Such is the terrible corrupting influence of power that the young Princess now began actually to plot the destruction of her own father. But that was easier said than done. It is extremely difficult to bump off a great ruler all on your own without being caught. Poison was a possibility, but poisoners are nearly always apprehended. She spent many days and nights ruminating upon this problem, but no answer came to her. Then one evening after supper, she strolled out on to her balcony as usual, thinking to divert herself for a few moments by driving the crowd of lecherous citizens crazy but, lo and behold, on this night there was no crowd. Instead, an old beggerman stood alone in the courtyard, gazing up at her. He was dressed in filthy rags and his feet were bare. He had a long white beard and a mane of snow-white hair that reached to his shoulders, and he leaned heavily upon a stick.
‘Go away, you disgusting old man,’ she called out.
‘Ssshh!’ the old beggar whispered, edging closer. ‘I am here to help you. It has come to me in a vision that you are deeply troubled.’
‘I am not in the least troubled,’ the Princess answered. ‘Be off with you unless you fancy a pipkin of boiling lead over your noddle.’
The old man ignored her. ‘There is only one way in the world,’ he whispered, ‘to dispose of an enemy without being caught. Do you wish to hear it?’
‘Certainly not,’ the Princess snapped. ‘Why should I? Yes, what is it?’
‘You take an oyster,’ the old man whispered, ‘and you bury it in the soil of a potted plant. Twenty-four hours later, you dig it up and you squeeze one droplet of its juice, just one droplet, mind you, on to each of the oysters that you are serving to the victim on the following day.’
‘Does that fix him?’ the Princess asked, unable to conceal her interest.
‘It is lethal,’ whispered the old man. ‘The person who eats those oysters will succumb very swiftly to a terrible paroxysm that will tie his whole body into knots. And after it is over, the whole world will simply shake their heads and murmur, “Poor fellow, he ate a very bad oyster.” ’
‘Who are you, old man, and where do you come from?’ the Princess asked, leaning over the balcony.
‘I am on the side of the righteous,’ the old man whispered, and with that he disappeared into the shadows.
The Princess stored this information away in her head and patiently bided her time. A few days before her eighteenth birthday, the King said to her, ‘What do you want for your birthday dinner, my dear? Shall it be your favourite roast boar as usual?’
‘Yes, papa,’ she answered. ‘But let us have some oysters first. I do so love oysters.’
‘What a capital idea,’ answered the King. ‘I shall send to the coast for them immediately.’
On the Princess’s birthday, the table in the great dining-room was sumptuously laid and all was got ready for the feast. One dozen fine oysters were put in each place, but before the guests went in to take their seats, the King entered the room alone, as was his wont on special occasions, to make sure that all was to his liking. He summoned the butler and together the two of them walked slowly round the table.
‘Why,’ asked the King, pointing to his own plate, ‘have you given to me the biggest and choicest oysters?’
‘Your Majesty always receives the best of everything,’ replied the butler, speaking in a high voice. ‘Have I done wrong?’
‘Today the Princess Mammalia must have the best,’ the King said. ‘She is the birthday girl. So kindly give her my plate and give me hers.’
‘At once, Your Majesty,’ answered the butler, and he hastened to change the plates round.
The birthday feast was a success and the oysters went down particularly well. ‘Do you like them, Papa?’ Princess Mammalia kept asking her father. ‘Are they not succulent?’
‘Mine are delicious,’ the King said. ‘How are yours?’
‘Perfect,’ she answered. ‘They are just perfect.’
That night Princess Mammalia was taken violently ill, and despite the ministrations of the royal physician, she succumbed to a terrible paroxysm that tied her beautiful body into knots.
The next morning the King took from his closet the long white false beard, the long white wig, the filthy rags and the old walking-stick. ‘You can burn these,’ he said to his valet. ‘We can’t have fancy-dress parties while the court is in mourning.’
ROALD DAHL
Roald Dahl was a spy, ace fighter pilot, chocolate historian and medicalinventor. He was also the author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,Matilda, The BFG and many more brilliant stories. He remains theWorld’s No.1 storyteller.
CHARMING BAKER
Born in Hampshire in 1964, Charming Baker spent much of his early lifetravelling around the world following his father, a commando in theBritish Army. At the age of twelve, he and his family finally settled inRipon, North Yorkshire. Baker left school at sixteen and worked in variousmanual jobs. In 1985, having gone back to college, he was acceptedon to a course at the prestigious Central Saint Martins, where he laterreturned as a lecturer. After graduating, Baker worked for many yearsas a commercial artist as well as developing his personal work.
Solo exhibitions include the Truman Brewery, London, 2007, RedchurchStreet Gallery, London, 2009, New York Studio Gallery, NYC, 2010,Mercer Street, London, 2011 and Milk Studios, LA, 2013. Baker hasalso exhibited with the Fine Art Society, collaborated with Sir PaulSmith for a sculpture entitled Triumph in the Face of Absurdity, whichwas displayed at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and continues to becommitted to creating work to raise money for many charities. He hasrecently been commissioned to be
