Beginnings... by way of an Ending - Part 3 Live on The Pulse 94.7 at 10am
By Brett J Cole
Previous Episodes
Taking only one day to rest upon his return after having those soldiers and servants “dismissed”, it was already the night after that when the king proudly addressed his subjects. Before all, upon a grand stage he’d had erected while he’d slept, the king now stood with the phoenix by his side.
Gone was the cobbled bridle of belts, and the phoenix was now bound by chains, held to that stage with no end of iron. Such was the weight of those chains about its neck that its head was forced upon the timber stage, at the feet of the king, as he’d seen fit.
The king, having boldly proclaimed his intentions before setting forth for that small plot of land, talked now of how diminished it was, unfit for his empire at any rate. Likewise, he talked very poorly of the person he’d once claimed undoubtedly would submit to his every demand.
He spoke of kindness. He spoke of care. He spoke of reason, compassion and empathy… all manner of traits that couldn’t possibly be as great as he, for here he was with the famed phoenix. It now belonged only to him, did it not, and what greater achievement than that?
All were told of how brightly, how “greatly”, the fire of that phoenix would burn. The king even claimed that he’d seen to it himself that the sun itself would not compare to that blaze all would see come the dawn.
And in time, come the dawn did, but only after many an hour through the night where the king spoke of many things, while in fact speaking of little. It was only when one of his advisors cautiously informed the king of the sun’s approach that the king ceased his incessant talk of only himself and his greatness. Even then it was with great annoyance that he claimed he already knew this, even though he did not at all.
It was only now that the king, who’d greatly enjoyed having such a majestical creature laid humbly low by his feet, stepped some distance away from the phoenix, announcing to all his subjects that they’d soon witness something astounding.
And so it was that the sun did rise, and the phoenix… it did nothing. But it would, the king assured everyone, they just had to wait. And wait all those gathered there did, as the king returned to his talk of himself while the phoenix lay ever so still, bound low by its many chains.
Time passed, as did the sun, and come the afternoon when the sun was at its highest above that stage, the phoenix finally stirred. It was only the slightest of movements but enough to draw an expectant murmur from the crowd and even quieten the ever so talkative king himself.
Silence filled the public square with the only sound to break it being the gentle clank of those chains as the phoenix shifted its head upon the wooden boards of that stage it was bound to. The king, taking a further step back, expecting flames to come, very quickly realised there’d be no such inferno as was promised.
He followed the gaze of the phoenix, looking down to notice that the sun, high as it was, had cast his shadow ever so slight that it was barely there at all. Looking back to the phoenix, he found that it now met his gaze and although it had no mouth to display such a thing, the king would have sworn that it smirked.
Such was the king’s reputation that he needed to give no order as it was clear on his reddening face just how furious he now was. The soldiers who’d lined the gathering crowd swooped in with their swords and their staffs, quickly ushering the crowd away, uncaring of any who might be crushed in the stirring throng of those forced to return to their homes.
Once the square had been cleared, the king remained on that stage, staring hatefully at the phoenix. He was bristling with such absolute rage that the sun had begun to set when one of his advisors finally dared to approach him.
‘Have it plucked. Slowly…’ the king demanded. ‘And once it’s bare, have its throat cut and cast those damned feathers to the wind.’ The king then stormed away from that stage, leaving the phoenix to its fate.
Many would speak for years to come of how the skies were a storm of golden feathers drifting across the air that night. It was said that even the moon seemed aglow through the amber haze beneath it.
The following day, with not one feather to be found or seen, the king had a servant set out to return the phoenix to that strange, cloaked figure – plucked bare and now dead with its throat slit.
Many, many days later when that servant returned, they were quite pale and hesitant to tell the king how their task had fared. It was only after no end of beratement that they admitted to the king that the moment they’d ventured beyond those trees, just as the sun was rising, the phoenix was… alive and well.
They couldn’t speak as to how such a thing had occurred, only that they had merely blinked and, in that briefest of moments, what had been clearly dead became very much alive. The cloaked figure had even thanked them kindly, offering them water and food for their return – a kindness that the king only took as further salt to his wound, having that poor servant beaten to death for only speaking the truth as was known.
To say that the king was enraged was like saying the sea might be wet. In the days, weeks and months that followed, there was none who escaped his rage.
Tributes were increased so greatly that they surely could not be offered, and so many homes were laid to waste and the simplest of their belongings handed over for the king’s trove. Laws were brought forth that had no purpose other than as a reason why some might be punished at all.
And throughout this cruel tirade, the king would take to that stage he’d had made, making good of its being at all. Rather than tear it down, he’d decided to boldly reclaim it if only so others might forget that it had once only served to mock him.
From that stage, with its ever-growing number of flags and adornments each time that he stood there, the king would address his subjects and dismiss any suggestion of tyranny on his part. Instead, he’d lay any such blame upon that one cloaked figure within that one small cottage on that one small plot of land.
Day after day, week after week and month after long, tiring month… the king would tell all who suffered that if they’d have someone held to account for their woes, they knew just where to find such a person.
Day after day, week after week and month after long, tiring month… until many people began to believe this. It was easier to blame someone afar than it was to confront the king, who only by way of his cruelty had seen a great swell in the numbers of those who would gladly serve him. Those numbers themselves were the unspoken answer to a question that few would dare pose.
And so it was that one day, at the behest of the king for he would not dare such a thing himself, an untold number of people – advisors, servants, soldiers, and common folk alike – marched forth for many days to angrily confront that one cloaked figure within that one small cottage on that one small plot of land.
They were to be brought before the king and held to account for their supposed crimes. What’s more, the king assured all, once that land had no owner to claim it, it only made sense it should then be his – even though he still denied any interest or need of such a paltry thing. Nonetheless, the king proclaimed, only then would peace be found for was that not always and ever the true purpose of a king? Especially one as great as he?
It was never explained how his owning this land might alleviate all manners of suffering that he himself had caused. Those who believed the king needed no such explanation. And those who did not remained silent, all too familiar with the fates of those who’d ever show any dissent.
Days upon days that untold number of people journeyed, so full of conviction and purpose, both of which dwindled each day they drew closer to their goal. It was said – aloud, at any rate – that morale would no doubt fall what with having no water or food as provisions, so no wonder that many among them felt any shred of trepidation. Yet again the king had declared that any such thing would be there for the taking, as would be the cloaked figure themself, and perhaps even the phoenix were it true that it did in fact live.
These were lies in their uncertainty, of course, among many that he'd tell. But so adept at repeating the king’s own deceits, no one wished to admit that what had truly eroded their confidence was that with each day they’d travelled, by measure, their shadows had become less.
By the time they arrived at that small plot of land, standing in their hundreds, the sun above them cast not one shadow. The trees seemed to howl with swaying laughter. And yet, not one hint of a breeze touched their many tired, worn, wary faces as they gazed upon those trees.
It was very quickly proven that, in as much as this mass of people had adopted the king’s deceits, so too had they taken stock of his cowardice. No one was eager to step forth through those trees and so, much as the king would have done, the youngest and smallest amongst them – a girl child not yet even ten – was told that she’d be the one to summon the cloaked figure therein.
Should the cloaked figure not concede to their demand, they told the child, she was to tell of how great their numbers were, for then they’d surely submit. Not even the child’s parents questioned this, and the girl, subdued, agreed to venture forth alone.
The child had barely passed even a single tree when those who remained had already begun to talk amongst themselves, convincing one another that this decision had been just and right. Not one of them truly believed this, though, especially her parents. But not one person dared to be the first to say such a thing.
Nor did any refer to the child as just that, with each of them declaring they’d sent a “woman” upon this errand.
Not even a single tree for the child, and yet, there the cottage now was, as was the cloaked figure, standing by their cottage with the phoenix at their side. The child turned back to see no end of trees. There was no hint at all of those who’d so cowardly set her to this task despite them apparently being less than a dozen steps away.
‘I see…’ the cloaked figure said sadly, drawing the child’s gaze back to them. ‘I’ll ask of your name, of course,’ they said. ‘It’s only polite to do so, but my fear is that you’re but one of many a child. My heart truly aches for that thought, for you’re one child too many to be caught up in the king’s machinations. Nonetheless…’ they ended, offering a gentle, questioning nod.
‘I’m…’ the child began, only to pause and shake her head sadly. ‘I’d rather not have my name to this, for I fear what you say is true.’
The cloaked figure laughed loudly at this, much to the girl’s surprise. ‘Fear…’ they murmured, now offering a quiet chuckle as they stroked the phoenix beside them. ‘An interesting choice of word. I dare say you’re far more brave than those who’d send you here because that’s a brave thing to admit.’
Far away from those adults and other children in their hundreds, far away from the king, the girl was just as surprised to find herself smirking at such a suggestion.
‘Ah, there it is!’ laughed the cloaked figure fondly. ‘And such a smile, as all children should have! I dare say, my hope is now that you’re still but one of many a child, and my heart aches less than it did.’
The cloaked figure sat upon the small steps of their cottage and the girl, without invitation, stepped forward to join them.
To be continued...
