Many of the king's decisions were
now submitted to the prince before they were made, and the prince,
to his credit, frequently moderated the king's stern and often
cruel decrees.

By this time, the queen was in poor health, troubled by constant
pain and a lingering cough. Everyone at the court eventually
recognized that she was about to die. For several days the queen
debated with herself whether or not to let the secret of the prince
die with her, but at last, showing the heritage of her daughter's
honesty, she decided that she must reveal it to the king.

By the time she reached this decision, the queen was truly on her
deathbed, so she called the king to her and sat up weakly. "My
king," she began, "I have a matter to disclose to you that has
burdened my heart for many years. It concerns the prince." And
here she hesitated for a few moments. The king waited in silence.
"You," she continued, "are not his father."

The king, immediately concluding that the sanctity of his marriage
bed had been violated, exploded into a rage that would likely have
ended the queen's suffering prematurely had she not added as loudly
as she could, "And I am not his mother." The king then, though
still in shock, calmed himself enough to hear her explanation of the
death of their natural son and her subterfuge in adopting the child
who was now the prince. The king at first gave little credit to
this tale, thinking that the queen was either delirious or scheming
against him and his beloved son in some way. But he sent attendants
to the holy order to discover the truth. They soon returned with the
matron of the house and the woman who had nursed the prince as a baby.

"If what the queen tells me is true," said the king, "I have no
happiness, no reason to live. For the only thing I love has been
taken away."

The matron from the holy order solemnly attested to the truth of the
queen's story. "The prince was indeed the baby given us by the
woodcutter so many years ago," she said. As the king felt a wave of
despair washing over him, the nurse from the holy order came forward
and spoke.

"With all deference to my Lady and to her majesty," she said, "the
queen is only half correct. For the child was indeed not hers, but
he is the king's son." She then pulled back the cowl of her robes,
took down her hair and showed the king her face. Even through the
ravages of two decades, the king could still clearly see the face of
his