Image: Public Domain. Forest Pool by Robert Hills
Stoned
Richard licked a finger and turned over the page to continue reading the history written by one of his ancestors. A ruckus drifted up to the tower window, left open to catch the summer breeze, but he paid it no attention. Instead, he lifted the jewelled goblet of wine to his lips and read on, about the dragon that had waged terror on a village 300 years ago. Slain by the youngest son of the king, after two previous attempts by the older brothers had ended in disaster. There were few enough dragons now. A sharp rap on the wooden door dragged him out of the book.
“You may enter.” Richard set a ribbon in place and closed the book with weary resignation.
A guard stepped into the tower chamber. His clothes were mud-splattered and he forced his exhausted frame to stay upright, determined to carry his message, not stopping for food or to clean up. He bowed low to Richard.
“Your Highness,” the guard said. “I bring bad news.”
“Go ahead,” Richard said, trying not to sigh.
“There is a plague in the Capitol City. The healers say that only a tincture made from the pure water of the Healing Spring will cure it. Your oldest brother, Prince Reinhald, set out at once to obtain a flask of the water.”
“And?”
“He failed to return, so-”
“Rupert went after him?” Richard said. Honestly, he could predict what the guard messengers would say, almost word for word, by now.
“Yes, of course,” the guard said. “It was his duty and honour to protect the heir to the throne and save the kingdom.”
“And now, he has failed to return as well?” Richard said.
“Yes, your Highness,” the guard said. “It’s been nearly a month since Prince Reinhald went missing, and two weeks since Prince Rupert followed him.”
“And now it’s my turn,” Richard said.
“The King instructed me not to rest until I delivered my message to you.” The man was swaying on his feet.
“You have performed your duty in exemplary fashion,” Richard said. “Well done. Go, eat and rest.”
The man stumbled as he turned. He caught hold of the doorframe. Once balanced, he lurched down the stairs.
Richard leaned on the desk and covered his face with his hands. Why were elder brothers so incompetent?
Despairing moment over, he lifted the book and replaced it on the shelf. As the guard had pointed out, it was his duty and honour to serve the realm. With a glance around the study, to ensure everything was safely away from over-zealous servants, he stalked out of the room to prepare for his quest.
Thankfully, his servant had laid out his gear and was now absent, as required. Richard slipped out of the comfortable silks and into the tough leather riding trousers. The worn wool jerkin fitted easily over the plain linen shirt. They showed hard wear but a prince had to be humbly clothed whilst undertaking a quest. He pulled on the riding boots and strode out. At the door to his tower, his servant held his plainest hat and settled the brown peasant’s cloak over his shoulders. Richard kept his growl to himself, but if he was supposed to be humble, he should don his own cloak.
The chestnut gelding awaited him at the gate of his private enclave. All the harness was well-used. The bedroll was tied on behind and the saddlebag bulged with supplies. He gave no farewell to his people, just rode onto the high road towards the capital. Behind him, the gates shut.
He knew he should attend the capital city and claim the blessing of his father, the king, for his quest. But it was out of the way and would add days to his journey. And anyway, there was a plague in the city. He took a shortcut across the countryside, skirting the well-tended fields of this prosperous kingdom. That evening, he made camp at the edge of the Dark Forest. Somewhere within lay the healing spring.
The wolves howling at the full moon didn’t bother him. He’d done this before. The wolves would only attack if they were defending the object of the quest. It had only happened on two of the previous times he’d been forced to salvage his brothers’ quests. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been dragged away from his studies. Once upon a time, he had relished the heroics, now he was resigned to his role.
He awoke in the morning well-rested. After a simple breakfast of bread and cheese, he saddled up and rode into the woods, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings. It was mid-morning when he arrived at a clearing. The sun warmed his face through the leaves of the spreading oak trees that circled the grove. Three full-grown bean plants stood in pots in the centre, gaining full benefit from the midday sun. The pods hanging on the vines were full to bursting. Wind rustling through the leaves became words,
“The last two princes passed in haste,
And now our harvest goes to waste.”
Richard dismounted and carefully tied his horse to a tree. Two baskets sat near the pots. With quiet efficiency, he stripped the pods from the plants into the first basket. Then, as the plants wilted away, he stripped the beans from the pods and placed them into the second basket. As he set the two baskets next to the pots of dried-up bean plants, three beans fell out at his feet. He picked them up and wrapped them in his handkerchief.
“Thank you,” he said, bowing to the trees surrounding the grove.
With the harvest done, he remounted his horse and rode away. He’d often wondered why his brothers had bothered studying at all. They’d shared the same tutors with him. And yet, they remained innocent of the knowledge that magic beans must be harvested by a prince, or they’d lose their virtue.
The forest swallowed him as he set off riding down the faint trail. If he looked back there would be no forest glade. That had existed solely for the moment so that the fairy folk could acquire their harvest of magic beans.
By midday, he was looking for a place to stop and eat a small meal, when he noticed a nest had fallen out of a tree. Three chicks huddled in the ruins with barely the energy to cheep,
“The last two princes passed us by,
And now we chicks must surely die.”
Richard rolled his eyes. What were his brothers thinking of? He dismounted, never forgetting to securely fasten his mount to a tree, and walked to the nest. The birds opened hopeful beaks, begging for food. He retrieved his handkerchief bundle and fed one magic bean to each of the three chicks. The effect was immediate. The chicks swelled in size and became giant eagles. The first two flew away immediately, but the third eagle hovered for a moment and a single white feather drifted to where Richard stood.
He caught it in both hands and bowed to the eagle.
“Thank you,” he said, wrapping the feather in his handkerchief and stowing it safely in his jerkin.
He watched the last eagle fly up through the trees, growing larger with each beat of its powerful wings. Then he sat and ate a pie for his lunch with an apple for afters. Once he had brushed the crumbs from his jerkin and trousers, he mounted his horse and continued on his way. The healing spring couldn’t be far now. Sometimes, he wished they’d just erect signposts.
“Woe is me!” A scholar strode along the path.
Richard reined in his horse and moved to the side to let the scholar pass.
“I am surely undone,” the scholar said.
Richard dismounted and kept tight hold of the reins. “Is there any way I might be able to help you?”
“How could a humble fellow like you help me?” the scholar pronounced. “I have broken my quill made from a giant eagle’s feather. I am no longer able to transcribe the spells of Artimus the wise, so that they may be preserved for the next generation of trainee wizards.”
With grave ceremony, Richard retrieved the package of his handkerchief. “Good scholar, I have with me a single white feather from a Giant Eagle. Take it, it is yours.”
He unwrapped the feather and held it out to the scholar, who stared at it in amazement.
“Good sir, you are beyond kind.” He took up the feather. “Now I can finish my task. What may I offer in return?”
“It is unnecessary to give me anything,” Richard said. “This is a free gift.”
The scholar bowed. “Then I freely give you this riddle for your generosity.”
“There is a fountain, crystal clear,
The humble man should have no fear,
But haughty lord or prince so bold
Forgets the stories he was told.
Take heed, my lord, your wits to hone,
The price of failure is set in stone.”
Richard bowed. “Thank you, good scholar, I will value the riddle you have given me.”
The scholar smiled dreamily, then strode into the forest clutching the feather. He vanished from sight in between the trees. Richard remounted and continued on his way.
The next clearing was full of long stones. Some were standing, others had toppled and lay in the long grass. In the centre of the glade, a stream bubbled up. No horses stood waiting, even though he knew that his brothers would not have walked through the forest to this place. The only things around the glade were the man-sized stones.
Set in stone, indeed. Honestly, he could come up with a better riddle than that one. He dismounted and tied the horse very firmly to a tree. His brothers must have forgotten, yet again, that simple precaution and the fairy folk had stolen away their mounts. Collecting his water flask, Richard detoured around a large stone, lying on the ground, and headed for the spring.
Surrounding the natural fountain were cups fashioned from jewels and polished stones. They were beautiful. A goblet carved from emerald caught his eye. He reached out a hand, then stopped. Remember the riddle, a humble man has no fear. It’s so very easy to be caught by magic. He supposed he couldn’t really blame his brothers, nor all these others who lay here. However, that didn’t stop his wish that they would one day complete a quest without the need for rescue by their youngest brother. Richard searched the ground around the spring until he found a beaker crafted from humble, unglazed clay.
He emptied his flask of the ordinary water and using the beaker of unglazed clay, he refilled it. For a moment he was tempted, if he left them as stone then he would no longer be tidying up after them. Then he shook his head. His quest remained uncompleted until he exercised his compassion. Using the plain beaker, he collected and tipped healing water on the nearest stone. Colour seeped into the monolith and it lost its rigidity. No, that one wasn’t a brother of his.
The prince awoke as if from a restful sleep. There was no mistaking this was a prince, from the fine silks of his clothes.
“I failed,” the prince said. He picked himself up and walked away.
Richard continued around the clearing, pouring water on the standing and lying stones. Each of them woke looking rested, which soon turned to dejection once they realised their failure.
Finally, he found Rupert and his oldest brother, Reinhald. Reinhald blinked at him and yawned as he awoke. Richard envied the peaceful rest these princes and knights had enjoyed but quickly he thrust the flask at his oldest brother. It was not up to the youngest prince to save the people. Richard’s only reason for existence was to ensure his elder brothers looked perfect.
“Here, take this,” Richard said. “My horse is over there. Ride home as fast as you can to preserve our father’s people from this foul plague.”
Reinhald clasped his hands around his brother’s. “We can always count on you,” he said heartily.
He mounted the gelding. Rupert nodded at Richard in a minor gesture of thanks and raced after the eldest brother for as long as he could keep pace. Richard continued the rounds with the beaker until he had disenchanted all of the fossilised princes. Not one of them thanked him. Because he dressed like a wood cutter’s son, they took his service as their due. Just like his brothers did.
Yes, they could always count on him to run to their rescue, he thought bitterly.
Now, he had a long walk home. He envied the princes, who awoke from their restful sleep refreshed and ready to walk.
He headed to the edge of the clearing. Then stopped. What if they couldn’t count on him? They’d have to learn all these things for themselves or leave the kingdom to pass to their distant cousin.
Richard hesitated. He’d like a restful sleep. Walking back to the spring he listened to the innocent gurgles, which reminded him he was thirsty. All his supplies had gone with his brothers and he’d spilled his water onto the ground.
What if?
Yes, what if. He picked up the beautiful emerald goblet that had attracted his eye and dipped it into the water. With a grin, he gulped down the water. It was the most refreshing drink he’d ever tasted. His limbs stiffened and cold seeped up from his toes and fingers. Dropping the cup, he staggered to the long grass on the edge of the clearing and lay down. With any luck, the next prince to succeed in collecting water from the healing spring would miss seeing him here.
Richard would finally get a rest.
ENDS
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