Beginnings... by way of an Ending - Part 2 Live on the Pulse 94.7 at 10am
by Brett J Cole
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The king turned with a swiftness that he regretted, wishing to show no sign of alarm, and he looked this cloaked figure up and down, taking a step back when he realised they were taller.
‘You know who I am,’ the king said, not at all making of it a question.
‘I do,’ replied the cloaked figure. ‘As I am sure you know who I am also.’
‘Not with such garb,’ the king remarked. ‘You could be a crone, a nobleman, a lad or a lass for all I know. I’m accustomed to knowing full well who I deal with, and I’d like to know who you are. I would also,’ he added pointedly, ‘think you’d at least lower your hood when having to address your king.’
‘Oh, I might… should my king be ever so kind as to ask,’ the cloaked figure said calmly.
The king was already trying to muster up the words for such a request, and not a command – something that would have been beyond him at any rate - when the cloaked figure added, ‘But I’ve yet to lay eyes upon any such person, and I doubt that I ever shall.’
‘I was, in fact, referring to myself,’ the king said brusquely. ‘I assumed that you knew who I was when you said…’ His words faltered and he wished he’d kept his tongue as the slight against his self-professed title became suddenly obvious. ‘I … I am the king,’ he finished, the word sounding rather hollow as the surrounding trees once again laughed while the cloaked figure did not.
The cloaked figure indeed said nothing, only staring from beneath their hood with an intensity the king could not fathom. Their gaze was truly hidden but, nonetheless, he felt that gaze bore into him with a patience he could not understand, having never shown patience his own.
He shuddered, again envisioning himself as a pile of bones while this cloaked figure might stand unwavering, and oh how those trees did laugh with that wind of their own whipping wildly, moving branches, leaves and grass while that cloak fluttered not one bit.
‘In any case,’ the king began loudly in defiance of that silence, ‘you’ve no doubt been told of what I would have, hence you no doubt know why I am here.’
‘What you’d have and what you’d want are two very different things,’ the cloaked figure replied. ‘Much like the question of your being a king should I not believe you as such.’
‘But I am indeed the king, and as such it’s my right to –’
‘What you are,’ the cloaked figure interrupted, ‘is a man of entitlement, by way of coercion and force. That does not make you a king, only someone who’d call themselves so. But…’ they added before the king could erupt with the indignation that flared across his face, ‘entitled you very much are. And entitled you’ll very much be.’
‘So, you will give me your –’
‘I shall give you nothing,’ the cloaked figure interrupted again, for the first time parting that cloak only to raise a silencing finger toward the king. ‘You shall not have my land, you shall not have my fealty, nor shall you ever have any tribute or your flag adorning my door.’
‘If not that then –’
Again, that one raised finger silenced the king when the cloaked figure stepped forward. The king in turn took a step back, and his legs ached ever so with the burden of being humbled. The grass at his feet whispered a chuckle, beckoning his bones to fall. And fall he indeed did when, with yet another step forth from that figure in the cloak, the king stepped back also and stumbled, landing upon his rump.
‘Entitled…’ the cloaked figure said again, that unseen gaze looking down at him. ‘Truly, truly entitled. And entitled you’ll very much be. What you might have – not shall have – is not in fact mine to give. But if it pleases the phoenix so, then you might – not shall – leave with that.’
‘The phoenix?’ the king said with great confusion, for confusion was part of his “greatness”. He glanced at the ground while rising back to his feet and in the moment it took to look downward then up, as though no distance was held ‘tween the two, there was indeed now a phoenix which stood beside the cloaked figure.
‘As said,’ the cloaked figure told the king, ‘they are not mine to give, but should they deem you entitled, as I too believe you are, they’ll accompany you back to your kingdom. This is all that you might – not shall – return with for all your efforts.’
‘How in the world would a simple creature even decide such a –’
Yet again, that raised finger silenced him, sweeping forth so suddenly that the king was forced to blink. And much like the distance between down and up, it took all but that moment for time to pass and his eyes again opened to suddenly find that the phoenix now stood by his side.
‘It’s agreed,’ the cloaked figure said. ‘The phoenix believes, as I do, that such a great man as yourself deserves a prize worthy of your nature. You’ll have not what you came here for, but you’ll not return without.’
The king mulled over this offering, convincing himself that he was appeased, more for the fact that he’d also have to convince all else of the same upon his return.
‘And it’s true, what they say of this thing…’ he asked, ‘that it may burn and then rise anew?’
‘That’s for the phoenix to decide,’ the cloaked figure said. ‘Much like whether or not it bides by you. It decides if its feathers shall burn or not, it decides just as much if it rises. Treat it as you wish, and when the time is right – at its own choosing, mind you – the phoenix shall indeed rise, but only as the sun rises also. Such is its light that the sun itself is humbled, and gladly so for that. I’m told they made this agreement long before time even my own.’
‘Very well,’ the king said simply, in lieu of any gratitude, already turning on his heel to make good on his return.
He was shocked to find himself met with but a single line of trees and his entourage waiting nearby. The trees whispered their laughter, making a mockery of every step he’d taken but perhaps hadn’t taken at all. Turning back to where he thought he’d returned from, he was met with those dense woods and no sight whatsoever of the cottage or the cloaked figure who dwelled there within.
Returning to his carriage, with the phoenix a step behind, the king commanded his men to make for it a bridle. Every soldier and servant was forced to remove their belt to do so, their pants sagging loosely as they prepared to depart.
When asked about food and water the king had promised for their return, the king very quickly informed them that the cloaked figure would not concede that, despite his having not asked.
Everyone there in service to the king didn’t appear surprised by this, but what did in fact surprise them was that one of their numbers would join the king in his carriage upon their return. With weary feet and now, too, loose clothing, even this demand garnered not one volunteer for the long journey ahead.
They eyed one another hesitantly, wondering who’d have to keep the king company. No one would ever admit to such, but his company was known to be as tiring as it was something to often be feared.
In the end, met with haste only because the king quickly decided for himself, it was the youngest of the soldiers among them who was commanded to ride with the king. That this soldier was also the shortest did not go unnoticed, even though this too would never be said.
With the carriage at the fore, the remaining servants and soldiers between, and the phoenix ever a step behind at the rear bound by the makeshift bridle, all made their way back to the kingdom across the many days.
The shortest and youngest of the soldiers had not at all said a word, instead having only listened to the king who, as always had much to say, but little he wanted to hear. It was therefore a surprise to that weary soldier when just as they approached the kingdom he was invited to suddenly speak, if only to answer two questions.
‘The tree line,’ the king mused, ‘between you men and where lay the cottage. The distance between wasn’t at all what I first thought. I don’t even believe it’s any land I care for now. It’s of no interest to me at all. But, given how small I find it, I wonder, could every one of you see me as I addressed that… person?
‘Very clearly,’ replied the soldier, expecting the king might want testimony to having acquired the phoenix.
‘And during that encounter,’ the king asked, ‘did anyone happen to fall?’
‘Clearly not,’ the soldier told the king.
The king’s following silence chilled the soldier right down to his marrow. Not a word more was said for the remaining journey, and the soldier feared for not just his own self, but his peers outside the carriage. His fears were more than justified, for upon their return, of all who’d ventured with the king all those days, only the king would be seen of again.
And seen, the king was… and so greatly.
To be continued...
