seemed overly desperate. She just remembered the stories instead.
She made up different people to populate her stories; at first they all involved her but later it amused her to make stories up in which she either played only a small part, or even no part at all. The people were based on the things in the room: there was a fat jolly man like the water pitcher, his broad-hipped wife who was like the bowl, their two plump daughters like the legs of the wash-stand, a beautiful but vain lady like the beaten-metal mirror, a pair of skinny men like the two chairs at the small table, a slim, languorous lady like the couch, a dark, skinny boy like the carpet, a rich man with a pointed hat who was the tower itself…
Gradually, though, the handsome young prince began to figure in most of her stories.
The prince came to the tower once every month. He was handsome and he would come riding out of the forest on a great dark horse. The horse was splendidly caparisoned; its bridle shone like gold. The young prince was dressed in white, purple and gold. He wore a long thin hat set with fabulous feathers. He had black hair and a trim beard and even from that distance she could tell that his eyes sparkled. He would take off his hat, make a sweeping bow, and then stand holding the reins of the great dark horse and shout up to her:
'Asura! Asura! I've come to rescue you! Let me in!'
The first time, she had seen him riding out of the forest and hidden down behind the balcony's stone parapet. She'd heard him shouting up to her and she'd scuttled away back inside the room and closed the door and burrowed under the bedclothes. After a while she'd crept outside again and listened, but heard only the sighing of the wind in the trees. She'd peeped over the balustrade and the prince had gone.
The second time, she'd watched him but hadn't said anything. He'd stood calling up to her to let him in and she'd stood, frowning, looking down at him but not replying.
He'd left his horse tied to a tree; it had grazed the nearby grass while he'd sat with his back to another tree and eaten a lunch of cheese, apples and wine. She'd watched him eat, her mouth watering as he'd crunched into an apple. He'd waved up to her.
Later, he'd called to her again but still she hadn't replied. It had started to get dark and he'd ridden away.
The third time he'd appeared she'd hidden once more. He'd stood shouting for a time, then she'd heard something metallic strike the stonework outside on the balcony. She'd crept to the door and looked out; a three- hooked piece of metal on the end of a rope had come sailing over the balustrade and clunked down onto the balcony's flagstones. It had scraped across the stones and up the wall with a rasping noise, then disappeared over the edge of the parapet. She'd heard a distant thud a few seconds later.
It had reappeared a little while later, hitting the balcony stones with a clang and leaving a mark there. Again, it had been hauled up the wall in vain; it was as though the balustrade had been designed to offer nowhere such a hook could find purchase. It had disappeared again and she'd heard the distant thud as it hit the ground far below. She'd stared in horror at the mark it had left on the flagstones.
On the fourth occasion the prince had arrived at the foot of the tower and again called out, 'Asura! Asura! Let me in!' she had already decided she would reply this time.
'Who are you?' she'd shouted to him.
'She speaks!' he'd laughed, a huge smile brightening his face. 'Why, what joy!' He'd stepped closer to the tower. 'I'm your prince, Asura! I've come to rescue you!'
'What from?'
'Why,' he'd said, laughing, 'this tower!'
She'd looked back at the room, then down at the stones of the balcony. 'Why?' she'd said.
'
She'd frowned deeply. 'Am I really a princess?'
'Of course!'
She'd shaken her head and run back to her bed in tears, burrowing under the bedclothes again and ignoring the distant sound of his cries until it had grown dark and she'd fallen into a troubled sleep.
The next time he'd come she had hidden again, closing the door to the balcony and sitting on the couch singing to herself while she'd stared at the picture on the wall, softly singing a story about a prince coming to the white stone rotunda in the beautiful garden and leading the princess away to go with him and be his bride and live in the great castle in the hills.
It had grown dark before she'd finished the story.
She washed her face in the bowl and dried herself on the towel. She went outside for her walk round the balcony. A flock of birds flew over the forest, far in the distance. The weather was as it always was.
She stopped in the shade of the tower's roof, looking out at the shadow the tower cast, swinging imperceptibly over the canopy of forest as though together they formed some huge sundial. She was sure the prince would come today.
The prince arrived just before noon, riding out of the woods on his magnificent horse. He took off his hat and bowed deeply.
'Princess Asura!' he called. 'I have come to rescue you! Please let me in!'
'I can't!' she shouted.
'Have you no ladder? No rope? Can you not let down your hair?' he asked, laughing.
Her hair? What was he talking about? 'No,' she told him. 'I have none of those things. I have no way down.'
'Then I shall have to come up to you.'
He went to his horse and took a great slack bundle of rope from a saddle-bag. Attached to one end of the rope was the three-hooked metal thing he'd tried to scale the tower with earlier. 'I'll throw this up to you,' he shouted. 'You must tie it to something securely. Then I'll climb up to you.'
'What then?' she shouted, as he readied the rope.
'What?'
'Well, then we'll both be up here; what will we do then?'
'Why, then we'll make a sling for you; a sort of seat on the end of the rope. I'll lower you down to the ground and climb down after you. Don't you worry about that, my princess; just make sure this is tied firmly to something that won't move.'
He started to swing the hook round and round beside him.
'Wait!' she called.
'What?' he asked, letting the rope down.
'Have you an apple? I would like an apple.'
He laughed. 'Of course! Coming right up!'
He went to his saddle-bags and found a bright red shiny apple. 'Catch!' he shouted, and threw it up towards her.
She caught the apple and he started to swing the hook round and round again.
She looked at the apple; it was the brightest, reddest, shiniest apple she had ever seen.
She held it up to her ear.
'Better stand back, my dear!' the prince shouted from below. 'Don't want to hit you on the head, do we?'
She stood in the doorway, holding the apple to her ear.
There was a tiny, furtive, squirming, liquid, burrowing, writhing noise from inside it. She walked quickly round the balcony until she was on the far side of the tower from the prince and threw the apple with all her might far into the forest. She heard a distant clang as the grappling iron hit the flagstones.
She ran round and looked over the parapet.
'All right, my princess?'
'Yes! I'll tie it to the bed!' she shouted to the prince. 'Wait a moment!'
She took the grappling iron inside the room, pulled in some more rope and then untied the hooks from the rope. She left the grappling iron on the floor and then passed the end of the rope twice round one of the bed's arm-thick wooden legs, pulling on the rope to test the friction, then giving the rope another turn round the leg and
