only had this one chance, and then it would be back to slaving away day after day with nothing in the near future to look forward to.

"Dear mother, if you can hear me now, kindly lead us to each other.  I just wish to see her smile or hear her laugh.  I need to know there is still beauty and joy in this life for some people."  John said his silent prayer.

At that exact second, Karen felt a tingle begin in her throat, move up to brush against her lips and then permanently rush to her head.

She never knew what made her revolve and cast her eyes towards the huge grandfather clock that dominated the east corner of the room.

John breathed out a heavy sigh, looked down from the heavens and stared straight into the darkest shade of blue orbs he had ever seen.  He felt like he was drowning in the deepest ocean blue.

Karen felt electrified by the man's look of wonderment.  Her feet suddenly seemed to sprout wings, and soon she was flying through the throngs of people.  Hands reached out to intercept her, but she evaded their obstruction.

John couldn't stir.  He remained frozen as from the first second he saw her.  She was indeed everything he had been told and more.

Her pale skin was luminescent offset by her fiery red locks.  She was diminutive and would fit perfectly into his arms.  

The color of her gown made her regal and reminded John of her lineage from kings.  Therefore, she was out of his reach.  He despaired for only a moment before she parted the last spectators that separated them.

Silently, their eyes met again.

Karen had never believed in love at first sight.  She was too practical and rational a woman to entertain such a fanciful notion.

She had been wrong.

Karen knew with a grown woman's full heart that what she felt for this virtual stranger before her was real, pure and eternal.

John felt it too, such a stirring in his blood and soul that made it want to sing out of consummate happiness.

She stretched out her hands.

He took them in his own.

Words weren't necessary.  A new song had begun, and he swept her into his arms.

She was exactly the right height to accommodate him.  Her head rested perfectly on his shoulder.

John closed his eyes and softly kissed the top of her forehead.  He felt her tremble.

His kiss seared through her, and she ached to feel his lips enflame her own.  She pulled away from his chest and raised her face to him.

It was then that the old grandfather clock started to chime.

Something in the back of John's mind nagged at him.  What was it?  Why did it matter now, of all times?

An image of the yellow-haired sea captain popped into his head.  The loud bellow of his voice echoed in his ears.

"Twelve bells, John.  No later."

John's eyes flew to the clock.  

It was ringing midnight right now!

"Noooooooooo," he cried out.

"What's the matter, dearest?" Karen urgently cried out in turn.

He backed away from her.

"Are you ill?  Shall I call for my physician?"

"I'm sorry."  He reached out once more to caress her face, but already he could feel the changes starting to take place.

John forced himself to turn his back on her.  He began running for the main entrance.

"Wait!"  Karen forgot all pretense and dignity.  "I don't even know your name."

Her words met only empty air. He was gone.

As John was careening as fast as possible to the door, he felt his shoes loosen around his stockings.  One of them came off, but he did not dare to retrieve it. 

He felt his pants rising up on his legs.  Dirt was becoming visible under his fingernails.

"Hey you!  What the fuck's your problem?"

John didn't answer the guard but streaked past him in a blur.

Soon he was outside but he couldn't loiter out here either.  People were strolling on the drawbridge and hanging around the moat enjoying their cigars.  Must be the smoking section he deduced.

His lungs felt like they would give out, but he kept on galloping.  He looked toward the coach and saw two pumpkins.  Now John was not a man prone to cursing but in this instant he let out a violent stream of expletives.

He kicked off his remaining shoe as it was slowing him down.  He grabbed it and felt his shirt tear down the back.  By the time he made it to his street, his clothes were in tatters.

Tears came to his eyes as he scratched the scruff of a light beard on his cheeks.  His hair was once again falling into his eyes, and it was tangled with cinders from the hearths he tended.

"Oh, the unfairness of it all," he couldn't resist bemoaning his ill fate.  He finally had not only seen his princess--and he really did think she was made for him and him for her--but had held her tenderness in his arms.  What exquisite torture!

He had been her slave the moment they touched.  He now knew what love is. Therefore, he could now understand his mother's intense ardor for his father and even comprehend why she had hoped and tried to find it again with Jeffrey.  He should be thankful and eternally grateful that his dreams for tonight had been surpassed beyond his wildest imaginings.

As he staggered up the attic stairs to dress in his normal clothes, he knew he would never forget this evening or ever tire of the memory of her face.

Karen was utterly distraught and would not allow anyone to quiet her or offer solace.

After the man of her dream's sudden departure, she had managed to stumble the short distance to her dressing room.

Jeff who had seen the entirety of the drama followed foresooth.

"Karen, everything will work itself out.  You have to have faith.  We'll find this man."

"Why did he leave?" she persisted in asking the question Jeff could not answer.  "Did he not feel it too?"

"Feel what Hon?" Jeff's voice was gentle and filled with brotherly concern.

She turned to him, "Love itself."

At her words, Jeff collapsed into a chair.  Indeed, his sister had fallen deep.  He didn't doubt her sentiments for a second though.  She was deadly earnest.

"If we have to tear apart this bloody kingdom, we will do so, and he'll be found.  I promise you sister."

Karen clasped him to her bosom and hugged him tightly.

Jeffrey, Sid and Hando arrived shortly after one o'clock.  They found John sweeping the front parlor.

Ignoring him, Jeffrey retired.  Sid ordered him to help him undress.  Hando just stomped off to his room.

"How was it?" John asked taking care to keep his voice light and breezy.

Sid, reclining back in a settee, as John unlaced his shoes, put his hands behind his head.

"The food was flavorful.  The wine was of a particularly high vintage, 1348, I believe.  It was a very good year.  The furbishings of the palace sadly need to be updated.  The king must be going through a retro phase."

John waited restlessly for Sid to cut to the chase and get to the important stuff.

"The gardens were well-tended but not as private as I had hoped."  He squirmed a little at this part.

John showed no interest.

"The women were of four distinct types: 

1.   Absolutely babelicious

2.   Hot stuff still for another five years, give or take a few,

3.   Mediocre 

And 

4.   Ugly as sin--why aren't you wearing a paper bag over your head."

Cringing at the crude descriptions, he nevertheless couldn't stop himself.  "The princess?"

"The princess?"  Sid blankly looked at John.  "Oh, you mean what category does she fall into?--which was not what John had meant at all.  "She borders the first two.  She's cute, I suppose, if you go for pale and insipid.  I fear her beauty will fade in time."

John was indignant.  He yearned to call out this rogue and seek immediate redress and force him to take back the remark.

"I hope I've satisfied your curiosity John.  I'm fatigued.  Pleasuring the ladies expends the energy, you know.  On second thought, you wouldn't have any idea of what I'm talking about.  You're still chaste, aren't you?  Hando and I should really educate you on that particular topic some day."  Sid then giggled hysterically.

Biting his lip hard, John tasted blood in his mouth.  He was finding it so hard these days to keep his anger hidden.

"By the way, don't forget to press the suit and put it back in the wardrobe bag.  The shoes need to be polished again with the trees inserted in them.  The shirt has to be starched...."

John tuned him out.

What was she doing this very minute?  Was she thinking of him at all?

Karen thought of nothing else.  Sleep eluded her that night.

What was his name?  How would she ever discover where he lived without that knowledge?

The next day her father had come to her.  He had been apprised of the situation.  He was despondent to see his beloved child so unhappy.

"Darling, he can't have traveled far in one night.  We will search all the homes and inns."

"Without a name?  How do you expect news?  The innkeepers will have no idea of who we seek."

"Posh," her father snorted.  "With your keen description and if they're worth their salt, they'll remember one such as he, especially if he's as wealthy as his clothing betides."

Jeff came into the room.  "Feeling better, Sis?"

She shook her head.

"Whom else did you meet last night?"  Though it seemed like she had made her choice, the king wanted to ensure that there was a back-up plan of runners-up in case first prize wasn't attainable.

"I can't remember," she simply stated forlornly.

The king turned to his son.

Jeff sought to help her out.  "Well, there was Johnny Ryan.  He works in the carriage house.  Then there was East Driscoll, a groomsman, who incidentally likes to bathe with his horses.  Jack Corbett is a barrister.  Dino O'Leary is in the Royal Infantry."

The king narrowed his eyes slightly.  How was it his son knew all their names and occupations, and his daughter could care less?  Hmmmm.

Not seeing the wheels spin in his father's head, Jeff continued.  "Arthur Baskin is a merchant trader.  He's a bit uptight though.  Lachlan Curry is also in the Infantry but he's a real dreamer.  He kept going on and on about flying machines or some such nonsense.  Kim Barrett...now you don't want to hear about him.  Trust me on that.  He's a tosser. 

Dominic Maloney and Colin O'Brien work in the carriage house as well.  Colin's got these weird sideburns.  He looks like he should be playing a lute or something and singing about hound dogs.  There's an Andy who is in the spice trade, and ... ah yes, Egan is a blacksmith.  That about covers it."

As Jeff finished, he glanced at his father.  Bugger it!  Perhaps he had given just a tad too much information.  The king looked displeased.

Fortunately, for Jeff, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," the king called out.

The Head Palace Guard strode in and bowed.

"What is it, Bud?"

"This was found Your Highness by the butler at the front stairs."

It was a black shoe.

Karen perked up.  "Let me see it," she commanded.  

The king nodded and Bud took it to her.

She practically snatched it out of his hands.  After examining it closely she exclaimed excitedly, "It's his!  See, there's a ruby and an emerald embedded in the leather.  It matches the emblem on his jacket."

Her father couldn't believe the sudden change in her.  Karen's face had lit up like a thousand suns.

"Father, you can take this around and show it to the innkeepers.  Have them require all of their male customers to try it on to see if it fits.  It's an uncommon size I believe."

The king didn't want to dash his daughter's hopes, but at the same time, she needed a reality check.

"Darling, do you have any idea of the time and manpower it would take to have every man in England put on this shoe?  You can't be serious."

Karen's face turned stony.  The king and Jeff swallowed.  Oh dear, that infamous temper of hers was about to be unleashed.

She badgered and she bullied and she forgot herself completely as she swore up and down in front of the two of them.

Jeff, ill at ease, examined his feet.  The king was a little more nervy and tapped his foot waiting for the tantrum to exhaust itself.

Finally, when she was prostrate from her exertions and her father was sick to death of her nagging, he caved.

Every possible servant not needed for essential duties was sent out on the country-wide search.

But all too soon, the rosiness that had colored her cheeks once more changed to ash as the quest went on endlessly with no results.

Day after day, week after week, month after month went by and Karen began to lose heart.

The shoe indeed was of rare size, and no man yet had been able to wear it with comfort.

The king feared for his daughter's life as she grew listless and lost weight.  She refused to eat and seldom slept for more than a few hours.

The physician, Stephen Maturin, had to come and bleed her.  As the leeches were placed on her skin, Karen willed herself to die.

Jeffrey and his household in the meantime had heard about this incredible shoe which was making the rounds.

One day there was a knock at his door.

Opening it, he was stupefied to find a Roman general dressed in full military regalia on his front doorstep.

"Strength and Honor," the legate greeted him.  "I come as the king's envoy."

"All the way from Italia?" Jeffrey wanted to ask incredulously but did dare not.

The man was most impressive in posture and demeanor.

As the general raised one eyebrow, Jeffrey finally had the presence of mind to invite him in.

"My name is Maximus Decimus Meridias."

Jeffrey waited.

Max coughed into his hand.

Jeffrey waited.

The General stared him down.

Jeffrey waited.

"Is there something amiss?"

"No," Jeffrey finally found his voice.  "I just thought there would be more forthcoming.  How silly of me."

Max dug in his knapsack for the shoe.  "Do you have sons living in this residence?"

Jeffrey was quick to answer this query.  "Yes, I have two."

"Please call them." Max ordered politely but it was a command nonetheless.

In spite of his girth, Jeffrey ran swiftly up the stairs to gather up Sid and Hando.

"Get cracking now!  I want that shoe to fit one of you."

Sid reached for his hair gel and massaged some on to his stockings.  "This will ensure a smooth entry."

Jeffrey threw a glare at Hando who hadn't moved a muscle.  "What are you waiting for?  Get down there at once.  Don't make me come up here again to fetch you."  A clear and loud threat was in his tone.

Hando almost flipped his father the middle finger salute.

"Lose the boots...now!" Jeffrey thundered.