March 7, 2012

  • Té Teperedcé Kroné: The Debtor King, Part XIV (Conclusion)

    He heeded not her cry, instead letting himself fall into the pool as though to drown, and he fought not the embrace of the cold water as it dragged him down by the leaden weight of his heavy raiment. Darkness began to surround his vision as a enclosing army when of a sudden he felt as though a great hand had closed around him, and he was pulled through the hole of the dividing wall into the pool of the lady, being lifted up and spat out upon the water’s edge. He opened his eyes and coughed violently, water pouring from his mouth, his hair and garments, and all that he heard was muddled from what water yet filled his head.

    The king’s vision cleared and behold did he see before him also on the water’s edge the boat that had borne his lady aloft, turned on its side and broken. She ran to him, her skirts clinging wet to her legs though they could do nothing to impede her, and she cradled his head in her lap as she repeated his name over and over again.

    “What…what has happened?” he said in bewilderment.

    “My love, you have tipped the scales; when you entered the water it was as though an enchantment were broken, and the water in my pool rushed upward and heaved the both of us onto the shore. My father is satisfied; I am yours to wed!” For it was that her worth could not be matched by gold or jewel, nay, not even for the whole of the world would any scale yield to balance, but only could the life of one who loved her make such a purchase. Thus when Médash gave himself to the waters in which all his treasure lay was a gift equal to her offered, and thus was it accepted.

    A great current of humanity swept the two of them up and out of the dark chamber, bearing them into the warmth of the afternoon sun, and what a feast was had that night! Yet it was not to last, for in the midst of it all Drostérn approached the king, saying, “My lord and king, it is that I shall depart in the morning with my gold. Please make provision for its transport, as well as for my daughter and myself, and in one year’s time when certain preparations have been made she shall return to you for her wedding day.”

    There is no word nor words, no image or thought that can convey the sheer wealth that departed the mountain the following day. Not a golden pin was left to Médash, not the plainest, most rough-cut gem nor the minutest glitter of diamond dust; even the gold and silver threads of his garments had been removed, as well as the pearl buttons. Though he bid farewell in great joy, in the days to come he began to sink in great worry, for already other kings were reminding him of his debt.

     

    Six months passed him by, Médash all the while hearing naught from his bride save for one letter a month promising him constantly of her continued love. Too there came at first messages, then messengers, then very solemn declarations indeed from kings who required repayment of the debt—with interest—lest their own kingdoms begin to suffer. The king turned to his people in earnest, and all gave freely what they could for love of their dear king, and though their offerings satisfied the distant rulers for a time at year’s end there was talk of forfeiting land and perhaps Acton itself in order to settle the debt. No more did people speak of the Golden Hand, for in the eyes of many it had become one of tin or even clay, the Hand itself lowered and outstretched as that of a beggar. The king himself lived nearly as a hermit in his great halls, eating only what food his people would offer out of kindness each day, for he had nothing with which to pay a soul. His servants had all left him to find employment elsewhere, his armies had disbanded likewise, and even his great horse had been sold that he might have bread for a month, though by that time it had become mold and worm-ridden.

    The spring came and lo one day did the king look out in the four directions and see columns of men marching forth to the mountain from three of them, and from the wastes he saw nothing. He knew not what day it was, and all hope fled his heart; thus did he fall on the cold flags of his empty bedchamber and weep, crying aloud to God, “Oh my Lord, my King; I have nothing! Once I was the King of Kings; now I am but a beggar. Should it be that you leave me in this hour, oh my God, I shall surely have nothing at all; I shall cease to be.”

    At midday all his people lined the walls of the mountain and watched as the armies of twelve kingdoms arrayed themselves on three sides. Messengers rode forward to deliver terms, but the king sat upon a wooden chair—for his golden throne had been melted down—and said not a word. Those men who brought tidings and demands turned away from the once great king, shaking their heads in sorrow to see him so diminished, and soldiers were made ready to occupy the whole of the mountain and see to its fair division among the kings to which Médash was indebted.

    Then it was that Médash heard a sound in his empty throne room, a flutter of wings, and he beheld for a third time the white dove as it circled above him seven times and then departed out the western window. Following it hence he looked as it soared over the wastes, and there did he spy a single rider on a black steed. Trumpets rose up from among the armies and soon, too, did the few trumpets remaining of his own answer, and the lone rider was granted leave by twelve generals to enter the mountain. In awe did the king behold the rider, for the creature that bore him was none other than his own great warhorse.

    “My king!” said the rider, “I bring tidings from your lady, who even now rides hence to greet you! For the winter’s passed, and spring’s appearing; the hour of your union is at hand.”

    Though this news stirred his heart somewhat, Médash bid the messenger depart, “Tell my lady that I am no longer worthy of her hand, for I can offer her naught but a cave and a shadow of a husband.”

    “My lord, I shall report no such thing. Do not let evil thoughts extinguish your hope, for behold from the desert comes your salvation!”

    Looking again through the western window the king fell to his knees, for coming forth from the desolate dunes was a great and winding train of wagons, the very same that had gone hence from his mountain a year before. But now it was all decked in flowers and bells, serpentine flags ornamenting each vessel such that the whole train seemed like a flaming dragon crawling across the earth. Musicians played joyfully and dancers spun and cartwheeled alongside the caravan, and soon wagons were being diverted to each army to satisfy the debts of Médash. Armor and weapons were cast aside and camps were struck, and peace swept over the mountain like a long-awaited rain. The king could not believe the grace of God and his heart burst with gratitude as wagon upon wagon made its way to Acton, bringing hope and life anew.

    Hours passed before the entire caravan was within the gates, and hours still before all the people of the mountain and the caravan were assembled in the great arena. Mighty men from some distant land bore the king upon a golden litter—formerly one of his own—and brought him to the center.

    A voice announced, “People of Médash! Behold the Lady Rodhél, betrothed of the Golden King!” Then a unicorn trotted in, pulling behind it an ivory chariot in which stood Rodhél dressed all in white silks with lilies adorning her hair. All the former soldiers and servants of Médash marched in after her, bearing in their hands and upon their shoulders all his former treasure, down to the very last gem. When it was that the king and his bride-to-be stood before each other, holding hands and smiling through tears and laughter, the voice again spoke, and Médash saw that it was his former master-of-ceremonies, dressed splendidly all in green.

    “The lord Drostérn sends his greetings, King Médash, as well as his blessing for you to wed his daughter. He sends with her a dowry that befits his daughter and expresses the esteem which he bears for you. For during the past year he spoke with his daughter at length of you, and many times did he meet with other kings and merchants who could tell of your character and goodness. Though he chose for his part not to be present this day, he promises his love for you, bearing you in his heart as though you were his son. May God bless your union, and may your greatest treasure be not your gold or jewels, but your wife unto the end of your days on earth.”

    A tremendous cry went up from the people gathered in the arena, and above the roar Médash said to his beloved, “Why has your father not come? I desire much to embrace him!”

    Rodhél answered with naught but a single tear, and then Médash knew her father could never be among them. He kissed her tear and held her close to him as all the place about them continued to churn and shudder in revelry.

     

    Six days there were in which the whole of the mountain was made ready for the wedding of their king, and such were the flowers clothing the city that the lands far off in each direction could enjoy their scent if it was that the wind favored them.

    On the seventh day of the week, at the sun’s height, there in the arena for all to see did Médash wed Rodhél. She drank of his wine and received a silver signet ring of her own as a pledge of all his wealth, and when it was that the priest serving at the altar that day granted him leave to lift the veil that hid her face from his sight, the King of Gold beheld at last the greatest treasure in all the world.

     

    TÉ YENT

     

    I hope that everyone enjoyed this story; it ended up taking longer to tell than I thought originally!

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