Ever had a child ask for a bedtime story and decide to
invent one instead of climbing off the bed to go get ‘The Pokey Little Puppy’
one more freaking time? Here’s my story
from tonight…
Becca appeared annoyed at first because the made up
stories usually don’t capture her attention because they are designed to be
short. But I had the advantage of
telling a TRUE story, though she didn’t know it at the time. So I began: once there was a prince.
“What was his name?”
Have I mentioned I can’t tell a made-up story without a million
questions coming at me? Hence their
usual brevity. But I digress.
“His name was Charles, okay?”
“Okay. Does he
have a horse?”
“No. He lived in a
castle on an island, and his father was a great king, but not everyone agreed
with him. An evil man felt there should
be no king, and so he raised an army and plotted to kill the king, and Prince
Charles as well.”
“What about Camilla?”
My child watches too much TV…
“Not that Prince Charles, sweetie. Anyway…”
“What was the evil man’s name?”
“Fine, it was Oliver.
Please stop interrupting.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
“Oliver managed to kill the king and came looking for
Prince Charles, who was fighting with his armies. A soldier told him of Oliver’s evil plans,
and he ran toward the countryside, because you see, he was the new king with
his father dead, and he had to escape until he could form a plan to take back
his throne. Oliver and his men got close
to catching him. The next day, he made
it to the door of a brave man named Sir Thomas.”
“Why didn’t the police help him?”
“Because Oliver had a whole army. Pay attention.” Repentant, she nods and I continue. “Now, Sir Thomas and his family supported the
king, and they came up with a plan. His
daughter, a very brave girl named Jane, was to dress in her nicest dress and
ride a beautiful red horse, while Prince Charles cut his hair short and dressed
up in poor servant’s clothes and walked beside her horse and they began a long
trip to the coast, where Sir Thomas’ friend had a ship waiting to take the new
king to Spain.”
“Why Spain?”
“Because the old king had married a Spanish princess
named Enriqueta Maria, and all the people of the island called her Queen
Henrietta. Her family was still in
charge in Spain, and they were going to hide Charles until it was safe for him
to go home.”
“Why did he have to walk beside the horse? Didn’t they have any more horses so he could
ride one?”
“Because that was what servants did. People also basically ignored anyone who was
walking beside a rich person’s horse.
And if people didn’t really look carefully at him, he would be
safer. So whenever they stopped for the
night, she slept in a fine bed and he slept in the barn with the horse, hiding
from Oliver’s men. One night when they
were close, he had to go outside and hide in an oak tree all night so that they
wouldn’t find him.”
“That must’ve been cold.
Did it rain?”
“I don’t think so.
But finally, they got to the coast, and Jane gave a letter to the
captain of the ship, and Charles traveled to Spain. But Jane had to ride all the way home by
herself.”
“Was she scared?”
“Maybe, but she was a brave girl and made the whole trip,
though she was exhausted when she got home.
Now, in a few years, Oliver died of old age, and his son Richard took
over. But Richard was a weenie and
didn’t really want the job, so Sir Thomas sent a letter to Spain and Charles
returned and raided his castle with a new army.
Richard gave up and ran all the way home, and the kingdom was
restored.”
“Yay! Did Jane
become the princess?”
“No, but the new king gave her family a great honor. You see, every family had something called a
family crest, a picture that represented what their family had done that was
important. So, King Charles changed
their crest so that it showed a red horse like Jane’s holding a royal crown,
and he gave them the little red square with three lions on it for their shield
just like the royal crest has.” As she
looked confused, I opened my grandfather’s copy of ‘A Complete Guide to
Heraldry’ and showed her a picture of the royal English coat of arms… and then
of our family coat of arms. She loved
looking at several others, pointing out the animals and other symbols. Then she looked at ours again and gave that
quizzical ‘I’ve seen this before’ look.
“Becca, look on the wall.”
You see, the Lane family crest was researched by my
grandfather, the one with the direct ancestral link to them. He made a beautiful carving of the crest and
a picture of it, along with some typed lines regarding his research, hangs on
my daughter’s bedroom wall. She sees it
every day. “Mama, that’s ours.” And even more hers than mine, because Lane is
her middle name.
“Yes, sweetie, and it’s a true story. There really was a Jane Lane, and the man she
saved was King Charles the II of England.”
She frowned. “You
said it was an island.”
“England is on an island, dear.”
“Oh.” She laid
back down in the bed and sighed. “Why
couldn’t he have married Jane?”
“He didn’t need to.
Marrying the prince wasn’t a reward for her. She married someone else. Becca, you don’t have to become famous to be
important. You just have to be brave
enough to do the right thing.”
She hugged me.
“What if I’m afraid?”
“Never be afraid to do the right thing. Right always wins in the end.”
There you have it; our family’s very own castles and
brave deeds story, complete with a pretty red horse. Look up the Battle of Worcester, I’m not
kidding about anything, even the night hidden in a tree. And she loves it. Thank you, history, for teaching us a brave
girl can save the day and save the life of the prince… but not need the tiara
to feel rewarded for a job well done.
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