《Thy Secrets Should Be Sung》


 Chapter One: Once Upon a Time

    He pushed aside a fern and made his way downhill. The brush was thick here. Blessed by eternal spring, the thicket had grown tall and wild. Lichen, moss; branches bristled with buds, life sprouted from every corner, from every rocky crevice.


    It was a sacred grove.


    Here he found her, hidden amongst the trees, nestled between the exposed roots of an old hollow oak. The willows had given way to her, the trees had bowed, the ground was softened by her touch.


    He cleared his throat. ¡°Princess!¡± he called, ¡°I have returned.¡±


    She rose to greet him. Her gown clung to her, a single shoulder strap lay loose, forgotten in the afternoon haze. Light filtered through the canopy, she basked in the warmth of a sunbeam.


    ¡°Good day,¡± said the Princess. ¡°I thought I saw a raven this morning.¡±


    ¡°There are no ravens here.¡± The Knight bowed. She accepted this, then sat: elbow to knee, hand to chin, beckoning for him to join her. ¡°Won¡¯t you sit?¡± she asked. She looked away, towards the trees.


    ¡°As you wish,¡± said the Knight.


    He began to move towards her, but a strange stiffness took hold of him; his armor seized, his strength was sapped. ¡°I-I could not find you in the meadow, or the grotto,¡± he said. ¡°The vineyard is empty. The peacocks fret, the swans are lonely. The summer house is cold without your company.¡±


    The Princess gave him a certain look. ¡°I have been right here,¡± she said, and she spread her arms wide, gesturing to the elms and the oak and the climbing ivy. ¡°Sitting, and thinking, and enjoying the sound of the wind through the leaves.¡±


    He turned from her. ¡°I though you had escaped me.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes and studied the Knight. He could feel her eyes pierce his armor and his soul, searching for something hidden.


    ¡°The fence is tall, the gate is iron,¡± she said after some reflection.


    A thrush fluttered through the canopy, its shadow dancing over the brush below.


    ¡°Impenetrable,¡± the Knight assured himself. ¡°Inescapable.¡±


    ¡°Quite so,¡± said the Princess. ¡°Thus we remain, together¡ªhere, beneath the poplar tree.¡±


    She made a fist, then unfurled her fingers, spreading her palm flat.


    ¡°You know my desires,¡± the Knight said. ¡°You know the conditions of your freedom. A pittance, I should imagine, compared to an eternity within these small and stifling confines.¡±


    The Princess smiled but said nothing. This spurred the Knight on:


    ¡°Yet, my Princess,¡± he said, ¡°I hope these conditions are not unbearable. I seek your hand, and am loathed to tie them. This garden, this prison¡ªit is a masterpiece, the finest and most tranquil of cages. Your needs are tended here, with pleasures enough to last a lifetime.¡±


    ¡°There is only one thing I want.¡±


    ¡°A triviality most live without,¡± said the Knight.


    ¡°This is true,¡± the Princess agreed, ¡°but still, it is both what I want, and what I seek.¡± She tilted her head to the side. ¡°Is it not the same for you?¡±


    This only frustrated the Knight. ¡°Yes!¡± he said. Then: ¡°No!¡±


    He sighed, and tried again. ¡°Some swear fidelity, or loyalty,¡± he explained. ¡°Marriage, treaties, the rule of law. All manner of men and Maiden have sacrificed some portion of their cherished freedom. Can you not do the same?¡±


    The Princess raised a hand to her lips. ¡°More folly from the Knight of fools,¡± she yawned.


    Behind his helmet the Knight frowned.


    He started pacing, trampling down the thistles and ivy beneath his boots. ¡°I understand better than most!¡± he said. ¡°Life is sacrifice, dear Princess. No man can be all things. Carefully he must pick and choose, and balance his dreams against his fortunes.¡±


    ¡°This is also true,¡± the Princess said.


    A little brook ran through the grove¡ªbabbling, tripping over the rocks, dribbling between the willow trees. She dipped her toes in it, let them cool and shiver.


    ¡°Consider a ship,¡± the Knight continued, lost to his thoughts, ¡°built by the finest craftsmen. Shipwrights with years of experience, using the best of materials. Royal elm and teak, the sturdy trunks of ancient trees. Three sheets to the wind, anointed with oils.¡±


    He counted off his fingers. ¡°Confidence, strength, grace. These are the foundations of a good life.¡±


    The Maiden swirled the water with her feet. The minnows of the brook were caught in her current.


    ¡°But the sea is cruel. So man seeks help. Friends and lovers and family. Others. Men who know the boat and her timbers.¡±


    ¡°Man is, if nothing else, a social creature,¡± the Princess said.


    ¡°But to what end?¡± the Knight asked. ¡°The Seafarer has sacrificed. In wage, in time, in rhyme¡ªships are not free, labor is not cheap, a crew requires due patronage. The Seafarer has sacrificed, and perhaps in vain. Against all the might of Poseidon, is a simple raft, handmade with shame, any better than the finest yacht?¡±


    The Princess wriggled her toes. ¡°Your point?¡±


    ¡°When the waters rise, all men drown the same.¡±


    ¡°Surely though,¡± the Princess said, ¡°against a mere squall, or summer storm, the raft will fare worse?¡± She slipped her hand into the brook and teased the minnows.


    ¡°Yes and no. The raft builder, the Raftsman¡ªhe lives or dies by his wits alone¡ªand suffers not the misery of man,¡± the Knight explained, still pacing. ¡°The Seafarer in his grand ship has entrusted his life and livelihood to others; he has exchanged with them. Possessions, love, duty, honor, debt, law¡ªhe is bound to the mast.¡±


    He thumped his chest. ¡°Do you understand? As the Raftsman drowns, as the waves subsume his vessel¡ªhe can look to the heavens with pride, for he has failed on his own, beholden to none! His is the ultimate freedom.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°O Dark Knight, I am confused.¡± The Princess laughed. ¡°Are you advocating a ship, or a raft?¡±


    ¡°A raft¡ª¡±


    ¡°Or should I build my boat with your timbers, Knight, and take you as my helmsmen?¡±


    He considered the question. This was his desire, was it not? ¡°An exchange with one, only, then,¡± he said. ¡°A small price to pay, I should think, to sail the ocean blue, and go where the winds may take you.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± The Princess skimmed her fingertips over of the surface of the water.


    The Knight cleared his throat and tried again. ¡°I beseech thee¡ªfeel the pull of the tides, the ripple of the sea. Surrender to me.¡±


    The Princess shook her head. ¡°¡®If a man going down into a river, swollen and swiftly flowing, is carried away by the current¡ªhow can he help others across?¡¯¡± she asked the Knight.


    He hung his head.


    She leaned towards him. ¡°Let me go,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Never.¡±


    The Princess sighed. ¡°Well, then, we are at an impasse.¡±


    ¡°I suppose so,¡± the Knight agreed.


    The Princess turned away from him, towards the pines, and stared into the middle space. She thumbed the beads on her bracelet and was quiet.


    She had not dismissed him, nor did he feel like leaving so soon, so instead the Knight watched her¡ªas she sat, as she breathed, as the sparrows danced above her in the eaves, as the dragonflies skimmed over the brook by her feet.


    If she minded his presence, she did not say so.


    He watched her¡ªas she breathed, as her breast rose and fell and swelled with every breath.


    Inhale, exhale, how easy she made it look.


    All the grove was at peace, a peace that seemed to stretch to eternity, and in that suffocating calm, the Knight felt himself a trespasser.


    Inhale.


    Exhale.


    A nameless dread welled up inside of him. It boiled and stewed until he could suffer it no longer. He turned to leave.


    ¡°Wait¡ª¡± the Princess called.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I am done here for the day,¡± she said. ¡°If you would be so kind, and escort me back.¡± She stood, and brushed the dirt from her dress. ¡°Help me, if you would.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Of course.¡±


    He offered his arm to her and together they made their way back through the thicket. They stole up along the bank, over the ivy and through the hemlock, following the stream to the meadow and the lake beyond.


    They emerged from the grove and were bathed in the golden light of a waning afternoon. ¡°This was once my secret refuge,¡± the Knight explained. ¡°I came here often, a long time ago. Now it serves a new purpose.¡±


    ¡°I will admit, it is very beautiful here¡ªfor a cage.¡±


    The cherries swayed gently in the breeze as they crossed the meadow. Tall grass bent towards the lake, wildflowers bloomed in patches red and gold, white asphodel lined the path.


    ¡°What do you know of me?¡± the Knight asked.


    The Princess wrinkled her nose. ¡°I know you have broken your oaths, of course,¡± she said. ¡°I know you are a wanderer, and nameless.¡±


    She stopped and studied the Knight. She considered the fifty pounds of steel, the horrible black steel that concealed every inch of him, from his head to his toes. ¡°And I have heard that you are some manner of phantom, or contraption, a suit of armor possessed, or given life.¡±


    The Knight grumbled, it echoed through his helmet. ¡°They say this because none now live who have seen beneath my armor¡ªbut make no mistake: I am alive; I am made of blood and bile.¡± He adjusted his vambrace, rubbed his forearms, uncomfortable as the metal dug into him.


    ¡°It is a weighty task, keeping you here,¡± he explained. ¡°It taxes me day by day. Except for sleep, and rest¡ªno, always I wear this armor.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Are you afraid of this poor defenseless Princess?¡±


    The Knight grimaced. He took in the Princess, all her dress and silk, the lightness of her being. ¡°Even a rose has its thorns,¡± he said.


    This elicited a small smile. ¡°Then when was the last time,¡± the Princess asked, ¡°that you were truly free?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± The Knight thought for a moment. ¡°Before we met¡ªyears ago now, I believe it was¡ªon the road to Damascus.¡±


    ¡°A story, then?¡±


    They came to the summer house, a tiny thing nestled amid the ferns and the foxglove, always hidden in the shadow of an old fig tree. Leaves littered the roof, moss grew in the gutters.


    The Knight moved towards the door, but the Princess did not. ¡°Won¡¯t you invite me in?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Not today, no.¡±


    They continued on. The fig¡¯s boughs were as thick as a man, its branches stretched up, far, far out of sight. Its shadow had grown long with the afternoon, and in its shade the Princess sat.


    The Knight rested against the trunk. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, ¡°a story it is. But where should I begin? At my command, a multitude of words and turns of phrase, and yet none quite subtle enough to capture, to describe¡ª¡±


    ¡°Once upon a time,¡± said the Princess.


    The Knight huffed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other then back again. His armor groaned in protest. ¡°You mock me, Princess, I should expect no less.¡±


    ¡°You disapprove?¡±


    ¡°I do not fault the viper to bite nor a tyger to hunt. Your rage and fury and spite¡ªhowever hidden¡ªare art, and no less in your nature than your grace.¡±


    The Princess frowned. ¡°You call that flattery?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± She folded her hands on her lap. ¡°I see.¡±


    The Knight began his story. ¡°Once upon a time,¡± he said, ¡°in summer, I was traveling along the old road to Damascus. I was wandering, alone, lost amid my thoughts, when I heard a distant buzz: the last of the cicadas. This sound I followed, the wind against my back.¡±


    Summoned, called by name, a breeze rolled through the meadow.


    ¡°I found a humble field,¡± the Knight continued, ¡°a field of goldenrod and barley, hidden from the way-stop, long abandoned, overgrown and neglected. Small, and bordered by grander sights¡ªgreat hills and ancient valleys. Spring floods had washed away patches of top soil, leaving deep ruts in the earth. Weeds had sprouted everywhere, filling every inch of space, so thick and tall that one could hardly move.¡±


    He squinted into the sun, trying to remember. ¡°The field sloped down a gentle hill towards the valley beyond,¡± he said, ¡°and shimmered gold. Like the ocean at sunset, it was.¡±


    The Knight blinked, and blinked again.


    ¡°Go on,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Now, this field was guarded by a wooden fence, dulled as it was by time and weather, worn smooth like old driftwood. You could lay thy head upon the wooden posts, and find a softness there unmatched by even the finest down and pillow.¡±


    He glanced over at the Princess. She had closed her eyes, her breath was light and steady. She was smiling.


    ¡°And indeed¡ªa great weariness took me, for I had marched for many days without repose. I cast aside my sword, and laid my armor bare. Helmet, gorget, cuirass and faulds removed in turn. Gambeson too, down to my linen bindings. I lingered, I slept beneath the stars.¡±


    ¡°Describe it,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°The field?¡± the Knight asked. ¡°I just did, did I not?¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± The Princess shook her head. ¡°Describe how you felt; what you felt.¡±


    The Knight tried to remember: the subtle scents and sounds, the tranquil air that had washed over him. ¡°I thought the field a dream, the most perfect thing in all the world.¡± He could barely recall that feeling now, let alone describe it. He could only feel the tightness in his breast.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d found heaven.¡± He raised a hand to the Princess¡¯s cheek, and thought to caress it, but his gauntlets were sharp, and he knew that they would cut her.


    He withdrew. ¡°Or so I was deceived.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I burned the field. I let the fires eat up its grace, for what golden dream could compare to even one hair upon your head? What is a sweet summer scent compared to a Maiden¡¯s perfume, or the softness of a picket fence to a comely breast? No¡ªI have found a desire beyond all that in nature, a treasure ripped from heaven! You! You, Princess, are the beauty of the world, and all that one should long for.¡±


    The Maiden flushed red. At first he thought perhaps his words had embarrassed her, but then her eyebrows narrowed, and he knew that she was angry.


    ¡°How cruel you are, to tell me that,¡± she snapped. ¡°To try and lull my heart! I wish you¡¯d held your tongue, and stayed your hand.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°A fire¡ª¡± The Princess slumped over. ¡°Leave me be.¡± She raised a fist to her breast, held it there for a moment, then unfold her fingers like a flower. ¡°No more stories for today.¡±


    The Knight felt a clutch rise in his chest, as if a mouse had made a nest in him. What had he said? He reached out¡ªhe thought to comfort her, but the Princess shrugged him off, and curled herself into a ball.


    ¡°Begone, Black Knight,¡± she hissed, ¡°I¡¯ll have no more of you.¡±


    There was nothing more to say. The Knight lumbered to his feet. ¡°I shall take my leave then.¡±


    He stalked through the meadow, towards the rhododendrons and the great iron gate. His throat was full with bile, a terrible mixture of hope and despair that burned him from the inside out. The Princess had rebuffed him once again, and he had upset her, somehow¡ªbut she had listened, with genuine interest it seemed, to his stories.


    The Knight smiled despite himself¡ªbut bearing in mind the Maiden¡¯s words, did not return for three days.

 Chapter Two: Echidna

    One morning, the Knight brought the Princess a present, a marvelous wooden box. No more than a foot square and perhaps ten inches deep, lacquered a dark and rich brown, clasped with ornate brass, emblazoned with intricate imagery: boars and oxen, bears and lions.


    He carried the box with pride as he strolled through the garden¡ªdown along the rows of rhododendron, past the gazebo, along the bank of the silver stream. His steps were light.


    A lark followed after him, fluttering from bush to brush to flower.


    When he reached the edge of the meadow, where the grass meet the poplar and the sacred groove, he stopped, and dug his heel into the earth. He laid the box down amid the iris and the daffodil, still wet with dew.


    ¡°Princess?¡± he called out, ¡°Are you there?¡±


    As if in answer to his question a great wind swept through the meadow¡ªand the Knight thought he heard the ringing of distant bells.


    From the depths of the garden she appeared, her bare feet dancing amid the flowers of the spring meadow. The Knight lowered himself, head hung in shame, knee bent in genuflection, arms downcast in supplication.


    The boughs were thick with new growth, they cast a patchwork of light upon the ground. Light and shadow teased each other, never touching, and between them both the Princess toed.


    She stood over him. ¡°Why do you insist upon such formality?¡± she asked. ¡°I have no use for false modesty. You dare bow to me, your captive? What mockery.¡±


    ¡°But a Knight must bow to a Princess,¡± the Knight said, ¡°even if she is his prisoner.¡± He lowered his eyes. ¡°But perhaps I can make some small amends. I have tried to bare myself to you, yet you remain far away. The fault is mine. In my haste, I neglected the needs of a Maiden.¡±


    He gestured to the lacquer chest. ¡°Take this box, this chest¡ªfill it with your secrets, so you might gain a power over me, and regain a measure of privacy. Not for mine sake, but for thy own.¡±


    The Princess raised a finger to her cheek. ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I want you to keep mysteries from me,¡± the Knight explained, ¡°for I have robbed you of your feminine allure, the secrets a Princess tempts and tantalizes with.¡±


    ¡°Oh, have I lost my luster, then?¡± the Princess asked.


    The Knight shifted uncomfortably. ¡°For me your allure could never dim, and would remain a staple of the age,¡± he said, ¡°but I fear for a woman¡¯s vanity, and I know its frailty. I wish for no distance between us, save for that which you create. A letter, a locket, a lock of hair¡ªchoose wisely, a secret to hide away.¡±


    Bowed, knee bent, he scooped up his present and offered it to the Princess, arms extended. She took the chest and gave him her curtsy, and bade the Knight the stand.


    She inspected the box: opening it, closing it again, turning it in her hands, running her fingers over the lacquer finish, the brass hinge, the velvet lining.


    Satisfied, she set it down. ¡°As empty as your heart,¡± she concluded. ¡°If love is your aim, this box is a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Explain,¡± said the Knight.


    The Princess danced her fingers over the lid. ¡°True love has no secrets. Secrets are the domain of doomed lovers, seeking to prolong a spring romance, stoking the embers of a temperate lust.¡±


    The Knight¡¯s heart beat like a kettle drum.


    ¡°Regardless,¡± said the Princess, ¡°I do not want gifts.¡± She gave the chest one last look before handing it back to the Knight.


    ¡°Perhaps you are right,¡± the Knight said. ¡°Secrets can turn to poison in the heart.¡± His gauntlets scraped against the lacquer.


    The Princess nodded. ¡°Tell me,¡± she said, ¡°what will you do with it¡ªthat box?¡±


    The Knight considered his options. ¡°It is a useless thing to me now, for you have rejected it,¡± he said. ¡°A shame; the craftsmanship, none can deny. I will place it in the storehouse, and there it shall remain¡ªsafe and sound.¡±


    ¡°Safe¡ªand forgotten,¡± said the Princess. ¡°Ah, but I have a better idea¡ªwait here but a moment.¡± She stole up along the stone path and out of sight.


    The Knight closed his eyes.


    He dreamed about her dress fluttering in the morning air, her dancing feet, and the nape of her neck. He tried in vain to calm his violent heart, for fear it would burst from his very chest.


    He felt nothing but the pain in his breast.


    Presently he heard the Princess¡¯s voice again, as it came, singsong, on the breeze, wafting through the wildflowers. ¡°A birdhouse, Knight.¡±


    He opened his eyes. The Princess was holding a small toolbox. ¡°Come,¡± she said. She drifted past him through the meadow.


    He hurried after her.


    They walked along, following the treeline until they found the remains of an old oak that had fallen over. It lay flat, and the moss had grown thick on the bark. Here the Princess sat, back straight. ¡°The songbirds may not appreciate the lacquer or the brass,¡± she said, ¡°but they will find a use for it still.¡±


    The Knight sat down beside her.


    She swept the dust from her toolbox and opened it, presenting the contents to the Knight: a hammer, a handsaw, an auger. A chisel, a bradawl, and tacks to bind.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°I have only meager skill with such instruments,¡± the Princess said, ¡°for my talents lie elsewhere.¡± She laid the lacquer box on her lap. ¡°But still, to drill a hole, to add a perch¡ª¡±


    ¡°A simple task for fine hands,¡± said the Knight.


    The Princess took her auger from the box, gripped the brace and turned it. The bit was good and solid. With the drill in her hands, she could strike at the core of the earth.


    ¡°It is said that a woodcarver¡¯s hands cannot lie,¡± said the Knight, ¡°for all his work conveys the truth, his soul within. An artist may use paint to color both truth and lies¡ªbut a chisel, the straight edge, the saw¡ªthese are honest instruments.¡±


    The auger was dirty with the grime of disuse. The Princess raised the hem of her dress an inch to wipe it clean. ¡°Something is bothering you,¡± she said. ¡°I can tell.¡±


    The Knight did not answer.


    ¡°You thought a box would ply me?¡± the Princess teased, ¡°that I would be so vain?¡±


    The Knight looked away; a pair of butterflies were danced through the meadow. He wondered how long they had to live. Their beauty and their grace seemed to mock him. How did they fly on such weak wings? When he turned back, the Princess was watching him as a cat would a mouse.


    He cleared his throat: ¡°Have I told you the tale of Echidna,¡± he asked, ¡°as was recounted to me many years ago, on an idle summer¡¯s day?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Princess said, ¡°but if this thought has arisen, satisfy it. Tell me, Dark Knight, is this a story with monsters in it?¡±


    ¡°Monsters, yes.¡± The Knight nodded. ¡°Echidna was a Princess, and like all Princesses she studied the royal arts. From dawn til dusk, her life was spent with tutors and teachers, memorizing the steps of dance, the rules of edict, the principles of governance.¡±


    The Knight sighed. ¡°And though she had naught but the finest instructors, her curtsy was off-kilter. Her dance was wrong, her song off-key. A double step, a misstep, a misquote.¡±


    ¡°A shame,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said the Knight. He turned to her. ¡°While you, my dear, are blessed. Divinity is your birthright and flawless is your form.¡± He watched as she set the bit against the grain. ¡°A Princess through and through.¡±


    ¡°Such is my title,¡± said the Princess. The Knight thought he heard a sadness in her voice.


    ¡°Yes, well, where was I?¡± he asked, returning to his story. ¡°Oh yes¡ªgrave Echidna¡ªdespite all tutelage, she could not master the royal arts. A shame, as you say, but this was not her crime.¡±


    The Princess turned the auger. The tip of the drill dug into the box.


    ¡°She had a mind for mathematics, abstract thought, philosophy and logic,¡± said the Knight. ¡°She knew of matter and of form, of Plato and of Euclid. But such scholarly pursuits meant nothing to her. No¡ªshe neglected her talents, and chased instead only that which eluded her. And like so many before her, her envy turned to hatred.¡±


    ¡°Pride,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Pride,¡± the Knight agreed. ¡°Bit by bit, her heart turned black. She thought, ¡®I am the Princess of these lands, and soon I will be Queen. My wisdom will be absolute, my authority: far-reaching. I must be, will be, a Queen without peer, a Queen without flaw.¡¯¡±


    The auger bore, peeling off lacquer in long, thin strips that curled and coiled around the drill bit. The Princess brushed them all away.


    ¡°¡®Surely, it is the dance, the song, my teachers, that have failed me,¡¯¡± the Knight continued. ¡°¡®They are wrong, my methods are the proper methods, my quotations are the correct quotations. My modifications and improvisations have only improved the dance, the song, the story.¡¯¡±


    The Knight laughed. The bit scraped against the grain. ¡°And,¡± he continued, ¡°and on her coronation, when she became Queen Regnant¡ªEchidna began to purge all that which she fell short of. Ancient scriptures destroyed by fire, replaced with her ¡®corrected¡¯ works. Teachers and scholars threatened and beaten, made to revise their own lessons.¡±


    Somewhere, hidden in the thicket, a songbird cried. ¡°Within her kingdom both art and science were twisted, and made profane,¡± said the Knight.


    He looked to his Princess¡ªa single bead of sweat clung to the bridge of her nose. ¡°Echidna,¡± she whispered. Wood shavings piled at her feet.


    ¡°The Queen and mother of monsters,¡± said the Knight. ¡°She warped the truth of things, and soon her lies warped her. Masterpieces of art no longer filled her with joy or muse, but only bitterness, and hatred, her wit reduced to rage.¡±


    The Princess worked the auger. Her little hands were steady.


    ¡°Every remembrance or recital of the old ways was met with ire and vengeance, and with great cruelty she inflicted punishments that twisted the flesh. Under her baleful rule, men became misshapen, but none so twisted as the Queen herself¡ªfor Echidna flayed herself for every mistake, every failure she made¡ªfor she, above all, fell short of her own haughty standard.¡±


    The drill broke through to the inside of the box, leaving a rough, round hole.


    ¡°Her people loved her and obeyed, and so did share her fate. After many long, cruel years, all humanity fled her and hers, and monsters they became, all.¡± The Knight¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°Still she lives, and reigns from high atop her dire throne,¡± he said, ¡°and births not but miseries. The Minotaur, the serpent, Medusa¡ªfrom her broken womb they spill.¡±


    The Princess set her auger down. ¡°The vanity of a Princess, is it?¡± she asked.


    The Knight chuckled to himself. ¡°I always hated that story¡ªgave me nightmares as a child.¡±


    ¡°Do you¡ªis this your concern?¡± the Princess asked, ¡°the downward spiral?¡± She searched her toolbox for a suitable perch. At the bottom of the box was a large and unusually thick nail. This would suffice.


    ¡°I am not Echidna,¡± the Knight said. ¡°I know my faults, my sins, and I know full well the standards of which I fall short.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡±


    The Knight hung his head. ¡°I am a beast in human guise. I am a slayer of Kings, the scourge of Princesses. I have killed many Knights, both green and good, even Men-at-Arms whom I once called brothers.¡±


    The Princess took a hammer from her toolbox. ¡°How many have you killed?¡± She gave the nail one solid hit to drive it home.


    ¡°Many,¡± said the Knight. ¡°When I was young, I swore to keep count, to honor those I¡¯d bested and remember them.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°I lost count long ago,¡± the Knight admitted. He stared at the ground. ¡°What does it matter?¡± he huffed.


    ¡°Well¡ª¡± The Princess smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. ¡°I¡¯m done. This box¡ªit will to make a goodly home. I hope to see a robin nest within.¡±


    They stood, and walked along, following the path until they came to the summer house. The lone fig stood tall, its branches reaching over the roof of the house, its leaves tickling the eaves, swaying in the breeze.


    The Princess tacked the box against the trunk. ¡°I liked that story,¡± she said, ¡°I enjoy tales where the wicked and terrible are justly rewarded.¡±


    ¡°What harsh words, my Lady, I thought not your heart to be so cold,¡± said the Knight. ¡°Do you hate me as well?¡±


    ¡°I wonder.¡±


    ¡°You should.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to hate you?¡± the Princess asked. ¡°I thought you wanted my love.¡± She flashed a coy smile. ¡°Or perhaps my pity?¡±


    ¡°Pity?!¡± the Knight roared. ¡°No! It is you who should be pitied! Imprisoned, helpless as you are. Alone!¡± He lurched forwards, ready to fight¡ªbut his sabatons slipped on the morning dew. He stumbled. Grasping, the Knight steadied himself against the fig.


    The Princess gave the birdhouse one final, gentle tap with her hammer, then took a step back to admire her handiwork. ¡°A very good birdhouse I think.¡±


    The Knight bit his tongue. ¡°I apologize, my Princess,¡± he said. ¡°I am often angry, and bitter with myself.¡±


    He bowed low, lower than ever before.


    The Princess closed her eyes to him, dismissing the Knight with a flick of her wrist. ¡°Pitiful indeed.¡±


    Later, after the Knight had left, as the Princess sat on the porch of the summerhouse and read, a pair of sparrows came along, and made the box their home. All day long they flitted between the meadow and the vineyard, gathering up grass and leaves and other debris for their nest.


    The Princess watched them long into the evening, until the sky was dark, and all the light had faded.

 Chapter Three: War & Stories

    The day-lilies stretched and opened with the day. All along the bank of the knoll they bloomed, from foot to crest and all the places in between. Only a small stone footpath offered passage up the hill.


    The Knight climbed slowly, his armor groaning in protest with every step. A pair of butterflies came to bother him, he swatted them away.


    At the top of the hill stood a gazebo, the highest point in all the garden. It overlooked the meadow, the lake and even the spring beyond. Fifteen feet tall, with room enough for ten, it had never known more than the company of two.


    And here she was, his Princess, fawning over a book. She did not rise to greet him, or look up, but merely extended her arm and hand and fingers as a welcome.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she said, her words like silk.


    ¡°And to you,¡± said the Knight, his voice as rough as gravel.


    Today, he noticed, the Princess had plucked a single lily for her hair. Her back was straight, her shoulders square, her summer dress rose above her ankles. Her toes wiggled as she read.


    She had brought an entire stack of books with her, from the floor of the gazebo they came up to her breast. The Knight wondered how she¡¯d managed to carry them all up the hill. ¡°It took me the better part of a decade to gather my library,¡± he said. ¡°Stocked with all that which wise men consider classic, and worthy of archival.¡±


    ¡°Squirreled away in the summer house,¡± the Princess replied, not looking up from her book. ¡°Unread. I have liberated them.¡±


    The Knight turned to her stack. They were all dusty, leathery tombs, long neglected, kept in the dark. Now freed, they puffed and breathed in the morning air, and their scent carried the musty memories of a long forgotten library.


    ¡°Ten years, and you pillage them.¡± He grimaced. ¡°If it were by any other hand¡ªthese are rare and fragile things. Some of them are one of a kind, impossible to replace.¡±


    ¡°Fret not, Dark Knight. My hands are clean, my touch is gentle. No harm shall come to your precious books.¡±


    ¡°Of that I have no doubt,¡± said the Knight.


    The Princess set her book down. ¡°A field. A library. A Maiden. These are the things you hold in your heart?¡±


    ¡°They are precious to me, yes,¡± the Knight answered. ¡°But if you asked it of me, I would burn these books for you, without even a moment¡¯s hesitation.¡±


    ¡°Perish the thought,¡± said the Princess. ¡°What an imagination you must have, if you think that is something I would wish for. No, I will indulge myself. You have an excellent collection.¡±


    The Knight nodded. What else would she have said? He bent to one knee to inspect her pile. He ran an armored finger along spines of worn leather, over names and titles in gold leaf.


    He stood. ¡°No books of war, I see. I own a vast collection, pinned by the world¡¯s most glorious strategists. You would find their insights fascinating¡ªthe machinations of man, set to gruesome work. A field of study without peer.¡±


    ¡°Gruesome indeed. I have curated a selection demonstrating man¡¯s better qualities.¡±


    The sun rose over the garden. The butterflies settled on the lilies. The Knight grabbed the topmost volume and ran a hand over the cover. He checked the bindings, the strength of the spine. Aside from a thin coat of dust¡ªwhich had settled on the cover long ago, long before it had been brought to the garden¡ªthe book was in immaculate condition.


    ¡°War and violence,¡± said the Princess, ¡°are two domains I have no interest in. They sicken me. I have better things with which to occupy my mind.¡±


    The Knight disagreed. ¡°War and violence are the principle domains of man. Not all are as pure and fortunate as you, to remain so willfully ignorant,¡± he said with the slightest hint of disdain.


    The Princess smiled. ¡°Ignorant? Hardly. Willful? Well, that I have been know to be.¡±


    A breeze twirled her hair to curls. The hem of her dress rippled in the wind, the fabric clung to her thigh. The Knight tried to ignore such beauty.


    He opened his book, and was pleased to find the pages had only the slightest hints of yellowing. ¡°War is vital knowledge,¡± he said. ¡°War is a way of life! Since childhood I have been trained to be an instrument of war, to find glory in battle, and honor in service of my King¡ª¡±


    His words caught in his throat. ¡°Though dead he now lies, for want of the perfect Knight.¡± He snapped the book shut. ¡°Deny it if you must, but a violent death awaits most men.¡±


    ¡°Needlessly,¡± said the Princess. ¡°The ways of peace are simple. Love your enemies, and soon you will find you have none at all. Tell me, Knight, what good comes of war?¡±


    ¡°I adore your fervor, Princess, misplaced as it is. Conflict is the mainspring of progress. Mettle is tested on the battlefield, wisdom is born from experience,¡± the Knight explained. ¡°And poetry! And art!¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Poetry? Ah, yes, good, I will concede that point!¡± The Princess laughed.


    ¡°Yes! Epics!¡± said the Knight. ¡°Of heroes born and bred, of life and death, victory and defeat! Immortal legends, and the countless shades of the dead and gone.¡±


    The Princess reached out, and the Knight handed her his book. She returned it to the stack, then placed hers on top as well. She stood, and abandoned the gazebo, strolling down to the base of the rolling knoll, where the lilies thinned in number, where the grass grew tall.


    The Knight followed her down the hill.


    ¡°The sacking of Troy, the rise of Rome. The history of war is the history of the world!¡± he declared.


    The Princess spied an ant amid the flowers and lowered herself to it. ¡°There is more beauty here than in all of war¡¯s creation,¡± she said. The ant scurried along the delicate petal of a day-lily, all six of its legs working in effortless tandem.


    ¡°Even the timid ant will martyr himself,¡± the Knight replied, ¡°if the cause is worth fighting for.¡±


    The Princess rose. ¡°Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Sweet indeed. Like dead Hector. An ant to his Queen¡ª¡±


    The Princess clasped her hands behind her back and started a slow circle around the flowers, searching for the ant¡¯s home. ¡°Cease your flattery,¡± she said, ¡°I am no Helen.¡±


    The Knight tried again. ¡°You are matched in beauty and wit and grace. Were I able, I would launch ten thousand ships in your name, the force of which the oceans could not bare, a terrible flood of oar and war, enough to drown the world. And gladly drown it I would¡ªif I were able¡ªif such actions would win your heart.¡±


    The Princess laughed again as she tiptoed through the day-lilies. ¡°More foolishness. My love cannot be won. Love can never be won. Only given.¡±


    ¡°Or taken,¡± the Knight grumbled, ¡°I could take it, if I wished. Is that not what Dark Knights do?¡±


    As soon the words left his lips he regretted them. The Princess paused on a half-step, and dug her heel into the earth. Her little body shook, she balled her fists until her knuckles were white.


    ¡°That,¡± she said, ¡°would be unwise.¡± A wind swept through the flowers.


    The Knight felt poison in his veins. His body seized, his blood curdled. The ant clung to the stem of a day-lily.


    The Princess worked her foot into the soil. ¡°To call a war upon me¡ªyou called me ignorant, before. Is it your wish, then, to educate me on such matters?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± the Knight choked out with the last of his breath. ¡°No!¡±


    The Princess turned to face him. ¡°Ha! See now, the spoils of war? Of violence? The history of the world, you say. Yes¡ªfor like a cancer, see it spread.¡± She sighed, then added: ¡°Not easily cut out.¡±


    He felt sick. ¡°It was nothing,¡± he tried to explain, ¡°a passing thought, like the wind, given voice. Ethereal, profane, fleeting, shameful¡ª¡±


    The Princess cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Intrusive?¡±


    The Knight nodded. Yes, this word seemed appropriate. ¡°Thoughts I do not want. And anger,¡± he said.


    He felt the weight of his armor, it was crushing. He could not bear to look at the Princess, and all that she was. He turned to leave, to run, but she stopped him with a word.


    ¡°Wait,¡± she said, ¡°wait.¡±


    She brought a hand to her chin, and considered her words. ¡°I, too¡ªwell, perhaps I can help. Thoughts¡ªboth wanted and unwanted¡ª¡± She started over. ¡°Thoughts can seem overwhelming, but given distance¡ªnot the distance of time or the distance of space, but the distance of non-attachment¡ªwe can see them for what they really are.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°We sit, and breathe.¡±


    The Knight looked around. ¡°Here, now?¡±


    The Princess sucked her teeth. ¡°When better?¡± she asked.


    She took him by the hand and lead him to the meadow. And although her voice was calm and her steps were light, the Knight saw red marks on her palm, where she had dug her fingernails into her skin.


    She found a particularly pleasant spot amid the hyacinth and beckoned him to sit, a smile on her face.


    He sat.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    The Princess folded her skirt and crossed her legs and sat down across from him. ¡°Close your eyes,¡± she repeated, ¡°and breathe.¡±


    The Knight took a final glance around the meadow before closing his eyes. There was no wind now, not even the slightest breeze. The air was fresh and pure, the scent of flowers was everywhere. The sky itself was cloudless, a perfect blue. Quiet pervaded, calm pervaded; a peace had settled over all the garden.


    How had he not noticed it before? It was perhaps the calmest day he had ever know, and he felt a renewed revulsion for having spoiled it.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°I am. How could I not?¡± the Knight asked.


    The Princess straightened her back. ¡°What I mean to say is, take a deep breathe. Breathe in through you nose. Hold it for a moment, then breathe out through your mouth. Feel your diaphragm, feel it rise and fall, feel you breast swell.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± The Knight ran a hand over his breastplate. ¡°I can¡¯t feel my chest, or my diaphragm. There is only a tightness there, and pain. I can¡¯t breathe deep. Every breath burns me. I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    The Princess frowned. ¡°Try.¡±


    The Knight breathed, slowly, but found that every breath he took was harder to draw than the last. It burned him, it felt as if his lungs were fit to burst. His heart ran wild¡ªwhat was this new poison?


    He choked on something foul.


    The Princess was deep in concentration. ¡°Breathe,¡± she repeated. ¡°Take your thoughts like breath. In and out, a continuous cycle, ever renewed, and fresh. Do not let the air grow stale in your lungs; let violent thoughts pass and empty from your mind.¡±


    She breathed in, she breathed out.


    The Knight felt like a drowning man¡ªhis mind desperately grasping and clinging to any thought it could, be it an itch or pain, a nagging obligation or worry. His brain rapidly switched between thoughts of food, of sex, of fighting, searching for something it could settle on¡ªanything to avoid the terrible, oppressive calm.


    ¡°At first it may seem a symphony, a flood¡ªunderstand, that all thoughts pass, that they have no power over you. If you can learn to let a thought go, then you will be not afraid to let one stay, for a while, if it pleases you to.¡±


    The Knight shivered. Memories bubbled up from deep within¡ªof Kings and swords, of thunder and blood, of lonely towers.


    He leapt to his feet, a cold sweat stuck to his brow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the Princess continued, still seated, ¡°to let thoughts pass, like breath, like air, like clouds, transient like morning dew, like ripples of the surface of a lake¡ªyou must accept them for what they are, be they pleasant or unpleasant.¡±


    Anger crept into the Knight, spurred by her tranquility. ¡°I don¡¯t want to play your little games!¡± he said. ¡°You think of peace as sitting? A horrible dredge of memory? I will find no peace here. You¡¯re taunting me, aren¡¯t you? I¡¯ve apologized, but that¡¯s not enough is it? You want me to suffer for my sins.¡±


    ¡°Hardly,¡± the Princess said, her face like stone.


    ¡°But suffer I should!¡±


    ¡°Sit,¡± the Princess commanded, ¡°and breathe.¡±


    But the Knight found that he could not sit, or even breathe. There was no air, there was no ground to sit upon. There was only the suffocating weight of his black armor.


    That night, alone in his cabin, the Knight chastised himself without mercy, and counted himself amongst the wretched.

 Chapter Four: Tygers

    A fat frog sat on a lilypad, sunning itself in the morning air. It kept a watchful eye on the swans as they gathered by the rocks where the bulrush grew. It watched the dragonflies as they danced beneath the willow trees. It watched the fish as they swam in the lake.


    And as the frog watched these things, so too did the Princess watch the frog, and follow its gaze. ¡°What is your purpose here, what do you hope to accomplish?¡± she asked.


    The frog croaked, jumping into the lake with a splash. The sound echoed in the Princess¡¯s mind like the ringing of a church bell. She smiled, and closed her eyes, committing the scene to memory.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± she asked the Knight again.


    ¡°Surely you must know,¡± he huffed.


    The Princess smiled. ¡°I do have my suspicions,¡± she said.


    She watched the swans as they pruned and paddled by the rocks. Today, the surface of the lake was like a clean, clear mirror.


    ¡°I want to know your intentions from a single glance, a brush of the hand,¡± said the Knight. ¡°The weight of your steps¡ª¡±


    ¡°So, you wish to know me?¡±


    The Knight nodded. ¡°Your thoughts are mysteries to me,¡± he said, ¡°your words are riddles. You wrap them around yourself, a cloak I cannot pierce. If only I could strip away that cloak, and know that which lies beneath¡ª¡±


    The Princess pointed out over the water to the swans. ¡°The lake is still,¡± she said. ¡°Look. The wind may sometimes stir the surface, the swans can splash and fuss, but the water is clear below, down to the lake bed. It is pure, and clean. And at night, if you are very lucky, you can see the moon¡¯s reflection.¡±


    She turned to the Knight. ¡°I hide nothing.¡±


    ¡°But you do! You hide!¡± he cried. ¡°I have yet to touch your heart.¡±


    ¡°What do you know of the heart?¡± the Princess snapped. ¡°You¡ªyou lech, you villain! Coward! How could I possibly love you?¡±


    The swans scattered to deeper waters. The Princess sighed, collected herself, and followed them along the lake shore. The Knight lumbered after her.


    ¡°It will happen, in time. Lech, villain¡ªcall me what you will, but my success is inevitable,¡± he said. ¡°I will secure your love. This I must believe, and would be lost without.¡±


    The Princess made the slightest noise of protest. ¡°¡®Secure my love?¡¯¡± she huffed. ¡°How foolish.¡±


    ¡°I am not unfamiliar with a Maiden¡¯s needs,¡± the Knight said with a wave of his hand. ¡°My ardent aim is to see affections grow and thrive. Our love could rouse a tale, a fable of old! Why, together we could earn a place in the night sky¡ªtwin stars, an eternal constellation!¡±


    ¡°Princesses are meant for Princes,¡± the Princess laughed. ¡°I will not have a Dark Knight.¡±


    ¡°But a Dark Knight, a Fair Maiden, I see a symmetry there. We could twixt legend, and stir bards¡¯ hearts. One day, they will sing songs celebrating our love!¡±


    The Princess sat down on the bank by the lake and chewed her words. The grass was wet with dew, it stained her dress.


    ¡°Although,¡± the Knight continued, now full of muse, ¡°I do not require the approval of any. I seek neither praise nor fame, having drunk my fill of both commendation and condemnation.¡±


    He puffed up his chest. ¡°Either extreme mean little to me,¡± he said. ¡°A man who lives by the standards of others is little more than a leaf in the wind, blown here and there by the whims of fancy.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I have taken my leave of society. I depend on none, and exist as a man apart.¡±


    The Princess dipped her fingers into the water. She felt the cool of the lake and admired it. ¡°Such pretensions, Knight. A man apart? Apart from what?¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± the Knight said. He broke a bulrush from its stock, ringing the plant beneath his fist. The Princess watched the soft, cottony seeds spill out from between his fingers.


    ¡°Mankind is dirty, this profane existence clings to us, and us to it,¡± she said, shaking the water from her fingers, ¡°but still, we strive. Even mud can shimmer in the light. Have faith in the strength of others. Be filled with love, and kindness.¡±


    ¡°Faith in others?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°Humph.¡± A gust of wind swept over the lake. ¡°In that case, have faith in me,¡± said the Knight. ¡°You would find me a gentle sort, tempered by love¡¯s virtue, though love cannot hide a lion¡¯s passion.¡±


    The bulrush seeds were caught up in the wind, they drifted out over the water. The Princess watched them until they disappeared, lost to the glare of the sun.


    Satisfied, she got to her feet. The Knight threw his bulrush to the ground and offered her his hand.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°I wish to kiss your cheek, and feel goosebumps on your skin,¡± he said, ¡°and hold your breast against my own, and feel our hearts beat as one.¡±


    The Princess frowned. She brushed aside his offered hand. ¡°You¡ª¡±


    ¡°To work in you until your fall¡ªthat would be my satisfaction¡ªand yours,¡± the Knight continued.


    They started back down towards the garden path. The Princess swept through the meadow like a summer breeze.


    ¡°You¡ªwho keeps me here against my will. You, who has forsaken all oaths. You, Dark Knight, who hides even his face from me. How could you possibly think your actions here will ¡®secure my love?¡¯¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    The Princess sighed. Then, a thought occurred to her.


    ¡°However¡ª¡± she said, ¡°avatar I be, woman I am, member of this brave humanity. If you love me, than you could love another, any other, all others.¡±


    She trailed off. ¡°Perhaps¡ª¡±


    ¡°It is for you alone I act, Princess,¡± the Knight said. ¡°Forget all others.¡±


    ¡°How could I? Am I not an ¡®other¡¯ to you? And you to me?¡±


    ¡°That is the cloak I wish to pierce,¡± said the Knight.


    The rhododendrons were in bloom, rows and rows of them, all along the way.


    ¡°Ha! I suppose, you¡¯re right, that is the trouble,¡± the Maiden said. ¡°The problem of I, and the troubles of thou. Very well¡ªlet us close that gulf, that trembling gyre, just a little. Tell me a story that would woo a Princess, then. Tell me of your wondrous exploits, your daring adventures, your ill-deeds and infamy.¡± Her fingers danced over violet petals. ¡°Whatever it is you think will secure my heart.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± the Knight stuttered.


    The Princess coaxed him on a little more. ¡°Tell me of your deeds heroic,¡± she said. ¡°Tell me a happy story.¡±


    ¡°Happy?¡± the Knight asked. A change came over him, a change the Princess could not quite place.


    She took him by the hand. ¡°Please,¡± she said.


    The Knight stared at her delicate fingers. They seemed brittle, and he was afraid that if he tried to hold her hand, they would splinter and shatter like bark.


    ¡°I do recall a tale you might be pleased to hear,¡± he said, ¡°of my wanderings along the King¡¯s Road.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes?¡±


    He withdrew his hand. ¡°I was six months into my journey, a pilgrimage without destination. One evening, just before sunset, I came across a man lying in the middle of the road, prostrate. A great tyger was before him, its teeth bared, its immense body blocking the path forwards.¡±


    The Princess raised a hand to her lips. ¡°Oh my.¡±


    ¡°A terrible creature,¡± said the Knight. ¡°Slinking to and fro, tendons and muscles quaking with power. Mind and body aligned in murderous intent. With stinking breath and pitiless eyes.¡±


    The Knight raised his thumb and forefinger, as if he were holding an invisible prize. ¡°To the tyger, the man had offered alms: a golden fig, his sole possession. He had thrown himself to the tyger¡¯s mercy, you see¡ªbut his prayers were in vain. The beast was about to strike.¡±


    They followed the stone path through the shrubbery. The path was narrow, the rhododendrons were far overgrown, and crowded out the passage.


    ¡°I drew my sword, and challenged the tyger, drew his attention from the man. And with a savage roar that shook the very trees, the beast charged at me!¡±


    The Knight scrapped his knuckles across his breastplate. ¡°Fifty feet between us¡ªthen thirty, then ten¡ªI steadied myself, and, at the very last moment, took a single step to the right, slitting the brute¡¯s throat as his momentum carried him past me.¡±


    A wondrous buzz of life filled the garden, the very air was alive. Bees and birds were everywhere, feeding and drinking and playing in the flowers.


    ¡°The great tyger crashed to the ground,¡± the Knight continued, ¡°and loosed a single, pitiful, sorrowful cry as blood spilled from its gaping neck¡ªand all the earth was stained by its passing.¡±


    The Princess lowered her eyes. ¡°I asked for a happy story.¡±


    ¡°I saved the man¡¯s life, is that not happy enough?¡± the Knight asked.


    ¡°Yes¡ªthe man, prostrate. Tell me of him.¡±


    They followed the path, and from amid the endless bloom, the garden gate appeared before them.


    ¡°The man¡ªa Pilgrim¡ªa Prince: half-dead he was. Not from bite or claw, but of thirst and hunger. Through parched lips¡ªthe Prince¡ªhe begged me for food or water, for was five days gone was he without respite.¡±


    ¡°And you, O Dark Knight, took pity upon him?¡±


    The Knight nodded. ¡°I did. What else could I do? I gave the Prince the last of my waterskin, I set a camp and a fire. I worked my sword as carving knife, and made a meal of the tyger.


    ¡°That evening, as I stoked the fire, the Prince told me his tale: his caravan attacked, a flight into the jungle. He¡¯d spent the night in the woods, hiding under a crescent moon. Come morning he¡¯d searched for his comrades but found himself to be the sole survivor, and was forced to carry on alone.¡±


    The Knight laughed. ¡°Do you know what he said to me, once he¡¯d quenched his thirst, and filled his belly? The Prince, he said, ¡®I did not know that I was cold until I felt the warmth of the fire.¡¯ Ha! Can you imagine?¡±


    ¡°I can imagine,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Yes, well¡ª¡± the Knight mumbled. He pulled a silver chain from under his armor. At the end of the chain was a key.


    ¡°Why did you save his life?¡± the Princess asked. ¡°You gained nothing from it.¡± She did not look at the key. She turned her eyes from it.


    The Knight considered her question. ¡°He amused me, I suppose. He was a charming sort, as Princes often are. And he called me his hero, and made no mention of my dark armor.¡±


    The key was heavy in his hand, like some lump of lead or gold. ¡°Do not think me noble. Not even a tyger will hunt or kill without a cause.¡±


    ¡°And what of the Prince; his fate?¡±


    ¡°We talked. We spoke of our homelands, our travels, our destinations. The Prince told me his name, I did not tell him mine. We talked, and come morning, we went our separate ways. I to the east, he to the west. Renewed, restored, I have no doubt the good Prince successfully completed his pilgrimage.¡±


    The Knight turned his attention to the garden gate. The silver chain slithered down his gauntlet like a snake.


    ¡°I have thought often of that night,¡± he said. ¡°I can march ten days without rest or ration. I had no provisions, for myself or the good Prince. Yes, the water in my pack saved him for the night¡ªbut without the flesh of the tyger, he would not have had the strength to carry on. Had the beast¡ªits dark eyes gleaming¡ªnot sought a meal of its own, then, surely, the Prince would have died.¡±


    The gate was a massive thing, all wrought iron, and tall, strong enough even to withstand a battering ram.


    ¡°Now, tell me, my dear Princess, does the thrill of death not stir the ecstasies of life?¡± the Knight asked as he unlock the gate. ¡°You know my wants, and my desires. If there is space between us, then let us close that distance entirely.¡±


    The Princess stared him down. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Let me go.¡±


    The gate swung open. The Knight hung his head. The forest of the world stretched out before him.


    ¡°Then there is nothing more to say.¡± He stepped through, then locked the gate again, sealing the Princess inside the garden.


    ¡°No, Knight!¡± the Princess cried. She grasped the iron bars of her cage. ¡°There is more to say. There is always more to say. And think. And feel.¡±


    He stopped. ¡°What is it, Princess?¡±


    She swept her hair back, and off her shoulders. ¡°I wanted to thank you. It was lovely story, I enjoyed it.¡±


    The Knight bowed. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± He walked into the woods and out of sight. And behind him, in the garden, up the path, past the meadow where the hyacinth bloomed¡ªthe fat frog sat and waited.


    And the lake was still.

 Chapter Five: Tooth & Comb

    The Knight stared out the window at the sun as it blazed away in a cloudless sky. It baked the grapes as they ripened on their vines, it shimmered and shined on the surface of the lake, it forced the swans to the north bank, where they pruned and fussed under the shadow of the willows.


    The bees were in the clover.


    ¡°What an oddly hot day,¡± the Princess said, as she cooled herself with a paper fan. They sat in the summer house, taking shelter from the heat.


    The room contained a hearth, a chaise lounge and a small red table, scarcely big enough to hold a tea tray. Today, in place of a teapot, two flowers floated in a glass pitcher.


    The Princess draped herself across the chaise lounge, her bosom rising and falling as the heat washed over her in waves. Her scent wreathed through the tiny, stuffy parlor. ¡°Tell me a story,¡± she cooed. ¡°My heart longs for a tale of fancy, and thou are well suited to the task.¡± Her dress rested in folds.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the Knight replied, ¡°we can come to some arrangement.¡± His armor was an oven, and within it he sweltered; his bindings were soaked in sweat.


    He crossed the room to where a bookcase had been built into the far wall. ¡°I have a desire,¡± he said as he reached behind the bottom row of books, ¡°not so profane as all my hopes, but an indulgence I believe will not offend thee.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± The Princess sat up to see what he was doing.


    He grabbed a small satin bag from behind the hidden recess. He loosed the string and knot, and withdrew a comb; one solid piece of carved ivory. He held it out for the Princess to admire. ¡°I wish to comb your hair,¡± he explained.


    The Princess cupped her hands. ¡°My hair, you say?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The Knight nodded. ¡°How it taunts and teases me, with slightest bob or flow¡ª¡±


    He cradled his comb, admiring the flawlessly cut ivory. Each tine was intricately carved from the whole, an immaculate row of teeth, all impossibly thin, almost transparent. It took all his effort to hold; his gauntlets made him clumsy.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he whispered, ¡°how it catches the light¡ª¡±


    ¡°More adulation,¡± the Princess chortled. She laughed, and her hair bounced lightly off her shoulders. ¡°Why do you persist?¡±


    The Knight knelt by her side. ¡°I would not cease, I cannot cease! A monk knows in his heart of hearts the glory of his god, yet still prays daily¡ªa similar drive compels me.¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± the Princess cried. ¡°Enough! My hair; your hands? I find these terms acceptable.¡±


    The Knight was overjoyed. He immediately set the comb down and began unbuckling the leather straps that secured his gauntlets.


    They were ugly things: the fingers were clawed, the knuckles maced, cruel spikes swept back from interlocking plates. They, like the rest of the Knight¡¯s armor, had been painted black long ago, but now were worn silver along the joints and folds.


    He set them on the table.


    Next, he unwrapped the bindings from his hands, long strips of herringbone cotton. From around thumb and between fingers and under palm the cloth unwound, yellowed from age and use. These strips too, he set aside.


    He studied his freed hands.


    Entombed, his armor had seemed like a second skin, now his fingers tingled as circulation returned to them. He flexed his hands and felt the bones, the muscle, the sinew. His fingers felt foreign to him.


    ¡°Your hands¡ª¡± the Princess cried, seeing where the cotton wraps had cut into his skin.


    He hid his hands from her. ¡°A Knight¡¯s burden,¡± he said, ¡°do not worry.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªvery well.¡±


    He wiped the grime from his hands as best he could, then turned his attentions to the comb. He shifted the carved thing from one hand to the other, running a finger down the row of ivory teeth, each one finer and more delicate than the last.


    Satisfied, he turned to his Princess. ¡°Ready?¡± he asked.


    She brushed her hair off her shoulders. ¡°Where did you get that comb?¡± she asked.


    ¡°That question I will answer,¡± the Knight said, ¡°If you will be still and quiet. The teeth are delicate, unaccustomed to use. Let me go about my work, and hurry me not, for I wish to linger here, and take my fill.¡±


    The Princess nodded, and shifted in her seat, until she was facing away from him.


    He ran his fingers through her hair for a moment, testing it, teasing it, letting it catch the light. Then he raised the comb and brought it to her crown. Between each tooth naught but a single hair was caught.


    His hands shook. ¡°If only I were a poet.¡±


    ¡°You are a Knight,¡± the Princess reminded him, her eyes fixed, her shoulders square, ¡°and I am owed a story.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He combed down to the very ends of her hair, near the small of her back, then he started again from the top. Each pull through was effortless. He watched for any errant twitch or nervous spasm, but the Princess did not squirm, or stir¡ªshe was, as always, perfectly at ease.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    This calm of hers¡ªhe both loved and hated it.


    ¡°Once upon a time,¡± he began, ¡°I was a good and loyal Knight. Chivalrous and true, honorable and brave. And I was tasked, by my King and master, to escort a convoy along the Spice Road to the Glittering City.¡±


    The Knight flipped up his visor, exposing his eyes to the light. The slats were blinding and he wanted to see everything.


    ¡°An errand most unbecoming and unworthy of my talents. I felt it beneath me, I detested my use as¡­ guard dog.¡± He teased a finger through the Maiden¡¯s hair to test his progress with the comb¡ªshe cocked her head and set him back to work.


    ¡°It was a three-month journey to reach the spicelands. Three months of thankless travel, with no sight or sound of real action, just an endless stretch of well-beaten road. A dull, tamed land. I ached to wander.¡±


    Condensation formed on the glass pitcher, and wet the cloth below.


    ¡°I craved war, and glory,¡± said the Knight, ¡°but most of all, I wanted adventure.¡±


    The Princess touched her cheek. A stray hair was stuck to her temple. The Knight instinctively reached for it, to tuck it behind her ear. His finger glanced the side of her neck and caught a bead of sweat.


    He paused for a moment, lost in thought. ¡°Even back then¡ªyes, bound to the merchants and their wagons, I had wont to stray¡ª¡± He trailed off.


    The Princess shook her shoulders, her hair danced with light.


    ¡°Ah, but I digress¡ªthe comb!¡± the Knight cried, remembering his story. ¡°So such was my delight and joy when we arrived, at last, after travel long and lame, to our destination. I will never forget crossing the gate into the Glittering City, that grand bazaar.


    ¡°All around me was the hum of activity, of peddlers and their wares¡ªof life, and abundance! Trinkets and tools and tapestries, spices and silks, garments and gowns, perfume thick in the air like mist, music everywhere, scents and sensations and¡ªah, amidst such finery I was lost.¡±


    A wave of nostalgia rolled over the Knight. ¡°One could wander through those crowded streets, stopping at every stall and store and merchant they came across, and not experience in a month but one-hundredth of the wealth and wonder on display.


    ¡°Indeed¡ªthat seething mass, that endless splendor¡ªone could never truly know it, for every day and week it was renewed a thousand-fold, as fresh wonders and peoples spilled in from distant, exotic lands. A true crossroads, it was, and a true adventure.


    ¡°And for a moment, I was happy.¡±


    A thought occurred to him. ¡°Have you ever been there,¡± he asked, ¡°to the Glittering City?¡±


    ¡°Once or twice,¡± said the Princess, ¡°but it was different then, and smaller. I did not linger long.¡±


    He ran the comb through her hair again.


    ¡°I¡¯m enjoying this,¡± said the Princess. ¡°It is soothing, a small comfort. Tell me, is this the quality of the instrument, or your skill with the comb?¡±


    ¡°Both, I should hope,¡± answered the Knight.


    The Princess raised an eyebrow. ¡°And have you much experience with the combing of a Maiden¡¯s hair?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. I hope that does not stir your jealousy.¡±


    ¡°Hardly. I was simply curious.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said the Knight. ¡°Now, where was I? Oh yes¡ªthe people!¡± he cried, ¡°and me, in my armor. What a stranger I was. Even the most traveled of them¡ªthey did not know what to make of me, never had they seen a Knight, proper and tall¡ªas I was in those days.¡±


    His hands were shaking again. ¡°All around me were men and women who had sublime, refined tastes, and I was a dullard in their company. That code of chivalry I so clung to, was so entranced by¡ªwhat had it made of me?


    ¡°So many years spent without softness, or grace, only the discipline and pain of training.¡±


    Sweat beaded on his forehead. ¡°Is it enough to know the silk is soft, or must I know of the silkworm, the looms, the Maidens in their sewing circle? There is so much I have let slip away. So much I have ignored, in favor of death and glory.¡±


    He hung his head. ¡°Amid that throng¡ªa strange nausea came over me. I wandered the streets, disoriented, overwhelmed and sick. Until, by chance, I found this comb. It was just sitting there, tucked away in a side stall on a side street in a small and quiet quarter of the city. Ignored. All others seemed to pass, as if blinded to its majesty. Did they overlook? Misjudge? Were they accustomed to such beauty, found it mundane? Here, shaped for service, a minuscule thing, a delicate tool¡ª¡±


    He set the comb down. ¡°And so I bought it,¡± he explained to the Princess, ¡°a reminder, I suppose, of my tastes, of appetites beyond war and recklessness.¡±


    Her hair was like spun silk. Each individual strand slipped through his fingers with the upmost ease, and together they formed a harmony, and the Knight was reminded of a river, or perhaps a waterfall.


    ¡°My head was full of duty and adventure and fame and renown and I would have been happy enough to go through all the days of my life alone,¡± he whispered. ¡°Admired but unloved, without the desire for love. But now I seek something deeper, something greater; an intimate knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Of me?¡± asked the Princess.


    He brush her hair aside, exposing the nape of her neck. ¡°Of you, and all that you are.¡± He leaned forwards slightly, and thought to kiss her there, but then he remembered his helmet, and his armor. He withdrew.


    ¡°Fine and finished,¡± he said. He cleared his throat. ¡°See thy hair and how it shines.¡±


    The Princess ran a hand through her hair, curling a lock around the tip of her finger. ¡°An admirable job,¡± she said.


    The Knight reached for his binding tape. ¡°Having demonstrated my gentler qualities,¡± he said he wrapped his hands in cotton strip again, ¡°have your affections grown? Will you spend this evening here with me? I have more stories, I could whisper them to you.¡± A strip of herringbone dangled from his fingers.


    ¡°No,¡± the Princess answered without hesitation or malice.


    The Knight grumbled as he wrapped the cotton around his wrist, around his hands, through his fingers.


    A shadow passed over the summer house, and for a moment the room was dim. ¡°Free me,¡± said the Princess. ¡°Let me go.¡±


    The Knight did not answer. He lowered his visor, hiding his eyes. The Princess seemed further away now.


    She leaned back against the chaise lounge. ¡°A question,¡± she asked. ¡°That comb¡ªbefore you were a Dark Knight, you were a good Knight, yes?¡±


    The Knight blinked. ¡°Shining, even.¡± He grabbed his gauntlets.


    ¡°And what, precisely were you before you were a Knight at all?¡±


    ¡°I was a lie. No¡ªworse than that! I did not exist.¡±


    ¡°How delightfully cryptic.¡± The Princess laughed. ¡°Come now, Knight, there is no need to be coy with me, I know how these stories go, I¡¯ve heard them all before.¡± She leaned forwards. ¡°Why do you hide your face from me?¡±


    He tightened the straps on his vambrace. ¡°Take the comb,¡± he said. ¡°A gift. I trust you will care of it, as I once did. Use it, if it pleases you.¡± He offered the Princess a quick bow, then left without another word.


    ¡°Until tomorrow then, I suppose,¡± the Princess called after him.


    An evening cool had begun to settle over the garden. The swans had come out from under the willows, and were preening on the bank by the bulrush. The day-lilies were swaying gently in the wind, a last languid dance under the lengthening shadows. Somewhere a thrush was calling for a mate.


    In the waning light the Knight flexed his hands. A stiffness was returning, his fingers were numb. ¡°How odd,¡± he thought.


    That night, alone in his cabin, he wrapped and rewrapped his hands a dozen times, but no matter how hard he tried, the cotton constricted him, and he could find no comfort.

 Chapter Six: Blue Skies

    By his count it had been two weeks¡ªtwo weeks since he¡¯d last slept, two weeks since he¡¯d bathed, two weeks since he¡¯d eaten anything more than a passing morsel. Now he stumbled home, his breath caught in his throat, his legs like iron. A terrible languor had seized him.


    He stripped off his armor piece by piece by piece, laying it on the floor of his cabin. He loosed his gambeson, he threw away his boots. He fell into bed and sleep found him at once. It was a deep sleep, and he dreamed of darkness.


    It was a cold darkness. A darkness that pressed in on him, that muffled out sound and sight and thought. Suffocating, it left no room for even fear. But then there was light¡ªa single white light, dancing, flickering in the distance, like the delicate flame of a forlorn candle, just about to go out. And to this light he ran¡ªgrasping and struggling he reached for it, but always was it just beyond his reach.


    And when he woke the next morning, he found his fatigue had only doubled.


    He stretched and his body creaked, as if his limbs had rusted in the night. His breast ached¡ªthere was a tightness there, so he removed his gambeson and all his bindings and worked his palm into his breast until the stiffness had gone away, until he¡¯d worn his chest red and raw.


    Next he took a damp cloth and wiped the sweat and grime from his skin. The cool water stung and bit at his wounds, the cloth scraped and tore his flesh.


    He choked down a scrap of bread then bound himself up again. Helmet secured, sword in sheath, with fifty pounds of armor, anonymous¡ªthe Knight was himself once more, stood proud once again.


    He set upon the forest. Summer sun streamed down upon him, filtered through the canopy in great, wide rays of light.


    His steps were heavy.


    It seemed to him that the forest was empty and endless¡ªa restless place without comforts, of ancient oaks and cedars. They¡¯d grown thick and tall over the nameless centuries, and reminded him of the marble columns of a ruined temple.


    He wandered on until he came to his garden of spring, his Princess¡¯s prison. Key turned, gate opened, all his burdens were lifted.


    Save one.


    The asphodel was blooming in the meadow, white heads and petals peaking through the tall grass, speckling the field with splotches of light. It was here he found her.


    She was painting today, a canvas and easel before her, a paintbrush dangling from her fingertips, momentarily forgotten as she stared at the sky¡ªthe blue sky¡ªwhere great cumulus clouds bloomed like cotton flowers.


    He hung back a moment to take his fill of her, to watch as she played with her paints, mixing oils and colors on her palette.


    ¡°What are you doing, lurking there?¡± she called over her shoulder. Her voice floated on the air, all other sounds seemed dull and distant.


    The last weight was lifted, the demons were excised from his bones, an honest pleasure took him. ¡°I apologize,¡± said the Knight, approaching, ¡°I was merely watching¡ªbut surely you radiate some aura, invisible, tantalizing, enthralling. I could not help but stare.¡±


    The Princess huffed and turned back to her canvas. ¡°Don¡¯t try to flatter me,¡± she said. ¡°Why do you always try to flatter me?¡±


    ¡°Because I love you,¡± said the Knight.


    The Princess ignored this. She gestured to her easel. ¡°I have been tasked,¡± she said. ¡°Today I will paint the clouds.¡±


    The Knight peered over her shoulder. ¡°A masterpiece soon to be born.¡±


    ¡°And yet more flattery.¡± The Princess sighed.


    She dabbed her brush in blue. ¡°Although I am curious,¡± she added. ¡°Why? Why do you love me?¡±


    ¡°How could I not?¡± was the Knight¡¯s reply.


    ¡°That is not an answer.¡±


    ¡°What answer would you have me give?¡±


    The Princess raised her brush. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted, ¡°but I command thee, Knight, all the same! Tell me of your love! I do not ask from vanity; I have no need for praise. Why have you pursued me? What of me stirs your heart? Be honest.¡±


    She flicked her wrist and made a swath of blue. ¡°I¡¯ve had my admirers, of course,¡± she said, ¡°but all of them have had the wisdom not to chase what cannot be caught. But you, Dark Knight¡ªvery audacious.¡±


    ¡°This is true,¡± the Knight said with a mark of pride, ¡°there are few like me.¡±


    ¡°That was not a compliment,¡± the Princess called back to him. She made another brush stroke, lighter than the last.


    The Knight thought it best not to contest this. ¡°When did my heart first stir for you?¡± he wondered. ¡°When did your legend first reach my ear, carried on the tongues of a thousand Pilgrims? Dames and Knights and Knaves. King and Queens. All of them speak, and whisper, of a Princess, a Damsel of such allure that they consider themselves blessed just to have laid eyes upon her.¡±


    He paced.


    ¡°A fragile beauty, a unicorn in Maiden¡¯s guise,¡± he continued. ¡°Next to you even the brightest stars are dimmed, naught but twinkles in the sky.¡±


    The Princess smirked. ¡°So, it is my beauty that you seek?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Beauty is but one of your many charms,¡± said the Knight. ¡°But O! Were I that shepherd boy Paris, to you I would have awarded the golden apple, and suffered happily all the wrath of heaven!¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± he cried, raising a fist to the sky, ¡°blessed from above; a rival to Aphrodite herself!¡±


    The Princess mixed a dash of white into her blue. ¡°You as well, Dark Knight,¡± she said, ¡°you have also had blessings placed upon you. I see it.¡±


    ¡°Blessings that help me persist and endure,¡± said the Knight. ¡°They are of a different kind, and of ill-compare to yours.¡± He stared at his fingers, where even now he could feel the cold metal of his gauntlets digging into his skin. ¡°Blessing that have helped me suffer through both misery and pain.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°nothing of mine can compare to even the slightest of your graces.¡± He watched her brush dance across the canvas. ¡°The standard of all women, they feel shame in your presence¡ªPygmalion¡¯s true love!¡±


    The Princess tapped the end of her paintbrush against her hip. Blue stained the asphodel.


    ¡°And your face!¡± the Knight continued. ¡°All features in golden ratio¡ª¡±


    The Princess threw down her brush, it fell amongst the wildflowers. ¡°Enough!¡± she cried. ¡°Enough flattery, enough praise! Others may seek it, But. I. Do. Not.¡±


    The Knight reached down and picked up her brush for her. ¡°I beg your forgiveness,¡± he said. ¡°My tongue is apt to wander in your praise. You possess innumerable virtues, Princess.¡±


    She took the brush without comment and returned to her painting.


    The Knight continued: ¡°The people of all these far-reaching lands would have you as their Queen and Sovereign. Their hearts ache for compassionate rule. You could be the greatest of Queens, and lord over all mankind, yet you have rejected the seat of power.


    ¡°You shun the kingdom of man; nature is your domain. Wild animals grow tame in your presence, birds sing sweeter, they sing of you. You wander the forest of the world barefoot, without trepidation.¡±


    He loomed over her. ¡°You fear nothing and none fear you,¡± he said, ¡°for you trumpet penitence, and peace¡ªbut any sinner would rather cast himself into the sea to drown, than live, and suffer knowing he has invoked your fury and your wrath.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± the Knight laughed, ¡°any sinner but I.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± The Princess lowered her brush, satisfied with her blue sky. Next she choose a silver-white, and began her work on the clouds. ¡°For your crimes, you alone have earned an ire,¡± she said. ¡°I suppose you consider that a victory.¡±


    ¡°Yes and no, my Princess. It serves as both badge and burden. Proof that I have roused your passions. Proof that I have hurt you. Hate me if you must¡ªbut even your contempt is a sweet fruit.¡±


    A stroke of white.


    ¡°I adore you,¡± the Knight continued. ¡°I am filled with love, as are all who have been graced by your presence. Men, women, they love you more than they love themselves.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± asked the Princess.


    ¡°Why?¡± the Knight asked. ¡°Why? For you a Sin-Eater, a Saint-Walker! Tender to the sick, the needy, the wretched, those with want for charity. A helping hand in time of need; the last who wanders. In your presence time has no meaning¡ªan hour, a century, both are meaningless. You pass along, thankless, from town to town, for the whole world is thy home¡ª¡±


    ¡°My ¡®home¡¯ is a cage now,¡± the Princess interrupted, ¡°and it is small.¡±


    The clouds were forming well, she placed them on the canvas, in the heavens. The smell of sweet grass filled the air.


    ¡°A necessity,¡± said the Knight. ¡°Your ire, your imprisonment¡ªcasualties in pursuit of a goal most noble. How else could I claim your heart, to know and be known by a Princess?¡±


    The Princess made the slightest noise of protest. She lowered her brush, dipped the tip in paint, and raised it again. ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°you have certainly proven your devotion. But your love has been twisted into a lecherous, deceitful thing. No good shall come of it.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the Knight said cautiously, ¡°my love would do you good, if allowed to flourish proper.¡±


    ¡°Flourish? Your love is a prison.¡±


    A grasshopper was sunning himself on a long stock of grass, he rubbed his legs together and contemplated the sky.


    ¡°You load upon me such lofty titles and I want none of them,¡± said the Princess. ¡°You extol my virtues, but ignore my flaws.¡±


    The shadow of a cloud passed over the meadow. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it!¡± she cried, clutching her brush. ¡°Knight! I command thee: tell me my faults, my failings. Speak truly.¡±


    ¡°Must I?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you must.¡±


    The Knight considered his words. ¡°I am not so bold to claim that your reluctance to love me is a flaw,¡± he began, ¡°that would be foolish indeed.¡±


    He paced. He kicked at the dirt with his heel. He thumped on his breastplate. He rapped his knuckles against the side of his helmet.


    ¡°What is flaw?¡± he asked, his pace quickening. ¡°Consider a masterpiece, a painting¡ªwhole, complete. All those swaths of color, so delicately placed, together forming something greater than themselves, something whole. A work of art; not one single brushstroke to be added or undone.¡±


    He was fidgeting now. ¡°The rug makers of the east!¡± the Knight cried. ¡°For sixty years the weavers hone their skills! They are men of art, their creations are threaded with care, and reach unrivaled lengths¡ªbut they leave a single thread loose, undone. Unruly and uncouth. Imperfect.¡±


    He fretted. ¡°A symbol that perfection is impossible, an ideal to strive for, unreached and unreachable. The flaw, the foil¡ªthe loose thread keeps the rug unfinished. The flaw makes it great.¡±


    ¡°Am I petty, am I vain?¡± The Princess stamped her foot. ¡°What are my sins? What are my hindrances?¡±


    The Knight stumbled over his words. ¡°Understand my quandary,¡± he said, ¡°I would call you perfect, but that would be a disservice. Such a label blinds one¡¯s eyes; they see the forest but not the trees. Is it not enough to say that I love you, that I love all of you?¡±


    The Princess dabbled clouds on her canvas. ¡°Flattery spills from your lips, unending.¡±


    ¡°I know you better than most, Princess. I have studied you carefully. Within this gated garden, I have come to know you well. What of flaw and facet? Even on a diamond, not all sides shine with equal luster. Your blemishes only serve to compliment your virtues.¡±


    ¡°Ah ha,¡± said the Princess, ¡°so you¡¯re not blind to my failings, but would rather trivialize them all away?¡±


    The Knight snapped to attention. ¡°Princess!¡± he cried, ¡°you live below your station. You reject the company of others. You think that life¡ªthat living is simple. On cold nights you sniffle, your nose grows red, but you are not moved by warmth, but rather wait until the cold has passed. You appear aloft, almost without care, yet this cannot hide the compassion that abounds within!¡±


    His voice raised to a shout. ¡°You dismiss my propositions, limp and listlessly! You rouse such passions within me, yet refuse to quell the flames. Worse, you pity me! Me, who is free beyond all measure!


    ¡°If you think you¡¯re better than me, say so, Princess! You mock me like a stone¡ªsilent and cold. With your held tongue and pursed lips¡ªyou give me hope to think, to dream: ¡®Perhaps she sees some strength in me that I cannot. Perhaps she will place her hands upon me, and name me her equal.¡¯ You cloud my mind with dreams and doubts! What torture it is! What gives you the right to toy the with hearts of men?¡±


    He turned to the Princess, expecting some clever retort or cool dismissal. He received neither. No¡ªinstead, she lowered her brush and wet it in a water bowl. She ran her fingers and thumb through the bristles, cleaning them, working out the paint. She packed away her palette knife and kit.


    ¡°Say something!¡± the Knight yelled.


    The Princess smiled and offered him her painting. ¡°Here,¡± she said, ¡°for your little cabin. Be careful, if you please, the paint is not yet dry.¡±


    The wind was ripped from his sails. He bent to one knee and accepted her gift.


    ¡°I am no master of the art,¡± the Princess continued, ¡°yet I hope this satisfies. It is messy, bordering on the abstract, but therein lies the charm.¡±


    The Knight pondered this. ¡°And yet, fair Maiden, you would not add or take away even a single brushstroke?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Princess, ¡°I would not.¡±

 Chapter Seven: Beneath the Willow Tree

    One day there was a terrific storm, like the deluges of old. No amount of magic could hold back the downpour, and so a heavy rain fell upon the garden and soaked the Knight and Princess, both.


    ¡°If you wished it, I could stop the rain,¡± the Knight said between rumbles of distant thunder. ¡°I have parley with she who knows the song of storms, the Lady of the Golden Lyre. She can calm and quell even Zeus¡¯s rage.¡±


    They sat by the spring, under the willow trees. The willows wept, whipped by the wind. The tall grass was bent over, wet and heavy. Rain pelted the surface of the lake and prickled on bare skin.


    The asphodel shuddered.


    ¡°No thank you,¡± said the Princess. ¡°I enjoy the rain; I wish to feel the cold.¡±


    They sat, and listened to the sound of the storm. The ceaseless tings and pings of raindrops bouncing off the Knight¡¯s black helmet. The gurgle of the ground filling up, becoming saturated, of water seeping between the grass and mulch. The sound of rain against the trees, sizzling the leaves, echoing across the bark.


    ¡°In some ways,¡± the Knight said after a long silence between the two, ¡°I prefer foul weather. A fine rain stirs all the senses, rouses them, teases them. There are secrets to be learned from the rain, if one can ferret them out.¡±


    The Princess nodded in agreement. ¡°Breathe deeply, breathe slowly and taste the water on your breath.¡±


    A trickle of rain ran racing down her hair, dark and wet.


    ¡°Men wish for sun, and bask in it,¡± said the Knight. ¡°A fair weather day elapses without memory, with little consequence or substance.¡± He held his arm out and watched the rain bounce off of his armor. ¡°A hazy thought, a carefree dream, clouds pass like idle hours.¡±


    He stared at the sky, full of darkness. Just beyond the horizon he could see a thin hint of pale light streaking through the clouds.


    ¡°Perhaps the sun causes forgetfulness,¡± he said. ¡°After a cruel winter we welcome its warmth like an old forgotten friend, yet soon enough, complain of summer¡¯s heat.¡±


    The Princess took a deep breath, her breast rose and fell. The cool, clean scent of rain filled the air. ¡°¡®Good¡¯ weather, ¡®bad¡¯ weather, such things do not exist,¡± she said. ¡°There is merely weather, and your reaction to it.¡±


    The sound of thunder filled the space between them. The Knight studied the Princess. Rain fell from her fingertips. Water beaded on her skin, her dress clung to her like silk. The little brook was purling.


    ¡°Consider a drought,¡± he said, ¡°dry, the land parched like a beggar¡¯s throat. In the heathen days of old, we made sacrifices, pleaded, and struck bargains with the gods. ¡®Deliver onto us a rainfall, for the farmer lives and dies by the rain, and we are beholden to his boon.¡¯ Yes, we pray for rain, but also we curse its coming. We fear the flood, we bemoan the storm.¡±


    Above him, the sky rumbled.


    ¡°This rain will continue through the night and into the morning,¡± said the Knight, ¡°and yet we sit, defiant. Will we catch our deaths of cold? Will the wind beat us until we fall? Will this stream overflow, and flood, will the current sweep us away? Tell me of the rain, the rage and thunder. Do you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Knight,¡± the Princess interrupted, ¡°I accuse you of thinking too much. Thought is good, but you must learn clarity of mind.¡±


    The Princess raised her hands to the storm, and watched in silence as the rain fell upon them, as the raindrops made little trails down her arms, beading on the tips of her elbows, dripping to the muddy ground.


    The Knight took the Princess¡¯s hand and bent low to kiss it, but she withdrew without contempt or comment.


    ¡°Contemplate the rain but do not count the drops,¡± she said.


    ¡°Do you wish to make me a dullard?¡± asked the Knight. ¡°To let things be, to not learn from them? Like this swollen earth, I will absorb all knowledge until full and saturated.¡±


    ¡°The droplets are the rain, the rain does not exist without them,¡± said the Princess. She ran her fingers through her hair. ¡°Tell me, precisely how many do you think will fall today?¡±


    ¡°I could not say. Millions.¡±


    ¡°The pursuit of knowledge is admirable. However, knowledge alone is not enough. It must be tempered with wisdom and experience and virtue.¡±


    The Princess fell silent. A gust of wind blew her hair about, it fell across her eyes, blinding her. Above her, a bolt of lightning cut across the sky.


    ¡°Pursue thoughts to where they might lead,¡± she said, ¡°but do not get lost along the way. Rumination, anxiety; very bad.¡±


    Another bout of wind swept her hair back behind her shoulders. Thunder crashed. The Princess spoke slowly, deliberately, choosing her words with care.


    ¡°There will always be more to learn, and that is the wonder of the world,¡± she said. ¡°Try to hold but a single thought. Turn it, examine it from all angles until thoroughly satisfied.¡±


    She turned to the Knight. ¡°Then let it go.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The Knight breathed. He¡¯d never known the Princess to say so much.


    The storm grew worse. The willows twisted in the wind and lost their leaves. The pond made waves. The swans took roost, the starlings hid. The Princess smiled. She crossed her legs, she straightened her back, she rested her hands on her knees.


    Simply, she sat.


    ¡°Do not concern yourself with the rain, or the wind, or the storm,¡± she said. ¡°Meditate on a single drop of water, and all that it holds.¡±


    The Knight shivered. The wind was harsh, he had no protection from the cold. Gusts rattled his steel cage. The wet crept between his plates of armor, through his threadbare gambeson, and froze the cloth that bound him. The wind howled, wailing against his helmet, battering his ears. The rain fell in sheets; he struggled to see. The cold extended down to his toes, his fingers were numb.


    ¡°And how does one calm the mind while in the midst of such a storm?¡± he asked the Princess.


    ¡°Calm the mind? Calm the storm? Why do you try to force such things?¡± was her reply.


    The Knight closed his eyes. He tried to concentrate. He tried not to concentrate.


    The Knight thought about a single drop of rain. In his mind¡¯s eye he saw it fall from heaven to earth. Surrounded by its sisters and brothers, yet separate from them, it fell. The raindrop hit the ground and rebounded, only to be drowned by its peers. The rain pooled on the saturated earth.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± the Knight thought, ¡°the sun will shine, renewed, and this tiny little speck of rain will be no more. This single drop of water will return to the air, return to the cloud, only to fall again.¡±


    The Knight pondered this cycle in all its permutations. Falling, being drunk by a crane from a lake on the night of a full moon. Falling, absorbed by the earth, meeting root, feeding leaf. Falling, freezing into crystal, freezing into snow, caught on the tongue of a girl. All these passages ended with rebirth, the return to the cloud.


    Slowly, very slow, the Knight forgot.


    He forgot his frigid toes. He forgot about his ears, battered by the wind. Forgot the wet binds that clung to his breast, constricting him. Forgot all language. He forgot all breath and breathing, until slowly and steadily it came without measure.


    He thought only of a single raindrop. And then he let that thought go, and he thought of nothing at all.


    For a moment.


    From somewhere beside him, the Princess spoke. She sounded very far away.


    ¡°Can you feel? Every little drop. Every single one?¡± she asked him. ¡°Can you feel the space between the rain?¡±


    He did not answer.


    The Princess cleared her throat. ¡°Come, Knight, let us sit by the fire and drink our tea. I have taken my fill of storm. We are healthy and we are strong but I will not test our limits on this day.¡±


    The Knight huffed out a hot, deep breath through the slit in his helmet. He nodded slowly. He stood, and offered the Princess his hand to take. She accepted it and he helped her to her feet.


    The rain seemed lighter, softer. He did not mind it so much now. They walked in silence through the meadow to the summer house. He followed the Princess as she tiptoed lightly through the sodden muck, his sabatons slipping and sinking into the muddy earth.


    ¡°That was very nice,¡± the Princess sang. ¡°Perhaps next time we will focus on the breath alone, yes?¡± she asked the Knight.


    His heart strained against his breast.


    Rain was pouring off of the eave of the summer house. The Princess opened the door and he followed her inside.


    The cottage had always seemed cramped to him, almost stifling, but today that tiny nature was welcoming.


    The Princess gestured to the hearth in the corner. ¡°Prepare a fire and warm yourself.¡±


    She drifted through the parlor and out of sight to the room beyond. Her dress left a wet, dirty trail behind her. The Knight yearned to follow her, to pursue her, but a cowardice took hold of his heart.


    He turned his tinder to the fireplace.


    He found flint and steel on the mantel, and soon the hearth was roaring. He stared into the fire, watched the fire dance, watched the timbers crack and snap, felt the flames and the heat, felt his flesh warm and his armor thaw.


    ¡°Small, this house remains, yet well stocked,¡± the Princess called as she returned from the backroom. She carried a tray, set with scones and china. ¡°Behold: a sampling of tea, and a selection of nibbles to aid in one¡¯s digestion.¡±


    She clung to a housecoat. Her hair was damp and mussed. She¡¯d patted it dry, and now it went every which way, uncombed and uncouth. ¡°Are you cold?¡± she asked. ¡°The tea will warm you.¡±


    She set the tray down and moved to the fire. ¡°Will you be alright, sitting around in that wet armor? Think of your health; I fear you¡¯ll rust.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± the Knight assured her.


    ¡°I would hate to see you suffer from mere stubbornness¡ªor pride.¡±


    The Knight set the kettle over the hearth. ¡°Give me cause to remove my bonds,¡± he said. Water dripped from his armor, it formed a puddle on the floor. ¡°Lie with me. The mood is set, I think. Two would be, could be lovers caught in the rain, seeking shelter from the storm. A roaring fire. A closeness shared by body and soul. Yes, a romance could be wrought here tonight.¡±


    The Princess bit her lip. ¡°Why you,¡± she sputtered, ¡°is that you met me today? To woo me with some fabrication, a play?¡±


    ¡°Your naivete amuses me.¡± The Knight stood. ¡°We must play our parts. Come, you shiver with cold, I could warm your body. The storm rages, a divine calamity; in my arms you will feel no fear. Our amour will drown out the thunder.¡±


    He took a step towards the Princess. She took a step back.


    ¡°Come.¡± The Knight reached out to her. ¡°Let your lofty cries stir my passion, let your contented sighs lull me to sleep. I ask again, under conditions so perfect: spend this night with me.¡±


    ¡°No, damn you!¡± the Princess cried. ¡°To ruin such a fine afternoon with such vile propositions¡ª¡±


    She glared at him. ¡°I share compassion and am repaid w-with lechery!¡±


    The Knight began to protest, but his voice caught in his throat. He turned away. His back straightened.


    ¡°Know this, Princess,¡± he said quietly, ¡°any discomfort I have caused you is but a stumble, a misstep in pursuit of a greater joy and triumph, one which we both might share.¡±


    The Princess tightened her grip on her housecoat.


    The Knight withdrew. ¡°I ask too much of you,¡± he said. ¡°The rains were lovely. Thank you for sharing them with me. It will make for a happy memory.¡±


    ¡°And yet you are not satisfied.¡±


    His ears burned, the pain in his breast returned. An anger came over him. ¡°No, I¡¯m not satisfied,¡± he cried. He wrenched open the door and ran off into the storm.


    He ran through the garden and into the forest and into the dark, thunder crashing at his heel.


    The Princess sat alone, silent and in silence, until the tea kettle sang, and her thoughts were brought back to the present. She frowned, then grabbed the kettle from the hearth. She placed her tea leaves in a pot. She poured the kettle out over them, and replaced the lid. She pictured the steeping in her mind¡ªleaves expanding, colors deepening, flavor and essence diffusing as one.


    She counted time with her heartbeat. Time passed.


    And when her tea was ready, she poured it with the grace gleaned from a thousand hours of practice; she did not spill a single drop. A strainer caught the tea leaves, she set them aside.


    She fanned the teacup with her hands, breathing in the sweet aroma. She lowered her head and took a sip, then a second and a third. The tea was rich and warmed her from the inside out. Soothed, she laid down by the fire and watched the flicker of the flames until her eyelids grew heavy.


    ¡°What a silly Knight,¡± she murmured.


    Rain pounded against the roof of the summer house. She slept.

 Chapter Eight: The Tranquil Blade

    All along the lake wildflowers bloomed, in white and gold and red¡ªtheir roots crept down between the rocks on the southern shore, they gathered thick along the marsh, they grew amongst the tall grass, where always the sounds of bees could be heard.


    The sun was warm, they reached for it.


    ¡°What is your secret?¡± the Knight asked. ¡°Day after day¡ªthis calm of yours, this serenity. My crimes have not diminished you in the least.¡±


    He shielded his eyes from the light as it shimmered on the lake. ¡°Can nothing stir you?¡±


    ¡°And what reaction, Dark Knight, would you prefer?¡± the Princess asked.


    The sat on the bank by the bulrush. The swans of the lake swam here and there, pruning their feathers, waiting to be fed.


    ¡°Should I break down and cry?¡±


    The Princess ripped up little bit of bread, throwing the pieces to the swans as they gathered by the shore. Her hands shook, but her voice was calm. The hungry swans pecked greedily at the meal, and fought amongst themselves.


    ¡°Or would you rather I was angry? Furious, even? Is that what you want?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± the Knight admitted. He avoided her gaze, turning his attentions to a pair of swans on the far side of the lake.


    The Princess swept the hair from her shoulders. ¡°I will not show weakness to you, but make no mistake¡ªyour actions cause me harm,¡± she said. ¡°I want to breathe free air again, my heart is heavy for its lack.¡±


    ¡°Free air?¡± The Knight spread his arms, extending his reach to every corner of the garden. ¡°Look about you. Here lies a pleasure grove, the likes of which Xanadu could not compare. A prison sweeter than any other!¡±


    He gestured to the swans on the bank. ¡°Look at them!¡± he said. ¡°They do not fly from here, but have made this land their home¡ªand they are right to do so! This garden is Eden, unspoiled by snake or apple. You chide and condemn, but within these walls, I have given you everything.¡±


    The Princess looked around, to the lake, to the wildflowers and bulrush that had found root along the rocky shore. They¡¯d grown tall, and doubled over under their own weight.


    She considered the modest summer house, cast in wood. The little gazebo, overgrown with vines and lily blooms. The sacred grove and silver stream. The great meadow, the winding path, the rhododendron garden, the hidden grotto. The iron fence, the barred gate.


    She folded her hands on her lap. ¡°A prison remains a prison,¡± she said.


    The Knight laughed. ¡°I should hath thrown you in a dungeon! With none to keep your company but the rats and lepers. Where the air is foul with death and dank! A small squalid box, far below the earth.¡±


    He jumped to his feet and threw the last of his bread to the swans. A lone swan squawked and hissed, the others paid him no mind.


    ¡°Yes! I should have chained you! Kept fresh water from you, fed you only stale bread, and left you with nothing but the novelty of your own misery! You would be begging for the comfort of my bed.¡±


    He loomed over the Princess. She rose to him, and stared him down. ¡°And here I thought you loved me.¡± She smiled.


    The Knight retreated. ¡°Love! Yes, love can be cruel. I admit my shame: I have hurt you, my clumsy heart has caused you harm. Clumsy, yes, but not cruel. I would sooner kill a dove than see you grieve. Please, I beg of you, believe that, if nothing else.¡±


    ¡°I would find that easier to believe,¡± said the Princess, ¡°if you did not make threats.¡± She ripped up another piece of bread for the swans. ¡°Still, it is not too late to make amends. Let me go.¡±


    The Knight stood and walked down to the rocky shore. ¡°It was a mistake to sequester you here, I admit,¡± he said. ¡°I have tried to woo the wind¡ªan impossible task. A deed once done cannot be undone, but yet, perhaps, there is a remedy.¡±


    He bent down and picked up a flat stone, worn smooth by the lapping of the lake.


    ¡°It is your designs that keep you here,¡± he explained. ¡°Your confinement is beyond my power now, you alone hold the keys to your escape. You have but to give your heart to me!¡±


    He turned the stone in hand. He felt the weight if it, and scratched his metal claws across its surface, drawing lines of white.


    ¡°I am patient. Of all my attempts to seduce you, surely, one will work, that alone I hold to faith, and I would be naught without. See the manifest of my devotion, again I say, a paradise, second to none.¡±


    The Princess inhaled sharply. ¡°A paradise spoiled,¡± she said, ¡°by one quality¡ªI did not choose it.¡±


    The Knight threw his stone. It hit the water with a smack and sank. Ripples spread out across the surface, the swans bobbed over them without a care.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he said. ¡°I have stripped you of your agency. It is a most precious thing.¡±


    He reached for another rock. It too made a marvelous splash. ¡°My own¡ªhow hard I¡¯ve fought for it, that freedom of choice,¡± he said. ¡°But now¡ªI can feel it slipping, ebbing away. Day by day I am losing myself, and I fear soon there will be nothing left of me at all.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how I weep for you,¡± the Princess said. ¡°You are a Knight-Errant. All the world is open to you, for quest and glory.¡±


    ¡°And you are a Princess!¡± the Knight replied. ¡°Do not lecture me on the roles of the triumvirate! I have relieved myself of those burdensome shackles!¡±


    A swallow darted out over the lake, gliding low, its little wings skimming just above the surface as it searched hungrily for pond-skippers.


    The Knight took a long, deep breath. ¡°Let me tell you a story,¡± he said, ¡°let me tell you the tale of the Halcyon Blade.¡±


    The Princess sat up, resting her chin on her palms. ¡°Oh?¡±


    He smiled, happy to have piqued her interest. ¡°Halcyon,¡± he began, ¡°¡®The Tranquil Blade.¡¯ A strange name for a terrible weapon, but a fitting one. It is a title of promise. To quell and calm¡ªby force!¡±


    He sat down beside the Princess with a thump.


    ¡°A sword of four-foot length, forged from the finest steel,¡± he explained. ¡°Tempered in the fires of Etna by Hephaestus himself. A hilt wrapped in aged and stained leather. A perfectly balanced pommel. With a supple fuller, and an edge sharp enough to split a hair¡ªand then split the splits again!¡±


    The Princess laughed. ¡°A noble weapon, if such a thing exists.¡±


    ¡°A masterwork, yes, but to what end?¡± the Knight asked. He unsheathed his own sword, and held it out for the Princess to admire. ¡°Look,¡± he said, balancing the blade on his palms, ¡°a fine weapon this is, as well. Three and a half feet, hollow ground, with brass inlay.¡±


    The Princess gave the sword a casual glance then turned away, uninterested. The Knight frowned.


    ¡°But still, just a sword,¡± he admitted. He sheathed it again, and continued on. ¡°The Tranquil Blade, however, is more than just a sword. Ask yourself¡ªis it better to give a master a dull blade or an amateur a sharp one?¡±


    ¡°In all things, a master prevails,¡± said the Princess.


    The Knight agreed. ¡°A sword is the extension of the Knight, or the Prince, and that is where the talent lies,¡± he said.


    The Princess threw another handful of bread to the swans. Full, they swam away.


    ¡°Ah, but someone once thought ¡®Might does not make right. Why must I kowtow to the strength of others? Why must I suffer so? Why am I always afraid? No more! No more, I say! I will ensure my own peace, I will find my inner tranquility through outer domination. I will commission the ultimate weapon, and I will never be afraid again.¡¯¡±


    The Princess furrowed her brow. ¡°Vae victis.¡±


    ¡°And lo¡¯ the Halcyon Blade was born. An affront to all true Knights, those who have dedicated their lives to the art of the sword.¡±


    ¡°No faith in the strength of others, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Or their own,¡± the Knight replied. ¡°One does not wield the Peace-Blade. No¡ªthe sword wields the master, and guides her hand and actions.¡± He ran his palm over his heart. ¡°The man is conduit¡ªwithout thought or intent she parries, thrusts, dodges and counters. Her form is flawless, she is filled with grace. A dance of death, of impossible skill, guided by some force unseen.¡±


    He took the Princess¡¯s hands and cradled them in his. His gauntlets were cold and sharp and cut into her palm.


    ¡°More than power, more than strength, the Halcyon bestows unfettered foresight!¡± he said. ¡°The enemy rejoined, retorted, their flank exposed. With Halcyon in hand a man alone can change the course of an entire battle. A spearhead unto itself; an exact and singular blade!¡±


    ¡°And this scares you?¡± The Princess withdrew from the Knight and started plucking grass from the rich soil. She pinched each blade between her thumb and forefinger.


    ¡°Please understand!¡± said the Knight. ¡°The man of task¡ªthe Swordmaster, her thoughts matter not, her body is lost to her, her mind is haze, as if in a dream or trance she acts, as a doll or puppet thrust about. Controlled by a sword that has no mind but for victory in war.¡±


    The blades of grass were thin and flat. The Princess raised one to her lips and whistled a clear note. ¡°Oh, how fanciful!¡± She laughed. ¡°I have found a Knight who fears strength in battle.¡±


    The Knight frowned. ¡°I fear a loss of self. My actions are my own, of all my deeds, from all this long life, I hold testament. Regrets follow me, but they are mine and of my making. What am I, but the choices I¡¯ve made?¡±


    ¡°Even the mistakes?¡±


    ¡°Especially the mistakes,¡± the Knight said. ¡°One fateful day, now only a memory: my Lord, my King, my¡­ mentor¡ªhe summoned me home, to his grand hall. Walls of marble, regal banners shimmering in the sun¡ªI can still picture it. The throne room, where man and Maiden played host to call, was empty, save for my King alone. A silence filled the air where minstrels once played.


    ¡°I was his First-Knight. I was his right hand, his tool of justice, his ambassador and his pride.


    ¡°Often in the city streets I would hear my praise: ¡®Look, there goes the First-Knight of the Lord-King, a majesty in shining armor. See the hand that could cut you down with ease, and know that honor binds it. Look, look, little girl, smallest child, youngest son: one day you too might grow into a hero of renown, and might stand with such pride, back straightened, as yonder Knight. See the form that discipline crafts and wisdom tempers¡ª¡¯¡±


    The Knight paused, his words had grown troublesome. ¡°¡®¡ªand by code abides.¡¯¡± He blinked, his eyes felt foggy.


    The Princess place a hand on his shoulder. ¡°My Knight?¡± He was as still as a statue.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he said. ¡°Now, where was I?¡±


    ¡°¡®And by code abides.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes¡ªmy King had procured the sword of peace. From whence came the sword? What fate had befallen its former masters? I do not know, only that into the King¡¯s possession it had come, and with sovereign decree he tasked me: take up the Sword of Halcyon, be ye who possesses and is possessed. Enter unto legend, claim the honor, bear the burden.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And I balked! This was to be my reward for years, decades of service? In that moment I realized my King did not love me, but saw me as tool, a weapon. Raised to be a dog, loyal and true. To lose my vital fire, this was a thought I could not bare.¡±


    The Knight beat the ground. ¡°What little love he must have had for me, for what stirred in my head and heart. Disgusted, I realized the truth: chivalry is a chain, loyalty a leash. Give up my will to choose? Never! On that day I made a choice. I held the Tranquil Blade aloft¡ªthen threw it to the ground! I drew my own sword, and with one precise thrust¡ªstabbed my King through his heart.¡±


    He slumped over. ¡°I ran, Halcyon in hand, and never looked back.¡±


    ¡°And now you are free,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Yes, I am free,¡± said the Knight, ¡°but the sword is still my burden. I keep it close but hidden, the Sword Halcyon, for I am now its master. I dare not wield it, nor will I permit any other hapless fool to be wooed by its promise of power.¡±


    The Princess cocked her head. ¡°Never?¡± she asked. ¡°Not even in the most dire of circumstances?¡±


    ¡°Never, I will never use that sword,¡± the Knight said with a firm finality. ¡°I would rather die.¡±

 Chapter Nine: Actaeon鈥檚 Folly

    He lay on the grass. His head was pounding, his temples throbbed, the cool of the evening brought him no comfort. ¡°I am troubled,¡± he said, ¡°and beset by miseries.¡±


    The sky faded from blue to black as dusk waned to dark. ¡°I¡¯m weary. I¡¯m tired.¡± A shadow passed over the moon, a lark called into the night. One by one, stars appeared.


    ¡°I have seen the end! A vision¡ªa dream! You run, I pursue. Through the shadows and the night we chase and stumble and fall. You spit curses; fairer thoughts are abandoned, and there is naught but violence left between us.¡±


    The Knight sighed. ¡°We come to a moonlit bog. You skim across the silver surface like a haunt or wisp, but I sink into the muck. My armor weighs me down, and with each step towards you the I sink a little more, until at last I cannot move at all.¡±


    He shut his eyes, he held his breath. In the silence of the night he could feel her presence.


    ¡°As I am swallowed by the mire, as the bog seeps into my armor, as my lungs fill with mud, as the life is choked from me¡ªyou return. I beg for your mercy, and pity, but I am not forgiven.¡±


    His head buzzed. ¡°You watch me drown with a smile on your face, and the corners of your mouth are crooked and bent and cruel.¡±


    Lights danced behind his eyelids, there was bile in his throat. ¡°A cold death; I deserve no less.¡±


    From behind him, from above him, from her idle perch, the Princess cooed: ¡°Dreams are dreams, do not dwell on them.¡± A wind ran through the meadow. The leaves rustled, the grass swayed, a lone cicada called for a mate. ¡°Nor would I smile to see you drown,¡± she assured the Knight. ¡°I would help you, if I could.¡±


    ¡°And what of it?¡± he asked. ¡°You are friend to all manner of men and monster. Your words do not move me, for they are not for me alone.¡± His fingers tingled.


    ¡°Tell me of your dreams,¡± he asked the Princess. ¡°Are they sweet? Tell me, what do fair Maidens dream of? Suddenly I wish to know.¡±


    He sat up. ¡°Do you dream of handsome Princes and high towers? Stalwart Knights and grand balls? Of days of yore?¡±


    He craned his neck and searched for her. ¡°Or do you dream of me? Do I consume your thoughts, as you do mine?¡± She was high above him in the trees, and in the dark he could only make out her silhouette amid the leaves.


    ¡°I dream of mountains, and I dream of valleys,¡± the Princess called down to him, ¡°as all men do.¡±


    A bough creaked, the leaves shivered. ¡°And fire,¡± she whispered.


    The Knight clutched his throbbing head. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± he cried. ¡°Don¡¯t! Do not pretend to be an ordinary person! Ordinary people have worries you do not: of old age, sickness, and death.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I am unfamiliar with such things? That I am above or beyond such worries? The suffering of man is my sole concern.¡±


    The Knight rapped his helmet.


    ¡°Expand your circle of compassion. From one to many to all, for are we not all tied to the same fate, the same yoke, the same wheel?¡±


    ¡°My circle has expanded,¡± said the Knight. ¡°From one to two¡ªthere was solitude before, but now, now my thoughts include another.¡±


    The Princess raised her hand, she flattened her palm, she released her breath to the wind. ¡°Attachment.¡±


    The Knight shivered. ¡°Don¡¯t speak to me of such things.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± the Princess pressed him, ¡°why?¡±


    ¡°Do you not know? Can you not guess? There are no paths left for me but the one that leads to you. Do not mock me, do not tell me that I am doomed to suffer this earth alone, unloved!¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Your charity is second only to your chastity,¡± the Knight lamented. ¡°Why do you give one so freely, yet clutch the other to your bosom, so furtive and afraid?¡±


    The Princess clicked her heels. ¡°This angers you?¡± She slipped from her tree branch to the ground below.


    ¡°I ramble, I rave,¡± said the Knight. ¡°My words mean nothing.¡±


    The Maiden cut a circle around him. She placed one foot in front of the other. The trim of her dress fluttered in the night like a moth.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°A restless day leads to a restless night,¡± she said, ¡°and a restless night leads to a restless day. Remember: you are not your thoughts.¡±


    The Knight sighed. ¡°I know what you ask of me, but I have not the temperament.¡±


    ¡°So say all, at first. It is a practice. I am asking you to practice.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± the Knight asked.


    ¡°How does one practice?¡± The Princess considered the question. ¡°Clumsily, at first, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Clumsily¡ª¡± The Knight trailed off. Silence filled the night. He closed his eyes and the pounding in his head redoubled.


    ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Come to my side, lend me your ear: hear the tale that binds me.¡±


    The Princess completed her circle and began another. She drew symbols with her hands.


    ¡°I offer you a story,¡± the Knight asked again, ¡°will you listen? A fair exchange, I think?¡±


    The Princess gave him a certain look. ¡°Fair indeed. Tell me, Knight, what troubles you so? Another bog, another chase?¡± She ran her fingers across her chest. ¡°Another sin?¡±


    ¡°A chase, yes.¡± The Knight nodded. ¡°Three night ago, I was awoken by the thunder of a distant storm; my head was hot and heavy. Compulsion took me, I craved free air¡ªand solitude. And so, before dawn, the sky still thick with clouds and dark, I set off to explore the woods, leaving my cabin far behind.¡±


    ¡°The woods?¡± The Princess continued her circle. The meadow danced to her rhythm, the wind whispered her name.


    ¡°The forest, where men fear to tread, where I have made my home,¡± the Knight explained. ¡°That surround us now, and this garden, like shroud and shield.¡± With every circle and every step his headache eased away.


    ¡°So through the woods I wandered. For hours, full of weakness, and a weight I could not shake. Dawn came. And then, by chance¡ªin a clearing, in a glade, in the light and warmth of the summer sun¡ªI found a white and wounded doe.¡±


    His eyes glistened at the memory.


    ¡°Her coat was stained with blood, a dark red against a perfect white. An arrow pierced her hide, and her hooves were dirty from running. She¡¯d escaped the hunters and their dogs, lay exhausted from the chase.¡±


    The Princess inhaled deeply. Her footfalls were soft, the air was cool.


    ¡°And her coat shimmered in the sun like fire!¡± the Knight cried. A chill ran through the garden.


    ¡°And blood dribbled from her mouth, and where it fell, flowers bloomed!¡± The Knight shuddered. ¡°And when she turned her head to me, her eyes were like two black pits. The doe was the sun, and I¡ªI was nothing more than the shadow of a shadow.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± the Princess asked.


    ¡°And in all my dark armor, in all my terrible weight¡ªI took one single step towards the doe. And she ran from me.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± hummed the Princess.


    ¡°Please understand,¡± the Knight pleaded, ¡°I thought to give chase¡ªto catch the deer and tend its wounds, to bring her here and keep her safe. But¡ª¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But, I hesitated. I thought perhaps she was not as badly hurt as I first imagined, and were I to gave chase, I might aggravate her wound, and do more harm than good. Yes, I second-guessed myself¡ªwas I right to do so?¡± The numbness crept back into him, a cold sweat wet his brow.


    He grasped his helmet. ¡°Ah! Should I have run the beast to ground? Cradled her in my arms as she fought and bit at me, as I carried her to you? Oh, my Princess, she would not have run from you! What beast doth not grow tame in your presence?¡±


    The Knight moaned. ¡°Did she see some flaw in me; saw my nature? Perhaps was she a ghost, luring me to a gruesome end. Or Artemis in disguise? Perhaps a witch¡ª¡±


    The Princess stopped him here. ¡°Enough,¡± she said, ¡°enough. Perhaps this, perhaps that. I am not concerned with possibilities, only actualities. What action did you take? Speak, now.¡±


    ¡°No action,¡± the Knight said. ¡°I did nothing. The doe bolted, skittish, on unstable legs, into the safety of the thicket. And I watched her go. I was paralyzed by indecision. I am still paralyzed by indecision.¡±


    The Princess looked up at the stars above. ¡°Can you feel the spin of the earth?¡± she asked. ¡°What is done is done. The past is past, why do you linger there? You did not give chase, yet still your thoughts pursue.¡±


    The Knight followed her gaze. The stars flickered like fireflies before his weary eyes.


    ¡°Do you want me to reassure you, and tell you that you did the right thing?¡± the Princess asked, ¡°or perhaps chastise you for doing the wrong thing?¡±


    ¡°I do not know.¡±


    ¡°Do not think me cruel,¡± said the Princess, ¡°but why do you worry?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°For whose benefit do you worry?¡±


    ¡°For my own sake,¡± the Knight said automatically, ¡°to ease my conscience.¡±


    The Princess raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really? And is your mind at ease?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then¡ª¡±


    The Knight tried again. ¡°Then, out of concern for the deer?¡±


    ¡°But does such worry help the deer now, lost and alone in the woods as she is?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Knight admitted. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The next time, the next deer¡ª¡±


    ¡°A better answer.¡± The Princess smiled.


    ¡°Better, yes¡ª¡± The Knight reached up and took her hand. His headache was gone now. ¡°The grass is cool, the night is young, and my heart feels a little lighter.¡± He squeezed her fingers. ¡°Lay here, with me, and count the stars.¡±


    He gave a little tug, and pulled the Princess down on top of him.


    ¡°Wait¡ª¡± she cried.


    He let go of her, and she fell back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I meant no harm.¡±


    The Princess brushed the dirt from her dress. ¡°No harm done.¡±


    ¡°The stars are very beautiful tonight,¡± said the Knight. ¡°You are very beautiful tonight.¡±


    The Princess hesitated for a moment, then she reached out and placed her palm on the Knight¡¯s breastplate. She ran her fingers down his chest, feeling every dimple and imperfection in the steel.


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± she said, ¡°there is another path still open to you. A path that welcomes all who walk it.¡±


    She laid her head on the Knight¡¯s breast. ¡°It is a very good path. A noble path. I could show you, if you wanted. We could walk it together, I could give you my cloak and¡ª¡±


    She pressed her ear to his chest. At first she could not hear his heartbeat, only the rasp of his lungs as they struggled for air¡ªbut as she leaned closer, she found that she could hear his heartbeat, and it was strong and steady.


    ¡°¡ªand do not tell me that you do not have the temperament,¡± she said. ¡°I do not believe it. I would not believe anyone who told me that.¡±


    The Knight whispered something she could not hear.


    ¡°But enough talk. You are right, the stars are very beautiful tonight, and sometimes¡ªsometimes that is enough.¡±


    And they counted the stars until a bank of clouds, blown in by the western wind, covered all the garden in darkness and not even the moon could be seen.

 Chapter Ten: The Prince

    He wore a regal sash, his clothes were pressed and prim. His shoes were spotless, as was his traveling cloak. He carried himself with pride, with wide shoulders and a long stride. A golden sword was clasped to his side. Chest-proud and tall: the raven-haired Prince.


    He paced along the garden gate and bashed against the bars. ¡°Come!¡± he shouted. ¡°Emerge! Show yourself, why do you hide from my righteous blade?¡±


    Silence.


    He peered through the iron bars and up the stone path¡ªbut there was no one there. Had his quarry not heard him, or was the Knight simply indisposed?


    The rhododendrons swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.


    Perhaps he was being ignored. ¡°Knight! Hear me, Knight!¡± he shouted again, louder this time. ¡°Foul Knight! Dark Knight! Come, coward! Let justice be done upon you!¡±


    Still nothing.


    The Prince cocked his head and gave the forest a cursory glance¡ªwas the Knight lurking there in the shadow of the woods, watching him like some grim specter? No, impossible¡ªhe had been promised: the Knight was in his garden.


    ¡°Knight of infamy! Knight of death!¡± the Prince cried again, ¡°I challenge you! I know the prize you keep! Release the Princess, release my future bride!¡± He huffed and puffed and made all manner of noise and commotion, until at last he collapsed against the bars, exhausted, laughing at his own clumsy enthusiasm.


    He sat, and wiped the sweat from his brow, letting the cool of the day wash over him. He turned his attention to the forest. The woods were alive: a vole was scampering about in search of wild berries, and somewhere a woodpecker was boring her way into a hardwood tree.


    He closed his eyes, and listened as the rat-a-tat-tat mixed with the song of a warbler and the cry of a blackbird. Despite the task in front of him, he found peace in this brief respite.


    Even a shy fox came to visit the Prince, eyeing him from the brush cautiously, before disappearing back into the thicket, satisfied he was no threat.


    The Prince laughed again, and wondered how anyone could be afraid of this deep forest¡ªbut then he heard a horrid noise, the squeal and scrape of metal against metal, and the dull thump of heavy boots.


    It was the Knight. He came from the shadow of the hemlock, from the shadows of the garden, fully armored, clad in black, all form obscured. Spiked and maliced, a gauntlet curled around the hilt of his sword.


    The Prince jumped to his feet. So complete and terrible was the Knight¡¯s disguise that he reconsidered the possibility that that black armor was empty, a shell animated by some manner of ghost.


    ¡°Come, foul beast, and face me, face your death!¡± the Prince cried. He puffed out his chest, he flashed the silver of his belt.


    The Knight looked around, confused, as if he was expecting a whole host or company. ¡°And who are you?¡± he asked the stranger.


    ¡°I am the handsome Prince who has come to save the Princess. I am the hero of this story,¡± said the Prince, ¡°and you¡ªyou are the villain.¡± He drew his sword.


    The Knight ignored this goad. ¡°Tell me, how did you find this secret garden?¡± he asked. ¡°I thought it hidden, lost to man and myth, perhaps nothing more than a beautiful, sullen dream¡ª¡±


    ¡°I have nothing to say to you, fallen one,¡± the Prince spat. ¡°Now come. Come, open wide this gate, and welcome your death!¡± He brandished his sword, demonstrating his skill with thrust and counter¡ªbut the Knight did not move, or speak.


    It was another voice that answered.


    ¡°Good Prince, I beseech thee,¡± called the Princess. She drew up beside the Knight and offered the Prince a curtsy. Her gown clung to her shoulders, her hair rippled in the sun. Beads dangled from her wrists, her every step was a dance.


    And the Prince fell¡ªjust a little¡ªin love.


    ¡°Please,¡± the Princess pleaded through her prison bars, ¡°how did you find this garden?¡±


    Not forgetting his royal lessons, the Prince returned her curtsy with a regal bow¡ªslowly, back straight, a hand on his heart. ¡°Although imprisoned,¡± he thought, ¡°she is bathed in majesty.¡± And his heart raged at the thought of how she must be suffering at the hands of the Knight.


    Still, he kept his composure. ¡°How? How did I find this place?¡± He smiled. ¡°With all my art and cunning.¡± He gestured to the wide, free forest behind him. ¡°Some hunters employ hounds, others birds of prey. I choose a subtle lure, and under cover of darkness, tracked this Knight to roost.¡±


    He prided himself on being a clever Prince.


    The Princess gave him a curious smile, but said nothing, and so, to fill the void of silence, the Prince found himself explaining: ¡°My sister, a Waif,¡± he began, ¡°has pledged her magic to my cause. Transfixed into state of animal, and loosed in yonder woods.¡±


    ¡°You call your sister ¡®Waif?¡¯¡± The Princess clucked her tongue. ¡°You are a Prince, this is plain to see. Is she not royalty like you, like me?¡±


    The Knight turned to the Princess, then back to the Prince. ¡°A fair question.¡±


    ¡°My sister?¡± The Prince was confused. ¡°No¡ªshe is not a Princess. What of it?¡±


    ¡°Is there a story here to tell?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We are secure behind this iron gate,¡± the Knight said. ¡°If rescue is your cause, this small admittance you must make.¡±


    The Prince lowered his sword. This was not going as he envisioned. ¡°My sister¡ªpeasant-born, a bastard child,¡± he explained. ¡°I found her in the royal woods, a weak and frail thing¡ªand in her eyes I saw my eyes. She had my jawline, my features; my father¡¯s indiscretions exposed.¡±


    The Princess stared into him. She did not blink, but kept her eyes fixed on his.


    ¡°I kept her safe, kept her hidden,¡± the Prince said, shying away from her gaze. ¡°To a coven of fey I entrusted her, and there she learned their craft.¡±


    The Princess smiled at this, a kind soft smile, and the Prince felt a wave of tranquility, of pure calm, wash over him like a summer breeze. He thought back to the day he met his sister, of her scrambling up the trunk of an apple tree. It was a good memory.


    He laughed, and raised his sword again. ¡°But enough talk, have at you, blaggard! I shall take your life, and my Princess!¡±


    The Knight shifted his weight, from left leg to right and back again. He ran his fingers down his sheath, over the pommel of his sword, ready to draw. ¡°The Princess and my life? I admire your ambition, good Prince. But tell me, answer me: what demands would you make of her?¡±


    ¡°Princesses are meant for Princes. No demands, only the promise of marriage.¡±


    ¡°Do not make promises you cannot keep,¡± the Knight admonished, fingers on his hilt. ¡°I have cause to keep her, and have laid ambitions of my own.¡±


    ¡°Princesses are meant for Princes,¡± the good Prince sneered. ¡°Not for Knights, black or white. Not for the likes of you. She will never be yours. Surely, deep within your shriveled heart, you know this to be true.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The Princess rolled her eyes at their posturing.


    ¡°Now, fight me! My skill with the blade is highly praised; justice shall be done today.¡±


    The Knight shook his head. ¡°A Prince takes tutelage, a Knight lives it. All the years of my youth, spent on mastering the sword. The pain of discipline is mine, my body is testament to my years of service. If you challenge me, you will die.¡±


    The Prince laughed again, but this time it rang hollow. He had confidence in his skills, but now, looking at this Knight, he knew their words were true¡ªhe was sorely outmatched. Still, something pressed him on; a Prince was nothing without his poise.


    ¡°¡®If¡¯ I challenged you?¡± he asked. ¡°Have I not made my intentions clear? I am your death. You say you are my better, but behind a fence you hide, and will not draw your blade.¡±


    The Knight sighed. ¡°As you wish.¡± He began to reach for his sword, but the Princess stayed his hand.


    ¡°Come, my Knight,¡± she whispered in his ear, ¡°I grow weary of his brag and goad. Come, for I hear the peacocks calling. Won¡¯t you help me feed them?¡±


    He withdrew. ¡°Yes, of course.¡± He turned to the Prince. ¡°Run along home, little Prince. I have no wish to see you dead. You seem to me to be a very fine Prince, if a little foolish, and perhaps a little young. It would be best if you left¡ªnever to return.¡±


    This incensed the good Prince. ¡°I am here to rescue my Princess.¡± He pointed the tip of his sword in her direction. ¡°Or has she been beguiled, and would rather feed the birds, and connive with some fallen Knight, than know, once more, the joys of freedom?¡±


    The Princess scowled. ¡°I did not ask for your help, interloper. Yes¡ªI seek freedom, and liberation. But your desires are not my desires. You seek to liberate me for your own ends, your interests are the same as his¡ªmy hand, and my bed. You carry a sword, you brag and you goad. You do not understand me.¡±


    Her voice grew colder. It echoed, booming. A cold wind blew, goosebumps rose on the Prince¡¯s skin.


    He took a step back.


    ¡°I am a pacifist,¡± the Princess cried, her voice deafening, her arms wide, ¡°yet you have come with the intent of murder. I will not allow it! There will be no violence in my name or service! Not now, not ever!¡±


    The Knight lowered his head. ¡°I have done you harm, my dear, my love. He is not wrong in his hopes to save you.¡±


    ¡°See? See?¡± the Prince called, ¡°treachery admitted; deeds: profane! Oh my Damsel, let me save you from this wretched beast.¡±


    ¡°And what of your deeds?¡± The Princess grabbed at her heart below her breast, as if she meant to tear it out. ¡°You think a gallant rescue will win my love?¡±


    The Prince was taken aback. ¡°I am a good and handsome Prince,¡± he countered, with as much confidence as he could muster, ¡°and Princes always win the day. It is the way of things. My swordplay shall make you swoon, my dashing charms will stir thy heart. Come away with me now, and rule forever by my side as Queen.¡±


    ¡°Enough of this!¡± the Princess cried. ¡°I take my leave of you.¡± She flashed her wrist in a curt, silent goodbye.


    She slipped into the shadows of the hemlock, back into the depths of the garden.


    The Prince could only watch her go; he could think of nothing more to say.


    Was this a failure?


    The Knight cleared his throat. ¡°I do not deny your skill or dedication,¡± he told the Prince, ¡°but both are lack to mine.¡±


    They were quite alone now, and the Prince felt naked in his presence.


    ¡°Do not throw your life away,¡± the Knight continued. ¡°This land is populous with beautiful creatures most deserving of princely love.¡± He looked up the garden path, but there was no trace of the Princess but the lingering scent of sandalwood. ¡°But she shall me be mine and mine alone.¡±


    The Prince flashed his sword one last time. It felt awkward in his hand, his wrist fell limp.


    ¡°Go and wander,¡± said the Knight, ¡°and rescue from tower, or dungeon, or deep eternal sleep: not all Damsels are Princesses but could be so through marriage.¡±


    The Prince had been led to believe this Knight was little more than a brute¡ªa mangy dog needing to be put down. Yet now his words did not carry the weight of lies.


    He decided to try a different approach. ¡°¡®Go and wander,¡¯ yes, those words apply to you as well,¡± said the Prince. ¡°If you do not wish to fight, then do not fight. Go and seek another Maiden, one more inclined to your affections. Go, and be gallant. Go, and know again the ways of chivalry and courtly love.¡±


    He sheathed his sword. He bowed his head. ¡°Go in peace, and leave this Princess to her peace as well.¡±


    The Knight shook his head. ¡°No. What you ask is impossible for me now. I have been entranced, and moved to my very core; I could never love another. No¡ªshe opened my heart, and she alone can fill it. I have but one desire now, and the grim determination to see it through.¡±


    He turned to leave but caught himself midstep. ¡°What ye know of Actaeon, full of woe?¡± he asked.


    And again, the Prince thought of the past¡ªhis mind flooded with memories of old, of the bedtime stories his mother had told him, of tales of gods and heroes. ¡°He chanced upon fair Artemis, naked in her spring. She cursed him. He was changed into a stag, and chased by his own hounds¡ªand devoured by them.¡±


    The Knight nodded. ¡°I thought her cruel to curse poor Actaeon. He made a mistake, it was an accidental trespass. A forest grotto, the splash of water in a stone basin, a dull and muffled cry¡ªcuriosity was his undoing.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps¡ª¡± The Prince was lost in memory. How long had it been, ten years? He could not remember his mother¡¯s face.


    ¡°Like Actaeon, one errant glance and I was changed,¡± the Knight continued, ¡°but I was not driven away, I was called and compelled¡ªheadlong, to her company.¡± The Knight¡¯s voice took on a lighter air, the Prince thought he heard a note of softness, or kindness. ¡°Even now I can hear the dogs give chase, they hunt me for my crimes. They gnaw and bark and I am so very tired of running.¡±


    Something stirred within the Prince, a feeling he could not name. Was it pity? Understanding?


    He felt tired now, and all his bravery was gone. ¡°I think,¡± he said with some hesitation, ¡°I will take my leave¡ªfor now. You cloud my mind, you confuse my sensibilities¡ªbut the Princess seems to be in no immediate distress¡ª¡±


    He rubbed his neck, he kicked the ground. ¡°Perhaps I will withdraw,¡± he muttered, ¡°and regroup.¡±


    ¡°A wise decision,¡± the Knight agreed. ¡°Fare thee well.¡± He turned to leave.


    ¡°I will return in force!¡± the Prince called after him.


    The Knight sighed. ¡°Such is your prerogative.¡± He stole up along the garden path and out of sight, leaving the Prince alone.


    From depths of the forest came the caw of an old ancient crow.


    The day was starting to wane.


    The Prince lingered for a time, by the garden, by its iron gate, and he contemplated many things: duty and honor, what it meant to be a Prince and what it meant to be a Knight. And, perhaps for the first time, he wondered what it meant to be a Princess.


    He walked away, his shoulders slouched. The iron gate was as shut now has it had been when he¡¯d arrived, but strangely this did not feel like a defeat.


    He wandered through the woods, following the setting sun. The forest seemed empty now, and hollow, and as he continued on his thoughts turned to other Princesses, other adventures. Shadows grew long, and closed in around him.


    ¡°Perhaps not all Damsels need rescuing, least of all by me.¡±


    A sudden noise pulled him from his thoughts.


    A white doe appeared before him, creeping from between the shadows of a gnarled tree. It carried the moon¡¯s glow, it walked without touching the ground. Its coat was pure and white, as if not a single speck of dirt had ever marred its hide.


    ¡°Sister,¡± said the Prince.


    ¡°Brother,¡± said the doe.


    The Prince blinked, and in the deer¡¯s place stood a Witch. She was indeed a Waif, all skin and bone, small and slender. Her hair was as dark as his, black as a raven¡¯s beak and claw, but frayed and coarse and dry. Her regal dress did not suit her.


    ¡°Did you kill the Knight?¡± she rasped.


    ¡°Come,¡± said the Prince, ¡°I will build a fire for the night.¡±


    ¡°Did you kill the Knight?¡± the Waif repeated.


    ¡°No. We talked, and I was filled with doubts. Tell me of other Princesses, other pursuits. With your help¡ª¡± He trailed off. ¡°Perhaps together¡ª¡±


    He sighed, and began his search for firewood. The Waif followed after him, walking on her heels. ¡°You talked?¡± she asked, with a crook of her neck. ¡°No sense. No purpose.¡±


    ¡°Talk is never bad, little one.¡± He piled up his collection of sticks and tender and started a fire. Before long it was blazing away.


    His sister curled up by the fire. ¡°There are many Princesses,¡± she hissed, ¡°but in my search for your bride, dear brother, I have uncovered few so virtuous.¡±


    The Prince nodded. ¡°Prudence.¡±


    ¡°Justice.¡±


    ¡°Temperance.¡±


    ¡°Courage,¡± the Waif rasped.


    ¡°A arduous task, but you have searched well. I rely on you, sister. Perhaps too much.¡±


    The fire grew and grew, the only light in all the forest. The Prince fetched some dried meat from his pack. ¡°Here, eat,¡± he said, offering his dinner to his sister. ¡°I thought to fill my heart and soul with righteousness. To defeat a Black Knight, to rescue a Princess! I flashed my sword and made a terrific show, but I felt empty inside.¡±


    His sister ate like a wild animal, ripping off strips of flesh with her teeth. He shuddered at the sight.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he said as he stoked the fire, ¡°I will seek another. Have I made a mistake?¡±


    ¡°You deserve none but the finest, dear brother. She will come to love you.¡±


    The Prince yawned. ¡°Perhaps I need to¡ªOh, but I am weary¡ª¡± He laid down by the fire. He felt a great weight press down upon him.


    ¡°Sleep, brother. I will watch over you. Nothing will harm you.¡±


    The Prince closed his eyes. He listened to the crack and snap of the fire and the Waif¡¯s wet, shallow breaths.


    ¡°I will find you a sister-in-law,¡± he murmured, ¡°one with which to share a camaraderie. I know you are alone, save me. You need not be. Man is good. The world is good, or at least, it has been to me. Even that Dark Knight¡ªthey wished me well.¡±


    The Prince fell asleep with a smile on his face.


    His sister chewed her dinner thoughtfully. Then she crept over to the Prince, and whispered in his ear. ¡°Nothing will ever harm you,¡± she said. ¡°Now or ever. If there are lions, I will crack their bones. If there are bears, I will rend their flesh.¡±


    She poked at her brother¡¯s cheek with her fingers. He did not stir. ¡°For I am your sister.¡±


    Satisfied with the deepness of his sleep, the Waif transfixed herself into a will-o-wisp and set out upon the night, to explore the forest and learn its secrets for herself.

 Chapter Eleven: The Smithies Three

    He¡¯d kept watch for the past three days, but there had been no sign of the Prince or his woeful sister. The forest of the world was empty once again. Had they abandoned their quest?


    The Knight was surprised to find that he was actually looking forward to their next encounter.


    Secure in his solitude, he stripped himself of his armor and let the cool air sooth his neglected, detested skin. Today the morning air was misty, and dense, and he felt the first chill of the coming autumn.


    He walked through the forest, running his calloused fingers over the craggy bark of the oaks and the cedar. The leaves were still deep and green, but he could feel the tension in the trees, the signs of the changing season. The forest, and all the lands beyond, now held their breath. The pace of life had slowed.


    He considered his lonely cabin. ¡°Winter is hard on Errant-Knights,¡± he thought. ¡°He who relies on the kindness of strangers; she without a home.¡±


    He sat and watched the sun rise through the glimmer of the forest. He sat, and tried to deaden himself to the pain in his lungs, to his aching throat, to his cracked, peeling skin. The sun rose and warmed the woods and burned away the morning fog.


    It was time to visit the Princess.


    He started from the bottom up. First he secured his bindings, wrapping them tight until they bound and suffocated him. Next, his old gambeson, worn thin. Then sabatons. The legs: greave, cuisse and poleyn. Fauld and tasset, and above them, his black cuirass, over bindings and breast.


    Next, he fixed his forearms, and his vambrace. Then the upper cannon, and the couter. Spaulders over shoulders. Gorget to protect the neck. Finally, his gauntlets and his helmet.


    It was a ritual, step by step.


    ¡°Ah, I am myself once more!¡± he declared, although he did not feel it.


    He set off through the woods, clanking and creaking. The animals of the forest ran from him. The little squirrels hid in their trees, and made neither chit nor chat. A raven stretched its wings and preened its feathers. A forest mouse, timid and brown, briefly considered begging the Knight for a scrap of grain, but thought better of it, and scurried back home again.


    The Knight did not notice the mouse, or the squirrels or any other creature. His head was filled only with thoughts of the Princess: her flowing dress, her flowing hair; her smile, both cruel and coy.


    ¡°Perhaps today,¡± he thought, ¡°I will produce in her more than a modest glance. Perhaps I will see her face anxious and red. Embarrassed, or flustered or angry, any reaction would satisfy me.¡±


    Twice he made his way around the perimeter of the garden, inspecting the fence for signs of intrusion or of tampering, but there was nothing to be found. The lock, too, remained untouched. The Prince, it seemed, had not returned.


    Satisfied, he threw open the gate and welcomed the endless bloom of spring. Once again, the lilacs and cherries and rhododendrons had burst in their eternal rite, of pink and white and pale gold; a hundred thousand petals falling like an endless rain.


    He followed the stone path through this ecstasy up to the head of the meadow.


    This is where he found the Princess, on a bed of flowers, asleep under the shade of a cherry tree, a book clutched to her breast, her chest rising and falling with her every breath.


    He stepped closer. The cherry trees had sprinkled her with blossoms; they fell without measure. He bent low, plucked a petal from her hair, flicked it aside, then reached for another. His hands shook. One, two, three¡ªfor each petal he plucked, two more fell to take its place.


    His fingers were a mere inch from her cheek when she woke. ¡°You have gentle hands,¡± the Princess murmured, ¡°yet would they wander?¡± She wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned, stretching her arms out over her head.


    The Knight offered her his hand, and she accepted it. ¡°My apologies, dear Maiden,¡± he said as he helped her to her feet, ¡°I meant no trespass. Simply ask it of me and I will leave you to your rest, and return again another day.¡±


    The Princess stifled another yawn. ¡°No, no,¡± she said, ¡°stay a while, stay with me.¡±


    She shook her dress and scattered the blossoms that clung to it; they piled on the ground. ¡°Will you sow my favor?¡± she asked. ¡°Fetch me a broom, and we will sweep these walks, together¡ªand talk.¡±


    The Knight balled his fist and raised it to his heart.


    He shambled down the little path, sprinkled with color. He tried to avoid the fallen petals, but with every tip of toe and daft maneuver, his heel came down on another blossom, or two, and he knew he could not avoid them all.


    The tool shed was hidden between the bushes, its wooden door worn smooth by a thousand springs. When he flipped the latch and pulled it open, the dry, rusty hinges squeaked in protest. Inside he found a scythe and a shovel, a trowel and a tool box¡ªwith bit and auger.


    And a pair of bamboo brooms.


    He ran a finger over the bristles of one of the brooms. There was something honest about them, he thought. A month ago, perhaps two, he¡¯d been hunched over a workbench, bundling up little bushels of straw. The Princess had sat by his side; she¡¯d hummed a pleasant tune.


    He had made a dozen or so of these little bushels, all trimmed and straight. Then he¡¯d gathered them up into one big bundle, tying them up around the base of a bamboo pole.


    Simple; honest.


    The Princess was waiting for him by the rhododendrons.


    He handed her a broom, and she took a practice sweep, brushing away the debris and dust and petals that soiled the stony path that snaked its way through the garden. ¡°A simple task,¡± she said, ¡°but therein lies the pleasure.¡±


    The Knight grunted in agreement.


    ¡°Now, tell me,¡± the Princess teased, ¡°about this armor you wear, so black and so cruel.¡±


    ¡°Another tale, another regret,¡± the Knight said, taking up his broom, ¡°but you have asked, so I will answer.¡±


    They made their way up the path, working in tandem, purifying the steps and the stones. Each little flick of the broom puffed up another, new scent¡ªdust and lilac, vanilla and peach.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°My armor,¡± the Knight began, ¡°is a dreadful, terrible thing. This is by design.¡±


    He swept, and tried to mimic the Princess, slowing his own sweeps in time with hers. Her gentle brush made a far sweeter sound than his poor scrapings, as if the straw bristles of her broom had been replaced with thistledown.


    ¡°Once upon a time I shined,¡± the Knight said. ¡°Noble armor, without dent or scratch or stain. Worn in service of my Lord, all the people of my kingdom knew of me and my flawless beauty. Polished daily, my armor had no equal.¡±


    The Princess nodded as she worked, and hummed her pleasure. The Knight raised the end of his broom and inspected the bristles. Was her broom softer than his? Impossible, he had made them both himself, with his own bare hands.


    He set the broom down again and began sweeping. ¡°My shining armor was my pride,¡± he continued. ¡°A symbol of my quality, and testament to my deeds and virtues. I ask you, what separates a Prince from a street rat? Is the cut of cloth enough to blind the eye, or are his princely airs inalienable, a product of birthright and bloodline?¡±


    The Knight felt a lump in his throat. He lowered his head and focused on his broom. ¡°Ah! But of all the Kings and Queens I have met, you, Princess, tower above all other. Majesty in its purist form¡ªsainthood becomes you, my little Bodhisattva.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± the Princess snapped. ¡°I am not worthy of the title.¡±


    ¡°But there is some force within you, as crucial to your being as heart or soul, that defies all mundane regalia,¡± the Knight said. ¡°You¡¯ve had no earthly teacher.¡±


    The Princess flicked her wrist, sending a puff of dust his way. ¡°Your musings are neither here nor there,¡± she said. ¡°I asked for the tale of your black armor, yet your thoughts turn back to me.¡±


    ¡°You are worthy of daily praise.¡±


    The Princess gave him a side-glance. ¡°So you say.¡±


    She worked her way up the little path and the Knight followed behind her. What was her secret? Her every motion was effortless¡ªstance and sweep and nothing more.


    ¡°Now then,¡± she said as she swept up a pile of cherry blossoms, ¡°your armor, please. Where, and when and most importantly of all, why?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± the Knight began, ¡°after the discharge of my service¡ª¡±


    He trailed off.


    ¡°After I murdered my Lord, my King,¡± he began again, ¡°I thought a Knight¡¯s duty profane, fit for fools. I had to separate myself from that foul brotherhood.¡±


    He closed his eyes, and opened his mind. He focused on the Princess¡¯s broom. Sweep, sweep she went, softer than a mouse¡¯s footsteps. He began to move his broom in time with hers.


    ¡°I abandoned my comrades-in-arms,¡± he said. ¡°I abandoned my kingdom, my country, my past. Even my name.¡±


    He felt his breathing slow in time to match his sweeping. Inhale, exhale. Back and forth. They were one and the same.


    ¡°I ran away. Far, far away to where none and no one knew me. Yet, in my shining armor, I could not escape the binds of duty. Women and children still approached me as if I were a hero. Townsfolk called upon me, as if I were bound to their service.¡±


    The Knight flicked his broom to the left.


    ¡°¡®Dear Knight,¡¯ they would cry, ¡®save our village from these murderous bandits.¡¯ ¡®Slay the vile serpent that stalks the woodsman¡¯s grove.¡¯ ¡®Quest for the magic lyre, so we might quell the raging river.¡¯¡±


    The Knight flicked his broom to the right.


    ¡°I would oblige and they would praise. ¡®Oh, what a noble Lord that must exist, to employ such a brave and bold and beautiful Knight, so loyal and so true. At whose round table doth he sit?¡¯¡±


    He stifled a laugh, turning it into a deep, wet cough. ¡°Their assumptions turned me bitter.¡±


    The Princess nodded silently.


    The Knight swept, and swept again.


    And again.


    He glanced over at the Princess. They were in tune, and flicked their brooms as one. He laughed again, and this time it was a good, happy laugh. How strange it was, he thought, that his body had found a rhythm, and stranger still, now kept it.


    The Princess sensed his sudden awareness. ¡°I think you are beginning to understand the broom,¡± she said. ¡°Still action stems from still mind. Peace flows outward.¡±


    She put her weight into her sweeps and they were flawless.


    ¡°Some who seek perfection dull the mind with repetitive tasks, obsessing over thought and not-thought,¡± she explained. ¡°Dull is not still. Still is open, and mindful. Dull is closed. It is easy to confuse the two.¡±


    The Knight considered this. He breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth.


    The Princess smiled. ¡°Finish your story.¡±


    ¡°If a kingdom is a ship, then a Prince is the rudder, the Princess the sails. Bound by duty, a Knight is the anchor that keeps the boat safe. If the Triumvirate had indeed failed me, then where did I belong?¡±


    The Knight rapped his fingers against his breastplate. ¡°See this blacken shell, charred and ruined. The poisonous thorn of a treacherous flower, antipode to all which once I was. Let that Shining Knight fade into legend, and let a new Knight emerge, untethered and unburdened. A true Errant-Knight, a Dark Knight!¡±


    The Maiden clucked her tongue, but said nothing. The Knight looked ¡®round the garden path. It was clean and clear and right for walking.


    ¡°I did pilgrimage to the Smithies three,¡± he said. ¡°Brothers, artisans, crafters of armor and weapons worthy of title. Harbinger-Pike, Moloch¡¯s Cloak, Sword of Dio: just three armaments of legend, forged in their fire pits.


    ¡°They lived within a grand monastery and dug ore from a private mine, over which they¡¯d built their mighty forge. They were Monks, you see, and through their work they¡¯d found transcendence.¡±


    He stopped sweeping.


    ¡°T¡¯was a marvelous thing, to watch them work,¡± he said. ¡°They toiled for five months, backs bent over forge and anvil and drafting table. It was their souls¡¯ passion, and truly, their tools were an extension of self. As trinity, the brothers worked as one; three bodies of one mind. Hammers felled blows in unison, a Smithy with six hands.¡±


    He smiled at the memory. ¡°And what they made for me was a masterpiece. Like no armor I¡¯d ever worn before, the fit was perfect. A second skin, made for me alone. No surface left without blight, black with menace.¡±


    The Knight sat down. His little broom fell to his side, forgotten. ¡°I killed the Smithies three.¡± He buried his head in his hands. ¡°I struck the youngest brother down first¡ªand when I pierced his swollen heart, his wounds became his brothers¡¯ wounds, and together they fell as one.


    ¡°With the brothers dead, I thought myself truly anonymous, for now none lived who knew the flesh beneath the shell. I was a Black Knight, unknown and unknowable, and the world was open to me.¡±


    The Princess set down her broom, and sat beside the Knight. She laid her hands on his heart.


    ¡°But,¡± the Knight said, ¡°change of armor cannot change all inside. What is a Prince without his pomp? True eyes can see beyond, and spot a Prince even in beggar¡¯s clothes. Some lessons cannot be forgotten.¡±


    He pushed the Princess away. ¡°My plan was foolish and a failure. What good is a terrible guise, if none are terrified? What good is hateful armor if children still bring you flowers, if Maidens still offer you their hands to kiss?


    ¡°Did others know me better than I knew myself? What mockery! Distraught, aimless I became. I wreaked and ruined myself until none dared approach, until I¡¯d well and truly earned the title of ¡®Dark Knight.¡¯ Until I¡ª¡±


    The Knight lowered his head, ashamed.


    ¡°¡®For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?¡¯¡± the Princess quoted.


    The Knight turned. ¡°I don¡¯t want your pity, I want your love!¡± he cried. ¡°You! You who keeps a craven hold on a frosted heart! Always you hide behind your serenity and your sanctimony! A calm facade!¡±


    He grasped the Princess by the chin. ¡°You claim affection: natural, universal, transcendent! Spare a little extra for me! If you love all, can you not love one? I ask today for one favor: a simple, single kiss. No more, no less. A kiss without compromise.¡±


    The Princess hissed. ¡°Let me go.¡±


    ¡°Is even such meager affection beyond you?¡± the Knight asked. ¡°Why do you deny me, deny yourself? Art thou afraid you¡¯d enjoy the taste of my lips, the warmth of my body? Have you forgotten your own passions? I have not forgotten mine¡ªthey are all that I have left!¡±


    The Princess pressed her palms together, and rocked her jaw between his fingers. Even through the slit in his helmet, he could taste the heat on her breath.


    ¡°I am keenly aware of my own passions,¡± the Princess said slowly, ¡°and that which I deny. I deny you.¡±


    The Knight moved closer. ¡°Is a kiss such a crime?¡± he asked. ¡°Come, I shall do you no harm.¡± He drew her in and traced a finger up her cheek. But his gauntlet scratched her, and cut a line of red.


    The Princess winced. The cut bled and dribbled down her chin. The Knight recoiled in horror at the sight.


    ¡°Is this what you want?¡± she asked him.


    The Knight stumbled to his feet. He tripped backwards over his broom.


    ¡°No¡ª¡±


    He ran, ashamed.


    The Princess sat very still, alone beneath the cherries. She smelled the red iron, felt the warmth on her cheek. ¡°So,¡± she thought as she watched the blood stain her dress, ¡°I¡¯m human after all.¡±

 Chapter Twelve: Ahimsa & Ataraxia

    It was more than a week before she saw the Knight again, although she had no doubt of his inevitable return.


    On Monday she woke with the sun. She stretched, and set about her day¡ªcalisthenics first, then yoga. She worked her muscles until they burned. She sat. Her breath was light. On her tongue she repeated OM until she fell deep within herself, until she lost herself, until the self had no meaning.


    She bathed in the clear spring.


    On Tuesday morning she ate rice and porridge, and was mindful of every bite. She retired to the summer house, pulling volume after volume from the Knight¡¯s precious library. Romance, drama, sutra, astronomy¡ªshe had no preference. Sprawled on the hardwood floor, she read them all.


    On Wednesday, before noon, she reduced suffering. She found a raven by the spring, struggling to breathe. She comforted it as it died. She lit incense, she offered prayer, she felt the wind and weaved it between her fingers.


    On Thursday, when the sun was at its peak, she set about her work. She dusted the mantle, the fireplace, the tinderbox. She planted trees, she fed the peacocks. In the grove, with handsaw and hatchet, she cleared away an old dead oak. She tended the vineyard, she cleared the gutters on the roof of the summer house.


    On Friday afternoon she reflected upon her misdeeds and forgave herself. In quiet company she brewed her tea and set a table for two. She practiced still-life and dance.


    On Saturday, as the sun set, she composed poetry. She ate from her beggar¡¯s bowl. She listened to the little brook, to the slow plips of water trickling and spilling over the rocks. There were voices in the stream¡ªspirits, perhaps¡ªthat spoke without a human tongue and whispered secrets to those who listened.


    On Sunday night she rested. She crept into her bed and pulled the covers tight. The summer house was silent, and she thought this to be a lonely thing¡ªeven the creak or groan of a settling foundation would have been enough to soothe her mind.


    The sheets were thick but carried no warmth. She slept.


    On Monday, she woke to the sound of hammering. She came outside and saw: the Knight had returned. He was pounding a nail into the sacred fig tree. ¡°Did I wake you?¡± he asked, upon catching sight of the Princess.


    He gestured to her lacquer birdhouse. ¡°A gust in the night must have knocked it loose,¡± he explained. ¡°But with a little thought and a little care, all can be set right again.¡± The sun rose behind him.


    The Princess raised an eyebrow. She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. His voice was softer today, she noticed.


    ¡°And I have brought you a present,¡± he continued. He laid down his hammer and took a step back, satisfied with his work. ¡°Not to earn your favor, but to beg your forgiveness.¡±


    She gave him a crooked glance, but approached, extending her hand to him. He bent to one knee. ¡°Oh, Princess, I have hurt you,¡± he said, taking her hand in his. ¡°I would make it right, if only I knew how.¡±


    He squeezed her fingers as softly as he could. She bade him to rise, and beckoned him to follow her. Down the path they went.


    ¡°So you will let me go, then?¡±


    He pulled the garden key out from under his armor. ¡°Such a thing you ask of me.¡± He dug his sabatons into the dirt. ¡°It is beyond all my power.¡±


    ¡°Hardly. All you have to do is give up that key.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡±


    ¡°Then this story ends.¡±


    He stared at the key. It consumed him. It was his heart, he realized¡ªand in that moment the Knight knew himself to be a coward.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he admitted. He pocketed the key.


    The Princess raised a finger to her cheek and traced a line down her chin. ¡°A prisoner I remain, then.¡±


    ¡°You need not be.¡±


    ¡°I will not lie with you,¡± said the Princess. They passed the purling brook, down to the winding path. Birdsong followed them.


    ¡°The chastity of a Princess¡ª¡± the Knight lamented.


    ¡°Tell me, Knight, what do you know of chastity, or of love?¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    They climbed the hill to the gazebo and sat side by side. The day-lilies slept, a warm breeze stirred the morning air, a pair of butterflies were blown off-course.


    An ant crawled over a pebble.


    ¡°You would have me rush headlong to your company? To your bed?¡± the Princess asked. ¡°Of all action and inaction, I have deliberate cause. My actions, their sum total, are but products of my waking mind.¡±


    She bent down and lowered a hand to the ground, letting the ant climb up her fingers. ¡°O Knight, know this: my feelings, my emotions, I do not hide or hold to shame. Yet, there is a filter between my passions and my actions.¡±


    The ant ran down her palm. She turned her hand over and kept the insect on its track.


    ¡°Let us pretend that some Prince comes and makes me swoon,¡± said the Princess. ¡°To him, should I run? I consider: what is this feeling that beats within my chest? Have I felt it before? What name shall I give it? Perhaps love, or lust?¡±


    ¡°A Prince?¡± the Knight asked.


    The Princess smiled. ¡°Come now, Knight, jealousy is unbecoming.¡±


    She turned her hand once more, and watched the ant crawl across her palm. The Knight admired the subtlety in her movements; her nimble fingers, her little wrist. Did the ant think about the order in which it moved its legs, or was it all just instinct?


    ¡°What is love?¡± the Princess asked. ¡°Is it born from loneliness? A desire of the soul, or a need of the body? A search for belonging, or understanding, perhaps? Ask these questions, and more. Is love a good thing, and, more importantly, why is love a good thing? And then: is this instance of love a good thing?¡±


    She lowered her hand again and let the ant go on its merry way. ¡°These are my thoughts, but I am not my thoughts. They do not linger,¡± she said. ¡°I study them, I learn from them, and then¡ª¡±


    She watched the ant disappear into the lilies. ¡°¡ªand then I let them go.¡±


    ¡°I have chastised you for thoughtless thinking,¡± the Princess continued. ¡°Might you accuse me now of idle thought? I say no! My thoughts are focused, logical, precise. My mind is a knife. All ends I seek to satisfaction, all thoughts to their conclusions. I do not act upon my feelings until I understand them.¡±


    The Princess paused and collected herself, not used to such exposed thought. She swept her hair back off her shoulders.


    ¡°My emotions are more precious to me,¡± she said, ¡°for knowing what they are, and where they might lead.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said the Knight. So this was her secret, he thought.


    ¡°And yours?¡± the Princess asked.


    ¡°My passions?¡± The Knight considered the question. ¡°My passions are like two wild horses, reined to a rickety chariot, the rider long ago thrown. Never do the beasts agree, one pulls left, the other right. They buck and bicker and fight.¡±


    The Princess nodded thoughtfully.


    ¡°And behind them,¡± the Knight continued, ¡°the wheels are rutted deep, the chariot drawn violently, inexorably towards a terrible precipice.¡±


    The more he spoke the looser his binds became, and he felt the joy of freedom.


    ¡°And what do you know of love?¡± the Princess asked him.


    The Knight shifted his weight. ¡°I am no expert. I eat when hungry, sleep when tired and follow my passions wherever they lead.¡±


    ¡°A sensuous life you live,¡± the Princess said. ¡°Admirable in its simplicity. I was once like you, in days long past, but I found that, like a moth to a flame, my desires only ever burned me.¡±


    A warm wind blew over the pair. It carried a fresh, clean scent.


    ¡°Oh!¡± The Princess looked out over the field. ¡°The day-lilies have come out.¡±


    The Knight masticated on his words, meeting her eyes for the first time in a week. ¡°Is that why you deny yourself?¡± he asked, ¡°because you¡¯re afraid of your passions?¡±


    ¡°Afraid? Never.¡±


    ¡°You say your mind is a knife, but you refuse to hold one. You¡¯ve been passive, dear Princess, for all the days you¡¯ve dwelt within this garden, not once have you tried to escape me. Perhaps I¡¯ve weakened your resolve.¡±


    ¡°Resolve?¡± The Princess laughed. ¡°I will show you my resolve.¡±


    She slowly extended her index finger and held it to the Knight¡¯s breast. She applied no pressure, but still, through his thick armor, the Knight could feel a weight press against him. It dug deep, a splinter in his heart.


    ¡°Do not mistake restraint for weakness!¡± the Princess said, her voice booming, her arm steady. ¡°Truth implies love. Matched with resolve, these are weapons of the strong. Force does not bring victory! Not anger, not cruelty, not violence. Only compassion!¡±


    The Knight tried to stand, but found that he could not. He was held in place, paralyzed by her finger. His heart raced, a terror seized him.


    ¡°You are the one trapped within this cage, not me!¡± the Princess bellowed, her dress billowing in the wind. ¡°I am free, for the mind is born in liberty! My body may be trapped but my spirit still soars!¡±


    Her bosom heaved, her voice grew, it echoed throughout every corner of the garden. She pressed against the Knight, and held him down.


    ¡°You, Knight! You are prisoner! To your own desires! To your cravings! You, with the power to leave this place, always returning!¡± She glared down at him, her eyes were fire.


    He could feel the passion in her breast, the fury of a wild animal.


    They stayed like this for a timeless interval, the Princess above, the Knight below. ¡°You refuse me, you refute me, but you do not resist me,¡± he said. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°A hunger strike, or vow of silence¡ª¡± the Knight picked his words carefully, ¡°you have chosen neither.¡±


    The Princess blinked, and her anger was broken. ¡°¡®Do not resist an evil person,¡¯¡± she said. ¡°¡®If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.¡¯¡±


    The Princess blinked, and was surprised to find that she was crying.


    She bit her lip, withdrawing her finger from the Knight¡¯s breast. ¡°Such is the teachings of the Buddha.¡± She stood up.


    ¡°You speak of harm and no harm. And calm¡ªyet anger, on occasion, seeps into your words, and with mean spit, you curse me.¡±


    ¡°Momentary lapses,¡± the Princess sniffled, drying her eyes on the cuff of her dress. ¡°Perhaps you love these thorns of mine, but I do not. They prick me.¡±


    She turned to the sun. She felt its warmth in the air and on her skin. She took a long, deep breath.


    ¡°Tell me, Knight, where have you wandered this past week?¡± She ran her fingers through her hair, down the pleats of her skirt. Her hands shook. ¡°You spoke of a present?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The Knight nodded. ¡°A gift of wine, given to me just yesterday. An offering of peace from the Prince and his sister.¡±


    The Princess stared at her trembling hands. She smiled a very small smile. ¡°Please,¡± she said, and leaned towards the Knight, ¡°please, a story if you would, and perhaps a drink as well?¡±


    The Knight bowed. ¡°As you wish.¡±

 Chapter Thirteen: The Waif and Her Brother

    She took his hand in hers and led him up the garden path.


    ¡°I had persuaded the Prince to give up the fight, if but for a day,¡± the Knight said to her, ¡°but a Prince is a tenacious thing, and I knew his wish for a Princess-bride had not diminished.¡±


    They walked past the day-lilies, where petals lay scattered on the ground. ¡°It was his sister, the Waif, I feared,¡± the Knight continued. ¡°What had she learned from the forest fey? What weird mysticisms were hers to command?¡±


    They arrived at the summer house. The Princess stopped him here, stretching her arms across the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be just a minute,¡± she said, and entered alone.


    The Knight called to her from the doorway. ¡°Surely, I thought, and hoped, there is no shortage of Princesses suitable for such a Prince. Perhaps he has already departed for sweeter lands.¡±


    ¡°But alas, this was not so?¡± the Princess called back to him.


    ¡°Alas, indeed.¡±


    Presently she returned from the depths of the summer house, a pair of glasses in her hand. ¡°Wine glasses,¡± she chortled, ¡°for wine.¡±


    The Knight offered his hand for her to take, she brushed it aside without comment. ¡°Come with me, to the grotto we shall go,¡± he said. ¡°The wine is there. I did not expect to drink it so soon!¡±


    The Knight leading, they followed the path down behind the summer house.


    ¡°For my shame, I lay secluded; hidden in my cabin,¡± he continued. ¡°I could not bare to face you. But after two days of this solitude, I became insufferably restless. Some compulsion took me, and so, despondent and directionless, I set out upon the lonely forest. I walked for hours, without cause or purpose. My thoughts dwelt on little, trivial things. Patches of light amid the leaves, the roots of old trees, the feel of bark, the softness of your skin, the nape of your neck¡ª¡±


    They cut across a plot of hyacinth. The Princess danced around the flowers, the Knight stepped as he pleased.


    ¡°I had been wandering for ten hours when I saw it: the snow-white deer. From between the trees it crept, like the silver of the moon on a cloudless night.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t long before they came to the grotto, little more than a cave in the side of a cliff.


    ¡°Blood spilled from its wound,¡± the Knight explained, ¡°where an arrow pierced its hide, a river of red that stained the very earth. Its beady eyes starred into mine for an endless hour. It fled, and this time I pursued.¡±


    He took a lantern from the wall, lit it, and led the Princess into the cave. The passage soon opened into a cavern, deep and wide.


    ¡°I chased the doe for five days. Always, it escaped my grasp¡ªtrotting, bounding, leaping! Never did it stray from my sight, stopping only to tease me, to lure and beckon me onwards.¡±


    The grotto cave was stacked from floor to ceiling with supplies. The Knight pointed to a box bounded by rope and wax. ¡°A chest filled with gold,¡± he explained. ¡°See the seal, still intact, and know I have no want for wealth.¡±


    They passed a row of shelves. ¡°And here, in these¡ªtapestries, linens and jewelry, all carefully stored away. And over there¡ªgrains and lentils, never will they spoil. Vegetables, in preserve. This cave is the heart of the garden, the magic of spring is strongest here.¡±


    They moved on. ¡°These contain wine,¡± he said, shining his light on a stack of barrels, ¡°while those have ale. All this stored here by the former Lords of the place. Enough to last a lifetime, if need be.¡±


    He grabbed a small canteen from a lower shelf. ¡°The promised wine.¡± He lead the Princess through the thick of things to a plain wooden table, set apart from the storage. ¡°For five days I chased the white doe. She teased me, and wrested from me my greatest emotions¡ªhate and determination, pride and contempt. Ceaseless I labored after her, never resting, until at last a languor and weariness settled over me¡ªuntil at last I fell.¡±


    He set his light down on the table and pulled a chair out for the Princess. They sat.


    ¡°I stumbled, yes¡ªand the moonlit deer stopped to look at me. Its jaw hung loose. And now that my strength was sapped, the doe faded into the night like fog, leaving me alone in those dark woods. Beneath a blacken sky I stumbled blind. The deer, that I now recognized to be the Waif, was gone.¡±


    He filled the Maiden¡¯s glass and then his own. ¡°I was lost,¡± he said. ¡°The trees all looked alike, there were no landmarks. I thought it was a miracle then, when ahead of me I saw a cabin¡ªmy cabin! I had been led in a long twisted circle. Exhausted, half-dead, I stripped my armor bare and collapsed upon my bed.¡±


    The Princess gave her wine a playful little sniff. She did not drink.


    ¡°She came for me in my sleep,¡± the Knight whispered. ¡°In my dream I saw the wounded doe, burning in the night, but this time she did not run as I approached. I placed my hand upon her flank, her hide rippled and shimmered like water. With one sure tug I pulled the arrow free¡ªand the doe took the shape of a woman.¡±


    The Knight raised his visor half an inch and took a long drink of wine, his helmet clacking against the glass. The Princess gave him a sideways glance. ¡°Surely,¡± she said, cupping her hands on her chin, ¡°it is easier to drink without your helmet?¡±


    ¡°You would ask a turtle to go without his shell?¡± the Knight replied.


    ¡°But what have you to fear?¡± the Princess asked. She ran a finger around the rim of her glass.


    The Knight ignored her question. ¡°I woke in a cold sweat,¡± he said, returning to his story, ¡°and the Waif was there, at the foot of my bed! Moonlight spilled over us and I saw that she was naked. She came to me, and offered me her company. I refused, but she took my hand in hers, her fingers were like icicles. It frightened me.


    ¡°She dug her fingernails into my flesh, and wherever she touched, I fell numb.¡±


    The Knight poured himself another glass. ¡°Does such brazenness disgust you?¡± he asked. ¡°Tell me the truth, and I will spare you all the sordid details.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I could stand to hear a little more.¡±


    He took a swig of wine. ¡°This Waif, this Witch¡ªshe pressed her breast against my own, her chest burning like a searing fire¡ªa swollen flame, given form! ¡®Come Knight,¡¯ she rasped, ¡®come and know me better.¡¯ She wrapped her hands around my neck, and made to choke the life from me. I tried to run, to shout, to throw her off, but her touch was paralyzing and I was helpless before her.¡±


    The Knight paused to clear his throat. The Princess gave him a little smile, and fiddled with her glass.


    ¡°She strangled me,¡± he continued, ¡°and my eyes grew dim and my body grew heavy and all thought faded into nothing. I thought myself dead¡ªbut then, with one final burst of strength, I threw her off, and stumbled to my feet, sputtering, gasping for air. I ran from the cabin into the night, away from her, this woman; my death.


    ¡°I fell into a clearing, and beheld an awful sight¡ªthe Waif¡¯s brother¡ªthe Prince, was crouched over an open longbox, its lock still caked with dirt. Next to him, a mound of earth, a hole freshly dug. He had found my darkest treasure¡ªthe Sword Halcyon!¡±


    ¡°The Peace-Blade?¡± the Princess asked.


    ¡°The very same.¡±


    ¡°I must admit,¡± said the Princess, ¡°I had my suspicions that you¡¯d hidden it here, in the garden.¡±


    The Knight chewed his words. ¡°The prudent option, yes, but to bring it here, to paradise, oh no¡ªthat would be tantamount to blasphemy.¡±


    ¡°But of course, how silly of me.¡±


    ¡°But the Prince¡ªhe lifted that dreadful sword from its silk-lined box and stood in awe of it. Even without my weapon, without my armor¡ªon a different day, under different circumstances, perhaps still, I¡¯d have given him a decent fight¡ªbut against that tranquil power, I was truly at his mercy.


    ¡°So such was my surprise when the Waif appeared behind me, naked, and the good Prince dropped his boon and blade.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Yes! He ran to the Witch and covered her with his cloak. ¡®What foul hand hath you laid upon my sister,¡¯ he cried. ¡®Princess first, and now fey-friend, is no woman safe from your perversions?¡¯¡±


    The Knight downed his glass and filled it again. ¡°¡®No, Brother,¡¯ rasped the Waif, clutching at his cloak, ¡®I am to blame.¡¯ She leaned upon the Prince. He had refused to claim and call you, she explained to me, and was content enough to take my sword and steel. But she¡ªby her hand and spell, she sought to free you, with murder and with violence.¡±


    ¡°That does not please me to hear,¡± said the Princess.


    The Knight laughed. ¡°Still, I cannot blame her.¡±


    The Princess frowned, her wine untouched. The Knight continued: ¡°As her brother hesitated, she called to him. ¡®Other prizes remain¡ªgrasp the Halcyon Blade, and claim it as your own.¡¯ But the Prince was conflicted. ¡®If my sister says she has not been wronged by you, I will take her claim as true,¡¯ he said. ¡®But why,¡¯ he asked me, ¡®why bury the blade?¡¯¡±


    ¡°Why indeed?¡± the Princess chortled. The lantern flickered in the dark.


    ¡°He begged me to explain. ¡®With destiny in hand, made manifest, one could be ruler of all these troubled lands. None could stand against you,¡¯ he said. ¡®So why,¡¯ he asked, ¡®in backwoods, forgotten, do I find this fabled sword?¡¯¡±


    The Knight drank. ¡°I told him as I have told you, the fear; my precious freedom. But he chastised me, he told me I did not understand a Prince¡¯s duty. He said, ¡®If my country demands it, I would take up the Halcyon Blade and lose my agency¡ªgladly!¡¯


    ¡°He held his sister close, a protective arm around her shoulder. ¡®Knight!¡¯ he cried, ¡®I am not as high-minded as you! War is good for no man. I would use the blade from a desire to do good: to save lives, as many as possible. To quell war, to deter violence.¡¯ The sword, the Prince explained, could be a tool for peace.¡±


    The Princess interrupted here. ¡°That,¡± she said, ¡°is a contradiction. Even sheathed¡ªno, the threat of violence, or a display of power¡ªthese things do not still hatred. Peace, tranquility¡ªthey are more than the absence of violence.¡±


    ¡°You have quite a lot to say concerning power,¡± said the Knight, ¡°for one who has rejected the throne of man.¡± He slurred his words.


    The Princess gave him a little smirk. ¡°Many a good individual has confused power with force,¡± she said, ¡°and control.¡±


    His eyes grew glassy. ¡°I bent my knee to him,¡± the Knight said. ¡°I offered him my sword. I have lead a selfish life indeed¡ªbut the Prince¡ªthe Prince¡ªI held him to oath, made him promise, and he vowed to expand his compassion to all who dwell beneath this sun, and their generations hence; to strive for a brotherhood of man; to consider the ramifications of every blow, the weight of each life.¡±


    ¡°A very good oath indeed.¡± The Princess smiled.


    ¡°I gave him a title reborn: Prince of the Wounded Doe. He swore to this oath and his sister acted as witness to his pledge.¡±


    The Knight offered the last of the wine to the Princess. She declined with a wave of her hand, so he tipped the rest into his own glass.


    ¡°There is not much left to tell,¡± he said. ¡°The three of us talked long into the night. They spoke of their homeland, their kingdom, their search for a Princess-bride. The Waif and Prince petitioned for your release, and were only satisfied when certain promises were made.¡±


    The Knight threw his head back and downed his glass. It spilled over his breastplate, he did not seem to notice.


    ¡°This wine was given as parting gift and sign of friendship. The Waif¡ªshe accepted your stout refusal of help¡ªof rescue. From me. And the Prince, ha! The Prince embraced me, called me kin, offered counsel and gave invitation to the halls of his father.¡±


    The Knight yawned, and stretched his armored limbs. ¡°What a good little Prince¡ªI think he had some hope for me. If I were a better Knight, if things had turned out a little differently¡ª¡± His head buzzed.


    How many hours of rest had he had this past week? Surely less than a dozen. He slumped over the table. A few last remaining drops of wine were jostled loose from the lip of the canteen. They shimmered the light of the lantern.


    ¡°¡®Tis not yet midday,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Yes, but I grow drunkard and have ruined myself,¡± said the Knight. ¡°I feel my legs, they threaten to stumble. I shall sleep here, ¡®til head be clear, and thoughts flow free again.¡± He closed his eyes and stretched his arms out across the table. ¡°A fine pillow. Yes, all it lacks is your warmth, Princess.¡±


    His breathing slowed. ¡°It¡¯s wrong, I know. I¡¯m wrong, I¡¯ve always been wrong, but I can¡¯t help it,¡± he murmured. ¡°Why won¡¯t you love me?¡± he asked. ¡°Everyone deserves love, surely. If you cannot love me, who could? Please, I need you¡­ I crave you¡­ My dear sweet rose¡­¡±


    The Princess watched the Knight for a long time, until she was sure that he was asleep, until his breath was slow and shallow, a weak wheeze, the only sound in all the cave, little more than a rattle.


    She stood, and took a deep breath, and began pacing. She made a neat little circle around the grotto cave. From shelf to shelf and chest to chest, her feet skipped over the cold stone floor, but never once did her eyes leave the sleeping Knight.


    ¡°¡®He abused me, he struck me, he overpowered me, he robbed me.¡¯¡± Her lips trembled, she wrung her hands behind her back. ¡°¡®Those who harbor such thoughts do not still their hatred.¡¯¡±


    She stopped and stared at the slumped, sleeping figure. ¡°That is what I¡¯ve been taught¡ªbut I don¡¯t hate you, I never have.¡±


    The glint of polished silver caught her eye, shining out from under the Knight¡¯s black gauntlet¡ªthe garden key. She considered it, and all the possibilities it represented.


    She drew over to the Knight. ¡°You¡¯d chase me to the ends of the earth, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± she whispered in his ear. ¡°And would I want you too?¡± She clung to his shoulder. ¡°You, my Knight, are a singular curiosity. There was a time when I cared nothing for the miserable and the wretched, but only for myself. To think, if we¡¯d met back then¡ª¡±


    The Princess sighed, quite frustrated. ¡°I thought to take shelter in the teachings, but have I just been hiding?¡± She rapped her fingers on his helmet for a good long while and mulled things over.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s have a look at you, at least,¡± she said at last. ¡°Forgive me for this intrusion, I know it to be wrong.¡±


    She gently slipped off his helmet, and brought the lantern closer to him, shining the light on his face. She swept aside his greasy, matted hair. She stared at him, taking in all his features. She ran a finger across the cracked, peeling lips and round the red, flushed cheeks and down the crooked nose, which, by her reckoning, had been broken at least twice.


    ¡°How queer.¡±


    She quickly replaced his helmet. Then she went over to the storage boxes and rummaged through them until she found a thick, cotton blanket. She draped it over the Knight, and let him sleep.


    ¡°Until tomorrow, then.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen: Two Short Conversations

    She sat under the sacred fig tree. The clouds drifted lazily above, the butterflies danced, a solitary ant crept across the lacquer face of the Princess¡¯s birdhouse.


    She folded her legs, she straightened her back, she rested her hands on her thighs. She sat in silence, the only noise the sound of her own breathing.


    The air smelled of honeysuckle.


    The Princess focused on her breath. In and out. In and out. Slowly, rhythmically. She did not control her breathing, did not force it, did not hold it. She merely was aware of it, of the steady rising and falling of her diaphragm, of the cool air she breathed in through her nose, of the warm air she breathed out through her mouth.


    A thought crossed her mind. She acknowledged the thought and returned to her breath, to the breeze that tickled the tip of her nose.


    Inhale.


    Exhale.


    Inhale.


    Exhale.


    Another thought. The Princess acknowledged this one as well, as one would a passing cloud, and returned to her breath.


    A third thought entered her mind, and her heart beat a little faster. She frowned. Once again, she acknowledged the thought, as well as the sensations and emotions it had aroused in her.


    She did not judge them¡ªthe thoughts, the sensations, the emotions. She recognized their impact, and then, just as she had done before, she returned to her breath. Her heart quieted.


    Slowly she became aware that she was being watched. She opened one eye. A raven was perched on a branch above her. It cast a long shadow over the Princess, and when the bird spoke, it spoke with a rasp:


    ¡°Do you seek freedom?¡± the raven asked.


    ¡°All beings seek liberation,¡± the Princess answered.


    ¡°But you will not accept my brother¡¯s help?¡±


    The Princess considered the question. ¡°No,¡± she said after a moment¡¯s hesitation.


    ¡°Let me free you, then. I ask for nothing in return.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Princess repeated.


    ¡°You will suffer,¡± said the raven.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the Princess agreed.


    The raven fluffed its wings and hopped up and down on one foot. ¡°Well, what do you want?¡±


    ¡°The cessation of suffering.¡±


    ¡°For yourself?¡±


    ¡°For all living creatures.¡±


    ¡°For the Knight?¡±


    The Princess nodded. ¡°For the Knight.¡±


    The raven turned its head sideways. ¡°Do you love that Knight?¡± it asked.


    ¡°I care for all living creatures,¡± the Princess said.


    ¡°But do you love them?¡± the raven asked again.


    The Princess breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She felt the air on the tip of her nose, felt the air fill her lungs, felt the air escape her lips.


    ¡°You don¡¯t talk very much do you?¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The Princess did not answer. The raven tried again: ¡°A good little Princess aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I speak when I have something to say,¡± the Princess replied, ¡°and when I speak, the world listens.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps¡ªwere you not a holy woman, you¡¯d make an excellent Queen.¡±


    The Princess smiled. ¡°So I have been told.¡±


    ¡°Why do you eschew violence?¡± asked the Waif. ¡°It is not bad, it is not good. Violence simply is. It is the chisel with which men carve their destiny. Do you deny this?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Princess, ¡°I do not.¡±


    ¡°But you will not fight?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°Why,¡± asked the raven.


    The Princess chewed her tongue. ¡°When violence is chosen, it cannot be unchosen. You call violence a tool¡ªyes, I think I agree with this. But if violence is a tool, then you must agree that it is a very easy tool to use. Too easy. If violence is ever an option, if it is ever given more than a passing thought, if it is indulged, it becomes the absolute, the inevitable, the ¡®solution¡¯ to all problems.¡±


    The raven cawed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Princess, ¡°there are other ways of achieving your goals, other tools at one¡¯s disposal. They are harder to use, maybe even painful, and certainly not as satisfying or as direct or immediate as violence¡ªbut the results, I think, speak for themselves.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any sisters?¡± the raven asked, its black beak shining. ¡°I would very much like to be your sister.¡±


    ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    The raven blinked its beady black eyes. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°I once had many sisters. But they are all dead or lost. And if any still live, I doubt they would now recognize me, or I them.¡±


    ¡°Tell me.¡±


    The Princess uncrossed her legs. ¡°After the fire, I went looking for my sisters. Far and wide I searched. The mountains and the valleys, the sacred woods and hidden temples, but nowhere were my sisters to be found.


    ¡°One day, I came to a river a sister had once called home. She was gone, but there, on the banks of the river, I met a man. A holy man. A wild man. He sought purification of the soul, and had sensed a magic deep within the current of the river.


    ¡°He told me of a new power, a new way, and that he could help me find it. And then¡ª¡±


    The Princess cleared her throat. ¡°¡ªand then he drowned me. He held me under until I died. And when I emerged again, coughing and sputtering¡ªI was different. The world was different.¡±


    ¡°And now you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°For now.¡±


    The raven fluttered down to another branch. ¡°You¡¯ve made a very lovely birdhouse here,¡± it said, its sharp beak pecking at the box nailed to the fig.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Fit for a pair of lovebirds.¡±


    The Princess wrinkled her nose. ¡°Is that what you think is happening here?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Ah, well, perhaps I¡¯ve overstepped my bounds.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, let me make it up to you, let me tell you a secret.¡±


    And the raven told the Princess a secret. ¡°What do you think of that?¡± it asked her.


    The Princess did not answer. She crossed her legs again and closed her eyes.


    The raven raised its beak and gave a little cry. ¡°I hear my brother¡¯s call, so I will leave you here in peace. I¡¯ve enjoyed this little talk, but I do not think we will meet again.¡±


    The Princess bowed her head a fraction of an inch. ¡°Farewell.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    The raven fell from the tree, dead.


    The Waif opened her eyes. Her head ached. She worked her palm into her brow until the pain subsided. She looked around, reorienting herself to her surroundings. They were riding through the forest, dim in the light of dawn.


    ¡°Princesses are a strange breed,¡± she said, ¡°and I do not understand them.¡±


    Her brother laughed. ¡°One day you will. Have faith.¡±


    ¡°Faith does not come easy,¡± the Waif rasped.


    The Prince smiled, then frowned. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± He laid a hand on the traveling box where Halcyon rested. ¡°If I had faith, I would not need this sword.¡±


    He studied the box, as if it contained a viper. ¡°I fear this weapon more than any other,¡± he said. ¡°I do not fault the Knight for burying the blade, and even now I wonder if they were right to hide it.¡±


    ¡°You are a good person and you will do good,¡± the Waif assured her brother.


    He smiled again, and this time it did not fade. ¡°You shall be my Swordbearer! Keep me safe, my sister, and I will you.¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°You are outsider-borne, dear sister, and for this you should be thankful. You do not understand the subtleties of the triumvirate¡ªPrince, and Knight, and Princess. Consider yourself lucky, to not be shackled by the bonds of name and royal title.¡±


    ¡°¡®Waif¡¯ suits me well enough.¡±


    The Prince agreed. ¡°For now.¡±


    The trees were thinning ever slightly. Dawn crept in, and the world was waking.


    The Prince shielded his eyes from the light of morning. ¡°Yesterday we saw a naked secret,¡± he said. ¡°What yonder Knight hides from Princess-fair.¡±


    ¡°What did thy eyes reveal, brother?¡±


    ¡°I saw a Shining Knight! Or rather, one who could shine again, given time and patience¡ª¡± He trailed off. ¡°And you, what did you see?¡±


    ¡°A Prince,¡± said the Waif.


    Her brother raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did you? Interesting.¡± His sister, he knew, was seldom wrong. ¡°Well, it¡¯s no concern of ours now.¡± He stroked his horse¡¯s mane and spurred it on.


    The sun was breaking through the trees, and all the forest was bathed in its light. The Prince welcomed it, took strength from it.


    ¡°Come to my side,¡± he cried. ¡°In a distant land, in a tall, tall tower, a Princess awaits, guarded by a serpent most terrible.¡±


    The sun warmed him through and through. ¡°Does she need our help? Is she in need of a rescue most gallant? Come, let us venture forth, and let us ask her!¡±


    The Waif smiled, a wide, toothy grin. They rode towards the rising sun and glorious days.

 Chapter Fifteen: Penthesilea

    The sound of leaves echoed in his ear. With every step and stride they crunched beneath his heel, with every gust of wind they rustled, shaken from their trees.


    Today the forest was equal to the beauty and color of the garden itself. The very air was thick with the scent of pine, the whispering wind, and the colors of fall. It was a fullness he could not describe.


    The Knight felt a twinge of guilt. Leaves of gold, and red, and fire¡ªthe Princess would never know this autumn. ¡°Would she speak words of poetry, or merely sigh, contented by the October air?¡± he wondered. His heart yearned to see her loose, to walk these woods if but for a single afternoon.


    He would have coveted it, this autumn, had he not known, in his heart of hearts, that fall was also the season of death.


    The Knight came to a stand of trees. Here there was a sickly tree that had turned before the rest, and shed its colors early. Its naked boughs looked all the more thin and lonely next to its fuller brothers. Leaves had piled at its base, where exposed roots had made a protective hollow.


    Huddled together, they¡¯d been gathered by the wind.


    He crouched down and chose five perfect leaves from the pile, cradling them in his hands like delicate, fragile shells. ¡°But I am stubborn and she is stubborn, and I cannot, will not, yield now.¡±


    He ventured on to the Princess¡¯s cage.


    When the Knight wrenched open the garden gate a warm wind blew against him, a deep exhale. A spring mist hung in the air, dew clung to the tops of petals, the tips of buds. The air was heavy and moist, it soothed his parched throat.


    He turned and locked the autumn dryness out.


    The meadow was littered with green and lilac, yellow and vanilla, a thousand colors, a thousand scents in bloom. Softly, silently, he stepped through the petals of an endless spring. They stuck to his heel and were ground, muddy, into the earth.


    He found his Princess by the summer house. She had pulled a heavy table from the grotto, and set it outside in the shade of the fig, leaving a long, dirty rut in the grass where she had dragged the table through the field.


    And here she sat, book in hand.


    The Knight approached. He stood at attention, still as a statue, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.


    The Princess gave him the slightest of nods, then read on, her fingers dancing, with the upmost of care, over the thin, tissue-like paper of her book.


    He glanced down; the feet of the antique table were caked with mud. He grimaced.


    The Princess read for a few minutes. She read slowly, and deliberately. More than once she flipped back a page, or two, reading and rereading particular passages, until, apparently, she had gleaned some hidden meaning from them.


    Satisfied, she laid her book down. ¡°Thank you for waiting.¡± She beckoned for the Knight to sit. He sat.


    ¡°Speak, and tell me your ills,¡± she said. ¡°For once again I sense your heart is troubled. What do you think is the cause of your suffering today?¡±


    The Knight spread his leaves out on the table for her to admire. ¡°Look Princess,¡± he said, ¡°I have brought you a present of the outside world. The signs of fall, the prophets of winter. Consider their colors a fire, of decay: whilst green is the color of life, these hues herald only death.¡±


    The Princess looked them over. ¡°The leaf dies so the tree may live,¡± she said. ¡°Is this not natural?¡±


    ¡°And in spring the tree is born anew,¡± the Knight agreed. He snatched up a leaf in his metal claws. ¡°I have no quarrel with this, Princess, it is the way of things.¡±


    He made a fist and crushed the leaf to dust. ¡°In winter we mourn the naked bark and wait for spring¡ªfor bud and blossom. And in autumn we admire the changing of the leaves. But under the heat of summer¡ªwhen the tree is most alive¡ªwe give no thought to the leaf, only the shade, and think the tree eternal.¡±


    The Princess plucked a maple leaf from the table. She held it by the stem, twirling it between her fingers. Light danced across the palette of rust.


    ¡°Birth and death and absence,¡± the Knight said, ¡°that is when we praise the leaf. Today, the forest is thick with the dead. Like a charnel house, they littered the ground, in piles, discarded, cast aside, their purpose served in beauty.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Cadavera vero innumera,¡± sang the Princess. She let the wind take her leaf; it skittering across the ground, off towards the meadow, the lake and beyond. The Knight watched it go.


    ¡°Have I ever spoken of that fabled Knight,¡± he asked, ¡°the Lady Penthesilea?¡±


    ¡°No, my Knight, you have not.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, perhaps I will tell the tale?¡±


    The Princess extended her hand. ¡°Please do.¡±


    ¡°There are several versions of the story,¡± the Knight said, ¡°or rather, how it ends. They all begin the same. Born with blessing, she made her cause upon the battlefield, and became the scourge of men; a whisper, a terror, a legend¡ªuntouchable!¡±


    The Knight snatched up another leaf. This one too he crushed to dust. ¡°She had knowledge of pressure points, and humors, and knew all man¡¯s weakness. With twitch of hand, or flick of wrist, Penthesilea could pierce the vital arteries¡ªfor a master of the art was she.¡±


    The remains of the leaf slipped through his fingers. ¡°On the front lines the invincible She-Knight would cut her foes down by the dozen, her razor-thin blade flickering in the light, barely visible.¡±


    A hollow gnawing ate at the Knight. He clutched his breast.


    ¡°Her sword bloodied, the day won,¡± he said, ¡°at first, the field medics would be relieved, and joyful to find so many of their countrymen alive¡ªsurvivors of Penthesilea¡¯s bite. Yet always this joy would turn to grief.¡±


    ¡°Grief, my fair Knight?¡±


    ¡°The wounded¡ªor rather, the crippled¡ªalways were her victims beyond the aid of any mortal medicine. No, they did not die¡ªnay¡ªthey lingered, their strength cut from them, forever more. This was her misery, you see: to rob men of their grandeur.


    ¡°Oh, make no mistake¡ªsome of her victims could stand, or walk, but none could ever run again, hold sword again, fight again. Sword and spears replaced with canes. Backs once straight and true, now hunched and bent and broken.


    ¡°Homes filled with the forever weak, the veterans of her misery. With one foul strike, Penthesilea turned the proudest of warriors into old men¡ªand restless half-lives they lived, burdens to their families.¡±


    The Knight paused. ¡°But she never killed, she never took a life.¡±


    The Princess ran a finger down the spine of her book. ¡°She sounds like a Knight of the highest order.¡±


    ¡°I know you mock me, but her skill and honor none could deny. She never hurt an innocent; never was a crowd or a craven. Bravely she charged into battle, the first onto the field, the last to leave it.¡±


    The Princess smirked. ¡°And she reveled in her cutting.¡±


    ¡°As a child, I looked up to her, ah, what a Knight was she. Her conquests were my bedtimes stories, ones I longed to hear. My father¡ª¡±


    The Knight cleared his throat. ¡°My father knew all her stories, and loved to spin her yarn, what high regard he had for her. But as I grew older, and became a Knight myself, I realized what contempt she must have had for all brave men.¡±


    The Princess picked up another leaf. The wind did not catch it, so instead she brought it to her lips, and kissed it. Off it went, dancing through the air.


    ¡°But why?¡± she asked. ¡°Why such contempt?¡±


    ¡°I do not know,¡± said the Knight, ¡°but I have often wondered. Disdain, hate, some cruel pleasure, to rob men of an honorable death? Who can say but she? She who was just another¡ªone of many¡ªa horror of war. Penthesilea: the Armored Heel.¡±


    The Knight sighed. ¡°But more than her, what of her victims? All warriors, headstrong would they go to death, yet shrink from a life of dependency? What can one say? Are we cowards, the lot of us?¡±


    There was one leaf left. He stared down at it, afraid to even touch it.


    ¡°The Sword of Autumn¡ªthat was her title, one of many! Imagine, if you will, a leaf unknown to autumn, that clings to life and branch, refusing to turn to the red, while all around, its comrades die and fall. What would you think of such a novelty? When all the trees are bare except for that one last lonesome leaf, forever green? Would you pity the leaf¡ªwhen all his brothers and sisters have gone before him, and he alone is denied a beautiful death?¡±


    The Princess did not answer.


    ¡°Back then, I wonder¡ªall those Knights and men I¡¯ve killed¡ªwhat did I think I was doing? That I was letting their colors ripen, painting glorious death in autumn red? That I was giving them something sweet and just, allowing them the privilege to die in service and in battle? No, no! I was looking only for my opportunity to shine. I thought of them not at all.¡±


    ¡°Did I think myself better than her?¡± the Knight wondered.


    The Princess raised an eyebrow.


    A quiet fell over the meadow. The last of the spring mist had dried away, and all the garden seemed new, and washed, and pure. The Knight watched the willows as they moved gently in the morning breeze. They made nary a sound.


    It was a long time before he spoke again.


    ¡°Of her fate,¡± he said at last, ¡°there are many stories. Some say the Autumn Sword was struck down by some young Man-at-Arms, anonymous, his name forgotten; that Penthesilea received the death she to denied others.¡±


    ¡°A fitting end?¡± asked the Princess.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± The Knight nodded. ¡°Another story claims that Penthesilea chanced to face her sister in battle, and without thought, struck her down like any other foe. Horrified, repentant, Penthesilea threw away her sword¡ªand tried nurse her sister back to health, to undo the curse she had so carelessly wrought. She consulted the great physicians, holy men, even the Waifs in the woods¡ªbut none of them could cure the blight of steel.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Stricken with grief, Penthesilea turned her own blade upon herself.¡±


    ¡°Is this how all your tales end,¡± the Princess huffed, ¡°with pain and suffering? Tell me, did she live? Or did she die?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± the Knight asked.


    ¡°I should think so!¡±


    ¡°There is one more legend of her fate, more mundane,¡± said the Knight. ¡°Worn and weary of the death she swam in, the Lady-Knight surrendered her blade and took a husband-fair. With her groom by her side, she founded a great kingdom, became a glorious Queen¡ª¡±


    The Knight grew very still. ¡°¡ªand died a maternal death.¡±


    The Princess leaned forward. ¡°And what of the truth? Which story is true? What was her fate?¡±


    Slowly, gingerly, with trembling hands, the Knight reached for the last leaf. It tore in his hands. ¡°She¡¯s dead,¡± he whispered. ¡°I killed her.¡±


    The Princess recoiled.


    ¡°The first person I ever killed, but hardly the last.¡± The Knight stared down at the broken, ruined leaf. ¡°I stole her blessing,¡± he said, ¡°kept it for myself. And Penthesilea bled and bled until she was no more¡ª¡±


    He turned away from the Princess. ¡°The end,¡± he cried. ¡°No more stories for today.¡±

 Chapter Sixteen: Thunderhorse

    He had taken the little red table from the summer house¡ªthe one with the folding legs¡ªand had set it up by the shore. The lake was calm, so he placed the table in the shallows, working the legs into the sand for support. Here they sat, the water lapping at their feet, lilac petals drifting by their heels like tiny, fragile boats.


    The Princess had brought her teapot, still warm, a tiny little hint of steam seeping from its spout. She reached out across the table and poured the Knight his tea, and not a drop was spilled.


    He studied the tea leaves floating in his cup. They were foreign to him.


    The Princess set the pot down and ran her tongue across her teeth. ¡°So tell me,¡± she said, ¡°have you been practicing?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Knight. He fumbled with his teacup, his armored fingers could not quite grasp the handle.


    He set the cup down with a sigh. ¡°No,¡± he corrected himself. ¡°I try, and fail.¡±


    There was a plate of scones set between them. The heat from the pot warmed the biscuits, rousing from them a heady scent that hung in the air like a fog. The Princess danced her fingers over the scones, unable to choose between them.


    ¡°But you make an honest effort?¡±


    The Knight cradled his cup in his hands. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. He took a sip of tea, his teacup clacking against his guard as he tried to drink through the slit in his helmet.


    ¡°Good,¡± the Princess said, deciding on a scone. ¡°The rest will follow.¡±


    The Knight swallowed. His throat burned. ¡°It is difficult,¡± he admitted. ¡°Memories, half-forgotten, come ringing clear again. And each one conjures forth two more.¡±


    He fell silent. He stared into his tea. Thoughts swirled in his mind, like leaves caught in a current.


    ¡°Speak. Continue, please.¡±


    He nodded slowly. Memories pooled together into narrative, into story. He knew stories. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, ¡°hark to the tale of the Thunderhorse.¡±


    The Princess leaned forwards, resting her elbows on the table. ¡°Oh?¡±


    The Knight said, ¡°It was many years ago, when I was still a good and noble Knight, fighting for King and country, head full and proud, enamored with the romance of chivalry. Always looking to prove myself, to show my valor and my virtue. Always seeking the next adventure over the next mountain¡ª¡±


    A gentle buzz was in the air; a dragonfly on the hunt for pond-skippers.


    ¡°One day I was called home again, and was asked to join the Bannermen on the front, and show my glory there. I thought it a chance to do my Lord proud.¡±


    The wings of the dragonfly caught the sun and gleamed with light. The Knight watched it dart about, watched its reflection on the water cast a blinding glare.


    He continued: ¡°But upon arriving at the field of battle I found only disappointment, and a small, pointless conflict over a worthless scrap of land. Naught but a pitiful contest between my King and another Lord, each testing the other¡¯s willingness to fight while all the same, parading their own pathetic might.¡±


    He took another sip of tea, it was still too hot to drink. ¡°Here, I thought, a Shining Knight¡¯s talents were to be wasted. I was meant for greater things, surely, and so, on the eve of battle, I had want to stray.¡±


    A sudden breeze blew the dragonfly off-course, it flew back towards the willows and the wild flowers. The Knight watched it go.


    ¡°I was restless, and bitter, and sleep could not find me. I snuck from my tent in the night. I walked, unrested, alone, surveying the waste upon which, come morning, we were to make our stand. A dark cloud had settled over the battlefield, hiding both the stars and moon, but in the distance I could see the flickering lights of the enemy camp¡ªand they seemed just as far away to me as the heavens themselves.¡±


    The Knight drank again and the burning in his throat gave way to numbness. ¡°So I was in my misery, forlorn,¡± he said, ¡°when, above me, the sky cracked with the sound of thunder. The very earth shook, and as I steadied myself, she appeared¡ªthe horse of the storm. Over the horizon she came, down into the valley towards me. She was massive, and mighty, and beautiful, with flaxen mane and blacken coat.¡±


    He set his tea down. ¡°An asp lay coiled at my feet. With a crash and thunder, she trampled the serpent beneath her hooves.¡± The Knight felt light, his heart beat proud. ¡°It was a portent, you see, for the Thunderhorse was a steed like no other, head-strong and proud, untamed by man.¡±


    He rose to the sun. ¡°Power made manifest!¡± he cried. ¡°Glory in form!¡±


    The Princess nibbled her scone like a mouse.


    ¡°I placed my hand upon her snout and bowed to her,¡± said the Knight. ¡°And in turn she bowed her head, bent her legs, and let me saddle her. I rode back to the war camp, where my countrymen had gathered, and at dawn, at daybreak¡ªwe formed the line and prepared for battle. The sky hung gray.¡±


    The Knight sat down with a crash.


    ¡°Sword be my favored weapon, not pike or hammer or axe¡ªbut on that battle¡¯s morn, I chose the lance! And when the Bannermen blew the horns of war, the Thunderhorse¡¯s whinny drowned them out. And when all the King¡¯s men drew their swords and cried as one, the pounding of her hooves drowned them out. All of heaven knew our coming!¡±


    He motioned with his hands.


    ¡°The beast had no hesitation, no fear, but drove headlong into battle, leader of the fray, the first to pierce the enemy lines¡ªand I was its master! The ground quaked at our charge, the mountains trembled, the sky wept, the tide came early¡ªand in their hearts the enemy knew true fear.¡±


    The swans came looking for their crumbs, skirting between the lilacs.


    ¡°Thunderhorse¡ªa stampede of one! And I, with my lance, crushing shield and bone alike. And I, full of vigor, with gnashing teeth and spit and burning knuckles! And I, full of fury, and boiling blood! And I, nevermore than on that day¡ªwas a Knight, true and strong. Fierce and noble! Glorious and terrible!¡±


    The Knight stumbled over his words. ¡°Everything I had promised to be. Everything I wanted to be.¡±


    The Princess drank her tea, the Knight¡¯s sat forgotten. ¡°It was a short but glorious battle. A rout,¡± he said. ¡°The day won, we lapped the battlefield, all wreaked to ruin: great gouges of earth ripped from the plain, the ground stained red, the marsh muddied by the dead.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    A warm nostalgia filled the Knight, it radiated out from his breast.


    ¡°The heavens broke open upon us, the victorious. Blood mixed with rain and all the filth was washed away. It soaked me through and through, cooled me and calmed me. I released the mare from her reins. She bucked and bowed and trotted off¡ªacross the field, across the hills¡ªback to the myth from whence she came.


    ¡°My comrades protested, said I loosed a prize worth keeping, yet I knew that such a ride was meant for once, one time alone.¡±


    His voice fell. ¡°Yes¡ªI felt swollen with oath and pride and honor, but it was not to last. Not long after I was called home again, and given a sword of peace.¡±


    The Princess¡¯s smile faded. The swans were arguing amongst themselves. One reared up and beat her wings, stirring the lake and splashing water over the table. The lilac blooms bobbed over the waves, and a pair of starlings, hiding in the reeds, took to flight.


    ¡°Is this how little you respect me?¡± the Princess hissed. ¡°Less than a horse to free?¡±


    ¡°No, my Princess, no,¡± the Knight was quick to explain, ¡°the mare was not mine to tame. Perhaps some dead god¡¯s steed, lent but for a single battle¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡®My Princess?!¡¯ I tolerate these words, but I see the truth of you. You claim some ownership of me? Ha! Sooner should you hold your breath and claim you¡¯ve captured the wind!¡±


    The Knight fidgeted in his seat, his teacup rattled in his hands. ¡°I have captured you, yes, but I do not possess you, although that is my goal. To win your hand, good and proper, to lay kisses on your fingers, and on your lips and on your breast¡ª¡±


    He cleared his throat and tried again. ¡°¡ªto say that you are mine, like I am yours.¡±


    The Princess laughed.


    ¡°You have captured me,¡± said the Knight. ¡°I was yours from the moment I first saw you.¡±


    ¡°So you say, as if it were a boon.¡±


    The swans bit and fought and splashed. The Princess ripped up a scone and threw them a pittance, if only to quiet them.


    The Knight reached for her hand. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ve soured your mood again. Tell me, what can I do to rectify this? Some gift or present, some soothing word or caress? Speak, but do not ask for what I cannot give.¡±


    Her fingers slipped through his. ¡°Why? Why do you say such things to me?¡± she huffed. ¡°I want my freedom. You know this, yet you mock me with talk of gifts, and other things I do not want or need.¡±


    The Knight looked to the heavens in frustration. ¡°Oh, how and who could win the love of such a soul?¡± he asked the blue sky. ¡°What act will turn this stone to heart? What mortal could dare to win the love of Artemis or Athena?¡±


    ¡°Consider wretched Ixion, bound to a wheel of fire,¡± the Princess said stiffly.


    ¡°So he suffers down in Tartarus,¡± the Knight said, ¡°for lusting after Hera. My crimes are not so great.¡± He added a spoonful of honey to his tea, stirred, and took a sip. ¡°And Ixion was punished by Zeus, for ingress against his wife; you have no husband or master.¡±


    The tea was too cold and too sweet to drink. He set it aside with a frown. ¡°What has freedom brought you, but suffering and imprisonment?¡± he asked. ¡°Had you a Prince to call your own, to warm and carry you, your freedom might still be yours.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± The Princess had a dangerous look in her eye.


    ¡°Or, a Monk. Or Sister of the cloth. Perhaps a handsome stable boy or even a more noble, courtly Knight than I. Any would do, any companion. But no, you have rejected the company of others. And so I found you easy to abduct, to carry away, to capture and to hold¡ªfor none were there to stop me.¡±


    The Knight pointed an armored finger across the table. ¡°No, Princess, my Princess¡ªyou opted to be free and let others be free. But I know the truth of this more than most: to be alone is to be free. To be free is to be alone.¡±


    He studied the Princess in all her majesty: white-clothed, form full of light, no weight upon her shoulders but her own hair. ¡°Do you consider this a sorrow now?¡± he asked. ¡°Do you keep regret in your heart?¡±


    The Princess cupped her hands. ¡°Do not blame the victim for thy own sins.¡±


    The Knight ignored her, and pressed on: ¡°To love all as one¡ªI think it a lonesome thing, to offer such kindness to other, yet take none for your own self, to reject all ties that might bind, and know not the warmth of a shared bed. All may love you, but it is a vague love, as a moth loves the moon. My affection is deeper. I alone know you¡ª¡±


    The Princess clicked her heels and her tongue.


    ¡°¡ªalthough not as well as I wish,¡± the Knight finished.


    The Princess set her tea down with a clink. ¡°Why me, though?¡± she asked. ¡°There are higher causes worth pledging to, avenues beyond earthly attachment. What need have I for the affections of others? I don¡¯t need your eros.¡±


    ¡°And so you remain closed,¡± the Knight bemoaned, ¡°like a coffin.¡±


    The Princess leaped to her feet, slamming her fists on the table. The swans scattered, the china jumped into the air. ¡°My heart is not cold,¡± she said. ¡°My heart is not stone. It is warm! It is bursting with love for all mankind!¡±


    She looked down. She¡¯d spilled her tea all over the table. She quietly took a step back and sat, her back straight as a ramrod. She held two fingers to her breast and found her pulse. Her heart was beating fast. This was a failure.


    Her face red, her neck flushed, her hair a mess, the Knight thought she was more beautiful now than ever.


    The Princess breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. She kept her fingertips pressed against her chest until she felt her breathing slow, until her pulse was once again as calm and steady as a pendulum clock.


    She blinked, gave a little sigh, then poured a new cup of tea for the Knight and offered it to him. ¡°I do not expect you to understand,¡± she said, ¡°all your deeds revolve around yourself. You, Knight, breaker of oaths, seek to satisfy only your own desires.¡±


    ¡°Desires? Ha! What would you have me do?¡± the Knight asked, defending himself, ¡°give my supper to the beggars and starve? Relinquish my tunic and my cloak to someone in need, and go naked throughout the land?¡±


    He thumped his breast and it rang hollow. ¡°All that I am, you see before you now. My possessions I count on finger three: a cabin for my rest, a garden for your keeping, and armor for my protection. All else I have forfeited, for what gem or treasure could compare to your beauty?¡± he asked the Princess.


    He reached out across the table and brushed her hair from her shoulder. It shimmered in the sun. ¡°The depth of gold pales compared to even a single strand of your hair,¡± he said. ¡°What need have I for riches? What need have I for anything else?¡±


    ¡°No, not wealth,¡± the Princess said, ¡°that is true. You do not cling to wealth. But still, you cling.¡±


    The Knight frowned and cupped her hair in the palm of his hand. ¡°So you say, Princess, but I do not think we are very different, you and I. Are you not clothed in the finest of gowns, with perfumed hair and oiled skin? The folds of your dress that entice me so¡ªthey are not peasant worn.¡±


    Her hair trickled through his fingers. ¡°You cling as well. You have not shaved your head. You have not taken the vow.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said, ¡°I have not. I am a Princess and must remain a Princess. It is the burden of station. A burden you know as well.¡±


    A butterfly circled the table. ¡°Would a mouse reject a crumb?¡± the Princess asked. ¡°Who am I to reject a gift, freely offered? This dress, these oils¡ªpresents, alms. Charity I give, so charity I receive, freely.¡±


    A cold wind blew over the garden, down the bank and over the water. The bulrush bent low, bowing to the east, almost, but not quite, meeting the surface of the lake.


    The Princess frowned. ¡°No, that¡¯s wrong,¡± she said. ¡°I have my indulgences, and remain imperfect.¡±


    The Knight reached for her again. ¡°Yet you will not accept the gifts I offer.¡±


    She brushed away his wandering hands. ¡°You give in hopes of receiving in turn. That is not charity.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°I would speak more, Knight, and you would do well to listen. Men think it foolish to starve one¡¯s self, yet knowingly withhold food from the hungry. We have wealth but waste it on frivolity. We cause suffering, and violence. What is the root of this? Man holds bias towards himself, thinks himself trapped, a soul within a body. He is blind, having only ever known the experience of being himself.¡±


    She stood and walked around the table to him. He rose to her.


    ¡°I ask you, Knight¡ªwhat is the difference between the self and not-self? I will tell you. The question is a trick, a false dichotomy. To be without ego¡ªtruly, completely without ego¡ªis to know the river¡¯s current. We flow as one. The illusion of self, the illusion of distance¡ªno, nothing separates us.¡±


    The Princess, with heart and bosom full, grasped the Knight¡¯s hand and held him close, stared into him, not blinking¡ªpleading. ¡°I am you, Knight, and you are I, or could be. Only fate and circumstance divide us, divide mankind. Why hold me different, separate or above any ¡®other?¡¯ It is a simple, limiting bias. I am not unique; you are not alone.¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± she cried, ¡°hear me! My love will not save you, my love cannot save you, so why cling to the dream of it? Your love for me, your longing for me¡ªit has trapped you. Your romance, this garden¡ªit is so small, a tiny beauty. There is so much more out there.¡±


    She reached out and laid her hands upon his chest. ¡°The world is waiting! It can¡¯t just be me, it can¡¯t!¡± There were tears in her eyes.


    ¡°Please!¡± she cried, as the robins sang in the poplar trees, as the wind teased the asphodel, as the spring shined with silver light, as the rhododendrons bloomed, as the butterflies danced over the summer house. ¡°Please!¡±

 Chapter Seventeen: Fire in the Heavens

    He raised his lantern to the night air. The forest was empty¡ªonly the bare skeletons of branch and bough remained, naked to the wind. Dead leaves littered the ground, paper thin and limp. The color had gone out of them, victims of the damp.


    The Knight trudged on. The moon was new, the sky was cloudless. The path ahead was dark. There was no life left in the forest or the world, he thought, only silence and stillness. Winter was near.


    He fumbled for his key.


    The garden was in bloom, renewed, fit to burst. The moonflowers were open and welcoming, the daffodils were silvery stalks, the vanilla clung to the cypress, shimmering in the night. Even the day-lilies, cloistered away, were beautiful, anxiously awaiting the coming of the dawn.


    The Princess was waiting in the meadow, a shawl around her shoulders. ¡°My Knight!¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯ve come.¡± She offered him her hand to kiss. ¡°I thought perhaps you¡¯d gotten lost along the way.¡±


    He knelt, and pantomimed kissing her fingers, for he dared not remove his helmet. White moths glittered in the lantern light¡ªthey settled on the silene, drawn by the sweet perfume of the midnight flowers.


    The Princess gestured to a picnic blanket she had spread out on the ground. ¡°Come now and sit, and watch the stars with me.¡±


    As she spoke, a meteor passed overhead, blazing against the night sky. For one moment, one brief moment, it burned proud, a silent spark of light against the dark¡ªand then it was gone, leaving no trace of its passage, like it never was.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been falling for two nights now,¡± the Princess explained.


    The fireflies were dancing in the pine.


    ¡°Where was this wayward star born, where now doth it go?¡± the Knight wondered. ¡°The dull lantern light of a ship passing in the night, seen through the mist of a distant shore¡ª¡±


    The Princess took his armored hand in hers. ¡°Well, no matter,¡± thought the Knight.


    Another meteor grazed the sky, disappearing as quickly as it came. ¡°Tell me a story,¡± said the Princess.


    ¡°About the stars?¡±


    ¡°No¡ªof the mountain. Of Olympus. A-and fire.¡±


    The Knight frowned. ¡°As you wish,¡± he said, ¡°though you know this tale better than I.¡±


    ¡°Stories I could not bear to hear, or so I thought. But it seems that I can bear quite a bit indeed. Please, tell me.¡±


    The Knight nodded. ¡°Where are they now, those gods of old?¡± he asked. ¡°Where are the altars? No more festivals or sacrifices, Sages or Sibyls. The sacred groves have been chopped for firewood, the holy temples have been desecrated or left in ruin, abandoned by the devout, now dead.¡±


    A third meteor flashed across the sky¡ªit burned with all of heaven¡¯s might, no more than a tiny light to those watching from below. ¡°The golden bough has turned to iron, has turned to rust.


    ¡°Consider mighty Zeus, the mountain¡¯s King. He of divine wrath! He who commanded thunder and called it forth¡ªno! No more doth he smite the earth with might and thunder. No more has he a godly body, a body of sinew and strength, of muscle¡ªno! He has faded, he has become his favored weapon, he has become the storm itself.¡±


    The Knight looked up, half expecting the rumblings of a coming storm¡ªbut of course the sky was clear and calm. ¡°A storm¡¯s crack, or distant thunder, these are the remains of a god¡¯s righteous voice, a voice that once called all of heaven to his throne. His lips are mist, his arms are clouds, his legs are hail and he is slave to the wind. And we laugh at him, and call him nothing but a summer¡¯s storm, a rain that will pass with the hour¡ªall that is left of a god of old.¡±


    The Princess clung to her shawl. ¡°And Hermes, the Messenger?¡±


    ¡°He ran. On the morning of reckoning, he fled. Brave, swift Hermes¡ªhe took to flight. He ran across the heavens, he ran across the sea, he ran across the earth¡ªand death chased after him, snapping at his heels.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Darkness pressed in. ¡°His footfalls split the water and cut the air,¡± said the Knight. ¡°He raised great tides that flooded the land, great cracks in the earth that swallowed cities whole. He shook the very mountains. The sky was split open and wept holy ichor. Once, it is said, he stole a backwards glance and wept to see the ruin of his wake¡ªbut not for one moment did he stop running. Such was his fear.¡±


    The Knight laid a hand on his aching breast. ¡°Fool, Hermes¡ªhe ran for a thousand days and nights. He ran until his legs failed him, until they seized and snapped. He bucked, and was carried off to the space above the heavens¡ªspiraling, twirling, spinning, like a chariot without a rider.¡±


    His breathing slowed. ¡°These falling stars above us now: might one of them be him? Damned Hermes, still tumbling in defeat?¡±


    The Princess lowered her eyes. ¡°And fair Aphrodite, the Venus?¡± Lit by lamp alone, she had all the pale of a ghost.


    ¡°Turned to ash in the fire,¡± the Knight answered, ¡°the great blaze that felled Olympus. Aphrodite lay sleeping on the marble throne, drowsy from much song and drink. Draped in lace and gown, the creeping fire lapped at the hem of her dress¡ªand caught her all ablaze.


    ¡°She woke with a horrid screech, clawing at her burning clothes, but the silk clung to her skin, and seared her flesh and soul. She ran through those marble halls, alight, and the fire consumed her and all that she touched.¡±


    The Princess shuddered.


    ¡°Finally¡ªin her death throes¡ªshe flung herself from the highest peak¡ªa burning fury for all to see,¡± the Knight said, ¡°and her body crashed upon the beach that birthed her, and she was reduced to ash.


    ¡°Some passing Maidens found her remains, and saw the beauty there. Defilers! With magics and talents they weaved her ashes into powder, and imbued her spirit into blush and rouge, the color of lips¡ªand so Aphrodite¡¯s beauty lives on, in all women¡¯s vanities.¡±


    ¡°Speak no more of it,¡± said the Princess. ¡°Tell me of a kinder fate.¡±


    The Knight thought for a moment, rapping his fingers on his armor, the hollow sound echoing into the night air. ¡°Hephaestus,¡± he said at last, ¡°the holy Blacksmith. On the day the old powers broke a great bletch of sulfur erupted from his solitary forge, deep within Mount Etna. The countryside was swallowed by the burning fog, poison to the lung. It is now a cursed land, where men cannot tread.¡±


    The Knight ran a hand down his scabbard. ¡°Is he dead then, you ask? No! He has isolated himself, and he is happy, no longer burdened by the duties of royal armorer. It is for pleasure now that Hephaestus works his forge, and every masterpiece he makes is his, and his alone.¡±


    When was the last time he¡¯d drawn his sword? Had it been a week, a month, a year? Try as he might, the Knight could not recall.


    No matter.


    ¡°They say at night, in sleep, with an ear pressed against the very earth, those of the artist¡¯s ilk can hear his hammer¡¯s blow¡ªand each strike upon his anvil conjures up a thousand ideas within their dreaming minds, a thousand creations yearning to be.¡±


    He stared at the sky, the stars blurred before his eyes. ¡°While others are driven mad by that ceaseless drumming, and fall unto despair unending.¡±


    The Princess frowned. ¡°And Athena?¡± she asked.


    ¡°There are rumors, and stories¡ªthat she foresaw the coming calamity, and lived. That the Virgin shepherded her away, that she took shelter in the bosom of the wild. That she still stalks the earth, under disguise, cloaked, a pale shade, a withered husk of what she was, an old woman who pays homage to the libraries and universities, delivering to them ancient knowledge and rite.¡±


    He flicked his wrist. ¡°Or perhaps she is dead. Consider Apollo¡ªman grew jealous of his youth and vigor, and in a fit of fury fueled by the crashing of an age, Apollo¡¯s own consorts descended upon him, and ripped him to pieces, hoping to gain his strength.¡±


    Again the Princess shuddered, and again the sky was streaked with stars.


    ¡°They tore at his flesh,¡± the Knight explained, ¡°like hungry dogs¡ªbut his strength was not in his flesh. So they tore at his muscle, but his strength was not in his muscle. They cracked his bones with their teeth, but his strength was not in his bones. They ate him all up, until there was nothing left of him but his strength, a strength they could not find.¡±


    One final meteor made its way across the sky. The Princess shied from it, hiding under her shawl.


    ¡°I could tell you more stories, if you like,¡± the Knight said, sensing the Princess¡¯s discomfort, ¡°but I am afraid they all end the same. Hera and the eclipse, the drowning of the Nereids, Satyr¡¯s wine¡ªwhen an age ends, it ends with violence.¡±


    He studied her face¡ªthe fullness of her lips, the softness of her cheek, the sadness in her eyes. ¡°So little remains,¡± he said, ¡°so very little. The gods, the heroes, they have all passed on. Except you.¡±


    ¡°Except me.¡±


    ¡°You linger.¡±


    ¡°I linger,¡± the Princess agreed.


    ¡°Undimmed,¡± said the Knight. ¡°Perhaps you are that lonesome leaf, still clinging to its branch. Alone, and beautiful. Green, and alive.¡±


    He looked to the east, and saw the first hints of the coming dawn. ¡°Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here forever. Preserved within these walls, winter will not touch you,¡± he said. ¡°Is that not a good thing? What has lingering brought you but the pain of absence? What has wandering brought you but the misery of my company? What could the future bring, but more sadness, more pain, more doubt?¡±


    He clutched at his heart. ¡°Why,¡± he asked, ¡°why do you hold out hope for a thing that will not, cannot be?¡±


    The Princess did not answer.


    Slowly, degree by degree, the sun crept its way over the lake, through the willow trees, over the hill. The stars faded into the light of dawn. The day-lilies opened, the squirrels scrambled down from their dens in search of breakfast, the cicada hissed and stretched their wings, the minnows danced in the shallows.


    ¡°Why?¡± the Knight cried. ¡°How?¡±


    The robins woke and made glorious song, their red breasts puffed and swollen. And the Princess¡ªthe Princess was silent.

 Chapter Eighteen: Happily Ever After

    The Knight felt sick; his stomach quaked, his head swam¡ªhe blinked and blinked again but could not clear his eyes. He leaned against the trunk of a naked tree and waited. His mind was a war, filled with seemingly innumerable thoughts and feelings, all conflicting.


    His eye twitched towards the garden gate. Today he¡¯d left it open, just half an inch, a sliver, a fraction of a degree, but still¡ªunlocked.


    ¡°This will call her attention,¡± he whispered, ¡°for nothing is beneath her notice.¡± His words were swallowed by the wind.


    He waited for hours, lurking in the darkness of the woods. Shadows retreated, inch by inch until they disappeared entirely. The wind whistled through the forest and through the gaps in his armor. Clouds gathered. He hid, still as a statue, and all the while his wild heart beat, and all his body struggled against itself.


    The cold pressed in. His ears rang, his lungs burned. He blinked, and there she was.


    The Princess was stooped over, gathering up flowers into a bouquet. The rhododendrons, the cherries, the lilacs¡ªthey all rained their petals down upon her as she made her way along the garden path.


    A starling darted past her. She looked up and saw that the gate was ajar.


    The Knight¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°Today at last I shall find the truth of things.¡±


    The Princess drifted over to the lock and ran her fingers over the cold, wrought iron. She swung the gate open and closed. The old iron hinge made a quiet, pleasant squeak that reminded her of a frighten mouse.


    She looked out to the forest beyond, to the bare trees and the barren woods. To the gray and the cold. All was still. She turned and considered the blooming garden, alive with the thousand scents and songs of spring, an endless bouquet of color and life. Something stirred within her. She smiled.


    ¡°Will she run?¡± the Knight wondered. ¡°Will I give chase?¡± He trembled, his tongue cut him, his throat ached.


    The Princess placed a hand on her heart, and pushed against the metal bars, and shut the garden gate. She gave the forest one last backwards glance, then disappeared back again into the thick of spring.


    This was all he¡¯d ever hoped for. ¡°She stays!¡± he choked. ¡°She loves me!¡±


    He threw open the gate and lumbered after her, his head ringing. He stomped past the rhododendrons and up the stone path and through the wildflowers and the hyacinth and the hemlock. One thought alone consumed him.


    She was in the meadow by the silver spring, listening to the clear water as it spilled out into the pond, splashing over stone and brick before gurgling down to the rest of the garden. She sat, her eyes closed, her breast swelling with every breath, and with her thumb and forefinger she counted the beads on her necklace.


    The Knight announced his presence with a boast. ¡°Today, my Princess, I have discovered a secret you would keep hidden.¡±


    The Princess frowned, wrinkled her nose, and continued to sit. ¡°I keep no secrets,¡± she said with a wave of her hand. ¡°You know this. I herald truth; I am truth.¡±


    He loomed over her. ¡°You speak of truth, my Princess, but I know what your little heart conceals. I have asked you once, I have ask you many times. This shall be the final time¡ªlie with me now, and speak my name in ecstasy.¡±


    ¡°And if I refuse?¡±


    ¡°You will not.¡±


    Her eyes flickered open. ¡°Of course.¡± She rose and dusted the pleats of her dress. ¡°I cannot stop you¡ªafter all, you are a Dark Knight, and I am but a weak little Princess, and we both have our roles to play.¡±


    She straightened her dress and brushed her hair off her shoulders. ¡°Very well,¡± she said, ¡°embrace me, claim me, take your fill of me.¡±


    The Knight was ecstatic. ¡°All that I seek,¡± he whispered, ¡°within my grasp.¡± He reached for her¡ªto hold her, to clutch her.


    This was his intent¡ªbut a nameless hesitation took him. It crept up slowly from within. It started in his heart, but spread to his lungs and breast and to his limbs, all the way out to his very fingertips. His hand, a mere inch from her cheek and blush, turned to rust, seized by some timeless force. His fingers froze, his heart stopped.


    His throat burned hoarse, his voice escaped him. His back spasmed. Blood, heat, and life were drained from him in turn. His armor seized, he strained against it.


    The Princess spread her arms, inviting him to her comely breast. Tears streamed down her cheek. ¡°Whatever is the matter, dear Knight? I await your touch.¡±


    He grasped and crawled and clawed for her, but caught nothing but the air. ¡°I-I can¡¯t,¡± he gurgled.


    The Princess circled him.


    ¡°It is as I was afraid, my Knight,¡± she said. ¡°You hath hidden within your armor for so long, and now it betrays you. So accustomed to denial, so full of misery, so hurt. In practice and in spirit you have ruined yourself.¡±


    The Knight buckled, his knees broke. A sparrow cried, stretched its wings, and took to flight. The Knight slumped, defeated. The Princess stared down at him.


    ¡°I have shown you peace and stillness,¡± she said. ¡°I have listened to you, I have comforted you. I have taught you, as best I could. I have come to know you. It is in this way I have defeated you. Without a sword, without a weapon, without violence. Such is my kindness.¡±


    She stood tall. ¡°Such is my compassion.¡±


    This was too much for the Knight. ¡°Please! Forgive me!¡± he wept, clutching at the hem of her dress. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I beg you, I¡¯m sorry. Run away, leave me to die, do whatever you wish, just please, forgive me for all that I¡¯ve done!¡±


    ¡°¡®Overcome the angry by non-anger; overcome the wicked by goodness; overcome the miser by generosity; overcome the liar by truth,¡¯¡± the Princess quoted, her palms open. ¡°This is my truth, but what is yours?¡±


    The Knight hung his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know anymore.¡± She reached up and unfastened the clasp on her helmet, and laid bare her face. ¡°I am tired of this weight.¡±


    Her detested helmet crashed to the ground and was swallowed up by the flowers, covered and buried. Her hair fell over her eyes, a tangled, matted mess, long greasy bangs stuck to her forehead.


    The Knight tried to stand, but found her legs were shaking. The Princess extended her hand.


    ¡°Here,¡± she said, ¡°lean on me.¡± She helped the Knight to her feet and led her to the water. She pulled the Knight¡¯s sword from its sheath and threw it to the ground.


    She cooed, a cry of pity: ¡°Come my Knight, remove thine armor, cast it into the water to drown. Be cleansed by the pure spring. I will lay my hands upon you, and wash away your filth.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The Knight slipped into the spring. She sunk up to her waist. The cool water seeped between her armor plates and soaked deep into her skin; a fire soothed and smothered. She welcomed it.


    The Princess slipped in beside her, her dress sopping and wet. She felt no cold, only the sun¡¯s warmth. She knelt, and cradled the Knight¡¯s hands in hers. She tugged at the Knight¡¯s black gauntlets until she¡¯d worked them free. She tossed them aside.


    ¡°Oh¡ªyour poor fingers.¡±


    She unraveled the Knight¡¯s handwraps and ran her fingers over her swollen knuckles and pale calluses. The webbing between the fingers was raw, welts rose on red, angry skin.


    She laid kisses on her wrists.


    Next she loosened the leather straps and brass clasps that bound the Knight¡¯s faulds and breastplate. She peeled the armor off, and let the cold steel sink to the bottom of the clear pond.


    The Knight¡¯s gambeson was in tatters.


    ¡°So tightly wrapped, my Knight. How can you even breathe?¡± the Princess asked.


    She cut the Knight¡¯s bonds, and went round and round her chest with slow, steady hands, gathering up the yellowing linen into a fist-sized ball. She flung the ball away, it turned to ash mid-flight.


    The Knight clutched at her breast. She choked, and coughed up a lungful of black and oily liquid. The ichor fell into the pool and dissolved away to nothing.


    The Princess ran her hands down the Knight¡¯s naked back and felt the muscles there, the stiff shoulders, the hard, worn skin. She counted bumps down her spine.


    ¡°Come now,¡± she said. ¡°Stretch thy legs, so you might run again.¡±


    She wrapped and weaved her little hands around the Knight¡¯s legs, and took from them their armor¡ªcuisses and greave fell into the water, ripples spread and settled across the surface of the pond.


    She cupped her hands and lowered them into the spring. The water was crystal, and caught the sunlight. Within her hands the water was still.


    ¡°Come now, lower thy head to me, and I shall wash your hair.¡±


    ¡°Now you lavish affection upon me,¡± the Knight murmured, ¡°after long drought.¡± She bowed her head.


    ¡°Have you forgotten the feel of a friendly touch?¡± the Princess asked. ¡°I will wring my fingers through your hair and you will know the touch of them.¡±


    She poured water over the Knight again and again until she was clean, until the water ran clear. Little beads of water clung to the frayed ends of her hair. They too, shined with light.


    ¡°Now,¡± the Princess said, ¡°stand, and let me look at you.¡±


    The Knight stood. She emerged from the pond still sick with wet, and felt strength return to her limbs, felt her heart beat anew. She stared at her hands as if seeing them for the first time¡ªred and raw, with awful patches of blisters and peeling skin.


    The Princess brought a finger to her lips and studied the Knight¡¯s weary frame, considered weight and posture and poise all as one. She looked without condoning or condemning, without judgment of any kind¡ªonly understanding.


    The Knight wrapped her arms around her chest in a tight self-embrace. Water fell from her naked body.


    ¡°Do not look upon me,¡± she said, ¡°there is nothing there to see.¡± She sniffled as water beaded on her nose and bare shoulders. Her toes, still wet, mucked about in the dirt, and turned the ground to mud.


    The Princess was silent for a long time. She watched the Knight¡¯s eyelashes¡ªcrumbled, short, they fluttered in the wind. A broken nose. Her red, rashed breast. A flat stomach, quaking with unease. Old scars. Bony elbows and trembling thighs. Bruised knees, pointed toes.


    She was beautiful.


    The Princess stared and stared until she saw the Knight¡¯s gleaming heart, so plainly hidden.


    ¡°You have told me many stories, now today I have one for you,¡± the Princess said. ¡°I am not privy to all the details, but I believe the tale goes something like this:


    ¡°Once upon a time there was a Princess. She was beautiful and delicate and witty and fierce. But she did not care for castle life, she had dreams of adventure in far-off lands. So she went to her father, the King, whose only wish was to make her happy. She asked him to make her a Prince, and give her the freedom she so desired.


    ¡°But the King said this was impossible, and the Princess despaired. For weeks she paced the castle corridors, restless. Then, she had an idea. She knelt before her father, and said, ¡®if I cannot be a Prince, make me a Knight, like my mother before me, and I shall be your right hand.¡¯ And the King consented.


    ¡°And so the Princess became a Shining Knight. She traveled far and wide and had many adventures and fought many battles. And for a time she was happy. But then her father, the King, called her to his castle, and gave to her a sword of responsibility, and she realized that a Knight is no more free than a Princess.


    ¡°And so she killed her father, and became a Dark Knight, and became truly free, and truly miserable. She commissioned a suit of armor and hid inside of it. She became a villain, a legend, bringing misery and death wherever she went. She lived like this for many years, each more pitiable than the last.


    ¡°Then, one day, quite by chance, the Dark Knight meet the most beautiful Princess she had ever seen in all her life. She fell in love with the Princess and carried her away to a secret garden and tried desperately to win her heart.


    ¡°But the Princess¡¯s heart was not so easily swayed. Gifts, grand gestures, adoration, the Knight tried everything to win her hand, but nothing seemed to work. It was only after many days of idle talk that the Princess, much to her own surprise¡ª¡±


    The Princess stopped herself here. ¡°Well¡ªis that how the story goes?¡± she asked.


    The Knight answered with lowered eyes. ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡± She worked her fingertips into her palms. ¡°But do the Knight and the Princess live happily ever after?¡±


    The Princess laughed. She grasped the Knight¡¯s sword, twirled it in her hand, and held the blade to the Knight¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Ever after? Does such a thing exist, I wonder.¡±


    She raised the sword to the sky. The edge gleamed in the afternoon sun, the tip pierced the heavens. She brought the blade down again, resting the flat edge upon the Knight¡¯s bare and naked shoulder.


    ¡°Now¡ª¡± she commanded, ¡°swear an oath to me. Make vows and promises.¡±


    ¡°Swear!¡± the Princess demanded. ¡°Swear to uphold the code of chivalry! Knight of honor! Swear!¡±


    ¡°No! Please no¡ª¡± the Knight cried, tears in her eyes, ¡°don¡¯t make me take that oath again. It leads to ruin.¡±


    The Princess smiled down upon the Knight. ¡°Very well,¡± she said. She raised her sword again, and laid it to rest on the Knight¡¯s left shoulder. The sword sang as it cut the air.


    ¡°Then swear!¡± she repeated. ¡°Swear to the Middle Path! Make solemn vow¡ªof right view. Of right intention!¡±


    The Knight bowed, and stooped to one knee, water falling from her form, goosebumps on her skin. ¡°To that, I swear.¡±


    She raised her head, and met the Princess¡¯s eyes. Her nostrils flared, her shoulders were square.


    ¡°SWEAR!¡± the Princess commanded. ¡°Commit to right speech, right action, right livelihood!¡±


    ¡°I swear.¡± Spine straightened, muscles flexed, cool breath escaped pursed lips. Her knuckles were white, her eyes were clear.


    ¡°SWEAR! Hold to right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration! Follow the noble path!¡±


    ¡°I swear,¡± the Knight whispered, her brow on fire, her heart beating like a drum.


    ¡°Now¡ª¡± the Princess adjusted her grip. ¡°Now make a private oath to me, and I will, in turn, to you.¡±


    ¡°I swear.¡±


    The Princess nodded, satisfied, and lowered the sword.


    ¡°The pledge is made, the oath is sealed, a contract formed. Now, rise¡ªreborn! I invoke your birth name, long since uttered by human tongue: I name thee, Psyche, Knight of Butterflies!¡±


    The Princess extended her hand, open palmed. ¡°For that was once your name, a long time ago, was it not?¡±


    The Knight took it, and stood. She held the Maiden¡¯s hand in hers and spoke with breath renewed:


    ¡°Psyche, yes¡ªhow many years has it been? Since I¡¯ve hear my own name spoken aloud¡ªneglected, discarded in favor of title, of station. I¡¯d almost forgotten it.¡± The Knight smiled softly. ¡°But I''m not sure the name suits me now. It was discarded with purpose.¡±


    The Princess intertwined her fingers with the Knight¡¯s. ¡°Choose another, or none, if it pleases you to,¡± she said. ¡°And mine! Speak! I demand it! Princess ye call me. Maiden. Damsel, and more. Say my name! You think a civil tongue will protect you now? Invoke! Speak!¡±


    The Knight breathed: ¡°Rosemary.¡±


    ¡°Rosemary! Yes, call me that forever more, and leave all thought of title behind.¡±


    ¡°You will forgive me, won¡¯t you?¡± the Knight asked.


    Rosemary smiled. She touched her hair, touched Psyche¡¯s; sighed contentedly. ¡°I desire a very long walk,¡± she said. ¡°A pilgrimage. To the old places of the earth.¡±


    ¡°And if some Knight or Prince were to seek you out?¡± Psyche asked.


    ¡°None would, none will. They would see me as a unicorn, and know I must be free. But¡ª¡± the Princess said, ¡°I will accept the company of a wanderer, a simple traveler who carries no burdens and wears no armor. For is not the sea calmer, the weather mild, the road smoother, the thistles dull¡ªwhen one has company to call their own?¡±


    Psyche reached out, and stroked the Princess¡¯s cheek. She ran her fingers down Rosemary¡¯s chin, met her lips and kissed her softly.


    The Princess smiled, kissed the Knight¡¯s fingers, and weaved her hands around them ¡®til they were warm.


    Snow was falling in the forest. It filled up the woods, covering branch and bush and forest floor. It piled, softly, silently, until the sun¡¯s white light laid upon the earth like a blanket.


    The garden gate was open, and snow fell over the vineyard, the lake, it drifted over the meadow, it dusted the roof of the summer house. It stuck to the rhododendrons, the asphodel, the day-lilies. The gazebo filled up, the little stream that ran through the sacred grove grew a skin of ice. The swans shook snowflakes from their wings.


    Caught in the sudden chill, the butterflies died. Winter had come, and the world was beautiful.

 Afterword

    And so our tale comes to an end, in so far as stories ever end.


    SECRETS was originally written for the 2012 National Novel Writing Month. It then spent several years in editing, and then several more years languishing on my hard drive. After the modest success of Nin the Seeker (available to read on this very site), I thought it was about time to release SECRETS into the wild.


    The title, THY SECRETS SHOULD BE SUNG comes from John Keat¡¯s ¡®Ode to Psyche.¡¯ The cover art is ¡®Ophelia¡¯ (1889) by John William Waterhouse.


    SECRETS was my second real writing project, but the first that could be considered ¡®publishable,¡¯ in the sense I think it¡¯s good enough that people might actually find value in reading it. I hope you did.


    I wrote SECRETS during a very angsty period of my life, and a lot of my mushed up feelings seeped onto the page, probably too much so. I had lots of ideas to work through, and I sort of spewed them all out without much consideration. I was trying to go for a Byronic hero, but I fear I might have ended up with a mopey one instead.


    Looking back on it now, SECRETS¡¯ flaws are more apparent than ever, yet so are its strengths. I¡¯m still drawn to the characters, and the small, personal nature of the story. I think I¡¯ve grown quite a bit as a writer over the years, and while I¡¯m still not where I¡¯d like to be, the many, many months spent editing SECRETS helped fuel that growth.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    One of my main objectives when writing this project was to leave many things ambiguous or implied, rather than be made explicit. I wanted to created a piece that would leave readers mulling things over, and coming up with their own interpretations.


    While I think that things can generally be sussed out with a second read, as a writer, it can be hard to judge the right level of information to provide the reader. A big driver of engagement in a story is leaving room for the reader to speculate ¨C on characters¡¯ hidden secrets and motivations; on the history of the world, and so forth. If everything is laid bare, there is no intrigue. Imagination rushes to fill the gaps the author leaves behind. For this reason, trust in the writer is paramount ¨C there is an implicit promise that those gaps have answers, even if those answers are never presented in the text itself.


    Conversely, I can personally think of several series where this trust has been betrayed, where the creator''s obvious retconing or ¡®backfilling¡¯ has left audiences sour.


    You also have to account for different types of readers. Some prefer to take things at face value, and won¡¯t dig deeper without prompting. Others revel in over-analyzing.


    In the end, all writing is a conversation between the reader and the author. With all this in mind, if you have any questions or comments please leave them below and I will do my best to reply.


    As always, thank you for reading.