Simple Hans

  There once was a poor farmer with three sons.  He farmed a small plot of
land owned by a great lord, and was allowed to keep just enough of what he
grew to keep body and limb together.

  His eldest son was a large, strapping lad named Michael.  It was Michael
who was forever the savior of the family.  When the harvest was late and in
danger of being spoiled by the fall rains, it was Michael who worked
night and day with the strength of three men to bring it in.  And then he
would hurry off to help the neighbors.

  The second son, Elis, was a thin, spidery youth who was extremely clever
with his hands.  He could sharpen a sythe in half the time it would take
another man, and had a knack for repairing absolutely anything with the
scraps of wood and metal he could find.

The third son, Hans, was a good hearted boy whom nature had given little
else to.  He was neither strong, nor hansome, nor clever.  Indeed he was not
very bright, and exceedingly clumsy.  He could not be trusted even to carry
water in a pot, lest it be destroyed in the attempt.

The neighbors all pitied the lad, but had nothing they could do for him.
"Certainly Michael will do well.  With his strength the lord will allow him
to work his father's land.  And Elis, with his cleverness, shall certainly
find good employment by a smithy or cooperer.  But poor Hans shall have
naught.  Either he shall live on his brothers' generosity, or he shall
perish, wandering the roads."

Hans' father despaired of the same for his son, but there was little he
could do for him either.  Like all tenant farmers in those days, he was far
too poor to do any more than feed his family, and even that could be
difficult.

"Perhaps it would be best for all if Simple Hans just had an accident."
people would say.

But Hans didn't think so.  He thought that he was destined for something
better in the world, and at the advanced age of 12, decided to strike out
towards the big city to "find his fortune."

So one fine fall day, Hans packed up his belongings in a small sack (for he
didn't own very much), and set out on his way.

"Where are you headed Hans?" his mother asked , as he walked by.

"Out to seek my fortune in the big city." he replied.

"Hans, my darling, you can't do that.  There is no fortune for poor farmer's
children out there."

"But mama, Grandfather told me many stories just like that.  Remember Puss
in Boots?  And the boy who could understand what birds said?  All I need is
a bit of luck."

"Those are just stories, Hans.  None of that ever happens in real life."

"Grandfather would never lie to me!" Hans replied.  "If he said it happened,
it must have happened.  I just have to do what they did."

His mother thought for a bit.  She loved he son, and didn't want to do
anything that would disappoint him "In all these stores, the boys were very
obediant to their parents, weren't they?  And they were always very
responsible.  They would never let an animal suffer, would they?"

"No, mother.  Of course not."

"And you do feed the cow and the sheep, don't you Hans?"

"Yes mother, I do."

"And noone else in the family has half the patience with them that you do.
You're the only one who can spend all morning talking to Bess, so she's happy
and gives good milk."

"Yes, mother.  That's true."

"And it's soon her feeding time, so you'd best hurry off and take care of
her."

So Hans put down his pack, and hurried off to feed the cow.  The next day,
it was the chickens who needed him, and the day after that it was a newly
born lamb.  It looked as if Hans would never leave to seek his fortune in
the wide world.  But then the fire came.

Has was out in the barn early one night, working by candle light, when he
heard a terrible scream of pina and a long stream of very bad words.  He
dashed to the field where his father was lying in pain.

"I cut myself with the scythe!" he screamed.  "Dear lord, don't let it be a
broken leg!"  Hans helped his father stagger back to the house as his
brothers came running out to help.  As it turned out, the cut was not
serious, and his mother had it half-bandaged, when there was the sound of
loud mooing and kicking in the distance.

Hans ran over to the barn without noticing anthing unusual, until he opened
the door.  Hot flames jumped out, hungry for air, singhing his face and
forcing him back.

The next hour was a desperate, dizzying struggle against the flames, as the
whole family tried to stop them.  Even his father joined the battle, limping
on his injured leg.

The neighbors rushed over to help as soon as they saw the fire, and finally
it was brought under control, without doing any futher damage.  On the good
side, no one was hurt, and the house was saved.  On the bad side, the
barn was destroyed and all of the animals inside perished.

Without the animals, the family had a much harder time of getting by.
Michael spent an extra hour a day working for one of the neighbors, and Elis
walked far across the valley, doing whatever repair work he could find.  All
over the people whispered "The poor Svensons.  With that worthless boy who
is dangerous to boot!"

Noone ever said this to Hans, but he quickly figured it out.  Neither his
parents nor his brothers blamed him for the mishap.  "It could have happened
to any of us." they said, but Hans was inconsolable.

One beautiful September morning, his family woke up to find him gone.
Although they hurried out to search up and down all the local roads, and
asked everyone in the entire valley, they never found him.

In time Michael took over the farm work from his father, who retired to
small chores about the farm.  Elis was taken in as an appretice to a smith,
soon establishing himself as a highly capable metal worker.  The barn was
rebuilt, the brothers married and a new set of children took over the farm.
 
The only reminder of Simple Hans was a woodcutting his grandfather had made
him showing a scene from his favorite fairy tale.  It showed the part where
the young boy, leaving home, declared to his parents "I shall return as a
rich man, riding a great stallion in all my finery!"

Many, many years later, when Hans' father was so old that he could scarcly
see or hear or walk, the lord declared that there was to be a great festival
in town.  The boys gathered up all their children, put their parents in a
cart, and walked along with a great crowd to the place it was to be.  

As they fought their way through the mob, there passed a royal procession
before them.  As they strained to see, a familiar figure, dressed the the
finest livery, rode past on a hugh charger.  Hans!

They screamed and yelled his name as loud as they could, but he only looked
forward and rode on.  The crowd was so tight that they couldn't move.  The
procession disappeared into the distance, and they never saw him again.

			What happened to Hans

As he walked out that early morning, a neighbor past by him in his wagon,
headed to the next town for market day.  When he learned of Hans' plans, he
offered him a ride.  He knew that the family would be out looking for him as
soon as they realized that he had left, and the farmer figured that it would
be better for all concerned if they never found him.

After a cold night by the side of the road, Simple Hans continued on his way
towards the big city that people always said was somewhere far to the east.
Two weeks of long walking and only occasional wagon rides, he arrived.  It
was not quite the glittering city of wide boulevards and marble palaces he
had imagined.  All but in the very center, the roads were solid mud, clogged
with carts, and horses, and people, all in a hurry to get someplace else.

The houses were bigger than any he had seen, but they were still build of
bricks and stones.  And they were just a dirty as his own.  The whole city
stank far worse than the barn did after a sheep had given birth.

As he stood on the road, trying to find the glory he had imagined, people
continued to push roughly past, paying him no more attention than a post in
the road.  He looked around for a person who could lead him to the king.

"To the king?  Right." They replied, and continued on their way.  "Not
another begger boy!" others said.  "Be gone!"  Only one elderly man paused
long enough to hear his tale.  "You and one hundred other boys each year.
Go home now while you still have your life and health.  For soon you shall
have neither."

But Hans was not to be denyed.  He found his way to a large square where
there were finer houses and paving stones on parts of the area.  He took up
watch from one corner and waited for the king to ride by.

Sure enough, late in the afternoon, there was a trumpeting, then lots of
shouting and pushing by the crowds.  Two solders on horses rode into sight,
followed by a carrage containing the most elegant woman Hans had ever seen.
"The Queen!" he thought.  "I must go to her and seek her favor."

He squeezed through the mob as only a small boy can, and started towards the
coach.  "Back urchin!" someone yelled.

"I want to address the queen.  I want..." he started, but he got no futher.
For the back of a pike slammed into his head, knocking him half senseless to
the ground.  As he began to stand up, a boot caught him in the stomac, and
propelled him through the air, back into the crowd.  He was vaguely aware of
rough laughter.

Then it was all over.  The procession was past and people were on their way
to whatever tasks they had for the day.  As if he were a log in the road,
they past by or even over him, but paid him no attention.

"Not the way to meet a queen!" he said to himself.

  As night fell, people wandered off to their homes and the square was his.
With no place to spend the night, he walked up and down the streets, looking
for a likely stable.  When he found one with open doors, he went in and
found owner busy repairing a wagon.

"Excuse me, sir, but if you would allow me to sleep here, I would gladly
help you with your wagon.  My brother was very good at that."

The burly man stopped what he was doing and stared at Hans as if he didn't
believe his ears.  Then he grasped a stick and started after him.  Hans
barely escaped another beating.

"Not the way to meet people" he said to himself.

There seemed to be no dry place in the entire city where he could sleep.  He
ended up walking well outside of the center before he found a small bridge
under which it was dry enough to sleep.

The next day he discovered the truth in the old man's words.  As he wandered
the streets in search of anything eatable, he saw any number of boys, all
dressed in miserable tatters, digging through garbage piles, devouing
anything they could find.  Only the cripples bothered to beg, as the others
were beaten if they tried.

"I didn't come here to be a begger anyway." he said.  "I came to find my fortune."

That evening he returned to his bridge and washed out his clothes as well as
he could.  It hadn't rained that day, so they dried out reasonably well.

The next morning he proceeded directly to the castle.

He paused as he came to the gate, and watched a small group of peasants
enter.  Each approached one of the guards, announced his purpose and help up
a piece of paper.

"Here to do the mortaring" "Here to bring the firewood."  "Here to haul out
muck."

Hans reached into his sack and took out his confirmation paper with the
lovely red seal.  He marched smartly up to one of the guards, "Here to work
in the kitchen."  After all, he figured, that is where the boys in the tales
always began before the princess ate their most delicious pie and fell in love
with its baker.

The guard, who of course couldn't read, took one look and grunted "On to
master Olsen."

Hans entered the main yard.  It was paved with well packed gravel, and the
grey rock walls that enclosed it seemed to reach to the heavens.  There were
dozens of people scurring here and there as several soldiers watched over.

"You, boy!  What are you doing?" a gruff voice demanded.

"I'm on my way to master Olsen."

"Then be off quickly!  Don't stand here a gawk!"

Hans looked at all the doorways,  "I'm new."

"The kitchen!  There!" the guard shouted and gave Hans a shove in the
direction of an open doorway with people streaming in and out.

Hans descended a flight of stairs into a dimly lit corridor.  The smells of
food were overwhelming and his stomac growled.  He placed his sack in a
corner under the stairs and approached a large, routund man in a white
uniform.

"Master Olsen!  I'm Hans, here to work in the kitchen."

The large man took one glance at him and asked sternly, "Madam Petra's new
boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then go find her.  She'd down in the kneeding room." And he gave Hans
another shove down the hall.

After peeking into several dingy rooms where he saw dirty, sweating boys
working on cutting sides of meat or sharpening knives, he found a larger,
better lit room where a hugh woman was energetically kneeding massive gobs
of dough.  "Madam Petra?"

"Yes?" her voice was sharp, but not cruel, "what do you want?"

"Master Olsen sent me."

"Did he now?  Get to work then.  The pots need to be washed before
suppertime."  she nodded towards an interior room where he could see several
hugh cooking pots that were at least as big as he was.  

He bowed and hurried in.  There were a couple of stiff brushes and some
rags, and several buckets of water waiting.  The pots were incrediably
dirty, but Hans put all his effort into the task, scraping at spots with his
fingernails, and crawling inside of the larger pots to clean.

  When Madam Petra looked in a couple of hours later, he had half of the
pots nearly gleaming.  He himself was covered with sweat, but pleased with
the job he'd done.  She was carrying a switch in her hand wacked him on the
side of the head.  "What the dickens do you think you're doing?!  Are you a
complete fool, boy?  You don't wash the outsides, we're just going to hang
'em over the fire again!  And you're slower than molasses."  She looked
inside one of the pots and ran her finger round it.  

She paused, then handed out her mild praise "At least you can clean."  She
pulled affectionaly at the same ear she had just beaten, "Keep it up, now.
Just the insides, tho."  and walked out, smiling to herself.

Another hour later, he heard the sound of bare feet on the stone floor, and
a skinny lad, somewhat younger than himself, crept around the corner.  "Way!
Who are you?  What are you doing?"  His mouth hung open in suprise at seeing
Hans and the pots.  "You've done 'em all!"

After explainations, Ljus (which is what everyone called him), just
smiled.  "I figured Madam was going to beat the daylights out a me for this
one.  They were cutting up a pig, and I just had to stay.  Am I ever glad to
have you about. Here," Ljus fished some grimy meat of unknown origin from
his pouch, "want some?"

Hans felt his belly roar just at the thought, and devoured the scraps Ljus
handed him.  He could not remember ever being so hungry.  

"Boy, when's the last time you ate?" Ljus asked him.

"Yesterday.  Really the day before.  I've been walking so long to get here.
I can't remember when I last ate a real meal."

"Well, you'll not get a real meal here, but plenty of scraps.  Of course
they save the best for the dogs, but we do OK.  Come on.  We'd better get
all these back to the kitchen, the bear will be wanting them soon."

And so Hans' first day in the castle rushed by.  Cleaning pots, lugging them
back and forth, sweeping up the floors, clearing out ashes, carrying
firewood.  He ached long before Madam Petra told them to be off to bed.

As the two boys walked towards the sleeping room, Hans stopped to collect
his sack.  It was gone.  "You'll never find it, and if you do see anyone
with something that was in it, you'll never get it back."  Ljus told him.
"We just do as we're told here.  If we argue, they'll toss us out and get
another boy."

The sleeping room was a crowded, dingy hall with straw spread out across the
floor.  Light filtered in through a pair of holes in the wall, and made
bright rays through the heavy dust that floated everywhere.  It stank of moldy
straw, hot bodies, and old urine.

There were about twenty boys who lived there, all a bit younger than Hans.
Some were already curled up, sound asleep, while a few others were playing
with a ball made of straw and mud.  Hans had no energy for games, and
followed Ljus to where his "bed" was.  Hans lay down on the hay beside him
and fell asleep immediately.

His dead, dreamless sleep was punctured by someone shaking him.  "Leave me
alone.  I want to sleep!"

"Up boy!" a voice shouted, and a foot slammed into his belly.  Hans
staggered up and found himself face to face with an large, ugly boy who must
have been two years older.  He was frowning.

"Hans, this is Bertram.  He's the head boy here.  He tells us what to do."
Ljus whispered to Hans nervously.  "Bertram, sir.  Hans is the new boy for
Madam Petra."

"What new boy?"  Bertram demanded.  "I don't remember her getting a new
boy."  He grabbed Hans by his jaw and twisted his head left and right,
looking him over.  "Are you sure this is a boy?  It looks like Madam Petra's
new ape to me!"

The other boys who were awake laughed at this, and Betram smiled at his own
humor.  "Can you hop up and down, ape?  Hop for us ape."

Hans looked around, unsure what to do.  Ljus gave him no sign, so he bent
down like he had seem the crazy man do at home, and hopped up and down,
making ape noises.

"Good monkey!  Roll over."

Hans rolled over.

"OK.  You can stay.  You'll be our pet.  Right, boys?"  The other boys
echoed their approval.

"SILENCE!" roared a mans voice from outside.  All the boys, including
Bertram, dashed towards their beds, and curled up.  In a couple of minutes
all were sound asleep.

The next morning began with a man's loud voice yelling in the dark of early
morning.  All the boys staggered up, shaking their neighbors who were still
drowsy.  They streched and groaned and put on whatever rags they had to
wear.  Then Bertram came in with a basket filled with scraps of food.  He
carelessly tossed bits to each boy as he walked down the hall.

When he came to Hans, he stopped.  "Jump, ape boy!"

Hans hung his arms long at his sides and leapt as he figured an ape would.

"Good."  Bertram tossed him as half-eaten bone.

As Hans devoured his breakfast, he recognized the teeth marks on the bone.
The previous diner had been a hound.

This day passed much as the day before had, with lots of heavy, ugly, boring
work.  Scrubbing, lugging, and scraping.  There would be times in the day
when no one yelled at any of the boys to do anything.	Then they play with
their their few toys, or often just lay exhausted by the side of a wall
where no one could see them.  Soon there'd be a new voice yelling "Boy!"
and they would dash away to answer the call.

  No one ever said anything about Hans' mysterious appearence.  They just
used him as one of the twenty interchangable boys who slaved away at the
castle.

  Hans worked harder than he ever had before in his life, and saw scant
results.  Each day the pots came back from the kitchen as dirty as ever, the
straw on the floors had to be tossed into the fire and replaced with new,
and firewood lugged downstairs, ashes up.  Only Madam Petra seemed to
recognize Hans as an individual, tho she didn't ask his name.  To master
Olsen, the sub-cooks, the guards, and everyone else, he was just one of "the
boys".

"Soon the king will come to inspect the kitchen," Hans thought to himself,
"and he'll ask how come the pots a so much cleaner than ever before.  Then
I'll meet him."  So Hans continued to work twice as hard as the other boys,
taking fewer breaks, being quicker to respond to "Boy!"  The king never came.

After being in the castle for about three weeks, one of the older boys
became ill.  Magnus, about 10, started choughing and getting terribly dizzy.
Soon he couldn't work anymore, but just lay in the sleeping room all day,
talking to himself.

Master Olsen came into the washing room with Bertram by his side that
afternoon, where Ljus and Hans were working.  He was looking for "that big
boy".  He eyes were as dark and unconcerned as ever, as he instructed them.
"The sick one needs some fresh air.  Take him down to the lake for some
relaxation.  Here's some extra bread for him."  Walking out of the washing
room, he saw Ljus staring after him with a strange expression on his face.

"Poor Ljus, he wishes he could come outside with us."  Hans thought.  He was
overjoyed at the opportunity to get out of the castle for a while.  As the
two boys supported Magnus across the courtyard, Hans chatted away happily,
while Bertram, who was usually the one to talk, kept silent.  There was a
smirk on his face.

The sun was bright on the water, and the air held a mild autum warmth.  Hans
couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to sit there with nothing to do but
assist in Magnus' "relaxation".  How could he have survived in that dark,
cold castle this long?  "Isn't this wonderful, Bertram?" he asked.

"Hmmm." came the reply.  He took the bread out of his pocket and broke it
into three pieces, giving one to Hans, taking a bite out of the second and
putting the third into his pocket.  "I don't think Magnus is hungry right
now."

Magnus stared at the bread, but could do nothing more coherent than make
drooling noises.

"Maybe we should walk around to the other side."  Bertram suggested.  "Come
on, magnus."

It was a long ways around the lake, and there was a marsh to go through, but
Hans didn't think of contradicting the bigger boy.  They each took an arm,
and led Magnus by the shore and into the woods.  As they came deeper into
the woods, it got marshier, and soon they were sloughing around up to their
knees.

"Oh, you look pretty tired, Magnus."  Bertram said.  "What did you say?"  He
leaned down to listen.  "Oh, OK.  We'll do that."

Bertram began to make his way futher into the woods.  "Come on, Hans.
Magnus needs to rest.  We'll catch him later."  Unsure, but obedient, Hans
followed.  He looked back at Magnus, who was "resting" in water up to his
waist, leaning his head against a tree.

The two boys made their way around the rest of the lake, and then headed up
to the castle.  "Magnus said he'd meet us at home." Bertram informed Hans.
The rest of the day, Hans worked slowly on a couple of pots.  He couldn't
bear to look Ljus in the face.

Time continued in the castle as time does.  Nothing seemed to happen, yet
everyone was alway dashing around in a panic.  No one mentioned Magnus, and
a new boy of 7-1/2 appeared.  After some time, another boy disappeared, then
another, each to be replaced in his turn without comment.  

Hans began to doubt that there was a king.  Only when a procession of
visiting royality arrived did he see anything more than the same tired faces
he saw every day.  Hans found only one thing that gave him any pleasure --
the dogs.

The same animals whose scraps constituted the majority of his meals,
gradually became his friends.  Trained to be vicious hunters, they had the
run of the castle and terrorized the boys, the old women, and even the
pesants who came to the castle bearing their goods.  It was only after long
hours of sitting, talking gently to the animals, that they would refrain
from snarling at Hans.  Then, finally, they came to appreciate him, and
would even let Hans stroke their heads and scratch their ears.

Hans had been at the castle about a year, when he and Bertram were called
into master Olsen's private room behind the kitchen.  Although the room was
tiny, and contained less furniture than his parents cottage, it now seemed
like the height of luxury to Hans.  He stared at the brass candle stick that
sat on the rough table.

"Boys," he started.  "No... Gentlemen.  You're not boys any longer.  On
behalf of the king, I would like to thank you for the service you've
performed, and give you a token of our appreciation."  He opened a small box
and took out a number of copper coins, and made two seperate piles.  He
pushed the larger one towards Bertram.

"You have the rest of the day free to make your farewells to everyone here,
and then clear your things out of the sleeping quarters before the gates
close."

Bertram looked shocked and scared.  "Where will I go?"

"Wherever you.  You're a rich man now."

"But I've never lived anywhere else!  What will I do?  How will I live?"

"You've got money.  You're a smart fellow.  You'll figure it out.  Now go."
This last was said with a heavy emphasis that seemed to force Bertram
against the door.  Hans had never seen Bertram like this.

"Take your money."  Master Olsen pointed to the pile.  Bertram obeyed as in
a daze.  "Now go."  He pointed to the door, and Bertram staggered out.

Master Olsen turned to Hans.  "You've not been with us as long, so there's
less here."  Hans nodded.  "I have heard from master Pekke that you're
rather good with the dogs."  Hans nodded again.  "You're free to leave now,
or, if you'd like, you may work under master Pekke.  Which would you like?"

"I'd like to work with the dogs, sir."

"Very fine."  Master Olsen smiled a tight, though not cruel smile.  "Clear
your things out of the boys room, and report to master Pekke."  He turned
his attention to something else before Hans had left the room.

The dogs!  He was going to work with the dogs!!  Hans was so happy he could
hardly walk.  He practically floated across the courtyard to master Pekke's
office.

Master Pekke was a small, thin man known both for his quick humor and his
quick temper.  When he was in a particularly good mood, he was known to come
into the boys room and tell amazingly funny stories about the neighboring
royality and all the stupid things they did.  He looked in a fine mood that
morning.

"Ah, good to see you, ah, Hans.  Yes, I've seen you with the dogs.  You are
a wonder with animals.  Are you good with horses too?"  Hans nodded.  "Fine!
You'll do all the work that that bum Hubert was supposed to be doing.  And I
know you won't let me down.  Right?"

"Yes sir!  Ah, no sir!  ah... ah.. sir."  Hans struggled to find the right
answer.

"You're also not too smart, are you?"

"No sir.  I know that."  Hans nodded his head in a nervous, jerky fashion,
wondering if his dream job had just evaporated.

"All the better.  Brains just get in the way of good work.  Now, you'll
exercise the dogs each day.  Pick up the table scraps for them.  Make sure
you get the best scraps before those urchins nab 'em.  Keep the kennels
clean.  We'll get you some better clothes to wear.  When you accompany the
any of the royal household, you'll wear this uniform."  Master Pekke opened
a closet to expose the finest, most colorful costume Hans had ever seen.

"Hmmm, we'll have to get it refit," he began talking to himself, "and then
for the hunt next week..."  He looked up at Hans.  "Go get your stuff and
move it to Hubert's old room next to the dogs.  That's where you'll sleep."

Hans could not believe his luck!  Care for the dogs, wear the most beautiful
garamets, AND server the royal family!  The KING!!  He would finally meet the
king!!!

Not for the first several weeks, he didn't.  At first he just took care of
the dogs, feeding and cleaning them, taking them outside the castle walls
for exercise.  Even just this was heaven compared to the drugery of the
kitchen work.  

He was called out several times to accompany some royality on walks with the
dogs or small game hunts.  This was usually an elderly grandmother or
grandfather of someone.  He would dress up in his fine uniform and follow
with them, doing whatever they wanted.  They never spoke directly to him,
but said "The dogs should chase this rabbit now." or "We should rest and the
dogs need to be watered."

Hans didn't care.  He silently did his job, avoiding looking directly at his
superiors, just as master Pekke had taught him.  Royality never acknowledged
that servants existed, things just happened as they desired.

Years passed, and Hans grew to manhood in his position.  He was completely
happy with his work.  And, though he served the King, he never spoke to him.
Still, this was more than he ever could have hoped for.  "If only mother and
father could see me now!"

In the court, there were always any number of young girls who served the
queen.  Many of them were silly creatures, 12 or 14 years old, accustomed to
being pampered and spoiled by lower servants just as much as they in turn
pampered and spoiled the queen and princess.  They were always laughing
about nothing and teasing the guards, the other masters, and sometimes even
Hans -- when he had his uniform on.

On one such occasion, as Hans was getting the dogs ready for an outing, two
of the girls came into the kennel, whispering and giggling to each other as
they usually did.  "Oh, my" one of them said. "I need my dress adjusted.
Come help me with my dress."

Hans came to her, having no idea of what to do.

"Well, wash your hands.  Now help me here." she gestered to her bosom.
"This has to be pushed up by someone strong and hansom."

Hans came to her, nervously staring at her chest.

"Right here."  She pulled his hands to her chest.  "Now push this up, and
over.  No, a little down."  Her friend was watching intently, supressing a
giggle.  Hans had his hands right on her breasts, and could feel the nipples
underneath the dress.  He was bright red and shaking as he did what he was
told.

After a bit more "adjustment" she was satisfied, and the two girls went
their way, giggling and laughing to themselves.  This became a routine.
Each time Hans was to ready the dogs for a hunt they would come in for their
"adjustments".  He soon grew accustomed to this, and assumed only that this
is how royality worked.

Then, one fine fall day, he was called to accompany the King himself!  He
made certain that the dogs were in the finest form, his uniform was perfect,
and everything as it should be.  The king, the queen, the princess all in
their finery, trotted along on horseback, as Hans and the dogs followed on
foot.  The hunt went flawlessly.  At noon, the royal family settled down for
a picnic, while Hans took the dogs to the side for water.

"Oh, Bander.  Bring Bander here." the queen commanded.  Hans called the dog
and went over to the party.  He was standing right next to the King!  Hans
couldn't help peeking, awestruck at his majesty.  The KING!

The princess, a lady of 15, was tugging at her dress.  "It just doesn't fit
quite right.  We'll have to take it back.  I need my dress adjusted."  As
she said this last, she looked right at Hans, who stared back.  No one else
paid any attention to the princess, so Hans did as he had learned.

She gasped as he touched her.  The queen opened her mouth in amazment and
horror.  Then the blow of a powerful fist laid Hans flat.  The King stood
over him.  "What wild insanity has possessed miserable creature?!  Is it in
such a hurry to die?  Do you know what happens to commoners who dare molest
my daughter?"  The King was in a terrible wrath.

"The saddle of nails, that's what!  You'll ride to the festival as no one
else has ever done.  Then we'll hang you slowly.  You can watch as we remove
your fingers, one by one.  You'll hang there for days, dying and dying and
dying!"  Another blow to the head, and Hans lost his senses.

A week later, tired from living in the dungeon, weak, hungry, and horribly
sad, they took him to a horse, and tied him to the saddle.  The nails tore
through his flesh and every movement the horse made was shear agony.  But
Hans refused to cry out.  He wept more for the dishonor than he did for the
pain.

As the procession passed by his old village, he heard someone calling his
name.  Hans looked straight ahead, sat up as tall in the horrible saddle as
he could, and rode by.