03.15.07 14:44
“but i don’t understand, my lady”, he winced, having fallen with a hard thump against the stone bridge. “i performed every ritual carefully. i,…i, ah…..what could i have done wrong?” he watched in disbelief as the crimson stain on his tunic grew in a wide flowering arch.
“so much, you fool”. she wiped the slender blade carefully on the hem of her summer dress, the familiarity of the ritual helping to calm her breathing. he was no longer a threat.
“but, the master said…”
“a lot of nonsense”, she interrupted angrily. why did they always go to that mad man?
his body spasmed. the angle of his back becoming more unnatural. “i just don’t understand. i just wanted to save you…it was my noble quest…to save you from the fabled curse of your solitude”.
“i know”. she did. “he told you that crap about the rose, didn’t he?”
“yes!”, his wet eyes full of wonder, “….i memorized the spell!….anh…..the exact moment when the flower begins to open, that is truth……you must hold this truth in your heart, never yielding…..and climb mount Caspian in search of the golden nettles for the brew of love….for only….only…”
she knelt beside him. why doesn’t anyone question what they are being told? “it sounds lovely but does that make sense to you? the moment the flower opens is indeed truth, but so is the entire life of the flower, from seedling to soil. truth is in the sunshine bathing the plant and the rich earth that nurtures and in the kiss of the wind. truth is not a secret hidden in a special moment. truth is in every moment…..that part alone should have made you doubt what you were being told.”
she held his chin with her free hand, looking into his eyes. wanting him to understand.
“but, the master…”.
“is just a crazy old man…. who accidentally poisoned his family with nettle and mandrake soup. he was banished and went insane.”, she said. “in your next life, remember: beware those who claim to be wise.”
his voice pleaded, higher in pitch, “i did it because i wanted your love…”
it was almost a sob. such a little boy, still.
“i know”. she stroked the side of his face with the tips of her fingers. how many times would this happen? her garden was riddled with the bones of those that had come before. all foolish boys who thought themselves men because they dared to go on a quest for love, when the real quest for love would have been here, with her. “but you cannot trick me into loving you. and you certainly may not poison me into it, either.”
he was fading. not much time now.
“i will always……. love you, my ….come back… and….” no more than a whisper.
she leaned in, like a lover, and spoke directly into his ear, “if you want to come back to me, hear this as you go. memorize this spell. love is not a taking. love is a giving from a full heart that has endured….you must learn to be your own master. learn to question fools! live a full life…….. then, come and speak to me with courtesy. tell me of yourself, your trials. and offer your friendship as a gift, not a …”
but he was gone. eyes glossed over. mouth askew. lifeless as a strangely sculpted stone.
she kissed his pale brow and stood, hiding the blade and smoothing the folds of her dress. she recited the name of her mother and her mother’s mother and then walked away to wash the fool’s poison from her goblet.
“and my solitude is not a curse.”