The old man gazed into the fire and drew silently on his long clay pipe, lost in his memories. The fire crackled and not far away there was the clatter of wooden plates and iron cooking pots as a meal was prepared.

'Tell us, Grandad,' insisted one of the three children gathered on the floor by his feet, this one a boy of no more than ten.

His two companions, a brother of 12 and a sister of 13 were equally eager.

'Yes,' said the girl. 'Tell us one of your stories! Please!'

'Ah, Theresa,' the old man broke his silence as he regarded his grand-daughter and her beautiful face framed by long black hair. She looked even more beautiful in the light of the flickering flames. 'You remind me of the Princess Hide.'

'Hide?' The oldest boy, Thomas, let out a guffaw. 'What kind of a name is that?'

'Hush!' Both the younger boy, Daniel and the girl glared at the twelve year old.

'She was called that because no one knew who she was.'

'Hide,' said the oldest boy, trying to look as if he wasn't in the wrong. 'Maybe... Heidi?'

'Hmmm... Heidi,' the old man smiled behind his luxuriant, gray mustache. 'Yes, that may have been her real name, but we never knew.'

'But...' Theresa flicked her hair back from her face. 'You said she was a princess. Everyone knows where a princess comes from. I mean, they'd know her name wouldn't they?"'

'Sure,' agreed Daniel.

The old man smiled without removing the stem of his pipe from his mouth. 'Would they?'

'Is this an adventure story?' grinned the youngest boy with a clap of his hands, sensing that the old man was about to launch into a tale.

'No,' said the old man. 'Not a story, but history.'

The three kids all exchanged glances. It was the girl who spoke. 'History? That's about Kings and Queens and ... aah!' She smiled as she understood.

The old man nodded and took another long draw of his pipe.

'You said history, but we do that at school,' objected the 12 year old boy. He looked as if he had been promised something good but had it snatched away.

'Know this, Thomas. Not everything that happened is recorded in history books. Some things are kept secret and hidden away.'

'So this is real?' Daniel was almost bouncing where he sat, such was his excitement.

'Can't be,' scoffed Thomas, but not convincingly. 'How would you know Grandad?'

'Because it is something I saw with my own eyes, heard with my own ears and felt with my own hands.' His eyes twinkled in the firelight, but twinkled with a certainty. 'You see, I wasn't always an old man sitting by a fire in a kitchen listening to chattering old women.' A slight inclination of his head and nod towards three older women busying themselves round the huge oak table nearby conveyed the message.

The three kids giggled as one.

'Grandad, how old were you?' Theresa leaned forward excitedly.

'Were you a King's soldier?' Daniel was equally as eager.

'Or maybe the King's High Chancellor himself,' said Thomas, but at a glare from his other two siblings he feel quiet and looked embarrassed.

'I was a younger man, but I had skills. No, I wasn't a soldier, but I was useful to the King's court. That is why I know this is true. Why I was there and saw it all.'

'I thought you worked with horses?' Thomas was much less flippant now. 'So you attended to the Royal Stables.'

'In a way,' said the old man. He said nothing for a few more moments, gazing into the fire, watching the flames. The children waited, knowing he was gathering his thoughts.

'A princess's horse,' said Theresa, hoping to prompt the old man into starting the tale.

'What? Oh no!' The old man turned his attention back to the three children before him. 'I do not know if this princess had a horse. Perhaps she did. But I was summoned by the Court one autumn afternoon. I was a blacksmith, as you know, and an armorer when the need for war arose. So I was well-known as a maker of metal and worker of iron. I also had as you have seen from your toys a certain skill with making things to amuse others, mechanical contraptions and the like.'

The three children clapped: they loved the little clever toys their grandfather had made for them.

Despite the obvious good mood the old man took his pipe from his mouth and fixed his eyes sternly on each of the three children in turn. 'What I am about to tell you must not leave this room, ever. Understood?'

The two boys and one girl were riveted by the steely-eyed stare. They nodded and each of them gulped a little.

'King's promise,' they all said as one.

The old man settled back and his stern look fell away. He examined the tip of his pipe, bit on it again and then began.

'I remember I was about 28 at the time. Not so gray back then,' he laughed. 'I had served my apprenticeship well, and made armor for Lord March and he had worn it in a great battle, so he knew me. I had fitted it personally and, when he came back with his victorious army he sought me out to give me a small bag of silver. He said, "Smith, your armor saved my life. Without it I would have fallen and the battle..." he did not finish but I knew it had been a close run thing. Few battles are clear cut and often hinge on many things. Small things.'

'In any event I was happy my skills were recognized - and well rewarded - and twice more I was called to fit armor, not for Lord March but his sons, for the battle was won but the war not decided. I was invited to work with the Lord's stable, and I did. I had, it must be said, no desire to fight in the Lord March's army!"

The two boys seemed a little disappointed at the revelation: they had hoped no doubt for a tale of bravery on a battlefield, or some tales from some distant place. Perhaps ships and sea monsters...

'The war was won, though at a price. The eldest son of Lord March, Edward, fell in the final battle - the victim of a lucky arrow.' The old man sighed. 'No armorer can predict the arrow between chest plate and throat guard.'

'But you won... I mean the army of Lord March,' Daniel seemed absorbed in the story already. He had imagined himself as ready to be a warrior.

'Yes, they came home as worthy victors. The war was over and peace came.' The old man paused and regarded the three children on the floor before him. 'But not every victory is the end of conflict.'

The three children exchanged glances. All they knew was that in war, there was eventually a winner and there was no more fighting.

'I was summoned to see Lord March several weeks after the war was done. He took me to one side and said he had a special task for me, and one that came from the King himself. I thought of course that the King had heard of my prowess as an armorer, but no. It was a special task, and one of great secrecy. So great a secret in fact that the court itself did not know.'

'But why?' asked Thomas, his attempts at being dismissive had disappeared. 'The King has many powerful men...' He stopped and blushed, aware he was suggesting his Grandfather was never powerful.

The old man shrugged it aside. 'Powerful in war perhaps, skilled in court, clever at studying. But the King wanted something made, something unique. Something, said Lord March, that would guarantee the peace in the whole land.'

The old man contemplated the fire for a moment. 'Of course, I was pleased it was me who had been chosen, but I worried I would have to travel to the King's court. Even then, iI had never been very far from what I knew. Lord March assured me I would stay in his castle. indeed, it was vital I did so.'

'Go on,' urged Daniel, thinking the old man might lapse into silence again.

'Lord March asked me to make a device. Not armor or a sword or horseshoes. Something that would fit a wooden shape he showed me. It was this big.' The old man leaned forward and patted his grand-daughter's head.

'A big melon,' said Theresa, glaring at Thomas who had whispered something about a potato.

'No, it was something else. I understood about the size because it was obviously a head.'

'A crown!' Daniel exclaimed.

'No,' chuckled the old man. 'I am no crown maker, no jeweler! No, I had to make an iron mask, and one that could not be removed.'

All three children's jaws gaped at the same instant. 'A mask?' asked Daniel.

'Couldn't be removed?' Thomas asked.

'For who?' asked the girl.

'I did not know, and no one told me.'

'Grandad!' exclaimed all three.

'Patience! It was a secret from me, but in time I found out.' The man leaned forward and dropped his voice, 'Because I wanted to know who I was making it for.'

Silent stares were the only reaction. The old man settled back and resumed sucking on his pipe.

'Well... who?' it was Theresa speaking, clearly impatient.

'The wooden head shape they gave me was too small to be a fully grown person. It was for a child. But I was not told it was for a female, though I was informed the device I was making was to allow for growth. You see, whoever wore it was expected to stay in it for a long time.'

'But you said it couldn't be removed?' Thomas was leaning forward, intrigued.

'Like... forever,' breathed Daniel.

'Indeed, that was what I told myself. I was given three months to perfect this mask. It had to be of iron, with certain features, shall we say. My instructions were precise and drawn up by the highest authority. I also had to devise a way it could not be removed, so there was no key to the lock.'

'But locks have to have keys,' protested Thomas.

The old man shook his head. 'Not all locks. I made this so that when two halves came together, they would stay closed as one. The iron outer when it closed was a perfect fit and would stop anyone reaching into the device to free the mechanism, which was spring loaded. You do know what a spring is don't you?'

'Of course,' said Daniel. 'But why do you ask?'

The old man shook his head. 'I wonder if they teach you anything in school these days,' he snorted. 'Any event, I fashioned this mask. It was heavy and solid but yet I could not try it out on the wooden head as I called it, for the lock could not be opened when closed. So I had to trust to my judgment.

'However I could not be sure so I made a second one, secretly even to Lord March, in case the first did not work. It had been impressed upon me how important what I was doing was and I knew I should not fail my own Lord.'

'And who did you put it on?'

The old man regarded Theresa, who had asked the question. 'I did not know at first, for I was not there.'

'You said you'd seen it all,' said Daniel, disappointment in his voice.

'A great caravan of horse and wagons, flanked by the King's guard themselves, came to our castle without warning. It was barely two days after I finished my work. Rumors flew round it was the King himself, others said it was the Queen. Some said it was mysterious person, shrouded and held firm.

'I confess I took little notice - I had my long neglected duties to return to. But I noted there was no great banquet, no holiday given, no flags flying and certainly no polished armor on the guards at the gates. The caravan left the way it came a few hours later.'

'Then directly Lord March called for me and took me, just me mind, without a word up to a room I never knew existed, high in the east tower. Through a small window, a barred window in a solid oaken door, I saw my creation.' The old man paused for effect. 'On the head of a young female.'

'Who was it?' demanded Daniel, eyes wide in wonder.

'Don't be silly,' Theresa chided her brother. 'The girl was masked of course. But... did you find out, Grandad?'

'Ah yes, though I had to wait a long time.'

'And you never saw her again?' Theresa sounded disappointed.

'Far from it - I saw her often. I had instructions to visit every new moon, to check the iron was sound, that there were no faults. That the person who wore it could not take it off, or anyone else. I also checked the chain that held the top of the iron mask to a ring set into the wall. This person could move round the room but would have gone no further than the door, even if it had been unlocked and somehow left unguarded.

'I told no one of what I saw, or what I had made, or that I visited regularly this mysterious young female - for she was young, perhaps no older than you Theresa.'

The thirteen year old girl shivered but tried not to show it.

'You could have told someone,' said Daniel.

'I was paid well not to tell,' the old man resumed his tale. 'Enough gold to buy this home for my family in time. Not then, for suddenly my being wealthy would have aroused suspicion. So I asked my Lord March to save it for me, which he did. You see in this way there was a hold over me.'

'I don't understand,' said the girl, still not trying to shiver. 'You are telling us now.'

The old man chuckled. 'Indeed, for the young woman was taken away after some ten years - a fully grown young woman by then, I could tell.' He winked at the eldest boy, Thomas, who smirked. 'Lord March died, his son took the castle and I left the employ of the son to come here and start again and raise my family.

'But let me tell you what I found about the young female - in a moment or two.' The old man re-lit his pipe and studied it, aware the children were fidgeting with excitement for him to continue.

He resumed when satisfied his pipe was alight properly. 'You are too young to understand this, but all wars are fought for two reasons - possessions or beliefs. We go to war for land or gold or to take a castle perhaps, or often wars are over a belief in who should rule, whose religion is right.'

In alarm, Theresa said: 'But you follow the King and church!'

'I do, and I know my beliefs are right. Yet in order to make sure others know, we must sometimes battle them.' The old man sighed. 'And yet they are just beliefs backed by strength and will.'

'But what about this girl?' insisted Thomas. 'She wasn't in a war.'

'Ah, but she was. Two years after I had first seen my creation on the child's shoulders - and I had made it well, knowing it had to sit comfortably enough if heavily on some child's head and shoulders - I encountered a drunken man in the tavern. He had he told me fought in the last battle of the war, in the King's Guard. His tale was one all old soldiers tell, of bravery on their part and the joys of looting as victors. But he had a melancholy about him. It appeared he had helped break into the inner sanctum of the enemy's castle and in a tremendous fight had lost two fingers and the sight in one eye. But he saw enough then that the enemy were guarding a young female. A princess, by all accounts.

'The female was captured alive and spirited away. He had heard, later from a friend, that she was the pretender to the King's throne. A girl who would be Queen of us all. He was troubled that a great secret was made of this and lies told to all the army.'

'That can't be true!' Thomas spluttered. 'Uncle Will was in that war! He said they won all the lands of Sel-'

The old man held his hand up. 'Hush, Thomas! It is true their lands were taken, gold captured, peace restored. But the aim of the war it would seem was to find this princess. this would-be Queen. I wondered then, as I was not drunk, whether the girl in the iron mask was the same child. I asked myself why this could happen.'

'The enemy king is always captured,' argued Daniel. 'Or killed.'

'But this child was not a king, but a pretender to the throne as a queen. You see, the old soldier's sadness left a mark on me and I had to know more. I spoke with others as best I could after that, people who might know. Secretly and vaguely without any reference to the female in the iron mask, to find more if I could.

'In time I learned that the King had a daughter but no son by his first marriage. By the law of the land, the eldest is king - or queen if no son is born.'

'But the old king had a son,' argued Theresa. 'We all know that!'

The old man leaned forward and lowered his voice. 'Hmmm, I wonder. You see, I learned that the son was not rightful heir as the king never married again. Not properly. The one true heir was a female.'

The three children looked puzzled. 'So she should be the queen,' said Theresa.

'Ah, not entirely. You see, the mother had left the court and remarried, taking the child. The child as true heir would be able to claim the right of rule, and her step-father would be her guiding light. A step-father who wanted power on his terms.' The old man fell silent and chewed his pipe as he reflected on the complexities of the rights of rulers.

'But why wasn't this girl killed? Why locked up?' Thomas shook his head.

'In a mask that had to stay on always,' added Theresa, with a note of fear in her voice.

'But she might not have been this princess!' Daniel piped up. 'You don't know!'

'I wondered how I would know too. But then I found out,' the old man said quietly. 'You remember I was allowed to make a visit to check the female, or rather my creation, on the day of the new moon. Thirteen times a year I would be escorted to the room, the heavy door unbolted, and I allowed inside. Now the young female wanted for nothing, save for her freedom. Her clothes were expensive silks and satins, delicately embroidered. The room was well maintained, clean with good furnishings. True, the window was small and barred, but she could see daylight and the weather. She had books and an embroidery table, a small loom for making silks. Even paper to paint upon, for she had brushes and inks.

'I could tell from her demeanor she was a lady, but she was silenced so I never heard her voice. I had created the mask with, as instructed, a piece at the front that covered her mouth. It could be removed for her to be fed, or indeed speak should anyone allow that. But her mouth was always sealed when I entered and while I was there remained so. Her ears were covered but I knew some sound would get through, and the only part of her face I could see were her eyes through the two eye-holes. Soulful and sad, as I clearly recall, but proud. Perhaps she believed that one day she would be freed from her chain and mask, to be let out from the room.

'The young female always sat patiently and in a dignified way while I examined her iron mask and checked there had been no interference. I was not alone, nor indeed was this girl prisoner. A thickset, brooding and rather ugly woman was her nurse and companion. She never said anything to me but hovered close by me on each visit. I felt a little sorry for her as she was in her own way a prisoner too. Then one visit I saw the old woman had been replaced by another nursemaid, no less muscular or grim but much younger. Perhaps this woman did not know the rules, but she allowed me a few seconds to be close to the masked female while she was a distance away.

'I took this brief opportunity to whisper, as loud as I dare, "Princess", for that was the only thing I could think of that was quick and to the point. She could not answer me, but she flinched a little and I saw her hands, folded in her lap, tighten.' The old man smiled at the three children staring up at him, enthralled. 'I knew then she was indeed the true heir to the throne.'

'She was the one?' asked Theresa, excitement lighting up her face.

'Indeed, she was. And she told me how and why she was there.'

'But how, Grandad?' Thomas demanded. 'She was silenced!'

'I told you she had inks and papers. On my next visit she had concealed a small piece of paper in her hand and managed to pass it into mine. Once I was alone I opened it and read her story, as best I could for I was never taught to read by schooling and only acquired the knowledge through my own efforts. It was meticulously written in small, neat writing and given her need for secrecy, must have taken her many days to complete. Any ways, it emerged she had been seized at the climax of the battle and taken to the court shrouded and silenced, bound in rough ropes.

'Over the next few months she passed a piece of paper to me each visit and her story unfolded. It was never her plan to do so, but she was persuaded by her step-father to raise an army to help put her claim to the throne. A spy revealed her plans to the King who declared war on her step-father - and the princess. Once captive, this girl had endured hours of torture and punishments, some of which would have broken lesser beings. She was bound hand and foot day and night, chained asa dog when not being whipped, made to drink gallons of water and have her stomach beaten. Her feet were beaten on the soles, she was suspended over water and lowered in until almost drowned, she was burnt and squeezed by iron devices I knew existed anyway. She suffered endlessly, but she knew not why. There was no trial, no counsel for her. She said she had no information, no secrets to tell. But no one listened.'

'Maybe they thought she had secrets,' said Thomas.

'Perhaps,' continued the old man, once more re-lighting his pipe. 'But it seems they concluded she would never reveal what they sought with tortures, so a plan was devised to keep her alive but where she would present no threat. Her masking was that so one would recognize her and plot for her release. She also believed, with some certainty, that the King could not bear to have his own daughter killed or tortured endlessly, so he agreed to the plan of placing her in an iron mask and sent away - and heaven knows the castle of the Marches was a distant place. In this I believe her, for the old King was no cruel man by nature though all kings must by their position be harsh when needed.'

'You keep saying "her" and "she", but you haven't told us the name of the Princess!' Theresa was exasperated.

'Because she never wrote it,' sighed the man. He tapped his teeth with the pipe stem. 'I tried to ask once in a whisper how she was called but either she did not hear or ignored it. So to me she was Princess Hide.'

Daniel nodded. 'But you were never caught with the papers she gave you?'

'I destroyed each after reading it, but then one visit she gave me no paper. I saw that her brushes and paper had been removed. I had received more than 30 papers from her, but on that day there were no more. I swear too I saw marks on her as if she had been beaten. I was told my visits were not needed and I never went to the room again. I tried to discover if she remained there, or was taken elsewhere but few knew - and I could not ask directly or openly. That part of my life closed.'

'Poor woman,' said Theresa. 'And all because she was a Princess.'

'She was an enemy of the king,' retorted Thomas.

'No doubt she was a witch,' agreed Daniel. 'But who would listen to her anyway?'

Theresa shook her head but didn't say anything more, as one of the women at the table called out it was time to eat.

---

'Grandad,' said Theresa several days later to the old man as he sat by the fire in his usual place. 'The story you told us the other day... you mentioned a second mask.' The girl was on her own as the two brothers were out playing some rough game, or practicing with wooden swords.

'Did I? Ah yes, so I did. I was merely prepared for the worst, as everyone should be whatever they do.'

'As you have taught us, but what happened to it?'

'The second iron mask? Hmmm, I think I kept it someplace.' The old man turned to stare into the fire lost in thought.

'But if you kept it, I haven't seen it around.'

The man looked back at his grand-daughter, laughter in his eyes. 'Hmm, perhaps not, but then I may have put it some place you have never been to.'

'Grandad! I was born here. I know this house well!'

'Well, let's see, shall we? You know my smithy? Have you explored that?'

'Oh, of course I have! I know where you keep your tools and your unfinished horseshoes and -'

'But not my special storeroom, I'll wager.'

Theresa's face crumpled into a frown. She couldn't think where that might be.

'Then let me show you,' said the old man, standing up slowly and straightening himself. 'Let me surprise you, Theresa dearest.'

The girl grinned, pleased she may discover a secret that her brothers did not know. 'Lead on, Grandfather!'

---

The store room was surprisingly big but Theresa had never imagined there was a room beneath the smithy itself, let alone one as large as this. The girl came down the ladder, eyes wide with surprise. Her Grandfather carried a torch and carefully he lit several of the wall-mounted torches, which sputtered noisily as they took light.

'See, it's safe. No straw here,' said the old man, banging the floor with his heel. 'Solid stone floor, no danger of fire.'

'I had no idea,' gasped the girl as she stepped off the ladder and looked round.

'Not everything is obvious to the eye,' smiled the old man as he lodged the torch he carried in a spare holder on the wall by the ladder.

'But why is this here?'

'Ah, we rarely live in times of peace and I wanted a place to run to, should we be raided by warriors or brigands. So I kept its presence quiet, for if no one knows then no one can reveal accidentally to potential enemies. This then, was my secret.' The man gestured at the room, at the simple bed along one one wall, a few chairs and a plain table. 'A place to hide.'

'Grandad,' laughed Theresa. 'This isn't a store room! There aren't any of your things -' She stopped as her eyes lit on the iron mask, on a stool by a wall. An iron mask that gleamed in the torchlight as if polished. 'Grandad!' the girl exclaimed, clapping her hands.

'Yes, there it is,' chuckled the old man.

The girl ran to the mask and put her hand on it, then turned to the old man. 'But Grandad, it's chained to the wall, like that princess had.'

The old man smiled. It was indeed secured to the wall by a half-ring on top with a chain that ran to a heavy staple set in the wall. The mask was clearly going nowhere. 'To remind me not to take it anyplace,' said the man. 'Go on, honey, pick it up. Feel the weight.'

Theresa did so. 'It's so heavy - and so smooth. I had no idea it was so detailed, so carefully made. Why it looks like a girl's face, see the nose and the holes for the eyes? Eyebrows too, and ears even though they are covered up!'

'Yes, I worked hard on the masks, but I was always a perfectionist.' The man sighed, but was not displeased.

'This is not iron, surely.'

'It is a special iron that will not rust,' said the Grandfather with a satisfied nod. 'I do have some trade secrets you know.'

'And what are these?' the girl indicated the short chains that hung from the back of the mask - two of them and each with what looked like manacles on them. She also pointed to the chain at the front, which descended from the chin of where the face would be, just below a small hole where clearly the mouth was. The teenage girl was most fascinated by the front chain and what hung on the end.

'That,' explained the man before the girl could ask, 'Is the gag. You see, the leather pad that covers the prong of metal goes in the mouth. The girl cannot speak as it holds down her tongue, fills her mouth up. See here,' the old man stepped forward. 'This is shaped to fit the hole. One push and a half turn and it is locked in place.'

'A gag, wow!' The girl watched fascinated as the old man demonstrated as he pushed the prong through the mouth hole and he turned it a with a simple twist. He tugged on the chain to demonstrate it would not come free on its own.

Theresa stared at the inside of the mask and how far the prong projected through. Gingerly she touched the leather pad and shivered. 'The princess was gagged like this?'

The Grandfather grunted. 'How else would she be silenced?'

Theresa shivered even more, and then touched the three thin, silver prongs that projected backwards from the open edge of the front of the mask. Silver prongs with small but obvious hooks on them. 'Is this how it fastens?'

'Indeed. Each prong slips into the corresponding slots on the back edge of the mask, where the springs in that part act to grip them. As you can see there is no access to the hooks, so once closed the mask is permanent.'

Theresa blinked as she stared at it. 'It's so heavy and fierce looking. I had no idea...' Her voice trailed away. 'I can't imagine having to wear this day in and day out. It would be a nightmare.'

'The princess lived with it, and did her reading and embroidery.' The man paused as he demonstrated two small iron shutters that slid down over the eye holes with a small click. 'Unless someone closed the eyelids, of course. For sleep or punishment.'

A light dawned in Theresa's eyes. 'But of course, the chains at the back. She would not have opened them herself, or freed her gag, if her hands were cuffed up behind her. How clever!'

'Well reasoned my child,' smiled the man. He watched as the girl examined the hinges which were virtually invisible on the outside of the mask, and the way the lower part of it shaped to the neck. 'That,' said the man, 'is to allow the wearer to endure its weight better, as the rolled lower edge sits on the shoulders. It also protects the neck.'

'From self harm,' the girl nodded as she examined it. 'So she could not damage her own throat in desperation.'

'My, you are good at reasoning, Theresa,' said the man. He took it from her and held it close to her face. 'Look. It also means she must by nature of its depth at the front, keep her head up.'

'Yes,' Theresa smiled. 'I can see that now.'

'And see how smooth I made the inside, so no chafing.'

'Why yes, so smooth!'

'Good,' said the old man as he held it open. 'Now see it better.' Without a word of warning he pushed it over Theresa's head and with one easy move snapped the two halves together.

'Graddad!' came the muffled scream from inside the iron mask a split second after it closed on the teenage girl's head, sealing her head and neck in one iron whole. The girl was screaming, trying to pull at it as if that would get it off.

Effortlessly, the old man caught his grand-daughter's slim wrists and brought them behind her, clicking the two cuffs closed round them. The shortness of the chain meant the girl's hands were up between her shoulder blades, her young breasts pushed forward. The man ignored them - for now - and slid the leather covered prong into the mouth hole. It was an easy enough task as the girl inside was trying to shout for help - though the shape of the chin and where it pressed up into the soft underside of her jaw prevented her from making the noise her panic warranted.

With a twist of his wrist the mouth prong was locked in place, and then the man calmly closed the two eyelid shutters over Theresa's panic-filled eyes. 'Be calm, child,' he ordered. 'It won't come off no matter how you struggle.'

The girl however may not have heard and she lurched forward, as if trying to run away. It was a futile effort. The chain fixed to the top of the mask simply snapped tight and she fell backwards, only to be caught by the old man. 'Calm now!' he ordered and seized the girl's body tight for almost thirty minutes until she stopped wriggling and fighting and kicking, suddenly as if exhausted by it all. There was finally no noise from inside the mask.

As she hung limp in his arms, the old man stroked the young teenager's breasts with his free hand, examining the soft curves, the small nipples through the fabric of her dress. 'Worry not, you are safe,' he said as he stroked more, now squeezing the small bumps. 'Safe in your new head, and mine to enjoy.'

The old man kissed the cold, iron cheek of the mask. 'You see, Theresa, I have wanted you for so long, and planned this for you. Now you are my Princess Hide, and I will keep you here for me to use.'

With one rapid movement her ripped the thin dress from the girl and threw it to one side. She had a chemise underneath, and the old man tore that away, and then her loose fitting undergarments. Now naked, the masked child shivered before him. He pushed her down on to the stool and seized her small, budding breasts.

'I also told a small lie, so forgive. The girl in the first mask was tortured while in the March castle, in her mask. When she refused to speak, I devised the instruments of her pain. But she never knew the kind man who came to her, who she gave messages to, was the one who dreamed up her tortures. Oh yes, and I made copies of the devices. They are here and I will use them on you too.'

Theresa must have heard because a shudder went through her naked body, a muffled moan of despair barely audible. The old man's long bony fingers worked over the naked girl's chest, pinching her nipples and squeezing the tender flesh hard. Theresa moaned in pain, muffled, and the old man smiled. He would enjoy torturing the girl.

Presently his hand moved to her lightly haired sex, and he worked his fingers into the crease and folds, and then up into her. The masked girl stiffened in shock, even though her brother Thomas had fucked her several times and done much the same to her as this. But he was young and handsome, not an old wizened man. Theresa knew who was fingering her now, and she sobbed behind her iron mask.

She sobbed more when a finger was at the tight little rosebud of her bottom, worming its way in. It hurt, but then so would most things that would in the years ahead be introduced into her rear hole and front hole. Barbarous rods with prongs and rough surfaces, pins and nails, hooks and plugs. All crafted lovingly of polished, cold iron.

The old man had already made many and he had ideas for more. He was a master toy-maker, a skilled smith, a genius of mechanical devices. As the girl would discover to her discomfort and pain.

He would open her eyes, literally, and show the horrific and strange devices to her before using them on her. He would explain patiently what each would do, where each would go, how each would hurt her. Sometimes he planned to let her ask questions about them, ask him how he would bring her pain and how he planned to torture her. She would learn to appreciate his skills, and her own suffering.

The old man would demonstrate to her helpless stare how a spring loaded iron cock would expand in her, how a thin tube in her rear hole would suddenly produce small iron spikes.

He planned to clamp things to her growing breasts, devices with sharp edges and pins, spring loaded so they snapped down on her pained tits. Nipple clamps with screws that could be tightened, nipples pierced and ringed and weighted down.

As he fingered the child, he thought of what he had done to the Princess years ago and what he had learned. How to make shoes of iron that he could heat up, how to make the agonized child carry weights, how to pump ice cold water up into her rear until her belly was swollen, how to restrict her movement in a thousand ways. How to bend her, strain her, how to twist her.

And he still had the potion the nursemaid offered him, to rub into the child's tits, a potion to make even the smallest breasts swell so they one day would hang large and heavy on the child's slender stomach. Large, heavy tits that he could torture and punish and play with. Just like what happened to the princess in the room at the castle, and how monstrous they became.

But for now he would leave the girl in the iron mask to rest. Tomorrow he would begin her tortures. Reluctantly he stopped playing with the child. 'I will be back in the morning, with food and drink if you are good,' he said to her. 'Nod if you understand.'

There was a tremble of the heavy iron masked head. 'And I will tell you tales too - tales of torture and pain and bondage. You will come to enjoy what I do to you. Appreciate the care and attention I give to your suffering.' The man gave the small, red looking breasts of the child one last hard squeeze that made her flinch, and then he stood. He took out his thin but long cock and rubbed it until he squirted some of his cum on her naked lap. She flinched again, as if she knew what it was, and he chuckled.

'More of that for you,' he chuckled. 'But only when I have hurt you sufficiently. Now I must report to everyone that brigands must have stolen you away, when I left you in the smithy alone. Such a loss!'

The old man went to leave the child in her darkness but turned back. 'I almost forget. I did tell another lie, so I beg your forgiveness. I did get to know the name of the girl in the castle. But then she told me a lot when I tortured her. Nod if you can hear this.'

The masked girl nodded as best she could. A slow, sad nod.

'Good. You see the princess's name was Theresa, just like yours was. But you are Princess Hide now. Nothing more.'

A tremble went through the girl, and she managed another small, silent nod in her heavy iron mask.