Download Audio We have reached the final episode in our Awaking beauty series about the mysterious Princess Talia, and her friends Basil and Sally. They have travelled back and forth in time and confronted their arch enemy. Now the sleeping city of Oxford is waking up. The three friends must return to the “real” world. But is there a future for Talia at Westerly College, Oxford?

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 11.45.

Sally’s mum noticed that the digital clock on the oven was reading 17.59. She liked to hear the evening news on the radio while she prepared dinner, and she reached over to switch it on. She heard the six time pips and the announcer, with smooth tones, read the headlines:

“Several thousand people in the City of Oxford have temporarily lost consciousness. Emergency services have been overwhelmed by numerous traffic accidents and outbreaks of fire. Officials say they are mystified by the occurrence and are yet to find any credible explanation.”

She could not make head or tail of what she had just heard, but immediately felt a sense of dread, of the sort that only parents can feel when they fear for their child.

“Oh my gosh… Something terrible has happened to Sally, I just know,” and she rushed to the phone to dial her daughter’s number:

“Hello Mum,” came the cheery reply.

“Oh Sally, you’re alive. Thank goodness.”

“Yes mum. I’m alive. In fact I’m just fine. A few people banged their heads when they fell asleep, but I’m glad to say I had a soft landing!”

Of course Sally could not begin to tell her mother what she had really experienced. For her the trip back through time with Basil had taken several days, but for most people in Oxford the sleeping sickness and the fog had lasted a minute or so at most. Many had woken up bemused and baffled, and quite a few with with bumps and bruises. Some had more serious injuries. The cause of the incident was unknown. Government officials were visiting a power plant near the Oxfordshire town of Didcot to see if any poisonous gasses could have leaked into the air. The head of the UFO Society had telephoned Channel 5 News to claim that a giant flying saucer had been sited flying over the city’s dreaming spires. But the truth would never been widely revealed, for who could have guessed that it was all a slick trick of time played by the famous witch Morgan Le Fay?

After the witch had been sucked through the window of the tower, Princess Talia had fallen into the arms of Basil. It was the way it was meant to be, and it was the fairytale ending, but Sally could not help feeling a little sharp pang of jealousy – after all, she had been at Basil’s side while he transformed himself from a lanky, head-in-the clouds classics student, into a Knight. Part of her thought she ought to prefer the brainy, funny, peace-loving Basil, but there was another part of her that could not help shuddering with a certain awe at the steadfast, sword-in-hand, fight to the death Sir Basil that she had just witnessed.

But then Basil, still tangled up in Talia’s arms, turned his head and said:

“Sally, I want to thank you for all that you’ve done over the last few days. It’s so great that you came back in time with me. I mean, you were the one doing the thinking. I would have just been lost on my own.”

Then Talia, released Basil from her embrace, and came over to Sally to hug her. And Sally began to feel a little less left out of things.

The trio made their way down the dark, winding stairs of Draper’s Tower, and out into the bright sunlight of the quad. The scene was almost normal with undergraduates and dons milling around and trying to figure out what had happened. What made it just a little bit surreal was the fact that two horses draped in colourful silks were nibbling the grass. These days horses are a rare sight inside Oxford colleges, and of course nobody except Basil, Talia, and Sally understood why there were there. It was a day of strange happenings.

Sally could not help noticing that quite a few eyes were directed towards the three friends as they made their way along the path. She began to wonder if people now knew the role they had played. It was only when a third year student, Cynthia Smythe, said to her: “Are you going to a ball?” that she realised that everyone was looking at the way they were dressed. She was still in a medieval gown, and Basil was wearing metal armour and carrying a sword.

“Ay yes, I mean no, it’s a fancy dress party at Teddy Hall,” stuttered Sally.

And quite frankly, there are so many bizarre people wondering around Oxford at any time of day, that it wasn’t that strange to meet people in medieval costume among the sandstone walls and ancient gargoyles.

They went up to Basil’s room to help the poor boy out of his suit of armour. A tall thin classics student emerged out of his bulky shell. They set up the metal suit in the corner where it looked like an ancestral heirloom. Otherwise the room was pretty empty because, of course, Basil had packed his things and left college shortly before the momentous events. He had pledged to leave with Princess Talia. Basil wore a leather pouch around his neck which had been given to him while he was travelling through the past. He checked and found that it still contained his thin sliver of a bank card and his mobile phone. The phone unfortunately had taken a blow at some stage, and was dented and no longer working.

“Well,” said Basil, “This is goodbye Sally,”

“What do you mean? You can’t up and leave now.”

“I’m afraid we must,” said Talia. “There is no place for me in this college. The authorities sided with her…. I mean, the witch. I cannot remain here.”

An hour later, Basil and Princess Talia were seated on the bus for Victoria Station in London.

Sally came on board to kiss both her friends goodbye. While they waited for the driver to get on board, she said:

“What do you think would have happened if she had succeeded – I mean if Morgan Le Fay had destroyed all the University’s Knowledge?’

“The knowledge would not have mattered that much, “ said Basil. “Most of it’s wrong any way. Modern science has surpassed it all. But what we would have lost is that sense connection with the past… I mean, when you read about Rome or Ancient Athens, the people are as real as if they are alive today. You get that feeling that human life continues even if we don’t ourselves. The past is different, but it’s also the same. It’s all part of one big thing. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” said Sally. “I do because I’ve been there – in the past I mean.”

And Talia leaned her head against Basil’s shoulder and said: “Yes, that’s what I’ve learned. If you leap through time and miss out all the bits in between, you feel totally disjointed. You need a record of the past to connect it all up. We humans need the past as well as the present and the future.”

Sally stepped down from the bus. From the pavement, she waved goodbye to her friends. She looked around the Oxford bus station. It was such a drab and dreary scene straight out of modern Britain. Nobody had really bothered to make it into anything special. It was no more than car park of diesel fumes. And yet it was the place where for so many, the Oxford fairytale began and ended.

Sally’s dress, given to her by Queen Guinevere, came in handy for the May Ball which took place, as is the custom in Oxford, in the month of June. She even had the pick of the college men to accompany her, in the form of Jonathan Miles, the English scholar, who was widely considered as totally cool, and she was the envy of many of the other college women who wondered what he saw in her.

But what made the night really special, was that Princess Talia and Basil came back for the ball. They were the most beautiful couple who danced the night away, obviously in love with each other. Although they were the same age, or younger than almost all the others there, because they had already left and moved onto a new life, they already seemed so much more mature and grown up. They were almost like film stars. Impossibly glamorous and beyond the reach of ordinary mortals, apart from Sally of course.

From then on, the many distractions of life at Oxford, including the parties, the romances, the student politics, the drama societies, the eight weeks and the balls, no longer seemed quite so important as before to Sally. She had experienced so much, so intensely, that Oxford life all seemed rather trivial. She found that the less she cared about who invited her to what event, the more that everybody wanted to invite her out to every happening. She concentrated on her studies, and at the end of four years she took a first in Classics, or Greats as traditionalists like to call it.

And that was the twentieth and final part of Awaking Beauty. The story was written by Bertie and read by me Elizabeth Donnelly for Storynory.com.

Perhaps, like me, you feel just a little bit sad that the series has come to and end. If you have got this far with it, you probably feel that you know Sally, Talia, and Basil quite well. As they say, parting is always such sweet sorrow. Oh well, excuse me while I wipe a little tear from my eye. But never mind. I’ll be back soon with some more stories, including one that I’ve written my self. That will be a first and I’m feeling rather excited about it.

We reach the climax of our Awaking Beauty series in which Basil and Sally return to present-day Oxford. Basil must face the champion of Morgan Le Fay hand to hand combat, and then win a challenge of a very different sort.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 25.45.

The Beauty’s Challenge

On the edge of the encampment, away from the noise and bustle of the tournament, damp open fields stretched out into a flat, boggy marshland. In the distance, mist and fog hung over the ground. It might have been a beautiful view if there had been perhaps a church spire, or even a path or a fence or any other sign of humanity to liven it up.

“That direction is your way back to the future,” said Merlin. “Pass through the mist and the forest, and you will arrive back from whence you came.”

Sally shuddered at the eerie emptiness that they had to pass through.

“When we came here by boat, we had to fall asleep,” she said.

“The journey is less frightening if you are asleep,” said Merlin, “But if you see any demons on your way, you may rest assured that they are insubstantial spectres, terrifying maybe, but without the ability to do any real harm. Isn’t that so, Lancelot?”

“Indeed,” said the old Knight. “I have passed that way and lived to tell the tale.”

“I’m up for it,” said Basil, “Let’s get cracking.” And Sally could not help admiring this new Basil who seemed to be full of fiery determination. She thought, “My, how a boy changes when you put a sword in his hand.”

Two pages helped Basil to clamber up onto his charger. All the chain-mail, leather and armour-plating that he was wearing made him fairly stiff and inflexible. Once he was in the saddle, Sir Lancelot handed him his shield and his lance. Sally managed to spring onto her dappled mare without any assistance. Now she was wearing a flowing dress, she had to ride side-saddle, which was a little strange at first, but she felt terribly ladylike. Her horse started to walk forward of its own accord, but from behind her she heard Merlin calling out:

“Hold steady. It is still for me to prophesy what shall take place.”

And Sally pulled on her reigns. She turned round and saw Merlin raise his staff and peer into the clouds as if he was seeing what would take place in a vision.

“ First Sir Basil must rescue the Princess from her captors, then he must meet the champion of Morgan Le Fay. If, God Willing, he survives the encounter, he must take a second test – the Challenge of Knowledge. If he succeeds, then all will be well. If not, then the Dark Ages shall return.”

“The Challenge of Knowledge!” exclaimed Basil. “What do I know about knowledge?”

But his witty remark was ignored by all. .Sir Lancelot boomed:

“By He who died on the Cross, be a true Knight. Go forth and smile upon danger.”

And as she waved farewell, Sally wished that they had said rather less about death and danger. She looked over at her riding companion to see how he was taking it all. Basil wore his helmet with the visor turned up. His face was grim and determined, but she could not help thinking that this classics student in a suit of armour was more than just a little bit quixotic. Was he really going to rescue a Princess and fight a witch’s champion to the death? It was almost funny, she thought. But as they rode on, and the mist started to swirl around the hooves of their horses, she was more than glad to have him at her side. In fact, she started to feel that there was quite a lot to be said for a girl to have her knight to protect her.

They rode into the fog, and then into the woods. Fortunately the horses seemed to know the path. Basil rode in front, and hacked at branches with his sword, but he could not clear the way completely, and Sally felt leaves brush against her face.

Then, in the darkness, she saw two demon eyes glowing at her:

“Ahhh!” she screamed.

“Steady on Sally,” called out Basil, “No harm will come to us here, remember.” And his voice seemed so certain that she managed to compose herself. There was, after all, no going back. In fact, when she saw the glowing outline of a demon face grinning at her from the branches, she almost laughed. Something shrieked and flew at Basil’s head – it might have been a bat or an owl – and he swiped at it with his sword. That really made her jump so that she almost fell out of her saddle.

“Oh please, can we find the way out of this terrible place,” she pleaded.

“Keep calm, and we will,” said Basil, as his horse stepped over what appeared to be a huge python that was sleeping off a meal, still bulging inside its body. Sally was so terrified that she wasn’t even frightened anymore. She just felt sick and helpless.

But the worst journey of her life, did eventually come to an end. They came out of the woods, into another fog, and found themselves following the river bank. “Hey look, that’s the back of Christchurch,” said Basil. And Sally thought that she would never again be so pleased to be back in Oxford.

Their horses hooves clattered down the High Street, which was still strewn with sleeping bodies. They crossed over Magdalen Bridge and out into the living, traffic-filled, noisy, and air-polluted world which seemed totally oblivious to the sleeping, time-warped city just across the river. People were staring at the medieval Knight and his lady as they road up the hill. They presumed that they were on their way to some sort of fair or pageant.

But nobody was quite as surprised as the receptionist at BidCliffe Clinic when a knight in armour, sword in hand, kicked open the front door. The clinic was used to all sorts of people, some depressed, many unable to cope with life, and still others suffering from various delusions of grandeur or paranoia, but seldom had the receptionist met anyone quite so obviously insane as this.

“Where’s the Princess?” he demanded as he marched up towards her desk.

The security guard was no use – he just jumped out of the window and ran across the lawn to his car.

“Room Number 12, just at the top of the stairs,” she replied with as much brisk, businesslike normality as she could find within her. And while the mad knight clanked down the corridor, she cowered behind her desk and called the police. “Yes, he’s armed with a sword,” she emphasised, “And he looks like he means to use it.”

But in fact, at that moment, Basil was briefly holding his Princess in his arms against his metal plated chest, before saying:

“Quick, there’s no time.”

They ran out of the clinic to the drive where Sally was waiting anxiously on her mare. Despite the encumbrance of his armour, Basil managed to swing up onto his horse, and haul Talia up behind him. They cantered down the drive, and out onto the London Road. Amid all the traffic, it wasn’t really safe to do more than walk their horses down the hill and wave the cars past, but when they heard the sound of police sirens, Basil kicked his spurs into the side of his charger and darted down the centre of the road, Sally not far behind. A single police car was attempting to block off half the road at the bottom of the hill, but Basil’s horse jumped right over its bonnet. Talia hung on tight around his waist. Sally more prudently lead her mare the other way round the side of the car and avoided the block all together. They galloped over the bridge, pursued by police cars but not for long – the drivers fell asleep at their wheels as soon as they entered the fog.

“I hope they were wearing their seat belts,” thought Sally as she heard them crash somewhere behind her.

They entered Westerly College through the back entrance, which was normally used by cars. Basil jumped his horse over the barrier, but Sally was more circumspect, and dismounted from hers. Basil rode into the main quad, with Talia still clinging on to him, and as he called out, “Witch where are you? Send out your Champion!” , he waved his sword in his right hand, which although it was thick and meant to be held in two hands, was light in his grip. Somehow when he held it, his whole body seemed skillful and fluid. The armour that he was wearing did not seem to hinder his movements at all. He felt that he was a natural horseman.

After a long silence, they heard the sound of horses hooves in the next quad. First the shadow, and shortly after the point of a lance, appeared around the corner of the chapel. It was followed by a knight on horseback. He was no giant, but small, almost child-like in stature. His visor was up showing a face that was gnarled and scarred by battle.

“I am Basil, Champion of Princess Talia, what is your name?” called out our Knight.

The gravelly reply came back: “No matter my name. Know that I am your doom.”

“I know that knight,” said Talia,”His name is Parkin. He is small but poisonous and has proved deadly to many. But Basil, I know you can defeat him. You have Excalibur in your hand.”

“And I have you by my side,” said Basil. “But now my Princess, you must get down, for it is time for me to face my fate.”

Basil sheathed his Sword and reached down for his lance which was strapped to his saddle. Sally came into the quad just in time to see the two knights turn towards each other, raise their shields and lift up their weapons. She ran over to where Talia was standing.

“Oh Talia, what will become of us if Basil is defeated?” she asked.

“Sally, just think positive thoughts,” replied the Princess. And Sally tried her best to do so as the two knights charged across the quad. Parkin’s Lance hit Basil’s shield and splintered, but the force was enough to knock Basil backwards off his horse.

“Oh no!” called out Sally.

“My dearest Basil” said Talia under her breath.

Basil tumbled head over heals and somehow sprang to his feet. Excalibur was in his double-handed grip as Parkin rode in for the kill. He thrust upwards and felt the point tear through his enemy’s glove and into his hand. He heard Parkin shriek as he dropped his sword. Basil struck at the horse’s side. He liked animals, but this was war. He remembered Sir Lancelot’s words: “When you pick up the sword, forget chivalry. In a struggle, the victor takes all the honour, and tells the story when he gets back home.”

The horse reared up and threw its rider onto the ground. As Parkin staggered to his feet, Basil swung the flat side of his sword against his helmet with an almighty clang. The man was dazed and staggering around and Basil took a vicious stab at his leg, catching him in the joint between his armour plates. Parkin the Poisonous was by no means dead, but he was certainly out. Basil wondered if it would be kinder to humanity if he killed him: but then he realised that he didn’t quite have that in him to do that – not in cold blood.

“Crawl back to your own time,” he snarled.

“Look out Basil,” screamed Talia. From where he lay, Parkin threw a dart at Basil. It just missed his neck and its point stuck harmlessly into the collar of his leather jerkin. No doubt it was tipped with poison.

“Don’t you know when you are defeated?” asked Basil. And he gave Parkin another whack with the flat of Excalibur to make sure he was unconscious at least for a while.

Basil had not one, but two women rush over to him to tend to any wounds that he might have received, but given that he was so well buckled into his armour, it wasn’t convenient right then to examine the damage.

“I thought you were a gonner for a moment back then,” said Sally as she took one arm, and Talia the other.

“Oh Basil, you could have broken your neck when you came off the horse. I’ve seen that happen before at a tournament you know.”

“What next?” said Basil with grit in his voice.

“Oh,” said Talia. “We must tackle the witch.”

“Where is she?” asked Sally.

“Didn’t you see her?” said Talia, “She was watching from the tower.”

“Well, no time to lose,” said Basil,” and he began to lope towards Fletcher’s Tower. Sally and Talia ran after him. When they got to the entrance, Talia said:

“She is my enemy. I must take her on alone,” and she pushed the door open and swiftly and lightly climbed the stone staircase.

“What do you think?” asked Sally,

“I think I must go after her,” said Basil and they both followed up behind.

Basil in his armour could not move as quickly as Talia, and he was blocking Sally’s way, with the result that the princess reached the room at the top of the tower a minute or two before her friends. She pushed open the door and saw, as she knew she would see, a woman with a spinning wheel.

“I am not a little girl anymore. I won’t fall for that trick a second time, “ said Talia. But Morgan Le Fay picked up a needle and threw it at Talia. The Princess turned her body sideways and it flew past her and stuck into the half open door.

“I’m charmed,” said Talia.

And a moment later Basil and Sally came into the room. Basil was holding his sword in two hands and was ready to slice the witch into pieces but Talia said firmly: “Hold back Basil. You cannot fight magic with a sword.”

“Which of you is ready to take the Challenge of Knowledge?” said Morgan Le Fay.

“That will be me,” said Talia.

“Er no,” said Basil. “I’m afraid it has to be me.”

“You Basil? You’ve done enough. This Challenge is about brains not brawn.”

“Well thanks,” said Basil.

“Oh come on Basil,” said Sally, “This is no time to get all uppity. We all know that Talia is the top student, and you didn’t even get one answer in the college bar quiz.”

“That may be,” said Basil, “And yes, Talia is the most brilliant person I have ever met. But Merlin said it was my fate to take the test. So it has to be me. I don’t like it any more than you do. It’s Destiny. “

And he stepped forward.

“Who,” said Morgan Le Fey, “Is the wisest person who ever lived? This is the question that you must answer.”

Basil thought. King Solomon? Plato? Decarte? … Maybe , he thought for a moment, even Talia. He remembered the time that she had shown Socrates to him. He could only take a wild guess. It seemed ridiculous that the fate of the world should hang on his answer. That what he might reply might make the difference between enlightenment and darkness. And in any case, who was to judge that his answer was correct. He looked at Sally. He could see that she was white with nerves. He looked at Talia. Her eyes were full of tears. In fact, his own eyes were moist… he was not sure whether it was with frustration or fear or the sheer emotion of it all. He was still holding Excalibur in his hand. Its blade was a thing of beauty. Simple, but perfectly balanced, and with edges that were almost incredibly sharp. Somehow it was impossible not to be wise with such a kingly object in his hand. His brain had to match the keenness of the weapon. He did not quite know how he recalled the words, but he said, perfectly fluently.

????? ??? ?????? ?? ??????? ??? ?????, ??? ??, ????? ??? ??? ????, ???? ?????

Which was what Socrates said at his trial.

This man, on one hand, believes that he knows something, while not knowing anything. On the other hand, I – equally ignorant – do not believe that I know anything.

And which is often translated as “All that I know is that I know nothing.”

After everything he had been through since he had first met and kissed Princess Talia, he felt the truth of those words in his heart. The more he experienced the mystery of time and space, the more he realised how little he understood the world, and how he could take nothing for granted.

And so it proved. Those words of humility were indeed the ultimate truth of the Universe because at that moment, Morgan Le Fay was sucked through the window of the tower and out into eternal darkness.

in the 18th episode of our serial, Basil learns to fight with a two handed sword from one of history’s masters of the martial art. He takes part in a jousting contest and is feeling rather battered, bruised, and fed up.

Just in case you are wondering, we expect to wrap the whole story up by episode 20.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 13.21

Basil stood in a field wearing a leather jerkin. In front of him, a two-handed sword was dug into the ground. Its hand-guard made it into the shape of a cross. A silver-bearded knight stepped forward and yanked the weapon out of the ground. He showed Basil how to hold it, with his right hand just under the guard and his left hand gripping the pommel at the bottom of the handle.

Basil was no weakling. Two terms of rowing at college had toned up his muscles no end. Even so, the sword felt heavy as he took it.

Sir Lancelot showed him a good swordsman’s posture, with one foot in front of the other, and the sword pointing up at a threatening angle from his stomach. Then he demonstrated how to strike, pushing off with the back foot, sliding the front one forward, while the thick blade strikes first upwards, and then comes crashing down on the opponent.

Basil tried.

“Good good,” said his teacher. And Sally, who was watching from not far off, clapped and called out,

“Go on Basil, you can do it.” He was smiling, feeling much more confident, and thinking, “At least I’m learning from the best.”

In fact, after two hours of practice, Sir Lancelot slapped him on the back and declared: “A true son of Sir Eric.”

And they retired for lunch.
“You’re doing just great,” said Sally, as they ate game soup and rough bread inside Merlin’s tent.

“This is all very well, but a morning’s worth of practice is hardly going to equip me for battle.” said Basil mournfully.

After lunch he had a different teacher. Sir Robert was thirty years younger, and, though Basil did not know it, had been a suitor for the hand of Princess Talia. He had no liking for the strange foreigner who saw himself as the Princess’s champion, and yet knew next to nothing about swordsmanship, and he was determined to show him a thing or two. For an hour and a half they fought with wooden swords, and by the end of it, Basil was dazed almost out of his senses, covered in bruises, and was bleeding profusely above his right eye so much that he could hardly see. He went back to the tent and collapsed into a depressed sleep.

While Basil was testing his limitations as a swordsman, Sally was finding that her accomplishments as a medieval lady were somewhat limited. She could not sing, nor dance, nor embroider. But she could gossip, and she found out a few things about the Princess from the court ladies. Talia had been the most renowned beauty of her time. She was widely seen as a successor to Queen Guinevere in the hearts of the bravest knights. Musicians sang ballads about the perfection of her smile, likening it to the moon. And her own singing voice was considered to be as sweet as a skylark’s. She was blessed by a good fairy who watched over her. She could read Latin, Greek, and French with equal ease. But there were few who knew that she was living under an evil curse, and that her happiness would come to an end before her nineteenth birthday. And so it happened. Her entire family and court were overcome by sleeping sickness and gradually passed away. But she, by some miracle, slept on, and on, gently breathing, and never fading. Or so the legend held. But since nobody could see her, nobody could be quite sure if was true.

The next morning, Basil was clambering onto a horse. It had been bad enough when he had gone pony trekking in Wales as a boy, and had been terrified when his horse had broken into a canter. But now that he was weighed down by chain-mail and armour, he had never felt so immobile in his life. He dug his spurs into the side of his charger. It began to slowly plod forward. He pulled down the visor on his helmet. He could hardly see anybody now, let alone fight them.

“This is a bad joke,” he thought.

But that afternoon, when they watched another tournament, Basil was able to cast a more expert eye over the knight’s swordsmanship. He could see that perhaps only two or three had any great skill, and the others were just swept up in the chaos, and swinging randomly with their swords.

“Tomorrow, you shall take part in the joust,” said Merlin.

“What me?” exclaimed Basil, “I’ve only just learned how to hold a sword.”

“You should see by now,” said Merlin, “That fortune is the biggest player on the battle field….”

Basil was beyond being afraid. He was so bruised and exhausted that he no longer cared about anything much. The following day, as he rode onto the jousting field, he felt that fate was pulling him along by a string, and what would happen would happen. He was on the blue side, and when the others charged, his horse charged too. He threw his javelin, and it landed somewhat pathetically in the middle of nowhere. He hid behind his shield as blows fell down on him. He counter attacked with his sword more or less blindly as he could see very little through his visor. Somehow his strength and his luck held out. At the end of the bout, he was still seated in his saddle, and the blues were declared the winners. The other knights were congratulating him on his courage and strength, and Sir Lancelot declared him the man of the match.

“But I didn’t do anything, ” protested Basil. But he realised that quite frankly nobody cared whether he had fought with skill or not. As Merlin had said, recklessness, stamina, and good fortune had carried him through his first battle.

That evening he had to feast with the rest of the blue team, and if anything the celebration was more exhausting than the fight.

The following day, Basil was allowed to rest his aching limbs. At mid morning, Merlin took him to see Sir. Lancelot for advice on tactics.

“When you pick up the sword, forget chivalry,” advised the famed knight, “ In a struggle, the victor takes all the honour, and tells the story when he gets back home.”

His other advice was, “strike at the hand, It’s the easiest target. Strike once to cut the glove. Strike a second time to disarm your opponent. Then he is yours. You can can kill him or take him prisoner as you see fit. And if you can’t see a strike at his hand, stab him in the leg. Few men can fight on one leg, though I once met a giant who tried.”

“And now,” said Merlin, “Your initiation as knight is complete. It is time to visit the Queen.”

As Basil bowed before Queen Guinevere he was all too aware that he was a sorry sight: his hair was matted and his eye was black.

“So this is Talia’s champion. I am not surprised. He is indeed handsome,” declared the queen. And Merlin whispered, “Step forward and kneel before her,” And Basil did as he was told and bowed his head. He felt a light tap on his shoulder,

“Arise, Sir Basil,” she declared.

And a dazed Sir Basil arose.

Basil actually felt quite angry as they left the Queen’s tent. “This is getting ridiculous,” he protested. “There has to be more to being a knight than this. I’m just being used as cannon fodder. Well I know cannons haven’t been invented yet, but what I mean is, you are just feeding me into this contest and I’m going to be chewed up and spat out just as assuredly as if I jumped into a pit full of lions.”

“You are right,” said Merlin. “You would have very little chance in a one to one combat with the Champion of Morgan Le Fay, unless he is, like you, from your own time, and untrained in swordsmanship. Then you would stand a very good chance. The tutelage of Sir. Lancelot is no mean advantage.”

“But who will this knight be?” asked Basil. “Have you any idea?”

“I suspect he will be from our time.”

“And I will be cut to pieces?”

“Most probably.”

“That’s lovely,” said Basil sulkily. “You don’t seem to care much about that..”

“Oh I do care,” said Merlin, “I do not wish my sister to win. I do not want the future of the world to be cloaked in ignorance. I cannot let that happen. Which is why I will entrust my most famed and precious possession into your keeping until your last days, when you must return it to me. I have given it to one other. You are the second to have it in your possession. It will not ensure your victory, but I believe that if you know who held it before you, you will be inspired and you will see a way to win.”

“You’ve got me intrigued now,” said Basil.

And when they returned to the tent of Merlin, the wizard disappeared behind a curtain, and returned holding a sword. It’s hilt was studded with jewels, and its shining blade was engraved with scenes of knights fighting strange and fearsome beasts.

“Here it is,” said Merlin. “Excalibur.”

We are now in medieval times. In the 17th episode of our Awaking Beauty series, Sally meets some famous people and Basil is increasingly anxious that he might have to fight a duel with a knight.

Read by Elizabeth Duration: 14.48

The Beauty’s Time

Sally had not met anybody who could claim to be famous before, unless you counted Timmy Jones, the drummer with the Space Kids, who was a friend of a friend, or Danny O’ Shea, her classmate from school who now had a bit part on a TV soap. Merlin,however, was not merely well known, but an A List historical celebrity down the centuries. He was more than just famous. He was a legend. When she first saw him, Sally felt a bit disappointed really, because he seemed to be just a bit too smooth to be likeable. She remembered what her mother used to say: “Never trust a man who takes too much care over his grooming”, not to mention another pearl of her mother’s wisdom: “Don’t meet your idols in the flesh, because they’re always a let-down in real life.”

And Merlin said, or rather, he almost purred in a silky, refined voice,

“My dear, we must dress you in clothes that befit a lady of our times.” and without him adding anything else, a servant stepped forward and said “I will show you my lady.”

She led Sally out of the tent and across the camp. It was not the most peaceful scene. Page boys were scrapping and play-fighting over the muddy grass, and on the other side of a fence two knights were trading energetic blows with wooden swords. Sheep and goats were tethered here and there, and some of them were bleating noisily. Chickens ran around the place, and Sally could not help feeling sorry for some rabbits that were kept in small cages, presumably destined for the cooking pot.

The serving woman, who seemed a kindly sort, said to Sally:
“The Queen is your size my lady, I believe that her array shall befit you.”

“Oh my gosh, do you think the Queen will mind me wearing her clothes?” asked Sally a little alarmed.

“She will not begrudge a friend of the Wizard Merlin, my lady.”

They entered another colourful tent that was guarded by two soldiers with pikes. Inside, a dignified old lady was sitting at a table and talking to a white-haired, but still handsome man, with broad shoulders and a straight back.

The Serving Woman curtsied. Sally followed suit, though the effect was not quite the same in jeans, trainers, and a t-shirt.

“Your majesty. This lady has come from Princess Talia to the Wizard. As is plain to see, she is in sore need of decent clothing.” Sally blushed and the Queen said:

“My dear, do not be shy. Step forward. Let me take a better look at you.”

And Sally, who was feeling quite jittery with nerves, almost had to force herself to walk up to the table.

“She is passing fair, is she not?” the Queen said to the Knight who was sitting at her side And the knight stroked his beard while he looked Sally up and down and replied,

“She is fair indeed, My lady.”

‘And tell us what became of our beloved niece, the Princess Talia?” asked the Queen.”

“Ah yes, Talia, she’s good, I mean well, I mean, she was, but now she is in great danger. I’ve come here with our friend Basil to find help for her, but we aren’t quite sure what we are looking for yet. Am I making any sense?”

“Perfectly my dear. Talia was our favourite niece. Her beauty and grace were surpassing. Her gift for music was a delight to us. Many a young knight had eyes for her. But we knew that she had befallen an evil curse. We did all we could to lessen its sting, but the magic of Morgan Le Fay is a match even for Merlin’s. They are brother and sister you know, but Merlin is ours, or sometimes I think that we are his. Now. Your complexion is a little red. But never mind. My yellow sunflower dress will suit you. It is yours. Help her to dress, will you Anya?”

“Yes, Maam,”

And Anya led Sally through some drapes at the back of the tent, where they found numerous gowns were laid out over the couches, and still more inside wooden chests. Anya knew where to find the yellow sunflower dress, as well as shawls and shoes.

While Sally was changing into the unfamiliar clothing, a bewildered Basil was sitting down to a meal of roast partridge washed down with mead, a kind of honey wine. He was not feeling particularly hungry, but it was impossible to refuse the hospitality of the knights, who were convinced that he was the son of Sir Eric. Basil found it hard to understand their conversation which was heavily accented, and besides, they were all talking at once with their mouths full, and it was embarrassing when they tried to exchange friendly banter with him, because he could do no more than smile back. It was a great relief when Sally returned, although it took him a moment to recognise her.

“Wow, Sally, you look, amazing,” he exclaimed as he stood up from the table to admire her. He was truly surprised, because although Sally was a great friend, she did not normally have much of a wow factor about her

Her yellow dress was trimmed with white fur at the bottom, and braided with gold around the collar. Her hair was covered with a silk scarf and a green gown hung on her shoulders.

“Well I feel a bit daft looking like a sunflower,” she admitted.

“No, really it suits you perfectly. You should dress up more often,” he said.

And Merlin, who was standing by her side, added ”Queen Guinevere has chosen well for you. She was a great beauty in her youth, and it pleases her to dress a young lady well. She used to give many fine things to Princess Talia, including, my dear, that amulet that you are wearing.”

It took Sally a moment to take this in: “Did I hear you right? You mean, that was the Queen Guinevere…”

“Indeed my dear.”

“And Arthur….?

“Dead long ago. The man you saw sitting by her side was Sir Lancelot.”

A minstrel began to sing, and some of the ladies came down to sit with the Knights at the dining table. The uproar was growing loader by the minute.

“Could we find somewhere quieter to talk?” asked Basil with a pained expression on his face. And Merlin nodded.

The inside of Merlin’s own tent was lightly scented with incense and bathed in wonderful quietness. They sat on cushions and a page boy brought them grapes.

“You see, we’ve come all this way,” said Sally, “But we are not quite sure what it is that we are looking for.”

Merlin, who was sitting crossed legged with a straight back, replied: “You must return to your own time where Basil will fight Morgan Le Fay’s Champion.”

“Fight ?” said Basil alarmed. “I’m afraid I’m not much good at fighting.”

“You are Talia’s champion,” said Merlin, “And if you do not fight, she will have to find a better man. Either way, the battle will take place in your time, not ours.”

“Then why are we here?” asked Sally.

“You are here,” said Merlin, “So that Basil can learn the art of combat and gain the quality of courage. And we shall begin by watching the tournament, where you shall see skills of our young knights on display.”

After an hour or so’s rest, they made their way to the field where the jousting would take place. Crowds of noisy spectators were held back by ropes and soldiers. Guinevere and Lancelot were already seated on a wooden thrown. The other more privileged onlookers took their places on an elevated stand. Flags fluttered. Trumpets blared. Basil watched with a sense of trepidation as a knight was helped onto his horse by two foot soldiers. He saw the chain mail, the shield, the sword, the lance. The man was like a human tank. Was he, Basil, supposed to fight somebody like [him ](this knight?)? When he was finally mounted, the Knight struggled to take control of his restless horse, before spurring him onto the side, and riding over to the Royal Stand. He halted just before where Basil was sitting with Sally and Merlin.

“Oh cripes, he’s not going to challenge me, is he?” thought Basil. But the knight bowed, and called out:

“My Lady. If I may be so bold. Lend me your colours. Your fair looks will give me courage and I am sure to win the day.”

Sally couldn’t help smiling, almost from ear to ear, and she looked round to see if Basil or Merlin could offer her any advice about what she should do.

“If you find favour with the knight,” said Merlin, “You may give him your scarf to wear.” And Sally unpinned the silk from her head and held it out to the Knight, who took it and tucked it into his sword belt.

By now the other knights, about two dozen of them were riding onto the field. Sally felt a thrill of excitement, but Basil said in a confidential voice: “I hope there won’t be too much blood, because I will look silly if I faint.” “Poor Talia,” thought Sally, “She has some champion…..”

The knights presented themselves before the Queen, one by one, and the supporters in the crowd either cheered or booed. It was not unlike a football match. The referee, in this case, was armed not with a whistle but a bugle. He rode among the knights, inspecting their swords and the ends of their lances, to make sure that they were blunt for the contest – but blunt or not blunt, you would not want to be hit by one of those weapons thought Basil.

Sally had been expecting an organised contest in which knights took it at turns to tilt at each other with their lances. In fact, it was nothing like that. They divided into two teams, the blues and the reds, retired to opposite ends of the pitch, and when the bugle sounded they charged at each other and met in the middle. From then on it was a chaotic brawl and at times it seemed like every man for himself. The swords clashed, the men grunted, the horses reared, the crowds roared. When knights were knocked off their horses, men ran onto the field to help them onto their feet or to carry them off on stretchers. Those who still had strength continued to fight on foot.

“Oh no”, exclaimed Sally, as her champion was pushed off his horse by a lance from behind. As he lay on the ground, It was clear that he was in need of some medical attention, and Sally was afraid that he would be trampled underfoot, but the horses seemed to know not to step on the bodies lying on the field. His assistants soon came and dragged Sally’s shining knight, semi-conscious, to the side.

“You’ll have to do better than that for Talia,” she said to Basil. But Basil did not reply.

When the Bugle called an end to the battle , there were only six knights still left in their saddles, and three others standing on their feet. The Queen consulted with Lancelot, before declaring the reds to be the winners. The crowd cheered and the knights congratulated one another.

“And now,” said Merlin to Basil. “You have a better idea of what you must do. ”

Episode 16 of our Awaking Beauty series takes us far away from our usual setting as Basil and Sally awake in Talia’s homeland. A miller takes them to a medieval tournament where he says they can meet the wizard Merlin.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 15 minutes.

Sally knew that she was asleep, but her dream was so real that she could almost touch it. Her head was filled with the mellow voices of monks chanting psalms. She was walking up the aisle of a stone chapel lit by candles, and she was holding the trail of a long, beautifully embroidered dress. An ermine shawl covered the shoulders of the bride who was proceeding in front of her, for this was an evening wedding, and it was chilly inside the chapel. She knew that the elegant figure and the long auburn hair belonged to none other than Princess Talia. She was not quite so certain about the identity of the groom, who was waiting at the altar with his back to her, because he was dressed in an elaborate cloak. For a moment she thought he might be the law don, Count Anthony, because he was the only man she knew who had such fancy taste in clothes. But then, as she glanced to the side she saw that the entire congregation was dressed rather elaborately and eccentrically…. furs, silks, cloaks, heavy embroidery and chunky jewellery were all on display. At first everyone seemed to be watching attentively but the next time she looked, they had all nodded off to sleep.

“No, Wake up Wake Up” she called out. But the Chaplin who was waiting at the altar with a bible in his hands fell to his knees as if in prayer before keeling over into a coma. “Wake up Wake up ! “ called Sally. And eventually, she did.

“Oh, where am I?” she thought as the spell of the dream hung around her for a few moments before slipping off into the ether. She rubbed the crumb of sleep out of the corner of her eye and gazed around. Water was lapping against the side of the boat. Basil snored on the other couch. She shivered because it was cold, and set her feet on the floor. The fairy godmother was no longer sitting in the front cabin. Apparently she had gone.

“That’s a pity,” thought Sally, “because you never know when a little bit of magic might come in handy. Then she recalled Edwina’s instructions “Be sure to ask for the Wizard Merlin.”

“But ask whom?” she thought. For all she could see through the porthole of the boat was a thick fog. She went up on deck and sat in the prow of the boat for 15 minutes or so to get some of the fresh damp air into her lungs. The boat drifted on through the whiteness. The odd swan floated by, and every now and then Sally had to duck to avoid a low hanging branch, but there were few clues as to what might or might not be waiting for them downstream.

She went back down into the cabin. “Come on sleepy head, wake up,” she said to Basil, giving him a bit of a push on the shoulder. For a moment she was afraid that he would not wake up. But he did.

“Who’s that?” he said. “Oh, er Sally. What’s going on?”

“I”m not sure, “ said Sally. “But I think we might be sailing through time.”

“That’s weird, “ said Basil. “But everything else is weird too, so you might well be right.”

They went up on deck and were pleased to see that a hard cold sun was visible through the mist. Quite soon a stone bridge came into view and as they passed through it, they saw that quite literally, there was light at the end of the tunnel – bright, dazzling light that sparkled and danced on the water. They heard the voices of children playing, and as they came out into the bright world, they saw half a dozen or so of them by the river bank. The younger ones were dressed in smocks, and the older ones wore breeches or shapeless dresses.

Basil stood up and threw the rope onto the river bank, “Here! catch this and haul us in will you?” he said. An older boy grabbed it and started to pull back. Some infants came running over to help him, but one of these slipped on the edge of the bank and fell into the water. He went straight down like a stone, and only his straw hat was left on the surface. Basil jumped into the water, which went up to his chest, and dived down to fish the struggling child off the bottom. The boy was spluttering and sobbing but otherwise unharmed as Basil deposited him on the bank. Basil, of course, was dripping wet and had duckweed in his hair.

“Well that woke you up,” laughed sally as she jumped onto the bank.

The other children found the episode all very exciting and amusing… but it wasn’t exactly easy to understand their speech. It was full of long vowels and strange guttural consonants.

“I think they said that you’re “damp enough,” said Sally, “And poor Basil you are soaked through. I don’t think we’re going to find you a change of clothes unless you fancy yourself in a smock.”

“Yes, what language are they speaking?” asked Basil.

“English.” replied Sally. “It’s just a bit out of date that’s all.”

“Out of date ! It sounds like Chaucer.”

“I think that’s not far off, “ agreed Sally.

A girl picked the up the child who had fallen into the water and comforted him.

“Go thither, and put on array that is dry,” she said to a somewhat puzzled Basil.

“I think she means you can get changed,” said Sally. And the girl was pointing towards a crude but functioning windmill that stood on a small hill above the river.

The children ran and skipped ahead, and quickly spread the news to the family and workers back at the mill. There was a small group of people including a rather emotional mother waiting to greet Sally and Basil. Some just stood and stared at them, because obviously, they were rather oddly dressed for the times. Basil was soggy and bedragrelled. Sally was wearing a light blue t-shirt bearing the slogan

“Can you feel my awesomeness?”

She tried to explain that they were from a far away place but nobody could understand a word that she was saying. A child took Basil inside and gave him some dry clothes to change into. He emerged from the mill wearing a loose tunic and some baggy trousers and Sally exclaimed:

“Oh Basil ! If Talia was here, she would say that you’re dressed like a Yokel ! “

And then she put her hand over her mouth hoping that nobody had understood the word “yokel” because it didn’t sound very polite.

Eventually the Miller came out to see what all the fuss was about. He was more smartly dressed than the others and looked like a stocky man of some substance. He heartily slapped Basil on the back to thank him for saving the child. Basil looked rather dazed and confused, but Sally remembered that they had come to this place on an urgent mission: She thought there was a chance that the Miller might understand them

“Look, she said, “Can you tell us where to find Merlin? You know the famous Wizard Merlin.?

And the Miller replied.

“Let us ride. I shall show thee Merlin.”

Which was clear enough. There was an hour of mostly waiting around, but at the end of it, Basil was sitting astride a wooden saddle on top of a mule, and Sally was seated sideways on a donkey. The miller rode a dapple horse and with a certain amount of kicking and coaxing, they started to make their way down the road. It wasn’t exactly the most luxurious way to travel. Their behinds bore the brunt of every bump along the road. On the way the Miller spoke at length, pointing out fields and the occasional village or church. The further they went along the way, the more people they met. Various horses, carts, and people on foot were heading in the same direction. As far as Sally could make out, from what the Miller was saying, they were all aiming for the town where there was to be some sort of tournament.

And sure enough, after a couple of hours plodding down the road, they came in sight of a great noisy crowd that was gathered outside the walls of a town. It was definitely some sort of fair. Flags were fluttering and hawkers were selling pies and ale. And then Sally said:

“Basil, do you see him?” And Basil turned his head to where Sally was looking and saw a Knight in full armour riding a white charger through the crowd. People were hurriedly getting out of his way, and away from his servant who was riding by his side with a whip in his hand.
A huge sword was slung over the Knight’s saddle. He did not look like somebody you would want to annoy, unless you were tired of this life.

The Miller found the medieval equivalent of a car park, and paid a man to look after their horse, donkey and mule. And then they made their way on foot around the crowd towards an enclosure where seats and a stand for the nobility where laid out. The area was fenced off, and a guard barred the way in. The Miller was clearly trying to smooth talk him saying that they were honoured guests from abroad, come to meet the Wizard Merlin, but the guard was having none of it. He was staring at Sally and her t shirt and jeans in a way that clearly meant:

“Who’s that weirdo?”

And Sally said: “Don’t look at me like that it’s rude.” Basil was still clearly somewhat confused and overwhelmed. He was unusually quiet and listless. He looked like he wasn’t quite sure if he was awake or dreaming.

Then Sally had an idea. She pulled out the amulet that Talia had given her and which she wore under the neck of her t-shirt. It was some sort of precious stone set in an elaborate golden cross. As she showed it to the guard, the stone’s colour changed from green to red. The guard clearly recognised it as some sort of sign, because he immediately bowed and let them pass. The Miller led the way to a tent that was also guarded, and where also the amulet was the key to the entrance.

Inside, men and women were seated on cushions, and servants were bringing them drink and food. A minstrel band was piping and strumming a merry tune. This was clearly the place to be and none of them, not even the Miller, were dressed for the occasion. Some of the servants gave them odd looks, but most other people were far too busy enjoying themselves to notice them. But then a man, a great hulking man, with a red beard and a gold embroidered tunic came rolling towards them and called out : “Sooth. It is the very likeness of Eric [when he was young ](in his youth)!”

Which both Sally and Basil understood, but found very puzzling. Basil found himself being hugged in a very powerful and somewhat suffocating embrace, and receiving bristly kisses on both cheeks. The Knight hauled Basil over to a table that was laid out with food and drink, and where a group of young and beautiful women were seated in long flowing dresses. Sally was left behind, and she felt, well, quite left out really.

“Hey, what about me?” she exclaimed.

And Basil was trying to say to the man: “My name’s Basil, and this is my friend Sally. We’ve come a long way…” But by now he was surrounded by other men who wanted to hug him or at least shake him by the hand. One was saying that he was a “skinny sapling” and others that he was so very like Sir Eric. Next women were curtsying and offering their hands to be kissed.

“Um, if anyone is listening, we’ve come to see the Wizard Merlin,” said Sally. And she held up Talia’s Amulet hoping that somebody would take notice.

“I am Merlin,” said a voice behind her.

And she turned round and saw an extremely calm and almost expressionless face. He was well groomed, even by modern standards, and wore a very modest black tunic. Although he had silver hair his face’s skin was almost without wrinkles. He definitely had a very different aura from everyone else in the room.

“And if that young man is Sir Basil,” said Merlin in perfectly modern and understandable English, “Then you must be Sally.”

We reach the 15th episode of our Awaking Beauty series, and some of the mystery surrounding Princess Talia will be revealed.

The City of Oxford has fallen asleep under a cloud of fog. Only Basil and one or two others are awake. He meets Princess Talia’s Fairy Godmother, who takes him to a barge by the river and explains to him why all these mysterious things have happened.

Read by Elizabeth. Duraction 12.27. Story by Bertie.

The paving stones of Westerly College were ankle deep in wisps of mist. But it was the time of day when the spring sun shone directly into the quad, and shafts of light played in the flaxen hair of the woman who was walking towards Basil. She seemed like she had stepped out of a dream or a vision. She walked up to him with hurried steps and said:

“Sir Basil, Let us be gone from this place. It is an evil corner of the City.”

Basil was not quite sure whether he was more taken aback by being addressed“Sir” or the description of his college as “evil.”

“But, I can’t go until I’ve found my friend Sally.”

“She is waiting for us in the barge, my Lord.”

“What barge?” asked Basil.

“The barge of Avion – but each minute on the dial is precious, let us hurry….”

And Basil realised that her every answer just gave rise to more questions, and so he stopped asking, and hurried,in the direction of the Porter’s Lodge, and from there, he stepped out into the sleeping City.

As they went along, Basil checked his smart phone to see if there was anything on Google news or the BBC about what was happening in Oxford, but his phone had no signal.

They retraced his recent path, across the piazza with the domed Radcliffe Camera building, and back down the silent and slumbering High Street towards Magdalen Bridge. Basil walked meekly along side the lady, now well aware that he had little or no say over where they would go, who they would meet, or what they would do. The events that were taking place were beyond his understanding. All he could do was to place his complete faith and trust in this good fairy.

The mist was still thick by the river, and they made their way with great care down some steps to the bank, and along the narrow tow path to where the punts were tied up waiting for tourists and romantically minded students to hire them. But there were no customers today, and the man in charge of the hire slept on the grass. Basil shuddered to think how cold he must been, but he was one of thousands who had fallen asleep in random spots all over city.

A little further along, a wooden barge was moored. It was a pretty boat, painted gold, and with a prow in the form of a swan. The name on its side was Avion.

Basil stepped on board first, and held his hand out for the fairy godmother, though she was no doubt both lighter and steadier on her feet than he was.

The door of the cabin opened, and a familiar head popped out and said:

“What took you so long?”

It was of course Sally, still wearing the protecting amulet given to her by Princess Talia. She invited them to step down into the cabin, which was filled with a homely aroma. A freshly baked fruit cake, slightly crusty and burnt on top, stood on the table.

“Hmm, that smells good,” said Basil, “Did you bake it?’

“No. Edwina did. I just took it out.”

“Edwina?” asked Basil.

And Sally indicated with a nod that Edwina was the name of Talia’s fairy godmother.

They sat around the table, and Sally cut the cake, but Edwina said that only Basil – or to be precise, “Sir Basil” could eat it.

“All for me?” asked Basil. “It’s not got anything, er, unusual in it, by any chance?’

“The cake is powerful,” said Edwina, “but good.”

The taste was certainly more tangy than a usual fruit cake, but Basil liked it.
“Yes, very good,” he said.

“Don’t say that, I’m famished, “ said Sally. And when Basil wiped his mouth and asked if he could have another piece, her stomach audibly growled in protest.

“Sorry Sally,” he said.

“No, it’s me who should be sorry, “ said Sally…. “For thinking that Talia was crazy. Poor Talia. Edwina told me what happened. And of course I realise now that the Rector’s wife really is a witch.”

“And not just any ordinary witch” said Edwina in her clear voice. “She is Morgan Le Fay.”

“I’ve heard of her name,” said Basil, “But I’m afraid I don’t know anything about her. Could you try to help me understand what’s happening?”

“She is an enemy of knowledge. She derives her magical powers from human ignorance. She is like a black hole, that sucks up knowledge and destroys it in the process. An event like a book burning fills her with energy and rejuvenates her malicious powers.

“She brought down the Court of Camelot, the home of King Arthur, Chivalry, and Honour, and ushered in the dark ages, when ignorance ruled this sceptered isle. Abroad, she inspired the persecution of the astronomer, Galileo. She caused the Great Fire of London which ravaged St. Paul’s Cathedral, and all the books that used to be kept within it. Now she plans to create a great bonfire of books from the greatest library in the world, the Bodlean here in Oxford, but the minds of all the scholars working around the University were interfering with her plans. Her evil intent cannot operate in a field of such intense and collective thought. It is for this reason, that she has caused the City to fall asleep. This is a trick she has employed before, not least when she set Princess Talia and her family to slumber for a thousand years. They were the greatest scholars of their time, and therefore the enemies of superstition and ignorance. She had to put them to one side while she burned the Book of Wisdom which they kept in their castle.”

“A Library seems like quite an old fashioned target,” said Basil. “What about the internet? Surely she must want to bring that down?….

“The internet is indeed a great source of knowledge, but it is also a vast repository of idle gossip, dark plots, wild theories, crude entertainment and stupidity. People are as much distracted as enlightened by it. On balance, the net suits her purpose for now.

“She has not only put Oxford to sleep, but she has suspended it in time. The Oxford we are in now is a suspended state that exists in parallel with the city that continues to live and bustle. She expended a huge amount of magical power to cast such a spell, and now she is resting. We have about 48 hours before she will be restored enough to carry out the next phase of her plan. And when she has completed that, and the knowledge of centuries is in flames, then Basil, she intends to bring Oxford out of its state of suspended animation. She will be flush with evil energy from so great a destruction and then she will challenge and eliminate her enemies, chiefly, Princess Talia, Myself, and dear Basil, you.”

“Me, why on earth am I her enemy?”

“Because, dear Basil, you are the direct descendant of Sir Eric, Knight of the Round Table, and it is your destiny to triumph over Morgan Le Fey. But first you must return home to retrieve the armour and weapons that you will need for the task. “

“I didn’t think I had any weapons at my parent’s house in Fulham,” said Basil.

“Not that home. You must return to your ancestral home, and for that you must go back in time.”

“Yes, back in time,” he said sleepily.

“Basil, are you okay?” asked Sally with alarm. She leant over the table and felt his hand. It was cold and clammy. “Oh no, don’t fall asleep now.. Basil, stay awake…..”

But Edwina said: “Don’t worry Sally. It is a different sort of sleep that is taking over him now.”

Basil tried to speak, but instead he yawned.

“Go into the back room and lie down on the bed,” said the Fairy Godmother. “We shall leave now before you fall asleep. The boatman will take you back in time. When you wake, be sure to ask for the Wizard Merlin.”

Basil felt too weary to protest. He more or less stumbled into the bedroom at the back of the boat, crashed on the bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

And Sally said, “Oh Basil, waiting for you here is going to be so hard. I wish I could go with you.”

And Edwina said: “Rest Child. All we can do now is wait for him.” She sat in a tall Venetian chair with lion heads carved on the back and gently closed her eyes.

Sally tried to lie down on a chaise longue, but she was far to fidgety to sleep. She eyed the cake on the table. Basil had left his second slice almost untouched. Quietly, she got up, took the piece on the table, and went into to the room where Basil lay virtually unconscious. She began to eat the cake.

And that was the story of the Beauty and Sir Basil. I’m not quite sure if that cleared up the mystery of Princess Talia or deepened it.

Our Awaking Beauty series is about to get even more mysterious….. We reach the 14th episode in our Princess Talia series, in which she is taken against her will to be interviewed by a psychiatrist. She answers all the questions honestly, and Basil knows that it does not bode well for her.

The Beauty and the Big Sleep

“Talia, don’t get out of the car, we’re not budging,” said Basil. And then he remonstrated with the driver. “I thought your job was to protect the Princess, not kidnap her.”

“Mine is not to reason why,” replied the man.

“Theirs is but to do or die,” responded Basil. “That’s what the Light Brigade said before they charged into the Russian cannons. You can’t just obey orders even when they are insane”

“I believe,” said the driver, “that the powers that be have the Princess’ best interests at heart. And if I may add, I have some personal experience in these matters. While I was in the army, I saw a few things…. I won’t go into details… but they say that everyone has their own breaking point and I hit mine. After I left the forces, I spent a couple of months in a place like this, and it restored me…. sort of. So my advice to the Princess is this: the sooner you start, the sooner it will be over, and she can get back to college and her friends, and her studies.”

Basil realised that the driver was a decent enough sort, who simply had no idea what this was all about. In fact he himself scarcely had the vaguest idea about anything at all anymore…. except that when Talia was around, things seemed to get stranger and stranger, not to mention scarier and scarier….”

A broad-shouldered male nurse came over to speak to the driver. “We are authorised to use reasonable force if necessary,” he said said in a low voice.

“There will be no need for that now, will there Princess?” said the driver. And the princess said, “No there shan’t. I will come because I have no choice, but as soon as I can, I shall complain through the highest possible channels.”

Basil clambered out of the car first. He spoke to a hard-faced woman who was dressed rather like an accountant, but who introduced herself as a “therapist.” She told him that they just wanted to ask Talia a few questions.

“We will only agree if I can be present, “ said Basil. And the lady replied that that it was entirely a matter for the Princess and if she wished him to stay, he could.

Basil went back to the car to confer with Talia, and she agreed to the questioning so long as he stayed with her. The greeting party of the two nurses and the therapist led them into the house and down a long corridor. Eventually they went into a room where they could sit down – always in the presence of a man in a blue uniform.

“Are you a doctor or a gaoler?” asked Talia.

“I’m a nurse,” said the man. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Thank you. I will have a cup of hot water with a slice of lemon in it,” said Talia.

“I’m afraid we don’t have lemon.”

“Well I’ll just have hot water then,” she replied. And the nurse went over to the drinks machine and filled a plastic cup with hot water for her. Basil made himself some tea.

After almost an hour of near silence, the interview took place in the room next door . There were four people from the clinic present, and it had the atmosphere, not of a consultation with a doctor, but of a trial or worse, an interview for a job in a bank.

The lady therapist sat reading through a file of notes before looking up and asking:

“Do you have any family in this country, Princess?”

“Just my fairy godmother, “ Talia replied. And Basil could see that the interview had got off to a bad start when even the nurse suppressed a laugh by turning it into a grunt. The therapist kept a straight poker face.

“I see. Do you have any contact details for her?” she asked in a flat voice.

“No,” said Talia. “We don’t communicate in any way that you would find normal.”

“Do you mean that you hear her voice in your head?” asked the woman.

“No,” said Talia. “I’m not insane.”

“Why did you attack a stranger in a shop?” asked the therapist.

“She stole my purse,” replied Talia dryly.

“And why did you attack the wife of the Rector of your college?”

‘She’s a witch,” said Talia.

“She means that she’s a bad person,” interjected Basil.

“I’m afraid,” said the Therapist,”That if you interrupt, you shall have to leave the room. My questions are for the Princess. Now Talia, do you mean literally that she’s a witch, or is it just a figure of speech.”

“I mean,” said Talia, “That she’s a witch. And if you don’t believe me, I suggest that you take a short trip into Oxford’s city centre, and see what is happening there right now. If you do that, you will realise that I am perfectly sane.”

“I am afraid,” said the lady, “that you are having a psychotic episode, which means that you are imagining things. We are going to have to detain you here under section 5 of the Mental Health Act. We can keep you here for 28 days, by which time, If all goes well, we shall have isolated the problem and stabalised it. Do you understand what I have just said?”

“I’m afraid that you are the one who does not understand,” said Talia.

Basil was already on his feet: “You can’t do this, you just can’t do this!” he was saying.

But they could and they were.

When he left the house, he was in such a fury that he didn’t even answer the driver who was offering him a lift. He loped off down the drive, and to the main road where he caught a bus back to the edge of the city. It dropped him off at the Magdalene roundabout because there was a road block preventing traffic crossing the bridge : in fact a deep impenetrable fog had risen up from the river, which was rather strange given  that it was early afternoon and the morning had been bright and crisp.

Basil walked across the Bridge and through the fog which was a true pea-souper. It was the strangest thing, but he was so wrapped up with frustration and angry thoughts about what had happened at the clinic that he was hardly thinking about it. He just edged his way forward with his hand trailing along the stone side of the bridge. The fog did not get much thinner until he was well past Magdalene College and even then he could only dimly make out the High Street. Then he tripped up over something and stumbled forward, almost falling over, but recovering his balance just in time. The only surprise about this was that it hadn’t happened sooner in the fog. He looked back to see what he had tripped on, and saw that it was the leg of a woman who was lying on the pavement. He knelt down, feeling for her head, which he half expected to be bloody from hitting it on some sharp stone. He would have to call an ambulance, and it occurred to him that there might be many such accidents and that they would take a while to arrive. He felt all round the woman’s head, but could not find any sign of injury. He checked that her neck was warm. She seemed to be alive which was a relief to him. He decided that it would be best not to move her until more expert help arrived. He reached for his phone, but he couldn’t get a signal. He would have to try and call from further up the street. But it was only a few yards further down that he found a man lying down in the same way. By the time he reached Queen’s college the air was more or less clear – with only traces of mist at foot level and he could see that all the way up the pavement people were lying down, as if asleep. In fact, he passed a man who was positively snoring. He looked inside a shop that sold college ties and saw an assistant slumped on the counter. Outside a baby was sound asleep in his or her pram, and the mother was lying on the pavement not far away. These days, only a few cars were allowed into the the centre of Oxford, even on a normal day, and the closure of the bridge had clearly hindered traffic, but he saw that a police car and a mini had crashed into each other. The drivers and passengers did not appear to be too badly hurt, but they were sound asleep. Further up a BMW had smashed into the wall of University college.

Basil made his way back to Westerly college and found that the porter was asleep in his lodge, the rugby team had dozed off on their way to a match and were lying in a scrum on the quad, and he could see through a downstairs window that a history undergraduate had fallen asleep in her tutorial, as had her tutor.

And the strangest thing of all was that Basil was hardly surprised. “I know that at least two people will be awake,” he said to himself, “One of them will be Sally, because she is wearing Talia’s amulet, and the other will be the Rector’s wife.

But there was somebody else that he saw walking towards him. It was somebody he had not seen before. She was tall, middle-aged, and yet undeniably beautiful with high cheek bones and a dignified way of holding herself. Her dress was long and made of red velvet. He knew right away who she must be.

The authorities of Westerly College Oxford have given Princess Talia a choice: she can either be sent down and leave the college for good, or she can visit a psychiatrist and undertake any treatment prescribed. Of course Talia and her friend both Basil believe that she is perfectly sane, and that the Rector’s wife really is a dangerous witch. They are supported by the mysterious law don, Count Anthony.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.15

Sally had not spoken to the Princess for about three weeks, ever since their ill-fated trip to the shopping centre. She had felt incredibly embarrassed about Talia taking a haughty attitude with everyone she met. It was one thing to call the spoilt brats of Westerly College “peasants”, but it was quite another to treat shop assistants as if they were lowlife. Sally felt that it was plain bad manners to act that way. And when Talia physically attacked another shopper, accusing her of having stolen her purse, she thought that things had gone too far.

But now she felt sorry for her friend – because she did still regard her as a friend. Of course she had heard how the Princess had flown at the Rector’s wife in the quad with her fists and nails, and how she had actually bitten the poor woman on the wrist while the college porter had to wrestle her off. Lots of people were laughing about it, but Sally felt it was just terribly sad. When she called her Dad and told him about it he said:

“Well that is a shame, because I liked the Princess, though your mother did think she was a bit snooty. But she’s not the first young royal to go a bit potty, and I daresay she won’t be the last. Some people are envious of princes and princesses and what have you, but I’ve never been. Too much wealth, fame and privilege isn’t good for anybody, especially for the young when it all just comes served up on a silver spoon. If you want to stay sane, it’s better to be born into a normal family, that’s what I say!”

Nobody thought that Talia would be allowed to stay in college after such an assault, apart from a few, like Sheena Simon, who reckoned that she would be let off any harsh punishment because she was a Princess. The student newspaper soon got hold of the story, and published it on the front page. And then a reporter from London came up to ask questions around the college. He knocked on Sally’s door and asked if she knew which country Talia was from. Sally just said, “Nobody knows,” and shut the door. She was amazed when she was quoted in the newspaper the following Sunday. They seemed to know all about her, including the fact that she was from Liverpool. She was even described as “a former friend of the phony princess” which made her feel really bad. But somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to knock on Talia’s door.

But then Talia knocked on hers.

“I just wanted to give you a little present before I go,” she said. And she handed her the crystal pendant that she had lent to her before, when her Dad had been ill in hospital.

“You’ve been so sweet to me Sally,” said Talia, “And I am sorry that I have not always been the easiest person to have as a friend. But I want you to wear this always. It will protect you from danger. And just between you and me, this college will be a dangerous place over the coming days and weeks so please don’t forget to wear this keepsake.”

Sally recalled how when her father had been ill in hospital, she had put the pendant around his neck and it had changed colour as he recovered. She had never really figured out whether that had been sheer coincidence, or some mystical power. Anyway, as she took the stone from her friend and hung it around her own neck, she felt an energizing force.

“It’s very strong,” said Talia. “You might find it difficult to sleep with it on. But whatever you do, don’t take it off. “

Sally tucked the stone out of sight under her t-shirt.

“Well thank you,” she said, “It’s really generous of you, and I will always remember you by it, but where are you going to go?”

“To my fairy godmother,” said Talia. “I have no other relative.” And Sally thought:

“It’s kind of beautiful to be that crazy.”

***

Basil had not yet heard the news of Talia’s fate. In fact, he hadn’t seen her all day. She had spent that morning preparing with Count Anthony for the ordeal of the “trial by don”. He was anxious for news, and could not concentrate on his studies or anything else for that matter.

The daffodils were out in the Fellow’s Garden. He climbed up the steps at the back of the college and onto the rampart at the top of the ancient wall. He looked down into the alley bellow. A girl was pushing her bicycle over the cobbles. Next, he glanced up into the square at the end of the alley and at the domed library building. He was acutely aware of what a privilege it was to spend four years, shielded from the hustle and tussle of the real world, while filling his head with languages and cultures that had long since turned into dust.

What would he do if Talia was sent down, and had to leave college? He had absolutely no idea where she had come from, or where she would return to, but he was sure that wherever it was, he would go there with her. Yes, he would give all this up for Talia. Oxford was special – but it was hardly unique. After all, there was the other place, not to mention great universities like Bologna, Heidelberg, Harvard, and Yale….. But there was only one Talia. He hadn’t lived that long in the world, but he knew that he would never meet another woman like her. She was his destiny.

While he was deep in his thoughts, his phone pinged. He took it out of his pocket and saw Talia’s name at the top of his messages. He shuddered. It would surely be news of the judgement from the Kangaroo court of dons that was deciding her fate. But how odd? Talia was a technophobe who owned a bejeweled mobile but didn’t know how to use it. As he was opening the message, he thought, “Perhaps she asked her driver to send it for her, it must be important.”

It read:

“Basil, do come right away. The Rector wishes to see you in the lodge. He will listen to you. Only you can persuade him to show me mercy.”

His long legs were propelled by great urgency as he ran down the steps and bounded across the garden. He knew that he should stop to prepare some thoughts to give to the Rector, but at the same time the instinct to rush to the rescue of the Princess was too much for him to hold back.

He was in such a blind hurry across the quad that he almost didn’t take in the tall dark figure of County Anthony, the law don, coming towards him.

“Basil, where are you off to at such a rush?” asked the count.

“The Rector wants to speak to me about Talia,” gasped Basil. “He’s waiting for me in the lodge.”

“Have you lost your mind? If you set foot in the Rector’s Lodge, you will be in the greatest danger.

“…But Talia..,” stammered Basil, and he showed the text message to the law don. As he did so, he came to his senses, and realised that deep down he already understood that the message was not from Talia. When County Anthony said : “And that missive is a fake…” he knew that he was speaking the truth.

“I see,” said Basil. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Talia never uses a mobile phone….. I just felt so useless standing around and waiting,. A chance to help was… was….”

“irresistible,” said Count Anthony. “Yes, the person who sent that message perfectly understood your state of mind. But if there is any lingering doubt that the text is a forgery, Let us go and speak to the Princess in person and confirm it from the horse’s mouth… .although in the case of the Princess that is perhaps not such an apt phrase.”

When, a few minutes later, they were standing in the Princess’ room, she shrugged her shoulders and said: “I know that you are greatly attached to your mobile phone, but I ‘m afraid that I don’t understand technology anymore than you understand magic.”

And Basil looked into the Princess’s oval face and saw someone who had a completely different understanding of the world from himself. Perhaps that was why she was so fascinating. But she was clearly in a state of great anxiety. She was fumbling nervously with the silver coin which hung in a pendant from her neck.

“They sent you down, didn’t they?” said Basil. The Princess shrugged her shoulders. She did not mention the alternative she had been given – to visit a psychiatrist, and to undergo any treatment that was prescribed to her. It was something for her that was simply beyond consideration.

‘Where will you…. I mean to say, where will we go? Because wherever it is, I am coming with you. That’s non-negotiable. “

“Basil. You are so sweet and wonderful. I don’t know what I would do without you. I shall go and stay with my fairy godmother in London. You will be most welcome, I know.”

“The danger is very real,” said Count Anthony, “I must stress that we must suspect everyone and trust nobody. I have just spoken to a senior contact in the Government, and I had a bad feeling. He was not nearly so friendly as usual. I think that perhaps the Rector, who used to be a cabinet minister, still has had some malign influence in the corridors of power. We really are on our own now. You must leave immediately.”

Basil looked around the room at the great many treasures belonging to the Princess: a bear skin rug, the picture of a garden on the wall, the four- poster bed, and the gilded harp.

“How will we move all this down to London? he asked. “Oh don’t worry about that,” said the Princess. “My godmother will arrange it.”

“Please hurry now,” said Count Anthony. “There is no time. Anything could happen if you stay here.”

Basil and Talia walked at a measured pace down the stairs: “Can I go back to my room and fetch a few things?” asked Basil.

“Not now,” said the Count. “They will be sent on to you.”

As usual, Talia’s black limousine and a driver were waiting in the back quad. The driver sprang out of the seat and opened a rear door for Talia. Basil went around the other side. Soon the car slipped out of the back gates. The Count nodded his farewell. None of them saw the face that watched the departure from a window high up in Fletcher’s Tower.

Basil sank back into the leather and held Talia’s hand as they made their way out of the city over Magdalene Bridge, and up the hill on the way to London. For a while he closed his eyes and wondered if London really existed… he had grown up there, practically in the centre of town, but now after the strange events of Oxford, reality seemed remote. But when he opened his eyes he could see it all around him – the ordinary streets, the ordinary houses, the ordinary life of people who actually lived in Oxford. Yes, he was going to have to adjust himself back to real life. At some point he would have to find his own place to live, a job to pay for it, a plausible explanation for why he had not finished his degree…. not least, to his parents. And there was this little problem about that explanation… most people, in fact 99.9% of people, didn’t believe in magic…. which brought a question to mind:

“Talia, what’s your fairy godmother like?” he asked. “I mean, is she elderly? Will she mind me coming to stay?’

“Well she is rather old,” said Talia, “But I know that she won’t mind. In fact, I am sure that she will see it as an honour to meet you and help you in any way that she can. You see Basil, you may yet be called up on by Destiny. I do so hope it won’t come to that, because it will be terribly dangerous for you, but there maybe no escape from it. Destiny is so very determined, as a rule.”

It was all too much for Basil to take in, and so he closed his eyes. He only opened them when he heard Talia say in a sharp voice to the driver: “Excuse me, where are you taking us?”

The car had turned off the London road. It was entering the forecourt of a large house with ivy climbing up the walls. He caught sight of a sign. It said”

Bidcliffe Clinic

But it did not say what sort of clinic it was.

“I’m sorry Your Highness,” said the driver. “Orders is orders.”

Two burly men and a women were waiting for them at the door to the house. The woman wore a business suit. The men were dressed in blue nursing uniforms.

And that was the thirteen episode of in our Awaking Beauty series. Bertie says well done for listening so far. We do read all the comments and we understand how there are loads of people waiting to see what happens to Princess Talia, and of course that includes me ! So do drop by at Storynory.com to check for new episodes, and if you ever can make a small donation, we are always ever so grateful. For now, from me Elizabeth, Bye !

We have reached the twelfth episode of our Awaking Beauty series and Princess Talia is getting into deeper and deeper trouble with the college authorities. She is convinced that the Rector’s wife is a dangerous witch. Many people in college now think that she is crazy – with the notable exceptions of her friend Basil, and the exotic law don, Count Anthony.

If you’ve been waiting patiently for this episode, thank you. You may be like to read this note, The Trouble with Serials.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duraction 8.45.

It’s funny, but even when I was a boy I wasn’t afraid of injections,” said Basil. “But here I am, supposedly grown up, and I ran away from a nurse with a needle. “

Talia looked at him intently. “What did this nurse look like?” she asked.

“Why, er, come to think of it she looked a little bit like, I mean, no that’s too silly. She was middle-aged and she had short ginger hair, probably dyed. “

“In other words, she looked like, go on say it….” pressed Talia. She was squeezing Basil’s hand now so tightly that it was starting to hurt.

“The Rector’s wife,” admitted Basil….

Talia let go of him, and started to walk around the room. “Now I see it, now I see it all…” she said.

“What….?” asked Basil bewildered.

“It’s not me she’s after, it’s you my darling. she’s out to get you, and if you had allowed her to sink that needle into you, you would have fallen into a deep dark death-like sleep for almost an eternity. She means to get you out of the way because, you see, it’s your destiny to kill her.”

At this Basil couldn’t’ help letting out a laugh. “Me, do in the Rector’s wife? Oh come on Talia, that’s completely crazy. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. I mean, I’’d be a vegetarian, only I like bacon too much to give it up. ”

Suddenly Talia’s eyes flashed with anger and tears. “See , I knew if I told you the truth you would think I was mad,” and she threw herself on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. Basil sat down on the side and tried to comfort her, but she was having none of it.

“Oh come on, I didn’t mean it like that, it was just an expression,” he said. But she refused to calm down and just said “Leave me alone,” and so Basil, thinking it was probably best to let her calm down, went out of his room, and took a walk about the Fellow’s Garden, which he probably wasn’t supposed to do, but he really needed a calm and tranquil place to soothe his nerves.

When he was feeling a little more relaxed he thought that Talia would probably have had time to calm down too. He passed out of the garden, through the main building, and saw the Princess on the other side of the quad. He was too far away to stop her as she ran towards the figure of the Rector’s wife,”

“Tallia, no !!!! Stop! “ he yelled. but it was no use. The Princess flew at the woman and gashed her face with her sharp nails.

“You stay away from him. You stay away from my Basil!” she screamed. And the woman struggled to free herself from Talia, and ran into the lodge to seek help from a burly porter.

The College Disciplinary committee consisted of the Rector, Dr. Mills, and Mr. Mortimer, the moral philosophy tutor who declined to use the title “Doctor” because he thought it was vulgar to do so.

Talia sat uncomfortably on a chair on the opposite side of the table to this formidable committee of men. Fortunately she was not required to speak, as she was represented by Count Anthony, the Law Don. All the same, the Rector addressed his question to the Princess.

“Perhaps you could begin by telling us why you attacked my wife?”

“With all respect Rector, I object to that question,” said the Count. In the first place it is a leading question that assumes the guilt of the princess. In the second place, I humbly suggest that you are personally connected [to] the matter in hand, and that in the interests of justice, you should leave the room.”

The Rector, to his credit, saw the truth of those words, and after handing over the chairing of the meeting to Mr. Mortimer, stood up and left. Count Anthony had scored his first point.

“Does the Princess deny that she attacked the Rector’s wife?” asked Mr. Mortimer.

“She does not,” said Count Anthony. He explained that she had been under a great deal of stress after being wrongfully arrested by the police, that she had been the victim of a malicious campaign of rumours in the college, and that she had been hurt as a child by a woman who bore a strong resemblance to the Rector’s wife.

Now it was the turn of the Princess and Count Anthony to leave the room while the two men who were judge and jury in her case conferred and decided what action to take. The worst that they could do was to send her down, which meant that she would be expelled from college.

“If they send me down,” said the Princess, as they waited in the next door room, “I’m not sure where I will go – you see, I don’t really know where my home is – or even, if it is – oh it’s so hard to explain.”

“My dear, I understand more than you think,” said the Count. “But perhaps it is for the best for you to leave, and to get as far away as possible from your enemy, for she is dangerous to you.”

“If I was only thinking of myself, “ said the Princess, “I would leave. But there’s Basil….”

“Ah yes,” said the Count.

After about ten minutes, they were asked to return to the room to hear the decision of the disciplinary committee.

“We have weighed the circumstances of the incident , and the extenuating circumstances that have been described by the Count, and we have reached our decision,” said Mr. Mortimer. “In reaching this decision, we have been careful to exclude any partiality due to the fact that the innocent victim of this action is the wife of the Rector. We are presenting the princess with a choice. Either she can be sent down with immediate effect, or she can agree to our terms, which are to undertake an examination by a psychiatrist and to follow whatever course of treatment, if any, that is prescribed for her.”

“I’m saner than any of you are,” said the Princess standing up, and she fled out of the room.

“Count Anthony, be so kind as to inform us of the Princess’s decision within the next 24 hours, “ said Mr. Mortimer, and the Count nodded.

Our Awaking Beauty series has reached its eleventh episode. More and more people at Westerly College Oxford now believe that Princess Talia is more than merely eccentric, but is probably insane. She has run out of a drinks party held by the Rector (the head of the college) and now she is in trouble for making a strange accusation against his wife.

And for those who have been waiting patiently for a romantic moment… don’t miss this episode !

Was it something I said?” asked the Rector with a forlorn look on his florid face that was usually so self-congratulatory. The glamorous young woman that he had spent the last ten minutes talking to had turned and fled from his drinks’ party, just as he was telling her an anecdote about the time he was Government Minister. The two graduate students who were standing next to him were as taken aback as he was.

“I don’t normally have that effect on the opposite sex,” he said recovering his poise and a couple of his guests laughed politely.

“Er, thanks for the lovely party,” said another student, as he hastily departed a moment or two later.

Sally, who had until that moment been talking to Basil, was left standing on her own in the corner of the room. She had been feeling somewhat disenchanted with both him and Princess Talia ever since Saturday morning’s shopping trip which Talia had attacked a fellow shopper and got herself  arrested, She was also starting to be irritated with Basil who was clearly infatuated with Talia, and had seemed to accept without question that she wasn’t merely strange, but truly had mystical powers.

She wondered over to a couple of second year Classics students and said in a low voice:

“Insanity must be infectious. Basil has caught it off Talia and the way he’s going, he’ll soon be as cuckoo as she is. “ And she started to tell them about the incident in the shop, and how Basil rode to the Princess’s rescue on his bicycle as her Knight in a Shining Tracksuit.

While she was grumbling about him, Basil was running across the quad in the direction of the staircase which led up to Talia’s rooms.
He hurried up the stairs and caught up with the Princess just as she was turning the key in her door.

“Oh Basil,” she said. “You must be starting to think that I’m frightfully odd.”

“Well I did notice that you are a bit out of the ordinary, or rather, utterly extraordinary. Maybe that’s why… that’s why I can’t think about anyone else, or anything else, other than you.”

“Is that really true?”

“Totally.”

“My Prince,” said Talia, as he took her in his arms. And this time, his kiss was no joke. .

The following day, rumours were flying around college, though not yet about Basil and Talia. For now, the gossipy tongues were wagging just about Talia: how she had been arrested for attacking an innocent Saturday morning shopper, how she claimed to have mystical visions and to be on personal terms with famous people of the past, and how she had run out of the Rector’s drinks party screaming. She hadn’t actually made any sound, let alone screamed, but that was how the rumour improved in the retelling. The fact that she was a Princess made the tale all the more enjoyable and sensational – but nobody knew for sure what it was that the Rector had said that had made her run away so abruptly.

Sheena Simon, who was studying History, was always suspicious of anyone who had a posh accent. She thought they spoke that way to make her feel inferior. And she she couldn’t help herself, but she felt a particularly strong desire to sink her claws into somebody who went about calling herself a princess. And of course, that somebody was Talia. She just had to know why Talia had taken such exception to the Rector. She suspected that she had misunderstood some innocent remark, and taken it totally the wrong way. She was sure it would make a hilarious story if she could get hold of it. And so when she met Talia on the narrow path that led through the Fellow’s garden to the library, she decided to stop and sympathise with her.

“Oh hello, Talia,” she said, . “I just wanted to say how I totally understand why you ran off from that smarmy-faced Rector. I wanted to do exactly the same thing when he was boring me to death at one of those dreadful drinks parties.”

“Oh that’s kind of you,” said Talia. “But it wasn’t the Rector I ran away from. In fact, I was rather interested in his conversation. “

“Then if you don’t mind me asking,” said Sheena “Why did you leave? “

“It was his wife,” said Talia. And then she whispered: “I know her from the past, the distant past. You see, she’s a witch. And my advice to everyone is to stay away from her because, as I have found to my cost, her magic is as evil as it is powerful.”

Soon after that brief conversation, the wheels of the college rumour mill were in full motion. There was hardly anyone who did not know that Talia had accused the rector’s new wife of being an evil witch. The idea that Talia was rather strange, if not completely insane, took a deeper hold than ever. Even the tutors started to hear the rumours, and one or two agreed in private that the Princess might have a point about the Rector’s wife, even if her words weren’t literally true.

Every undergraduate at Westerly College was assigned a moral tutor, who was supposed to look after his or her welfare and to provide friendly guidance on personal matters during their time at the college. Talia’s moral Tutor was Dr. Mills, who taught Anglo-Saxon English. One morning, Talia found a polite note in her pigeon hole at the porter’s lodge. Dr. Mills asked her to drop by at his room for a quiet chat about about how things were going.

‘Why is he taking an interest in me all of sudden?” she asked Basil. And Basil shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps he tries to see each of his moral pupils once in a while,” he said.

Talia arrived for the appointment exactly on time, and found that Dr. Mills was late. She waited outside his door for five minutes, and then started to leave. She met him on the stairs.

“Ah Princess !” he said, “Thank you for dropping by.” And Talia said, somewhat icily.

“I was waiting for you, ” but she did not receive the apology that she thought she deserved.

“I only have ten minutes,” she said, as she sat down in a chair in his room.

“Well in that case, I’ll come to the point,” said Dr. Mills. “It has reached my ear that you do not see eye to eye with the Rector’s wife.”

“We are old enemies,” said Talia.

“Well that’s unfortunate under the circumstances,”

“One can’t like everyone.”

“May I ask the source of the animosity.”

“You may ask but I am afraid I cannot tell you. It’s an old story, and you probably would find it hard to understand.”

“Well you could try me and see.”

“I’d rather not thank you.”

“Well I must ask you,” said Dr. Mills, “to keep whatever feelings you have about the good lady to yourself. If the college authorities hear of you spreading any malicious slanders about her, they will be forced to take action.”

“You have my word that I will not slander her,” said Talia.

“That is wise,” said the Tutor.

“After all,” said Talia, “If you slander someone, what you say has to be untrue and I never speak a lie. Now if you will forgive me, I must leave. We began this appointment late and now my schedule is behind time.”

Neither the tutor nor the princess found the outcome of this interview to be entirely satisfactory, but Dr. Mills felt the problem would soon be resolved one way or the other. Either Talia would keep quiet, or if she continued to spread rumours about the Rector’s wife, she would be sent down, princess or no princess. He himself was rather inclined to think that this most peculiar young person was actually no princess – but that she was suffering from delusions – and he was surprised that some of his colleagues, including the college’s Law Don, appeared to have fallen for her fantasies.

If you had seen Talia walking across the quad, you would no doubt have noticed how tense and preoccupied she seemed. She arrived at the foot of her staircase, and then suddenly turned around and went to visit Basil. She interrupted his studies, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“May I just sit here while you work?” she asked, and he agreed, but of course he could not concentrate.

Eventually he held her elegant hand and asked if there was anything wrong. She told him about Dr. Mills and his threat to have her sent down from college if she ever mentioned the Rector’s wife in public.

“I wish you could tell me what it is about her that is spooking you…” he said.

“Oh Basil, I can’t tell you, because if I did you would think that I’m crazy like everybody else seems to think now. “

“No I wouldn’t” he protested, but he saw that she was too afraid to tell him the whole story just yet.

When Basil returned to his desk, he opened his laptop and he saw that he had an email from the college office. The message said that there had been an outbreak of Avian Flu, and the Ministry of Health was warning that young people in their late teens and early twenties were particularly vulnerable to this nasty, and potentially lethal, virus. For that reason, the college had arranged for every student under 25 to be inocculated.

“Did you get one of these emails?” asked Basil to Talia.

“No,” she said, “But perhaps that is because I don’t know how to use a computer.”

“You must let me show you some time,” he said.

“It’s something I’d rather not know,” she replied.

And so Talia did not go to see the visiting nurse for a flu jab. It was probably a good thing that Talia did not read the email, because the nurse set up her surgery in a room at the top of Fletcher’s Tower, where she refused to set foot. The Tower seemed to bring out another of her strange fears. As Basil climbed the dark winding staircase, he thought how eerie it really was.

When he reached the nurse’s room, she invited him to sit down on the chair and roll up his sleeve. As he began to undo his cuff, he felt a strange chilliness come over him. He wondered it if it was the effect of the Tower.

“Just relax,” said the nurse, I’ll be with you in a moment”. Basil turned his head to look at her as she took out a disposable syringe from a drawer. But before she had finished unwrapping it, he had got up and left the room without saying a word.

And that was the 11th installment in our Awaking Beauty Series. If you would like to find out why Basil was so afraid of a little injection, then come back to to Storynory.com to listen to the next instalment.

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The Police officers had instructions to see Talia safely back to the door of her rooms at college. They left Basil and Count Anthony standing in the quad.

“Do you have time for tea?” asked the count politely. And of course, Basil could hardly refuse the invitation.

The rooms occupied by most of the dons at college were fairly spartan, as if to show a preference for the golden realm of the mind over and above the physical world. Not so were the Count’s. A sword hung above his fireplace, and a bronze bust of one of his Italian ancestors sat on his desk. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and bear skin rug was strewn across the floor. In fact, next to Princess Talia’s, his quarters were the most extravagantly furnished in the college.

Almost every other don in all of Oxford, and probably in the other place too, would have boiled his or her own water for tea, but Count Anthony kept a servant, who lived in the next room, and whom he summoned by a bell. The man servant entered with china tea cups and saucers on a silver tray, along with little Italian biscuits.

When they were alone again, the count said:

“College is like a small village. Gossip is the greatest source of entertainment. I suggest that we do not breathe a word of what happened today to anyone.”

“That goes without saying,” said Basil.

“Very Good….” said the count… and for a moment he silently studied Basil’s face until Basil felt quite uncomfortable. “I hope you won’t find this an impertinent question, “ he said, “But are you romantically attached to the Princess?”

Basil blushed. “We are just good friends,” he said.

“I heard that you awoke her with a kiss in Dr. Partridge’s Study.”

“That was just sort of a joke,” said Basil.

“Love often starts as a game,” said the Law Don, “But in the end it is deadly serious. The trick is to know when the time for frivolity has gone, and the moment for bold decisive action has arrived.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Basil, feeling both grateful for the advice, and rather embarrassed at the same time. “I will remember that….. If that’s all, I’d like to go and get changed out of my tracksuit now. It’s been a long day.

“You may leave,” said the law don.

As Basil stood up, he asked hesitantly. “Um. By the way. Do you know which country the Princess is from?”

“I do,” said the count.

“And where would that be?”

“I cannot say. Nobody else in college knows. Not even the Rector. I only know myself because….. well let us say, I have a few things in common with the princess. “

Basil wondered in a daze back to his room. As so often was the case, after he had some sort of experience involving Talia, he felt overwhelmed with a buzz of confusion and excitement.
If he had been more schooled in the code of chivalry, perhaps he would have called on Talia that evening to see if she had recovered from her ordeal. But by the time he showered and changed, he found that he was already exhausted by the strangest of Saturdays, and he lay on his bed and fell into a deep sleep.

It was not until the following Tuesday that he spotted Talia, by chance, outside Fletcher’s Tower. He could see that she was on her way to a tutorial, because she was wearing her long scholar’s gown and carrying books under her arm. She made her way towards the entrance of the Tower, which was the oldest part of college, and then, just as she was about to pass through its arched doorway, she span round on her heel and marched away from it.

“Oh Basil!” she said as she noticed him – for he was now walking towards her. “Once again I must call upon your gallant services. “

“Of course, ” said Basil, wondering if the moment for bold action would soon be at hand. She stood close to him.

“You’ve probably heard,” she said in a confidential voice, “For some reason known only to himself, Dr. Partridge has moved from his cosy old room to that dank and dreadful tower. I simply cannot bring myself to set foot in it….. Please do another noble deed on my behalf. Go up and see Dr. Partridge, and tell him that I will receive him in my own rooms for my tutorial.”

“I fear that the PJ might find that rather odd,” said Basil. “PJ” was their tutor’s initials as well as his nickname.

“But do please go and and ask. He’s such a sweet man, I’m sure he’ll understand”.

Basil smiled. He could not refuse Talia any request, however odd, but he did feel rather sheepish as he knocked on their Tutor’s door and passed on the Princess’s message.

“I…. hold our Tutorials in the young lady’s rooms…. no no. I’m afraid that the College authorities would not approve,” he said.

And when Basil returned to Talia with their Tutor’s reply, she did not change her resolve.

“Well that’s too bad. I simply can’t climb up that tower. I’ll just have to return to my rooms, and at such time that Dr. Partridge is ready to make the short walk across the quadrangle to my quarters, I shall be ready and waiting for him… “ and then seeing Basil’s puzzled face she said….”Look, I know my attitude must seem rather dogmatic, but I have my reasons. You see, something terrible once happened to me in a tower – In fact, I believe it might have been this very same tower…. a long, long time ago. So you see I won’t go up there because I simply can’t. “ And with that she marched briskly away in the direction of her rooms.

And so Talia missed her Tutorial – which would have been rather a serious matter, had not Count Anthony intervened and persuaded Dr. Partridge to take the unusual step of holding the tutorial in Talia’s room that afternoon. Once again, the princess had got her own way.

The following evening, Basil straightened his tie in front of the mirror. It was the turn of the Classics students to attend a drinks party at the Rector’s Lodge. The Rector was the head of the college, and had served briefly as a junior minister in a Government of years gone by. The most interesting thing about him, from the gossip point of view, was that he had recently been married – for the sixth time. His new wife was to be at the party. But more importantly, as far as Basil was concerned, Talia would be there too.

The atmosphere at evenings such as these was always a touch artificial, as everyone was on their utmost good behavior. The Rector warmly greeted the classics students with the air of a vicar who has to be nice to everyone. But it was well known around the college that he thought that Classics was an out-of-date subject, and they could make some useful savings by dropping it all together. Nobody mentioned this.

Basil stood next to Sally, and the Rector’s wife poured sherry into their glasses. The students had been expecting more of a dolly bird, but she was earnest and middle aged. Apparently she was a specialist in molecular chemistry. Talia was late – which was unusual, as she was normally most punctilious about time. When she arrived, looking stunning in a knee length black cocktail dress, the Rector held her in conversation for a good long ten minutes. His wife was on the other side of the room with her back to them. When she turned round, a look of horror passed over the Princess’s face.

“What’s up with Talia?” said Sally. Basil was about to go over and ask her, but he was too late. She had already turned and fled the room.

Princess Talia finds the modern world frightening. When she wants to go shopping she asks her college friend, Sally, to come with her. In a department store, a woman steals Talia’s purse. Talia attacks the thief with unfortunate consequences for herself. Now, more than ever, she needs a Knight in Shining Armour

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Read by Elizabeth. Duration 22 minutes. Story by Bertie.

Should you wish to escape from the Medieval walls of an Oxford college, and into a less rarefied atmosphere, all you have to do is to cross Cornmarket Street. Once your foot touches the opposite curb, you are right in the world of mothers pushing buggies loaded with toddlers, dads taking their kids to the ice rink, hooded teenagers hanging out in hamburger bars, and shoppers sliding plastic cards into cash point machines. Even an Oxford Professor with a domed head full of Greek epigrams, becomes a citizen of the modern world when he is queuing for his weekly groceries.

Princess Talia had been at a student at Westerly College for almost two terms and she was yet to set foot on the other side of Cornmarket. She lived as much as possible inside the college.

One Saturday morning, the princess found her best friend lounging in the Junior Common Room as she thumbed through the magazine of a weekend newspaper. “Sally, “ she said, “I must know. Where do you get your clothes?”

In truth, Sally’s fashion sense was not something that most people found interesting. She was wearing a blue hooded fleece over a t-shirt with the slogan “ Angel in Disguise“ , some loose, slightly shiny trousers, and some old trainers. She looked up from the magazine and said:

“Sorry Talia. We can’t all dress like a Princess you know.”

“Yes, I understand that,” said Talia. “It’s just that I want to look more like you Sally.”

“Why in the world would you want to dress like me? Your clothes are beautiful. Mine are just rags by comparison.” Sally stood up and held her friend’s hand. The cuffs of her shirt were embroidered in silk with an delightful bird pattern. The buttons were of pearls. A silver pendant hung from her neck in the shape of the moon. The workmanship was exquisite.

“Nobody else could get away with dressing like you do around college – but you carry it off perfectly. If you dressed like me, you’d just be one more slob.”

At this, Talia whispered in Sally’s ear. “ I think that Basil is afraid of my splendour. My plan is to dress down to his level, and then he might, well, you know, realise what he’s got to do.”

“Oh, I see,” said Sally. “Well if it will make you feel better, let’s take a spin round the shops. I wasn’t doing much anyway.”

As the two friends crossed Cornmarket, Talia entwined her arm around Sally’s. Sally could feel how tense the Princess was. When they had reached the St. Giles Shopping Centre, and passed through the wide door of a large modern store, Talia took a silk fan with a silver handle out of her bag and wafted it in front of her face.

“It’s the people,” she said, “I’m not used to being among them. Their manners are so rough. They pass so close by. Do you smell the perfume that man’s wearing? It makes me feel quite sick.”

Sally saw the heavily scented man turn his head. He had clearly overheard the remark. She couldn’t help blushing on behalf of her friend.

Talia stepped uncertainly onto the moving escalator. At the top, Sally guided her through the racks of clothes, and showed her how to find the labels with sizes and prices. Talia held up a few sweatshirts in front of herself, and Sally shook her head: “This is so not you,” she said.

“I don’t think I can bear this much longer,” gasped Talia. “Sally, can you just ask them to send a selection of sweatshirts and jeans round to my rooms? I think I’d be able to make my mind up so much better in private. “

“Sorry Talia, This sort of shop doesn’t do that sort of thing.”

A flash of annoyance passed over Talia’s face: “Don’t be so defeatist Sally. There’s no harm in asking….. See here, Miss, yes, you, shop girl. Thank you. Will you send one of each and every sweatshirt in Size Medium round to my address for inspection, first thing on Monday morning?

Sally was so embarrassed by her friend’s haughty tone that she wanted to hide behind the clothes rack.

The girl said, “Er, Sorry Madam. You pay at the till first.”

“I see”, said Talia. “Look, here’s something for your trouble.” and she reached for the bag that hung around her shoulder. The clasp was open:

“Oh,” she said, and looked quite stunned. “It’s gone.”

“What?” asked Sally.

“My purse. It’s been stolen.” And then for perhaps a minute she froze and her eyes stared blankly into space. “It was that blond woman!” she said suddenly.

“What blond woman?”

“The one that was standing near us a moment ago. Quick Sally. Stop her, she’s heading for the moving staircase.”

“I’m not quite with you,” said Sally.

“Stop thief!” called out Talia. “Won’t somebody arrest that woman?” and she darted after a tall well dressed shopper and grabbed hold of her.

“Give me back my purse,” she demanded to her startled captive. She was about thirty years old. Her hair was done up somewhat elaborately, and she wore gloves. In fact, of all the people in the shop her appearance was probably the closest to Talia’s in elegance and perhaps extravagance. She did not seem to Sally to be a likely purse-snatcher.

A moment later, Sally and the shop assistant caught up with the princess.

“Talia, leave this poor woman alone,” pleaded Sally. “She’s not taken anything from you.”

“I saw her do it!” exclaimed Talia. “I caught her red-handed, the rotten-hearted thief. She’s possessed by demons! “

“No you didn’t see her take it”, said Sally wearily, “You only noticed that your purse was gone when you looked in your bag a moment ago. It could have been anyone that took it. Now please let her go before there’s any more trouble.”

“Yes, let go of me,” exclaimed the woman haughtily. She tried to jerk her arm free, while uttering a rather rude word which was perhaps pardonable under the strained circumstances. But Talia’s grasp on the woman’s arm was surprisingly strong. She didn’t let go.

“I did see her,” insisted Talia. “I saw her the second time around. Look Sally. You know that I have second sight. I slipped back a minute in time and I saw her do it.”

“I’m sorry Talia,” said Sally rather embarrassed. “This is way too crazy for a Saturday morning out shopping. If you don’t let go of the lady, I’m going to leave, because I just can’t get my head around any of this.”

Then the woman kicked. And Talia kicked back. And Sally slipped away through the crowd.

About two hours later, Basil was cycling back to collage after a morning rowing on the river with the college’s First Eight. He wobbled slightly as he reached into his tracksuit pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. There was a voice-message which he listened to, rather dangerously, as he pedalled along a narrow backstreet.

“Basil, “ whispered a familiar voice, “Save Me! I’ve been robbed. Sally ran away. And then – it got worse. The police put irons around my wrists. They say I assaulted the robber and they will throw me into a dark dungeon. Oh I’m so afraid of being alone in a cell. I fear I might rot and die there and will be forgotten by everyone but you , my dear. Come and save me, my Prince. Come and save me without delay!”

Basil was totally bemused by this message, and if it had been from anybody else, he would have been sure it was a prank. But Talia didn’t do pranks. It didn’t matter how oddly she was behaving she was always in earnest.

It was only when he tracked Sally down in her room that he received a slightly clearer picture of what had happened, and before long he was speeding furiously down the High Street to the Police Station. As he pedalled, Sally’s words played over in his head.

“She’s totally bonkers. She really believes she’s got second-sight”.

And he was thinking:

“She’s not mad. Or at least, if she is, I am too.” Because he had experienced such strange things since he had met Talia that he knew there was something utterly extraordinary about her. The effect she had on him was more powerful than anything he had ever known. These days, he hardly ever stopped thinking about her – or at least wondering about the weird way he felt, and trying to puzzle out if he was in love, or under some other mysterious spell.

He was still out of breath when he spoke to the Police Sergeant behind the counter at the station As he was physically fit and in training from rowing, it was adrenaline rather than the effort of cycling that made him gulp for air. He was still in his track suit, which was unfortunate because the officer wanted to see some identification, and he didn’t have any with him.

“There’s been an awful mistake, “ he said.

“Well,” said the Officer. “Your friend is not doing herself any favours by claiming that she’s a Princess and refusing to give us any identity that we can verify. All she will say is that her name is Talia. When we ask where she’s from, she says it’s a secret.”

“Well that’s right,” said Basil. “She has plenty of secrets. But that’s not a crime , is it? And besides, it’s true. She really is a princess – and she’s had tea with the Queen.”

“Yeah, And I’m Charlie Chaplin,” replied the sergeant. “Listen young man. There’s an offence known as Wasting Police Time, and if you and your friend insist on keeping up this prank, you’ll soon be sitting in the cell next-door to hers. I’m calling the Inspector, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give him a straight story.”

Fifteen minutes later, Basil was seated in an interview room. The sergeant sat mutely at the corner of the table and pressed the button of a cassette recorder. The man who did all the questioning wore a suit that had seen slightly better days.

“I must warn you, “ said that the inspector, “That this interview is conducted under caution. We have reason to believe that the young lady who has identified herself as – ‘Princess Talia’” – he pronounced the name rather ironically – ‘ belongs to an international gang of pickpockets that has been operating in Oxford for these past two weeks. For all we know, you may be one of them.”

Basil shook his head. “You’ve got this all the wrong way round,” he said. “Talia was the victim, It was the other lady who stole her purse.”

“So you were there?” asked the Inspector.

“No. But if Talia says that’s what happened, then that’s the truth.”

“Well, it’s not what the store detective told us.”

After some more fruitless and frustrating questioning, there was a knock on the door. The sergeant got up to answer it. He said: “There’s a lawyer here for the so called Princess, and he says he represents this here lad too. The gentleman’s ,er, not one of the local solicitors, at least, not one I’ve seen before.”

Basil wondered who on earth the lawyer could be. Perhaps Sally had called him.

“Will you please let me pass,” said an imposing voice in a posh English, but with a hint of Italian ,accent, and into the room stepped a tall figure whose slight baldness was compensated for by long curly black hair which fell down the back of his head to the collar of his perfectly fitted Armani suit. In his hand, he held a green velvet hat. If you were observant, you might have noticed that his nose and forehead were dabbed with white face powder.

He laid an embossed card on the table. The inspector cast an sceptical gaze over it . The name on it was:

Count Anthony J. Mancini QC.

Basil knew him, of course. Count Anthony was the college’s law don, who had pursued a brilliant career at the bar before returning to academia. His family hailed from some sort of dispossessed European nobility, hence the title of “Count” on his card.

“Well well well,” said the inspector, in the manner that policemen are supposed to speak. So we have a Princess, and a Count, and I suppose you, young man, are the heir to the thrown? “

“Sorry inspector,” said Basil. “I’m the only person here without a title. Huh ! It almost makes me feel naked. ”

“And can any of you prove that you are who you say you are?” asked the Inspector. “There’s a pantomime on at the Theatre,’ he continued ironically. “Shall we ring the director to see if he can provide references?

“And can you prove that you exist?” asked the law don. “ But there will be no need for further philosophical speculation because in precisely one minute’s time, you shall receive a call from London that will put you fully in the picture. “

“Oh how very Hollywood,” said the policeman. But right on cue, an officer knocked on the door and said:

“DPG on the phone for you, Sir. ” And the inspector replied:

“Can’t you see I’m busy. Tell him I’ll call back later.”

Count Anthony shook his head. “Tut Tut. Not exactly a shrewd career-advancing move, I would say…. As a member of the force, perhaps you should know that DPG stands for Diplomatic Protection Group. “

Basil could see that inspector did not appreciate being told his business by this exotic character in a sharp suit, and he clearly didn’t believe a word that he was hearing. It was not entirely surprising when he retorted:

“You, my friend, are under arrest on suspicion of Attempting to Pervert the Course of Justice.”

And when he had finished cautioning the count and telling him his rights, which of course the law don understood far better than anyone else, Basil sat back in his chair and laughed.

“Oh bravo. I’m enjoying this. You just arrested one of the most brilliant legal minds in the country. I think you will find yourself tied up in legal knots for the next ten years, inspector.”

“And just for that, you’re nicked too,” said the policeman testily.

There was another knock on the door.

“What?”

“Telephone again, Sir.”

“And who is “And who is it, this time?…… And he muttered, “The Archbishop of Canterbury perhaps?..”

“ No sir, Number Ten Downing Street. The Prime Minister’s secretary would like to have a quick word with you.”

Half an hour later, the Princess, the Count, and the plain untitled student, were being driven back to college in a car escorted by motor cycle outriders. Meanwhile the police inspector sat at his desk, composing an incident report explaining how the Princess had been arrested for her own safety. He knew that this account was going all the way up to the Prime Minister’s office. He choose his words carefully.

Meanwhile, the police sergeant was wondering where they could find the lady who had taken Talia’s purse in the department store. They had just realised that the driving licence which she had shown them as her proof of her identity was stolen, and that she the address where she claimed she was staying in Oxford, did not exist.

The_Death_of_Socrates by Jacques-Louis David [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

In episode 8 of our Awaking Beauty Series, people at Westerly College, Oxford are beginning to accept that Princess Talia is brilliant, if somewhat strange. But although she is a genius at languages and music, she hates philosophy tutorials. She insistes that the ancient Greek thinker, Socrates, was one of the most irritating men who ever lived, and talks just as if she knew him personally.

Basil tries to help her, and she shares an amazing vision with him.

If you have been listening to our Awaking Beauty Series you have probably been wondering whether Princess Talia really does have fantastic powers, or whether she is just odd. Let us know what you think.

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Center for Guided Montessori Studies.

Read by Elizabeth. Duration 16.25 . Written by Bertie.

The plan hatched by Sally and Basil had been a good one. After Talia had played forfeits at the party, people began to see her as, well, rather more human than they had done before. She hadn’t been ashamed to make herself look silly by pretending to be a chimpanzee, and she had really wowed everyone at the party with her singing voice. Now that people knew her better, they started to be more friendly. Talia had to get used to students saying “hello” to her as she wondered around the college.

Sally and Talia were walking down Turl Street, both on their way to a rather nice patisserie shop to buy some Danish Pastries for their elevenses. They bumped into a slightly bleary-eyed Jonathan Miles who was carrying a pint of milk and a packet of sliced white bread. He was the English scholar, and it was rumoured that a publisher had already accepted his first novel. In short, he was widely regarded as one of the college’s brightest lights.

“Don’t ask,” he moaned when Sally asked him how he was. “We’ve got a translation test on Beowulf this morning. Normally I’d really be into a rollicking good read about heroes fighting dragons with magical swords, but it’s so unfortunate that it’s all written in Anglo Saxon. The strange words rather spoil the story I find. Is it like that with Latin and Greek?”

“You bet,” said Sally. “If only Sophocles wrote in English, I would give him ten out of ten for his plays. … but hey, Talia doesn’t have that problem,” she turned to her friend. “You seem to find Ancient Greek a piece of cake.”

“It’s not that I’m super-clever,” said Talia modestly, “It’s just that my godmother gave me the gift of languages when I was born.” It was one of those strange remarks that Sally wished she wouldn’t make.

“Lucky you,” said Jonathan, “I wish I had a godmother like that.”

“Oh but she didn’t help me with everything,” insisted Talia. “I had to learn Beowulf off by heart when I was seven. Now that was hard.”

Jonathan looked, shall we say, somewhat taken aback. …”Did I hear that right? You learned Beowulf off by heart when you were seven…? “

“Oh yes,” said Talia, It’s inscribed on my mind to this day.

Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum,

þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,

[Lo, praise of the prowess of people-kings

of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped]

Jonathan’s eyes opened wide. He recognised the first two lines of the Anglo Saxon epic poem that had robbed him of so much of his beauty sleep as he sat up late each night in the library.

“That’s… that’s just incredible,” he stammered. “In fact, that’s the whole thing about this place. You arrive here thinking you’re some sort of super smart-Alec, and you then bump into a genius before breakfast and realise that you’re just average. I suppose it’s part of growing up.” and as he left the two girls, he there was something quite weary and defeated in the way he dragged himself back to the Lodge of Westerly College.

There were, perhaps, those in college in who suspected that Talia had won her place at Oxford just because she was a Princess, and not because she was anything special at academic work. In fact, some people thought the words “Princess” and “thick” went together like bread and butter. If there were any people who harboured such thoughts, they now had to admit to themselves that they were wrong. The word got round that she was brilliant and gifted – and if you were brilliant and gifted, you could be excused a little strangeness. You only had to look at the tutors to see that was the case.

But in her second term at Westerly College, even Talia began to find that some of her work was stretching her abilities to the limits. Basil was the first to notice this. He was on his way to his Philosophy tutorial when he met Talia coming out of hers. She was wearing a look that he had never seen on her face before. Her teeth were clenched and her forehead was knotted. She looked like she wanted to bite somebody.

“Talia, are you okay?” he asked. “Grrr I hate that Socrates,” she growled. “I’m not at all surprised they put him on trial and executed him. He was the most irritating little man who ever lived. All that nit-picking over the meaning of each and every word. I can’t stand him!”

You see, they were studying a book called Phaedo in which the Greek Philosopher, Socrates, is in prison and is talking to his friends about life and death and the existence of the soul. It was full of strange ideas like, “Bigness grows out of smallness” and “Harmony is the property of a harp” – and it was all very taxing on the brain cells. Basil rather enjoyed it, but he could see from Talia’s gnashing teeth that this type of logic was not her strong point.

It was time for his own tutorial, so he wasn’t able to stand around and sympathise for long. Afterward he had spent his own hour with the Philosophy don, it took a little courage for Basil to do so something he hadn’t done before. He went over to the side of the college were Sally and Princess Talia had their rooms. He didn’t have to check which was Talia’s because he could hear gentle harp music behind the door. He knocked softly.

Talia opened. She was wearing a long flowing gown and her face had regained its usual smoothness.

“Oh Basil,” she exclaimed, ‘What a delightful surprise, will you come in?”

As Basil stepped into the room he felt like he had crossed the threshold of time and space. It was huge by the standards of college and full of the most wonderful things – like tapestries on the walls, fur rugs, carved furniture, and gold and silver ornaments. In the centre of it all stood Talia’s harp. Sally had described the room to him, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the sheer other-worldliness of it all. There was a stillness and calm, as if time stood still there.

“Shall we sit down?” asked Talia, and she led him over to the bench in the bow window that overlooked the quad. She sat with her hands on her lap, and waited for Basil to speak.

“Er, I just thought,” said Basil…”I mean, look just say if this isn’t what you would like …”

“Certainly Basil, you may speak freely with me,” encouraged Talia.

“I mean, everyone knows that you are a genius when it comes to languages and music, but if you find Philosophy hard, perhaps I could help you. ”

The princess was silent for just a moment. She clearly hadn’t been expecting such an offer. Then she smiled, and said “Why that’s so kind of you. Of course I would be delighted.”

Basil had brought his copy of the dreaded “Phaedo”, the book that was so perplexing the princess. Talia moved to sit a little closer so that they could both see the pages. It was written like a play: Socrates said one thing, and his friends who were visiting him in the prison cell replied with another. At one point Socrates wife came in and burst into tears because he was about to die. He had been sentenced by the court to drink a poison called Hemlock. He asked her to go away because he was talking to his friends. This part of the book enraged Talia:

“You see what I mean, don’t you Basil? The only thing Socrates loved was the sound of his own voice. His poor wife. I don’t understand why she didn’t kill him herself long before.”

And Basil had to agree that Socrates was perhaps irritating.

“Oh Basil ! If you could just see the look on his face. He was so smug, self-satisfied, and pleased with himself. “

“Well I should love to meet Socrates, perhaps in the next world….” said Basil, and he found the passage that they had to study that week. It was the part where Socrates talks about opposites, and bigness and smallness.

“Oh I still don’t understand any of it,” sighed Talia. “Even his friends look bored – can’t you see?”

“Er,no I can’t see actually,” said Basil.

“Look, Simmias is yawning,” said Talia.

“Where does it say that?” asked Basil puzzled.

“It doesn’t…. just look Basil, can’t you see?”

And Basil looked up from the pages of the book. A man was sitting cross legged on the bed. Only it was no longer Talia’s four poster – it was a simple bed standing on rickety legs. On the floor, which was now covered with straw, sat his friends. One of them did indeed look like he was trying to suppress a yawn. The man on the bed did not notice. He continued to talk in a lively, animated fashion, and as he spoke, he seemed to be smiling. Talia was right. He did seem rather too pleased with the sound of his own voice. The most surprising part of it all was that Basil could understand him perfectly, even though he was speaking in Ancient Greek, and although he studied the language on the page, he had never actually heard it spoken before.

“A philosopher should not be afraid of death,” Soctrates was saying, “Because a philosopher cares for the soul not the body.”

“Don’t you find him annoying?” whispered Talia

“”Well yes, but utterly fascinating too,” said Basil – straining so as not to miss anything.

It was a little like sitting in the front row of the theatre, when you feel that you are practically on the stage. Basil was so drawn into the conversation, that he was almost unaware of the sheer strangeness of it all. There were moments when he even forgot that he was sitting next to Talia. The philosophical drama unfolded for three or more hours, until the jailer came into the cell, quite apologetic for interrupting the friends’ discussion, and politely offered Socrates the bowl of hemlock. The philosophers’ friends were weeping, ,but he took the poison as calmly as you or I might drink a cup of tea, and then he lay down on the bed, and spoke no more.

It was already dark when Basil walked back to his own room. His legs were shaky. His whole body felt limp and drained of energy – almost as if he had drunk the hemlock himself. He was overwhelmed.

Episode 7 of our Awaking Beauty series is longer than the others so far – so keep listening, and don’t miss the singing towards the end !

Some people are starting to suspect that Princess Talia might be crazy. Her friends, Basil and Sally, decide that all she needs is to “lighten up” a little. They invite her to a party where she must perform some silly forfeits, including singing a karaoke song.

Read by Elizabeth.. Story by Bertie. Singing by Gabriella Brunel (and you will hear more of Gabriella’s voice before Christmas).

Bertie wants to extend a special thanks to Elizabeth for all her input into the development of the characters and the story in the Awaking Beauty series, and to Gabriella for lending us her vocals.

We would like to thank our sponsor, the
rel=”nofollow” href=”http://guidedstudies.com”>Center for Guided Montessori Studies.

Half way through the month of January, Hilary Term begins in Oxford. The students return from the 21st century with their trainers and their iPods, and step through the gates of their colleges into the medieval quadrangles. The faces of the stone gargoyles welcome back the scholars with grotesque smiles, just as they have done for the past 700 years.

Sally had only known Basil for ten weeks, but she felt as close to him as to any of her oldest school friends. When she met him loping around the quad, she would have liked to have given him a hug or a kiss, but it didn’t seem quite the done thing. He hailed her with a casual “hi-ya ! ” and she was pleased when he invited her to join him for a cuppa.

Tea in Basil’s room was something of a ceremony as he actually had proper cups and saucers, and a blue and white china pot into which he spooned loose Russian Caravan tea-leaves from Fortnum and Mason’s in London. Like other students, he kept the milk on the window sill when the weather was cold. His biscuits came from a cylindrical tin, and Sally rated them as posh, but not as nice as chocolate digestives.

It did not take more than a “how was your Christmas?” for the conversation to turn to the most fascinating subject in Westerly College at that time – the remarkable Princess Talia. Sally explained how Her Royal Highness had come to stay at her family home, and had disappeared and reappeared with out so much a bye or leave. And then she had dreamed up a crazy story story about meeting her uncle, King Arthur, and her aunt, Queen Guinevere ,among the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey. At the end of recapping her encounter with the freaky side of Talia, Sally asked:

“Basil, do you think she’s got a serious problem? I mean, like she’s mentally ill?” She thought the question sounded naive as soon as she heard her words coming out of her own mouth. Of course somebody who has visions of legendary kings and queens and talks about them as near relatives has a problem.

But Basil, who was normally the most straight-down the line, tell-it-like-it-is, of chaps, didn’t just throw his arms up in the air and say “Why yes, she’s as nutty as a fruit cake, out with the fairies, one sandwich short of a picnic”, or some such phrase. He looked thoughtfully at his teacup and hunched his shoulders in a slightly awkward, embarrassed sort of way.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Or, I did think she was a touch crazy at first. But then at the end of last term – look Sally this is an absolute secret between you and me …” Before he could continue his confession:, he glanced at Sally and checked that she was nodding agreement that she would keep his confidence.. and then he opened up a little more…

“You see at the end of last term, I had this dream. Only it was so vivid it wasn’t like a dream. It was more of a vision. It was as if I had travelled forward in time. As far as I know, I wasn’t asleep, I was awake – like it was really happening. Talia was there. Actually you were there too, only older. When I came round, I was so shaken, that I’m not sure I’m over it yet. I think, perhaps there is something different about her. But I’m not going to say she’s a nutter, because that would be like the pot calling the kettle black. If she’s crazy, so am I.”

Sally couldn’t take this entirely seriously: “Oh Basil, you’re the sanest person I know,” she laughed.

“No I’m not at all sane,” protested Basil, “Or perhaps I just hide my crazy thoughts better than Talia does. Pretending to be normal is a social skill. It’s not one that’s particularly developed in her.”

And that remark got Sally thinking. As she walked back to her room, she pondered how she might help Talia to develop a few social skills: it was a problem that she put to Mags, who was studying Art History, and who was one of the coolest, most tattooed, and popular characters around college. She always seemed to be sitting with her legs across the arm of a chair in the Junior Common Room, and laughing about something or other. This was where Sally found her:

“Why Talia just needs to lighten up a bit,” was her verdict. She added, “A boyfriend wouldn’t do her any harm either, but first and foremost she needs to stop looking so suicidally serious the whole time.”

The word “suicidal” struck Sally really hard: “You don’t think she might do anything to harm herself, do you?” she asked anxiously.

“Naaa. But she might die of misery.”

Sally didn’t think this remark was entirely fair. She had seen Talia in a light-hearted mood at her parents’ house, when she had even danced with her father. But that was the exception. Talia wasn’t like that most of the time, or with most people. Other people couldn’t see the nice side of her, because they didn’t see beyond that beautiful but often expressionless face. She could certainly do with some loosening up. There were times when she just wanted to shake Talia and say, “Come on, if you want to make friends, just hang out with us!”

Sally knew that Talia was back in college, because she heard her magical but melancholy harp music. Even so, it was a few days before they could have a proper conversation. Sally got on with her studies, but she found that her thoughts were often drifting off to her unusual friend and how she might help her. Eventually, she saw her silently flitting through the Classics section of the Bodlean Library, but it was no place to chat. As Talia walked past with a pile of books in her hands. Sally studied her face to see if there were any signs of her being miserable or mad, but she just seemed lost in her own thoughts.

She saw her next day at a lecture on the comic plays of Plautus. Talia seemed to think that the Professor’s description of a scene involving a trick with a rope was hilarious. She was sniggering away to herself, although nobody else thought it was at all funny. As they walked out of the hall with their books, Sally invited Talia to come with her to a party at Brasenose College the following Saturday.

“That’s so terribly kind of you to invite me,” said Talia, “But I’m planning to write my essay on Saturday night,”

“Oh come on! Saturday night’s no time for working.”

“Will Basil be at this social gathering? I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m afraid he’s got something else on,” said Sally.

“Ah. Oh well. I’d better do my essay.”

Now at least, Sally knew what it would take to lure Talia out of her little world. Another tea with Basil followed, and a plan was hatched.

A few days later, when Princess Talia went to check her pigeon hole in the Porter’s Lodge, she found a hand-written note from Basil inviting her to a party in his room the following Friday.

There was no mistaking that the plot was off to a good start when Talia hammered on Sally’s door: “Look Sally, have you got one of these?” she asked with childish excitement. It wasn’t yet 9 a.m, and Sally was still in her dressing gown. She wiped a crust of sleep from her eye.

“I haven’t had a chance to check my pigeon hole yet,” she said. But in truth the invitation was not entirely unexpected to Sally. Talia showed her the card and asked what various things written on it meant like, “PBAB” – “Please Bring a Bottle” .”

“Oh It’s like a secret code,” remarked Talia. And what’s this?” The line said:

“Beware of forfeits – come if you dare” -

“Oh don’t worry about that. It’s just a silly party game”, said Sally.

“And how can one dress Smart Casual? “ asked Talia. “Surely they are two entirely different things?”

“Well I suppose you have to be between the two,” her friend replied. Talia closed her eyes and held her hands together as if in prayer.

“Oh Sally, what shall I wear? I don’t have a single thing.”

“You poor Cinderella,”

“Cinderella? Who’s she?” asked Talia. Sally ignored the question. She knew that

Talia’s wardrobe was full of the most beautiful clothes you could possibly imagine.

Nobody quite knows how many hours Talia spent trying on different dresses, colours and styles – golden threaded caftans, fir trimmed collars, red taffeta, elaborate bird patterns – all of which would have been stunning at a Summer Ball, but not really quite the thing for an evening in a student’s room.

“Well, if you must dress up, haven’t you got a little black number?” asked Sally exasperated.

“No, I don’t believe I do,” said Talia. And she rushed out to the shops to buy a black dress.

In the event, she looked as stunning as a film star on Oscar Night, and made everyone else at the party feel a little bit in the shade. Sally could see that she wasn’t winning many friends among the envious girls, although the boys could hardly keep their eyes of her – except for Basil. He was clearly making a strenuous effort not to look at her so that anybody might notice.

There were a dozen people in all, and Basil had made a surprisingly good job of setting out all sorts of little eats and treats on a side table. The music wasn’t too loud, and the idea was that everyone should have a fairly civilised time.

Talia hung by Sally’s side, and clearly found it hard to join in any of the conversations which all seemed to be about alternative rock bands, and even more alternative comedians. . When Basil was nearby, she kept her perfect cool, but he looked a little bit less than than his usual casual self. Overall, it was just a perfectly nice, ordinary party: the only thing that made it just a little bit different was that at 9 O’clock Basil dipped down the music and clapped his hands together.

“Friends! “ he declared. “Gather round. It’s forfeit time !”

This was the game that had been promised on the invitation. Basil fanned out twelve playing cards, one for each guest. One of the cards was a joker. Who ever picked it would then have to choose a folded piece of paper out of a hat. On the paper was written some sort of silly stunt or trick that they would have to perform. That was the forfeit.

It was impossible to pick a card without a little sense of thrill and trepidation. The only guest who knew that the odds were a little bit loaded was Sally. She was in on the secret – that Basil was good at card tricks, and that he was going to make sure that Talia picked the Joker at least three times. Even so, she was quite relieved when she chose the harmless Queen of Hearts. A boy called Charles picked the joker the first time round, and he had to do a hand stand. He managed it for about one second, before toppling over, to a round of applause.

“Oh Sally,” said Talia, “Do I have to play this game?’

“I’m afraid you do,” said Sally. “It’s Basil’s little whim. It wouldn’t be polite to him to drop out.”

She knew perfectly well that the word “Basil” held a lot of sway with Talia, and would probably persuade her to stay.

And this time, as Basil came around with the pack, Talia made her choice, turned over her card, and shrieked:

“Oh no! Not me! “

“Yes, you,” said Basil with a smile. And he brought over the hat for her to choose a forfeit. She unfolded a piece of paper on which was written:

“You must do a cartwheel.”

“I can’t. Not in this dress,” protested Talia. And Basil said kindly, “Well alright, you can pick another one.” The second piece of paper said:

“You must bend over backwards”

This time Talia achieved the task like a gymnast. . She dropped her hands behind her onto the floor and turned her entire body into a perfect semi-circle. Everyone marvelled at her suppleness, and Talia looked genuinely surprised and pleased with the applause from the other guests.

In the next couple of rounds, one guest had to sing the National Anthem and another had to go and pick up one of Basil’s socks from behind the sofa. And then Talia pulled out the Joker in the pack once again.

“Oh,” she said, looking horrified, and a little cheer went up around the room. This time her forfeit read:

“You must jump up on the desk and act like a Chimpanzee.”

“No Excuses,” said Basil. And the poor Princess, coaxed by Mags, had to squat on the desk, curve her hands under her arm pits and say “Ooooh–Ah-Ah!” She clearly didn’t enjoy the experience, but did manage to laugh at herself at the end of it.

“This has to be the best possible therapy,” whispered Basil to Sally. The whole idea that they had cooked up together was to force Talia to act quite silly, like everyone else at the party, and let her hair down. They thought that the experience would break down the impenetrable fog of mystery that surrounded her, and make her “one of them.” – either that or she would run out screaming, but Sally calculated that she would do anything if Basil wanted her to.

Basil shuffled the deck once more. Sally watched him closely, but she couldn’t spot any sly card slipping. This time it was she who pulled the joker. She had no idea if it had been by chance, or by slight of Basil’s hand. She picked a forfeit.

“Oh Sally, I’m so sorry for you. I know how it feels,” said Talia. Sally’s forfeit read

“You must kiss every person of the opposite sex in the room,”

“That’s not so terrible”,she said, and proceeded to do so, to whoops and cheers.

There were more rounds of forfeits. Somebody had to say the alphabet backwards while standing on one leg, and somebody else had to scramble around on all fours yapping like a dog. When nobody picked the joker, Basil had to take the forfeit. He had to recite a poem, and he managed to get only so far with a famous one:

In Xanadu did KubIa Khan

A stately pleasure dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

Then he could not remember the rest, but it was enough to impressive everyone.

When there was only one forfeit left in the box, the cards came round for the last time. Sally wondered if Talia was going to escape without doing another forfeit, but Basil had promised that she would have to do three, and so it proved.

“Oh no that’s not fair!” she shrieked. “I’ve done two already.”

“Well there’s only one left in the box, so you are safe after that,” said Sally. And Talia, with obvious reluctance, opened the folded piece of paper. It read:

“You must sing a karaoke song.”

She looked mystified, and Basil had to explain to her that she had to make use of his Karaoke kit. He showed a book of songs, and she had to sing one through a microphone to the backing music that came through a speaker.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My sister gave it to me for Christmas.”

“But I don’t know any of these popular tunes,” she protested. “Can’t I sing a madrigal?”

“I don’t think that would be quite the same thing,” said Basil. And the verdict of the room was that she couldn’t get out of it that easily.

“Oh very well,” she said. “The words and music are written down here. I”ll do this one.” Sally looked over her shoulder. She said:

“Are you sure that’s wise? There’s got to be an easier one to do.” But Talia said:

“No. I think this one looks lovely.”

It wasn’t exactly your every day pop song. The introduction was a full blown orchestra which played very softly for almost a minute. Then Talia began to sing in a crystal clear voice:

It won’t be easy, you’ll think it strange

When I try to explain how I feel

That I still need your love, after all that I’ve done

You won’t believe me

Her audience was quite entranced. When she reached the climax of the song, the orchestra swelled up and she sang

Don’t cry for me Argentina

The Truth is I never left you

All through my wild days,

My mad existence,

I kept my promise

You kept your distance.

The music lasted more than five minutes. When the final bar died out, there was thunderous applause – as loud as eleven people can manage – and Talia bowed graciously. It was almost impossible to imagine that she hadn’t been practicing the performance for days – she had sung it expertly and so movingly. But as she put down the Karaoke microphone, she said to Sally:

“By the way, who is Argentina?”

And then Basil came over to congratulate her:

“That was so splendid,” he said. And so saying he kissed her on the cheek.

“Why thank you Basil,” said Talia, turning quite red. And with that, she ran out of the room.

Text Copyright Hugh Fraser. Audio copyright Storynory Ltd.

Song quotation from Evita by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice

The Michaelmas (Christmas) term at Waverley College has come to an end. Sally is about to go back to her family, but her neighbour, the mysterious Princess Talia, has no home to go to. At the last moment, Sally calls her mum and asks if she can bring her friend home for Christmas.

Talia proves to be an illusive guest, who comes and goes without warning, causing worry and annoyance in the O’Brien family. As ever, the explanation for Talia’s behaviour is somewhat strange and possibly supernatural.

Read by Elizabeth. Text by Bertie. Duration 20 minutes. Sponsored by CGMS

The Christmas Beauty

Sally’s first term at Westerly college had come to an end. As she stuffed the last few books into her bags, she listened to the sound of harp music filtering though the wall of her room. The clear notes rang out with a lonely and melancholy quality.

“Ugg… I can’t leave Talia here alone all Christmas like a lost puppy,” said Sally to herself.

She picked up her phone and pressed the speed dial that was labelled “Mum”.

“I’m just setting off now, darling,” said a familiar parental voice.

“Mum, I know this is a bit last minute, but can I bring a friend home for Christmas?’

“Oh, how exciting darling. You kept that quiet, what’s his name?”

“Her name, is Talia, Princess Talia. “

As soon as Sally had uttered the word “Princess” she knew she had made a mistake. Her mother would go into paroxysms of anxiety about the house being far too humble to receive such an elevated person.

“Why, hasn’t she got a palace of her own to go to?” she wanted to know. And Sally had to explain at length that she was an orphan all alone in the world. Mum, as mums do, caved into her daughter’s wishes with an air of weary resignation.

Sally sprang round to her friend’s door with the invitation. The Princess who opened the door had a look of innocent astonishment on her face, as if she had just woken up and seen the world for the first time. She quite often looked like that. That was when she was at her most charming. At other times she looked at you quite blankly, as if she saw you, but her mind was completely elsewhere.

“Our house isn’t exactly a palace, “ said Sally warmly, “But Christmas at home is always kind of special, and you’d be really really welcome.”

Talia reached out and hugged her friend. This was highly unusual, as she hardly ever even touched another person. Sally was almost surprised to feel that her body was warm and human. She seemed like such a ghost at times.

“Oh Sally, I’m so terribly moved by your kindness, but I couldn’t possibly impose on your family.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you must come,” assured Sally, patting her friend on the back, and then wondering if that was just a bit too familiar with a Princess. Talia stepped back, and looked brighter.

“Well… it would be nice… I’ll have to make arrangements….. perhaps I’ll come in a few days time.”

Sally felt slightly disappointed that her friend wasn’t driving back home with her. For far too much of the journey home, her mother grumbled about not knowing whether to make a bed ready for her Princess friend or not. Sally felt like it was she who was being ticked off, not the absent Talia. And all the feeling of grown up independence and confidence that she had acquired over the ten weeks away from her parents was left behind in Oxford.

When they arrived home, in a suburb of South East Liverpool, her front door looked eerily familiar, as if she had remembered it from a vivid dream. She hauled her suitcase up the stairs to her room. Her bed, which was only just long enough to fit her feet in, looked ludicrously childish. Her mother had placed a much loved, worn and chewed cuddly toy on the pillow. She quickly stuffed Aliosha the Bear into a cupboard. One wall was still adorned with a poster of a boy band that she had pinned up when she was twelve. While she had been at home, the poster had somehow become part of the wall. She had stopped noticing the dreamy faces, slick hair and designer stubble of the teenage idols. Now she thought: “What would Talia say if she saw the The Backstreet Boys hanging above my bed ?” and a minute later the poster lay scrunched up in her litter bin.

She heard her little brother come into the house with her Dad. They had been to Saturday football. She came down to greet them. The sight of the fourteen year old Tim reminded her how recently she had been a child. But her father’s familiar “hello love” and warm hug soon cheered her up. He whispered,

“Your mother’s not stopped fussing about you catching your death of something since you’ve been gone”.

Almost two weeks later, Sally’s mum answered a ring at the door. A tall, broad shouldered man in a sharp suit asked her if this was the O’ Brien residence. Instead of answering his question, she said:

“We haven’t done anything wrong have we?” The man coughed.

“No Madame. Princess Talia is in the car. She asks, is it convenient for her to come in?’

“Well, er no, I mean, yes, ah, …. Sally ! Come and look who’s here!”

Mrs. O’ Brien checked her hair in the hall mirror while the be-suited attendant returned to a long black limousine that was parked across the close. He opened a rear door of the vehicle. The elegant figure of a Princess swivelled herself out, in the manner that a debutante learns to leave a car at a Swiss Finishing School. She wore a long satin dress and her shoulders were wrapped in an ermine tipped jacket. As Sally came downstairs and saw her friend’s arrival, she could feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes peeping out of windows up and down the close.

On the doorstep, Talia addressed Sally’s mum: “You must be Mrs. O’ Brien. It was so kind of you to invite me to your home for Christmas,”

Sally’s mum was so flustered that all she could say was, “Come in and have a cup of tea, dear, er, your highness.”

Princess Talia drank camomile tea at the breakfast bar in the kitchen while her attendant carried her many suitcases up the narrow staircase. Mrs O’ Brien was horrified that her daughter was serving tea in the kitchen, instead of the living room, and in her embarrassment, she hovered around gesturing to Sally to use the best china.

“We thought you’d never come,” said Sally to her friend.

“I said I would come, and I am a woman of my word.” replied Talia.

“Well I hope you don’t mind the humble surroundings. The spare room is quite small, I’m afraid.”

“Your parents’ house is quite charming, Sally.”

It was difficult to see what was so charming about the perfectly ordinary kitchen from the Swedish furniture shop, Ikea, but Mrs. O’ Brien, who was now busy wiping surfaces, was pleased by the remark, until Talia added thoughtfully:

“ To speak plainly Sally, it’s a relief for me to see you so comfortably housed. Where I come from, the common people live in far humbler circumstances.”

Mrs O’Brien couldn’t suppress a gasp of astonishment, and Sally couldn’t quite hide a slight smile. She was used to Talia now, you see, and was more amused than shocked by her odd remarks.

When Talia went upstairs to her room, Mrs. O’Brien said in a low voice:

“Well we do move in elevated circles now, don’t we? Soon your parents wont’ be good enough for you.”

“Oh Mum! I wish you could see my other friends. They’re all perfectly normal. Don’t mind Talia. She’s a one -off.”

“Well what country is she’s princess of, for goodness sake?”

“She’s never quite said.” Sally knew that this sounded a bit feeble, but she really did believe that her friend was a true princess. She had learned not to mistake Talia’s mysteriousness for insincerity. Her mother said:

“It’s probably some phony continental title. They’re six a penny over there.”

It was shepherd’s pie for dinner. Talia tasted it, praised, her hostess’s cooking lavishly, and didn’t eat any more. Mrs Brien asked the Talia what her family ate for the sir Christmas meal at home, and the princess slipped into her astonished and just-woken up look. She spoke dreamily of oysters, and Coquilles St. Jacques, of smoked salmon pancakes and goblets of champagne, of partridge, cuts of venison, wild boar sausages, roast chestnuts and parsnips, followed by 13 sweet deserts to represent Christ and all the apostles.

Given that Talia was so thin, and rarely more than picked at her food, it was surprising to hear her describe a banquet with the relish of a confirmed glutton, but Sally realised that her thoughts were travelling back with nostalgia to Christmases past with her own family, in her own home.

Mrs. O’ Brien asked meekly if they ever ate turkey for Christmas. in her own country Talia was puzzled by the question. She didn’t seem to know what a turkey was, and Mrs. O’Brien seemed almost offended by her ignorance of turkeys.

Fortunately, the Princess got on with Sally’s father just fine. His hobby was Medieval history, and that was something the princess was well versed in. He lent her two of his books, and she showed him her necklace which she said was Anglo-Saxon gold. He was perfectly purring with admiration, and Sally noted that the Princess had made a conquest.

At 9 o’clock, the family sat on the flowery three piece suite in the immaculately tidy living room and watched a television programme in which a modern English poet retraced the haunts of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. It ended amid the mist-entwined ruins of Glastonbury Abbey where the semi-mythical King is said to be buried with Queen Guinevere.

After it was over, Talia sighed and said: “Uncle Arthur was such a dear,” and Sally could see that her father wasn’t quite sure if he had misheard the remark, or if she was referring to some other Arthur who happened to share the King’s name.

The next morning was Christmas Eve. It was almost lunch-time, and Mrs O’ Brien noted, “Evidently, princesses aren’t early-risers” – for nobody had seen Talia yet. Sally went up to knock lightly on the guest room door. There was no reply. She knocked a second time, and gently pushed it open: She saw an empty bed – and as the door opened wider – an empty room. Even the suitcases had gone.

For the rest of the day, Sally felt quite disjointed. This wasn’t at all what she had been expecting. If somebody just ups and goes without saying goodbye, it leaves you with a feeling of incompleteness. That parting well-wish, which literally means “May God go With you”, is a sacred ritual, and it’s a sacrilege not go through it, far worse than not saying “thank you”.

Besides, she had to put up with the inevitable barrage of remarks from her mother. That the royal guest did not consider that the food, the house, or the company, was good enough for her, and that she might be a Princess, but she had no manners. The commentary became so intense that Sally had to get away. She took a bus into the centre of Liverpool and walked through the crowds of last minute Christmas shoppers, but she couldn’t help wondering all the time if her friend would suddenly turn up again while she was out.

The absent Talia even cast a shadow over lunch the next day. Sally’s mother twittered on rather too much about how there was nothing like turkey and Brussels sprouts for Christmas, and when they all put paper crowns from the crackers on their heads, Sally thought how embarrassing it would have been to have done this in front of Talia.

At three o’clock, the family settled down in front of the television to watch the Queen’s Christmas speech. Sally felt crushingly bored, but unable to go and do anything else without offending her mother. Just as the National Anthem was playing, the door bell rang. Her brother sprung up and went to answer it. A minute later, Talia stepped into the living room holding a basket of beautifully wrapped presents.

“Happy Christmas ! “ she entoned, and started distributing the gifts almost like Santa-Claus. Dad reached for the remote control and turned the Queens’ volume down. Mum moved her chair closer to the screen, straining to hear the monarch’s commentary on the year gone by.

“May we open them now?” asked Sally.

“Oh pray do, I insist,” said Talia.

The gifts were as exquisite as they were lavish – pearls for Sally, an emerald brooch for Mrs. O’Brien, a golden goblet for Mr. O’Brien, and a jewel encrusted dagger for Tim. All Sally had bought for Talia was a book with Latin inscriptions from around Oxford.

But Sally had never seen Talia smile so broadly, or so beaming with obvious delight. “Oh do let’s put some music on,” she said, “Tim show me how to operate this thing I’m no good with modern technology” – she meant the CD player – and she chose a disk at random. It was the The Searchers :

“Sweets for my sweet, sugar for my honey
Your first Sweet Kiss, thrilled me so”

They were 1960s band from Liverpool, and Sally’s Dad rather liked them. Tallia took him by the hands and pulled him up to dance. This was not at all the Princess that Sally thought she knew.

“May I ask my driver in, he’s a bit lonely out in the car?” Talia asked when the track came to an end. Soon the driver was playing a video game with Tim, and Mr. O’Brien brought him a beer. Mrs O’Brien spoke to the Princess

‘We’ve been so worried about you, love. You shouldn’t have gone off so abruptly without warning us.”

“I was called away rather suddenly,” she replied abruptly.

And then she took her friend on one side and held her by both hands. “Sally, I’m so excited. I was in Glastonbury for Midnight mass. Afterwards, as I was walking among the ruins of the Abbey, I met my Uncle and Aunt…. I haven’t seen them for simply an age, I mean to say,” and she whispered the last words “Arthur and Guinevere.”

And that was the story, of the Christmas Beauty .

I do hope that you are enjoying our Awaking Beauty series. You can always let us know what you think by leaving a message on the story’s page at Storynory.com.

I’ll be back with some more stories soon. For now, from me, Elizabeth, Bye Bye !

Our Awaking Beauty, Princess Talia, goes out for the evening with her fellow students at college. She becomes upset when the conversation turns to time. She tells them how she feels so lost because she has “slipped through time”. The others find it hard to understand and think that she’s stranger than ever. But then Basil has the weirdest experience that perhaps lets him know how she must feel.

Read by Elizabeth. Duration 11.48. Story by Bertie.

“Hello, My name’s Mario, and I’ll be your waiter tonight.”

Sally ordered a Margarita Pizza, Basil a Florentina, and Doug an Americana. Princess Talia studied the menu closely.

“And I’d like.. Pheasant, “ she said.

The waiter looked puzzled. Talia thought again. “Oh, I can see, you don’t have that do you?… er…Dover Sole….What, no fish?… well I’ll have steak and chips for goodness sake, oh Sally, what sort of restaurant is this?”

“It’s a Pizza restaurant, “ said Sally. “You have to have pizza”

“And what else to they have?”

“Pizza.”

Basil was trying not to smirk. Sally was getting embarrassed. The waiter was hopping from one foot to the other with impatience. After a painfully long period of thought, Princess Talia finally ordered Spaghetti Bolognese, which was actually on the menu. When the food arrived, she played with her spaghetti on her folk while the others greedily attacked their plates.

It was the final day of their first term at university. In fact, it was really the last day of their first ten weeks as adults, living independent lives, away from their parents nests.

“Isn’t it odd?” said Sally, “I feel like we have all known each other for ages and ages. “

“Time is stretchy, “ said Basil, “Sometimes the months fly by, and sometimes a few days are so packed with experience that they last for an eon.”

The waiter lit a candle on the table, and Sally noticed that Talia’s eyes, which were usually quite glacial in their pale blueness and inscrutability, had a depth that she had not noticed before. The Princess was clearly paying plenty of attention to Basil and his words of wisdom. She said:

“Yes, you are so right Basil, a thousand years can slip by just like that.” And she snapped her fingers as she said so. Basil raised one eyebrow – which usually meant he was going to say something a touch ironic, but on this occasion nothing seemed to quite occur to him. He sawed away at his pizza.

The somewhat scholarly Doug filled the gap in the conversation with: “Labuntur Anni, and all that,” which in case you don’t know, is Latin for “the years slip by”. They were classics students you see. And he mentioned that some of the old boys and girls, who had been at the college way back in the 1980s, were arriving for a gaudy that weekend. A gaudy is a reunion of former students at the college.

“It’s hard to believe , but that will be us in twenty years time,” said Sally. “We’ll be fat and wrinkly, married with kids, and dead conventional and boring, but I bet we’ll just feel the same inside. And we’ll be back here, trying to recapture our past. ”

“It’s always a mistake to go back,” said Basil. “You can only go forward in time.”

It was hard to see why anyone should get upset about anything, but Talia suddenly grew quite agitated. Her emotions came over her so suddenly, that the others didn’t see this coming:

“You don’t understand, do you? Nobody can know what I’ve experienced. I’ve fallen through time. You can’t imagine what that feels like. You will all be going to back to your parents and your cosy childhood bedrooms this Christmas, but I can’t. But I can’t go back in time. I’m stuck here in the 21st Century and I”m so alone and out of place, and you all think I’m weird. “

This outburst seemed to be directly mostly at Basil. He looked totally puzzled. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked. Talia started to get up, as if to leave:

“No, no you didn’t say anything wrong,” she said, slightly more calmly now. Sally had stood up too, and was putting her hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

“It’s just that you don’t, you can’t, nobody can understand. I”m sorry I got so upset. I don’t know what came over me. Oh dear. I’m so terribly embarrassed. I’ve made an awful fool of myself “

Sally tried to reassure her that we all get upset sometimes, but it was no good. Talia sat silently for the rest of the meal and didn’t eat single strand of spaghetti. When the bill came she paid it all. They thanked her for her generosity and Basil said:

‘Well, shall we all go back to my room for a drink?,” But the Princess excused herself and went off for a late night walk on her own .

On Sunday morning, when Basil was cleaning his teeth, he thought he must be having a hallucination. The face looking back at him from the mirror was about forty years old. “Did I have a rough night?” said Basil to himself. “I don’t remember. It was just herbal tea before bed I think.”

As he pulled the belt around his waist, he noticed that his tummy was soft and flabby. “This is just peculiar,” he thought.

Out on the quad, he was relieved to see that the college had not changed. It never did. Same old sandy colored stones. Same old ivy. As he walked toward the dining hall, a middle aged man was coming towards him. He just assumed that he was one of the old boys, back for the reunion, but the man called out, “Basil you old devil, you haven’t changed a bit.” Basil scratched his head. “But you don’t recognise me do you,? said the man, a little forlorn. “It’s Doug. Remember me?”

“Why yes, of course,” said Basil. It’s just that I’m not feeling quite well this morning.”

The dinning hall was full of men and women in their forties, and some of them were eerily familiar. Basil began to feel really really strange, and quite agitated. He looked at his hand as he held his spoon full of cornflakes. It was wrinkly and hairy. Somebody tapped him on the shoulder. He turned round and found a smiling face waiting to be kissed on either cheek.

“Oh Basil, “ said the woman with a trace of a Liverpool accent, “It’s so lovely to see you. And where’s your gorgeous wife? I bet she doesn’t look a day older,”

“Er, she couldn’t make it,” said Basil, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh such a shame,” said the Sally-like woman, “We were all just dying to catch up with her.”

“Excuse me, I’m afraid I don’t feel well,” said Basil, and he got up and hurried back to his room. He slammed the door behind him, and wiped the sweat off his brow. Inside his pocket, his phone was ringing. He felt relieved. Perhaps it would be a call from the real world, a voice telling him that this was all some terrible prank, and the joke was on him. He fished an unfamiliar and wafer thin device from his pocket. Patterns were gently cascading over the edge-to-edge screen. It was like holding a video picture in his hand. The screen blinked and a woman’s face first appeared in two dimensions, and then morphed into 3D. She was extremely beautiful and he recognized her right away.

“Hello darling,” she said, “Have you met any of the old gang yet?” (not too Talia like, just take the edge of her posh voice to make it a little ambiguous about whether it’s her).

He threw the video-phone onto the bed and staggered into the bathroom, where he most probably fainted. In any case, he came round some time later and heaved himself to the basin to splash his face with water. For a while he did not dare look up into the mirror. When at last he did, he saw his familiar, somewhat aristocratic, and youthful reflection. The nightmare was over. Basil was back in his own time.

This, the fourth part of our Awaking Beauty series sees Princess Talia in rather a different and unexpected light. Princess Talia is now moving in her own high circles, and Sally, her first friend and Westerly College, Oxford, is rather regretting that she does not see so much of her anymore. But then Sally receives some bad news….

Read by Elizabeth Donnelly. Story by Bertie. Duration 13.02

It was Saturday night. Sally sat in her room trying to decipher a sentence of Ancient Greek written by the historian Thucydides. It went on and on and on, clause after clause, for an entire page. Just this one sentence was ten times worse than the most horrible homework assignment she had ever had to to do at school.

“This is mental torture,” protested Sally to herself, “It’s against my human rights. Only a sadist could write a sentence like that. ”

Music added to her torment. She could hear it playing from at least three different rooms around the quad. Saturday night parties going on. Parties to which she was not invited.

At 9 pm she heard a knock on the door. But it was her neighbour’s door. There were exclamations of “Princess! “ and “You look simply sumptuous darling!” Talia’s new friends had come to collect her for an evening of socialising. Sally thought:

“Not long ago I felt sorry for her because she didn’t have any friends. Now it’s me who is Miss Lonely-locks.”

Sally went to bed, and she dozed fitfully. She heard Princess Talia slip back into her room at some unearthly hour like five in the morning. But even then her neighbour did not sleep. She sat at her harp playing music. The gentle, almost magical notes helped Sally to finally drift off.

In the past, Sally and Talia had enjoyed meeting for cups of tea. Or to be more precise, Sally drank tea from a mug while Talia sipped water. But it had been at least three weeks since they had exchanged more than a passing “hello” – and three weeks was almost half the time they had known each other. Talia was the strangest person that Sally had ever met, and yet for some reason she felt that she had known her all her life and now there was a hole in her life. She missed her odd remarks and strange views. But she thought it was perhaps for the best. After all, Princess Talia was entirely wrapped up in her own selfish concerns, and had little thought for others. It was hardly a solid basis for a friendship.

It was a piece of misfortune than drew them back together. Their tutor, PJ Patridge, called a meeting of all six classics undergraduates. While he was discussing their reading list, Sally’s phone rang. She blushed bright red and fumbled to turn it off. Their tutor, who did not even own a mobile phone, gave her his sternest glance of disapproval. After the meeting, Sally stood in the quad listening to her message. When she had played it, Talia came up to her and said:

“Sally, you look so upset. Have you received bad news?” Sally was surprised that the princess had even noticed her, let alone seen how she was feeling. And yes, it was true. She had received bad news. Her mother had rung to say that her father had been rushed to hospital in an ambulance. In fact Sally was in a state of shock. it was the first time it had occurred to her that her dad might not live for ever.

Talia said: “Sally, my car is at your disposal. The driver will take you to the hospital where your father is. “

“But he’s miles away, in Liverpool.” replied Sally.

“Never mind. Take it for as long as you need. I will inform Dr. Patridge what has happened. “ And while she was speaking, she removed a silver chain from around her neck. Its setting clasped a blue-green stone. Talia told Sally that her father must wear the necklace. The stone would change colour to blood red because he was ill. As his condition improved, it would turn first to pink, then gradually back to its former colour. “And what’s more, it will protect him from harm and speed his recovery,” added Talia. “Trust me Sally. No harm can come to the one who wears this stone. It was given to me by my godmother on the day of my christening, and has protected me from great evil. “

Sally was in such a state that she did not question her friend about the stone. She hugged her with thanks, and ran up to her room to pack her bag. Quarter of an hour later she sank into the leather back seat of Talia’s black limousine.

Sally spent most of her first twenty four hours at hospital sitting in the chair by her father’s bed. He made light of all the wires and tubes that were fastened to his body. She began to think that perhaps it was all just a scare after all. While he dozed, she read Thucydides with surprising clarity. Towards evening, the doctor spoke to Sally and her mother out in the corridor. He was clearly concerned. The x-rays had shown a worrying shadow Her mother cried and Sally had to be strong to comfort her. It was only the next day that she recalled the necklace that Talia had given her. She fished it out of her bag looked into the mysterious stone. The blue colour seemed to grow lighter as she held it in her hand.

“That’s because I’m feeling stressed and tired and my mouth is dry,” she thought. And then, “Oh come off it! I’m not going to start believing this superstitious stuff am I?” and finally. “Well it can’t do him any harm, can it?”

And while her father dozed, she gently lifted his head and fastened the necklace around his neck. She tucked the stone under the collar of his hospital pajamas, seeing as she did so that it was already turning quite red. There were so many strange things attached to her dad, that when he awoke, he didn’t even notice that he was wearing one more “accessory’ .

After a week, Sally was back in college, looking far more cheerful. Her father had dumbfounded the doctors. All his vital signs had bounced back into full health, and the worrying shadow had faded away,

When Sally returned the necklace to her friend she said: “I don’t know if it’s my state of mind, but at this rate I’ll start believing in magic.”

And Talia replied:

“Why Sally. Of course you must believe in magic. Otherwise, how do you think I arrived here? There’s no other explanation, is there?”

And frankly, there was no other explanation, unless Talia was quite mad, and Sally was swiftly catching up with her insanity.

Two weeks went by, and Sally’s Dad was not only back at home, but back at work, back jogging in the mornings, and according to her mum, he looked twenty years younger.

“If that’s what a good rest and hospital food does for you, then I think I might check myself into intensive care,” said her mum on the phone.

It was the final Saturday of the first term at college, and Sally was getting ready to go out with Basil and Doug for a pizza. There was am unexpected knock on the door: her door, not her neighbour’s. She heard a familiar voice.

“Sally, May I come in?”

It was Princess Talia. Sally leapt across the room and opened the door. Talia came in and sat on the end of her rumpled bed. She rang her hands and looked quite intense, even by her usual standards. At last she said:

“Sally, you are friends with Basil, aren’t you?”

And Sally said that yes she was friends with Basil.

“Good friends?”

“Yes, I think you could say we are good friends.”

“Are you… more than just good friends.”

And Sally laughed and said.

“No we’re just good friends.”

“Ah,” said Talia, “Because you see. I’m not friends at all with Basil. In fact, I don’t think he even notices me.”

“Of course he notices you,” said Sally. “All the boys notice you. Some of them stare at you like you were a goddess or something.”

“But not Basil,” said Talia sadly.

And Sally was amazed, because at last she had found a chink in the princess’s armor of supreme indifference and serenity. She invited her to join them for dinner, and the princess thanked her from the bottom of her heart.

Sally thought:

“You look a touch overdressed for The Sunny Pizza Palace but never mind, I’m sure Basil will appreciate your charms”

Talia went back to her room to change. When they met twenty minutes later, Sally was amazed to see that the princess was wearing jeans – albeit ones with a designer label. When the boys joined them, Basil’s smile at learning of the surprise fourth member of their party gave the game away.

“He’s pretty pleased to see her, “ Sally thought, and she felt an unexpected pang of jealousy.

“The Polite Princess” is none other than Princess Talia of our Awaking Beauty series set in a college (which is most likely part of Oxford University). Her friend Sally is a big supporter of Liverpool Football club – and Talia is drawn into watching a match on TV with other students.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.57.

I have mentioned before that that Princess Talia did not often eat in the college dining hall. She did not think highly of the college’s catering, and she preferred to eat her own food in her room. One evening, for some reason – perhaps she had run out of smoked salmon or quails eggs -or perhaps she just wanted some company – she decided to visit the hall. She wore a black evening dress, a string of pearls, and her long scholar’s gown, and this combination made her look her most dark and mysterious. She almost seemed like a beautiful shadow.

She sat down at the oak table just opposite Sally. As Sally’s academic gown was open at the front you could see that underneath it, she was wearing her bright red Liverpool Football Club T-shirt. Princess Talia peered at the Football Club’s badge, which depicted a proud griffin with a leaf in its beak. It was the symbol known as the Liverbird.

“Sally, is that your family’s coat of arms?” she asked.

The student sitting next to Sally laughed, and for a moment Sally wondered if Talia was joking, but then she remembered that the Princess often said the strangest things, and rarely in jest.

“Well sort of,” said Sally, “Actually it’s not my family’s coat of arms. It’s my football team’s. But I suppose you could say that we supporters of Liverpool are like a big family and this is our coat of arms.”

“Oh,’ said Talia, somewhat puzzled. “Why would you want to support Liverpool?

“Because I’m from Liverpool, and they’re my team. But you can see for yourself. There’s a big match this evening, and we’re going to watch it in the TV room. Come along. Have a laugh. You could lighten up a bit.”

“Could I? Oh. In that case I’d better come with you, and ‘have a laugh’, as you say.”

The TV room was crowded with mostly male students. You wouldn’t really have taken them for the elite of Britain’s young minds. They bayed, growled and squawked at the television in a variety of accents ranging for public school posh to rural regional.

The players from Liverpool and AC Milan were running around a large flat panelled screen on the wall. Talia was clearly intrigued by the sight. She remarked to Sally:

“I have seen a moving picture like this once before,”

“Have you?” replied Sally, who was used to going along with Talia’s odd trains of thought.

“Yes, but only once. The Wizard Merlin himself demonstrated it to me in his cave.”

“That was nice of him,” said Sally, hoping nobody else was listening to the strange conversation.

“And I have seen village boys playing this game with a pig’s bladder.”

“Good for you.”

When the referee showed a yellow card to a Liverpool player, the scholarly supporters in the room were shaking their fists and gesturing at him. Sally screeched at the screen:

“Aww come off it ref. He tripped over a daisy!”

and Talia exclaimed:

“No Sally, the yokel in a red shirt kicked him in the shin,”

Sally’s eyes blazed with fury and she turned to Talia and blurted out:

“That yokel is Steve Gerrard and he did no such thing !”

Talia was quite taken aback. “Well if you say so, Sally, but I saw it differently.”

Later when Garrard powered the ball into the back of the net, the ref disallowed the goal as off side. The students were apoplectic.

Talia said: “I don’t see what all the fuss about? It’s only a game,”

Jonathan Miles, the English scholar, flew into a rage: “What do you mean it’s only a game? It’s football. It’s more beautiful than poetry, music and love.”

“Well I dispute that.” said Talia, “Poetry, music and love tend to elevate the human condition. This sport seems to bring out the animal spirits.”

The student of English was lost for words. Sally said: “Talia, he was just joking, sort of.”

And Talia replied. “I knew that. My fairy godmother gave me the gift of laughter. Ha Ha ! Yes, that’s a very funny remark. “

And somebody said. “ She’s quite cuckoo isn’t she? ” And somebody else said. “Perhaps she should see the doctor.”

At the end the match, AC Milan went through to the final on goal difference. When it was all over the students did not seem to mind too much that their team hadn’t done well enough, proving perhaps that Talia was right when she had said it was “only a game.” As Talia and Sally walked back to staircase where their rooms were located, the Princess remarked:

“I don’t know about you, but I find that manners in this college are not quite what they could be.”

And Sally laughed because it was true of course, but then again, how did she expect students to behave? Talia went on. “You know Sally, you could help me, by using my correct title. I believe that if you called me ‘Princess’ it might set a good example and instill a bit of respect in the others.”
Sally didn’t like this idea. “But we’re friends aren’t we? Don’t friends call each other by first names?”

“Certainly you may use my first name, but titles are also useful as part of a correct form of address. You may call me “Princess Talia” out of respect for our friendship.”

And not for the first or last time, Sally was not entirely sure if her friend was joking or not. She hoped that this was just passing whim of Talia’s and would soon be forgotten. Over the next few days she continued to call her “Talia” just as before. The Princess’s face did not show any sign of annoyance, but then she wore very few expressions apart from her perfectly composed, beautiful, but inscrutable look. However, Sally soon learned that Talia had not forgotten her desire to be addressed as Princess. At the next meeting of the Junior Common Room – which was a sort of student union for undergraduates at the college – Talia tabled a motion that “The JCR supports the use of titles as the correct form of personal address at all times within the college.” When Sally read the motion on the agenda for the meeting she immediately went to see Talia in her room and begged her to withdraw it.

“Don’t you realise, they’ll just laugh at you?” pleaded Sally. “Those meetings can be pretty rough. You’ll make yourself look like a stuck-up toff. They’ll rip you apart.”

But Princess Talia insisted that she would stand up for what she believed in, and she didn’t care what the rabble said about her.
“Oh dear friend, “ said Sally. “you badly need a sense of humour. You just can’t see when you are making yourself ridiculous, can you?”
“Thank you once again Sally for your commentary on the defects of my personality,” said Talia. “But as my friend you might show a little more support for a matter that is close to my heart.”

And Sally went back to her room wondering whether her friendship with Talia would last the evening.

The Junior Common Room met later on. Jay Beckham, the chair person of the JSR, called on Talia to propose her motion:

Some wag called out: “Shouldn’t that be Princess Talia?” and there was general laughter.

“Indeed it should,” said the princess as she stood up. And Sally was impressed by the way her friend used her voice to cut through the noise of the rabble without any apparent effort on her part. She also noticed that both male and female students were all looking fairly interestedly at her – her beauty undoubtedly commanded attention.

“Please forgive me if I appear somewhat nervous,” she said. “I am unused to speaking at meetings. “ And although she looked anything but nervous, this plea won her just a slightly more sympathetic hearing than you might have expected.

“Madam Chairperson. Honourable members of the Junior Common Room. Some might say that titles are old fashioned, that they are, perhaps, a touch formal for our age. And indeed they are formal. But you will also notice that they are in use every day all the time. We might call our tutor “Doctor”, we might call the person who cleans our rooms “Mrs.”, we might call the College Porter “Mr.” but we address each other as “Mic” or ‘Jim” or “Jen”. Why should I not respect my fellow students enough to use “Good Sir” or “Mr” or “Miss” or even “Miz” , although that title is strange to my ears. I suggest that this innovation would have a civilising effect on the college society and would pay dividends overnight. I foresee that if we respect ourselves and each other in speech we shall dress better, behave better, study better, and yes enjoy ourselves better too. “

After Talia sat down, three students spoke one after the other saying that Talia’s proposal was outrageously snobbish, undemocratic, and elitist. But then Dave Heathcott spoke in favour saying that a return to the age of courtesy and chivalry would indeed make the college a better place to live and study in. Dave was a popular figure, known for his wit and independent thought. He swayed a lot of people to Talia’s side. In fact, when it came to a show of hands, the JCR voted two thirds in favour of the motion – though Sally wasn’t quite sure how many people supported the motion as a joke or in full seriousness.

The news that the undergraduate of Westerly College had voted in favour of using titles soon spread around the university. A photographer from the Student newspaper came to photograph Princess Talia in her room and her picture appeared on the front page of The Cherwell with the caption
“The Polite Princess.”

It was an impressive photograph – showing Princess Talia sitting in at her golden harp looking like a classical muse.
The newspaper reported the debate in detail and quoted from students who were for and against the motion. For a few days afterwards some people did call each other “Miss” or “Mr” – or indeed Princess – but only with an ironic smile on the lips. A week later the motion was all but forgotten.

But the newspaper story had certainly put Princess Talia on the social map of the University. It wasn’t long before she started to receive callers. Chaps in blazers and girls in pearls came to her door to introduce themselves. Invitations start to stack up on her mantle piece. She started to go out at night to parties. Sally realised that Talia had joined the posh set where she probably best fitted in. She no longer felt comfortable going to knock on her neighbour’s door. She felt uneasy when she saw her former friend, and walked by on the other side of the quad to avoid her.
“Oh well, she thought. “My mother told me that I probably wouldn’t keep the friends I made in my first term. And I think that’s proving right already.”

And that was third part of our Awaking Beauty Series. If you would like to know if Talia and Sally become friends again, then look out for the next episode. In the meantime you can find loads more classic and original stories on Storynory.com. And if you feel like supporting storynory, you can find a donate button in our side, or you can buy our iPhone app from the Apple store. For now, from me, Elizabeth, Goodbye

The second part in our Awaking Beauty series which began here. If you heard the first part, you’ll know that Princess Talia has woken up somewhat confused. She is a student at an ancient college – but she’s not quite sure how she got there. In this episode we will find out how she fits in to her new surroundings.

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.37

Ancient rules governed the conversation over dinner at Westerly College. For instance, it was forbidden to discuss the paintings on the wall or women who were not present. At least one of those diktats was being thoroughly broken that night, for the gossip on all the Freshers’ lips was of the princess who slept through tutorials and who called her fellow undergraduates, “peasants”.

The Rector of the College stood up at the High Table and declared the Latin grace.

“Benedictus benedicat”

And just as the first course of watery soup was being served, a dark, beautiful woman clad in long scholar’s gown strode into the Hall. On her chest she wore a star glittering with diamonds. Nobody was in doubt about who she was. She headed for the High Table, but was directed by one of the scouts, a servant who looked as old as the college, to sit with the other undergraduates.

She picked up a bent, stainless steal spoon and stared at it with disdain. When she tried the soup she wrinkled her nose with disgust.

“This is not fit for the pigs,” she declared.

There was many a sly grin, and even a chuckle around the hall.

Sally was seated at the other end of the table from Talia. A law student asked her:

“You do Classics with the princess don’t you? Is she as snooty as she seems?”

“Not really, “ said Sally. “I think she’s just lost. She’s never had to mix with us commoners, I expect.”

But there were few people present who took so charitable view of the princess. “Who does she think she’s impressing with her diamonds?” was typical comment among the girls. And as for the boys, most were far too shy to talk to such a stunning beauty, let alone to a princess.

But Basil, who was seated opposite the Her Royal Highness, or HRH as they had already started to call her behind her back, was not afraid to speak to Talia. After all, he had already woken her with a kiss.

“Princess,” he said. “Are you feeling less sleepy now?”

Princess Talia fixed him with her blue gaze.

“Is that your idea of a joke?” she asked.

“No, it’s a polite question”

“Good, because I do not find it funny,” she replied. And then she tried another spoonful of soup and spluttered it back into the bowl. She muttered, “Will somebody please cut off the wretched cook’s head,” and she left the table, grabbing a piece of bread as she went.

At about three in the morning, harp music drifted into Sally’s consciousness. Next door, Talia began to sing, sweetly and sadly, It was hard to make out the words, as they sounded like they were in old English, but she did catch “Alas” and “Woe”.

Sally gently knocked on the Princess’s door, and heard the response from within.

“You may enter.”

“The song is sad this time,” said Sally, as she came into the richly furnished room which was lit by a candelabra of scented wax tapers. She was sure that candles must be an illegal fire risk – even toasters were banned.

“That is because I am sad,” replied the princess, now resting her head against her harp.

“Will you tell me why?” asked Sally.

“I miss my parents.”

“Where are they?”

“Dead.”

“Oh I see. I’m sorry,” said Sally. And she asked if the princess wanted to tell her more about it.

“It is not a secret,” said Talia, “I looked it up in the Library. They died of the sleeping sickness . And I myself have slept for around a thousand years. Now, strange to say, I am not tired, and so I sit and play music. I hope that I am not disturbing you.”

But Sally did feel disturbed, spookily disturbed. She shivered. “That’s not funny,” she said. “You shouldn’t joke about your parents being dead.”

“It is no joke,” said the Princess. “I read it in a story.”

And when Sally went back to her room, she could not sleep, not because of the music, but because she could not forget the creepy conversation. Next time somebody asked her what Princess Talia was really like, she replied, “Strange.”

***

Basil was Talia’s tutorial partner. He said that she wrote her essays in a beautiful manuscript hand, and when their tutor asked her a question, she replied the first time in Ancient Greek, before switching to Latin and finally English.

“PJ’s in love with her,” he joked. PJ was their tutor, and although he was not in love with her, he was in awe of his new scholar’s beauty and brilliance. In fact, he hardly paid any attention to Basil during the tutorial. Afterwards, when Basil asked her how she had learned to speak Latin and Ancient Greek fluently, she shrugged her shoulders and said “Why? I have the gift of languages. I read all of Homer when I was eight years old. ”

At the end of the first week of term, Sally received a visit in her room from her Royal neighbour. Talia’s gaze passed over the unmade bed with an old teddy lying on the pillow, the headphones, the illegal toaster, the lipstick stained teacups, the books piled on the floor, and the clothes lingering in heaps.

“I see your scout has not been to clean up,” she commented. And Sally explained that she came later in the morning, to allow her to sleep in until ten o’clock.

“I have a letter from my god-mother,” went on the princess. “She says I must use this card and a secret code to obtain money. Do you understand this thing?” And she showed her a black plastic bank-card.

“Sure,” said Sally, “You stick it in the hole in the wall.” And when Talia looked baffled, she offered to come with her to the bank and show her how to use it.

As they stepped out of the college, a bicycle shot by.

“Woh!” said Talia, quite alarmed.

“I know. They aren’t supposed to ride on this street, “ said Sally. “Look a policeman is stopping him.” The narrow street was busy, as always, with people walking up and down, their footsteps and conversations echoing around the ancient stones. At the end they turned onto the shopping street with its rumbling of traffic. Talia tugged on Sally’s sleeve.

“I can’t go on,” she said. “This quest is too frightening for me, “ and she turned back to the college. Sally wondered if the princess was suffering from something like agoraphobia.

Later n the Junior Common Room , a small group of students were discussing the subject of Princess Talia, not for the first time, while lounging with cups of coco.

‘She’s just putting on an act to seek attention,” said Jennie, who was a scraggy English Lit student. Matt, on whose shoulder Jennie was resting her head, asked: “She’s princess of where did you say?” But nobody knew where Talia was from. Jennie suggested: “In all probability she’s from Essex.”

They did not realise that Princess Talia was in the room and had overheard their conversation.

“No, I am not from Essex,” she said as she loomed over them, richly dressed and bejeweled as usual. “I am from Wessex. “

“Oh you’re a Wessex girl,” said Matt.

“I would thank you not to be so rude to your betters,” replied the Princess. “And do not gossip about me, if you do not wish your tongue to be cut out.”

“Is she for real?” asked Jennie when Talia was gone.

“I’m afraid she is,” said Matt.

Princess Talia needed money to buy food, because she couldn’t stand the stuff they served up in the hall, but she was still terrified of stepping outside onto the street. Finally, she resolved her dilemma. by entrusting her black bank card and her secret number to Sally, who withdrew £50 from the machine, and then visited the covered market to buy walnut bread, pheasant pate, Roquefort cheese, flesh plums, apricots, and other delicacies. She presented the basket of food, and the remaining money, in the form of a handful of coins and some smoothly rolled banknotes, to Talia. The princess examined the notes with great curiosity.

“This parchment is valuable?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

“Why yes,” said Sally. “It’s a twenty pound note.”

“And who is this?” asked the princess, pointing to the portrait of a lady on the note.

“Why the Queen.”

“I must meet her,” said Talia with determination. “Will you arrange it for me, Sally?” Her eyes were full of such intensity that she seemed almost crazy Sally, quite bemused, replied, “Sure I’ll just text Lizzy right now. “

She too was now wondering if Talia was “for real,” and when the next day Talia met her in the quad and demanded to know if the Queen had agreed to meet her, Sally couldn’t help exclaiming that her friend must be off her head if she really thought that she could fix a tete a tete with the monarch. Talia flew into a rage and said:

“Don’t speak to me in that tone as if I am some sort of mad woman. It’s quite clear that I can’t rely on you to the smallest thing for me. I’ll ask somebody efficient to make this arrangement. In fact, I’ll ask my godmother, even though I only do that as a last resort, but this is a last retort.”

Sally was quite shaken by this outburst. If it wasn’t obvious that the princess was off her head, she would have been more angry with her. Anyway, it made an amusing story over dinner when she told Jennie and Matt that Talia expected and wanted to see the Queen.

The following Friday, a sleek black car drew up into the back quad and a smart man in a suit stepped out and went to fetch Talia from her room. The limousine brought her back following afternoon.

“I met your Queen,” said Talia when she saw Sally, “But I didn’t think much of her. Oh she was perfectly polite, but she didn’t seem to know who I was, and she couldn’t help me one little bit. It was a waste of time. But at least I’m not afraid of automobiles any more. In fact, now I have been inside one, I see that they are most convenient, and far better than a horse in every respect. I shall ask my godmother to make one available for me at all times.”

And after that, there was always a black car waiting in the quad for Princess Talia. She hardly ever used it, and the drivers who worked in shifts, either slept on the back seat or took walks around the college. The students thought they were quite sinister. They never took their jackets off, and Basil reckoned that they packed guns in holsters under their arms.

The black cars and the “body guards” were pretty convincing, even to the most sceptical scholars Nobody in college now doubted that Princess Talia was “for real” but who she really was, remained a mystery.

And that was the second episode in our new series, the Awaking Beauty. We’ll be following Princess Talia through her time as a student at Westerly College, and we’ll find out if the real princess manages to adjust to the real world.

We begin a new series that updates a very old fairytale. We follow the fortunes of Princess Talia who fell asleep sometime in the middle ages, and now wakes up in the middle of a tutorial at Oxford University.

The plot arose from asking the question: if you had slept for hundreds of years, where is the one place that might not have changed very much? Bertie thought that it would probably be an Oxford College where very little ever changes. The trick has been to write a story about college students that will appeal to a slightly younger audience. Let us know what you think !

Read by Elizabeth. Story by Bertie. Duration 13.38.

Sally was just longing for her parents to leave. It had been very kind of them to drive her up to her new college, but now she had been smothered and mothered quite enough. After 18 years, she had received all the advice she needed about  her hot water bottle, her vitamin pills, and her beauty sleep.

“And just one word before we go,” said Mum as she held both her daughter’s hands tightly: “Don’t ever turn down an invitation to a party, You never know who you might meet, especially in a place like this.”

When her parents stepped out through the door of the Porter’s Lodge, and back into the real world of light, noise and pollution, Sally turned around and looked at the honey coloured stone of Westerly College. For almost 800 years, students had walked around the quadrangle, past the dining hall, the chapel, and the doors that opened onto creaky staircases. Very little had changed down the centuries. The only discernible evidence of the modern world was the faintest rumbling of traffic from the street beyond the college walls.

“It’s just like a fairy tale,” thought Sally to herself, “Like a castle in an enchanted wood, that has been asleep for centuries.”

She went back to her room and lay on her narrow, lumpy bed. Suddenly she felt restless. Was her new life to consist of these four oak paneled walls? The spirits of all the students who had lived in this room down the centuries were not much company. For a moment or two, she even missed her parents. She resolved not to be lonely. She got up, went out of her room, and tapped on her neighbour’s door.

“This is the knock of destiny,” she said to herself, “Perhaps the door will be opened by an Arabian prince, or perhaps by the daughter of a postman. Either way, I have this feeling that we will be life-long friends.”

But no reply came from within. Whoever he or she might be was out, no doubt hob-nobbing with brilliant and fascinating friends. Sally went back to listen to The Killers on her mp3 player.

The next day, she knocked on the door of her tutor, and as it was half open already, she entered his room. She saw two boys sitting on chairs, and a girl stretched out on the sofa with her nose buried in a cushion. The boys were in jeans and t-shirts, that hardly matched the black academic gowns draped on their backs. The sleeping girl wore a purple velvet dress, embroidered with a rich pattern of leaves and exotic birds. Her auburn hair rolled down her face in ringlets. Her arm dropped limply down to the floor. A bracelet clustered with jewels dangled on her wrist. Her expression was of serene innocence.

One of the boys smiled at Sally and put his finger over his lips to say “Shshsh.”

Two more students arrived before their dome-headed, wooly-jumpered tutor appeared out of what looked like a cupboard, but was probably a door to a side room. His name was P.J. Patridge and he knew more about an Alexandrian writer called Achilles Tatius than anyone who had ever lived, unless you count Achilles Tatius’s own mother. Mr Patridge twitched his nose at a first year Classics students and asked,

“Are we all here?”

Sally judged that this would be an ideal moment for somebody to give the sleeping girl a prod, but nobody was up to the venture. If this had been school, the teacher would have woken her up pretty sharpish, in fact a mere yawn would have been worthy of a rebuke, but Mr. Patridge just ignored her. It wasn’t clear if he hadn’t noticed the girl on the couch, or he was too shy to make a fuss about anyone who cared to sleep while he was giving out his wisdom.

When the tutor had finished handing out the term’s reading list, there was a general shuffling and stirring as students slid notebooks into rucksacks and brief cases. The girl slumbered on as if she meant to snooze for another 100 years.

Sally asked nobody in particular: “Is she okay?”

“Well she can’t stay here,” said Mr. Patridge, “I’m out to lunch.” A tall youth, who would have been extremely good looking if it wasn’t for his acne scars, went over to the couch and gently put his hand on her shoulder. He tried to stir her to no effect.

Sally suggested: “Perhaps the way to wake a sleeping beauty is with a kiss?” And the boy said, “Right. I’ll plant one on her.” He knelt on one knee and pressed his lips to her pale cheek. The girl’s mouth smiled gently, lovingly.

“My prince,” she said.

“Wakie, Wakie,” said the boy.

The girl hooked her arm around his head and pulled him towards her face.

“Woooooh!” chorused three or four voices.

She sat up and stared intensely at the youthful faces, and then at the tutor’s. Her eyes were blue and glacial, and Sally thought that if she gazed at you long enough, she might freeze you into an ice sculpture.

“And who are these peasants?” she demanded to know.

There was nervous laughter among the students, and most people started to leave. Only Sally, the Sleeping Beauty, and the boy who had kissed her, lingered on. Mr. Partridge started to usher them too out of the door. The face of the recently awoken girl wore a dark, but nonetheless beautiful, frown.

“|’m Basil,” said the kisser, as they stood on the dimly lit landing.

“Prince Basil?” asked the girl. He shook his head. “Sir Basil?”

“Nope. Just Basil.”

“Oh.”

They went downstairs and out into the daylight of the quadrangle. The girl’s blue eyes searched up and down the walls and ran along the battlements as if she was looking for some detail or hidden clue.

“Is it a monastery?” she asked.

“No it’s a college,” said Basil bemused.

“Aren’t you an undergraduate here?” enquired Sally.

The girl looked like she was trying to understand the question.

“I’m not sure she replied.”

“Well let’s find out,” said Basil. And he led the way to the Porter’s lodge. “What’s your name?” he asked on the way.

“Talia, that is, Princess Talia,” said the girl. And Sally thought, “She’s bonkers. I bet she’s just making that up.” She noticed that several people were staring at Talia. She was certainly striking, and somewhat overdressed for a student on the first day of term.

Basil examined the pigeon holes. Sure enough, there was one marked Princess Talia. He reached in and pulled out a scrolled parchment with a waxen seal.

“You’ve got mail,” he said as he handed it to her. He asked the porter for Princess Talia’s address, and was directed to Room 7 on Staircase 14.

Sally offered to walk the princess to her room – because as it happened, she was her neighbour. Basil took his leave of the girls, and Talia gave him a nod that was so slight that perhaps only a true princess could have managed it.

Sally tried to make conversation on the way to staircase 14. She asked Talia where she went to school.

“I didn’t,” said Talia.

“And who are your parents?”

“Why the king and queen.”

“Of which country?”

“This one… or at least I think so. I’m not really sure about anything anymore. … Sally do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Sally blushed. “Go ahead,” she said with some trepidation.

“Don’t you feel a little bit odd here? I mean, it’s pretty unusual for a girl to be a student. At least, I always understood it was something boys did.”

Sally laughed. “No I think it’s perfectly normal. I mean, maybe in our grandparents time it was a little more unusual, but now – why girls are smarter than boys, aren’t they?’

“Well yes,” said Talia. “I agree with you about that of course.”

She opened to the door to her room with the key that the porter had given her. If Sally had hung onto any doubts about Talia being a real princess, she lost them now. Her room was five or six times the size of her own. It was filled with the rich scent of roses. A four-poster bed bed was strewn with rich coverlets and silken cushions. One wall almost looked as if it was a window onto a garden, but in fact it was draped with a tapestry depicting trees and birds. The actual window was a large bow one, with a seat looking onto the quad. The floor was covered with a flowery carpet. Sally wandered in after Talia.

“Can you play that?” she asked, as Talia ran her finger tip over the ornate frame of a harp.

“Of course,” said Talia, “I have the gift of music.” She sat on the stool, and her fingers began to playfully pluck a tune. The music seemed to chase the frown off her face and she looked like she might be capable of being quite pleasant.

Sally picked up a jewelled ornament from the table. “May I?” she asked. And Princess Talia answered, still playing, that she had no idea what it was.

“Why it’s your mobile phone!” exclaimed Sally. It was the most ornate one she had ever seen. Talia did not seem to register the comment. She was lost in the music. Sally quietly left the room and lay on her bed next door listening to the delightful notes as they rang from the fingers of her most peculiar neighbour.

“Well,” she thought. “I’ve met a princess. Not bad for the first day of term. I wonder if we shall be friends? “ And although they came from completely different worlds, and the princess, no doubt, belonged to a glamorous set, Sally felt certain that it was no mere chance, but fate, that had brought them together.