The Swan Who Followed the Washing
Once there was a castle on a hill so high and so dry that the nearest lake was three forests away.
The castle had a tall round tower. On Mondays the Queen did the washing herself. She scrubbed the sheets until they were whiter than milk. Then she pegged them out, all the way round the tower, and they went flap, flap in the wind.
Prince Alf handed her the pegs. Alf was the smallest person in the castle. He was also the only one who could whistle with two fingers. When the last sheet was up, he put two fingers in his mouth and went fweeee! That meant “All done!”
This Monday, as he whistled, something big and white came over the forest.
It flew round the tower three times, right behind the sheets. Then it came down in the moat with an enormous SPLOOSH!
It was a swan, as big as a hay barn. There was so much swan in the moat that the water came right up to the top.
Alf and the Queen ran down to look.
“Good evening,” said the swan. “I am the Great White Swan. I do beg your pardon about your moat.”
“That’s all right,” said Alf.
“I saw my flock flying round your tower,” said the swan. “But now I’m close, they don’t look much like swans.”
“Those are sheets,” said Alf.
“Sheets,” said the swan. She tucked her head under her wing. “Oh dear. How silly of me.”
“Anyone could make that mistake,” said the Queen. She looked very pleased. Her sheets had never been mistaken for swans before.
The swan peeped out. “My flock is waiting for me on the Silver Lake,” she said. “We always sleep there together. Only I don’t know the way home.”
The sun was already low. Alf thought of the swans on the lake, waiting and waiting.
“Swans should be home by bedtime,” said Alf. “Same as princes. We’ll find the way.”
First Alf ran to the throne room to ask the King.
“I’m afraid I only know the way to the throne room,” said the King. He looked around. “And I’m already here.”
Next Alf fetched the castle map. It showed the castle, the hill and three green forests. But past the third forest there was nothing but white paper.
“That’s where the Silver Lake is,” said the Queen. “The painter couldn’t draw water. He tried and tried, but it always looked like soup. So he left it blank.”
“We’ll have to look from the sky,” said Alf.
The swan laid her neck down like a bridge. “Climb up,” she said. “Hold my neck feathers, not my neck. My neck is ticklish.”
“Home before the first star,” said the Queen.
“Before the first star,” said the swan. “I promise.”
Alf climbed up and held on tight.
The swan spread her wings. Whoosh! The moat went slosh, back to its proper size. Up they went, past the flapping sheets and into the gold evening sky. Alf laughed out loud.
They flew over the first forest. Something white went by below.
“Is that my flock?” said the swan.
“No,” said Alf. “That’s a goat.”
They flew over the second forest. Something white went by below.
“Is that my flock?” said the swan.
“No,” said Alf. “That’s a cottage roof.”
They flew over the third forest. Something white went by below.
“Is that my flock?” said the swan.
“No,” said Alf. “That’s a goat on a cottage roof.”
“Goodness,” said the swan. “They do keep a lot of goats round here.”
Then Alf saw water shining. On the water was a long row of white shapes, side by side. They looked exactly like his mother’s sheets on the washing line.
He put two fingers in his mouth. Fweeee!
Down on the water, every white shape lifted its head.
“That’s my flock,” said the swan.
She glided down and landed in the middle of them, soft as a sheet settling on a bed.
“We missed you,” said the swans.
“I missed you too,” said the Great White Swan. “I followed some washing. This is Prince Alf. He found you.”
All the swans bowed to Alf. Alf bowed back, as well as he could, sitting on a swan.
The sky was turning blue. Back they flew, over the goat on the cottage roof, over the cottage roof, and over the goat.
Far away, Alf saw a ring of white round the tower. The Queen had left the washing out, so they could find the way.
Alf whistled. Fweeee! On top of the tower, the Queen looked up and waved.
The swan set Alf down beside the washing line. The first star was not out yet. The Queen hugged him tight.
“Thank you for bringing him home,” said the Queen.
“Thank you for the sheets,” said the swan. Then she flew home.
The Queen found something in her laundry basket. It was one enormous white feather, taller than Alf.
That night the feather stood in the jar beside Alf’s bed. It nearly touched the ceiling.
“Nearly as white as my sheets,” said the Queen. She tucked Alf in and kissed his nose.
Outside his window the sheets went flap, flap, soft and slow. Far away, past three forests, the Great White Swan was asleep on the Silver Lake, right in the middle of her flock.
And in the castle on the hill, the smallest prince was fast asleep too.
