Once upon a time in a land far away, there lived a stubborn princess called Namiola. She wasn’t much loved in her kingdom and her subjects were often heard exclaiming, ‘‘Oh how stubborn she is!’’, ‘‘How horrid she looks when angry’’ and ‘‘What prideful ways she has!’’
But Namiola didn’t care because as far as she was concerned, she was the princess. She was the best. In archery, she was the best. In running and hunting, she was the best. And guess who was the best in sewing, cooking and nursing? She ruled her subjects with an iron fist and although her subjects complained about the high tax rate, the kingdom prospered.
Namioland grew in wealth so much so that in their jealousy and hatred neighbouring and far away kingdoms began attacking this little kingdom built on sand. At first, Namiola was scared but after the first, second and third victory against her enemies, her confidence spurted. In war, she was the best.
Like the Vikings, she became thirsty for blood and began attacking kingdoms herself. With each battle she won, she felt bigger and stronger so that when the evil prince of Herodia declared war on her Kingdom, she didn’t fear.
Her citizens begged and pleaded for mercy knowing no one was fierce enough to survive a war against the Herodians but Namiola didn’t listen: she was the best!
Each day the Herodians came closer and each day, the citizens begged to surrender but Namiola refused. Seeing that she would not change her mind, the citizens rowed off the island in their twos and threes fleeing for their lives. But Namiola and her army remained awaiting the victory they were sure was theirs.
One stormy morning, they arrived. Namiola rose up her sword and the battle commenced. The Namioland army were plenty but those of the Herodians were twice their size with huge fat arms that never missed their aim. It was with helpless defeat that she watched her strong army fall to the ground injured or dead. She wept. The last one standing, the Herodians beat her with evil joy and left her for dead.
Remembering the tale of the golden warrior, she half-crawled half-stumbled to his kingdom her blood tainting the earth and reminding her of her defeat. ‘‘My Lord! I need your help!’’ she shrilled the moment she was let into presence. ‘‘I have been defeated and my kingdom taken over by the Herodians.’’ Instead of mocking laughter her news was met with determined silence.
Ever ready for war, the King bared his holy arms, summoned his fearless army and rode off into battle his belt radiating gold for the world to see. The servants of the King bathed and healed her body but Namiola’s spirit remained ill: it had gone to battle with the King.
The next morning, she ran out to welcome the holy army. ‘‘It is well. The enemies have been defeated.’’ the voice of the King thundered. So she bowed before him, kissed his feet and praised him,
Great in Battle
Jehovah is your name.’’
As far as she was concerned, she was his princess. He was the best. So she entrusted herself and her kingdom into his care. And although kingdoms both near and far were sill jealous of Namioland, they dared not attack it for it was now built on solid rock.