Beginnings... by way of an Ending - Part 5 Live on The Pulse 94.7 at 10am

By Brett J Cole
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‘This…’ the king began loudly, already pausing awkwardly after but one word, wishing the damned nuisance nearby would lower their bloody hood ‘… person! This… is who holds us back! Who holds you back! Had I simply been given what was asked, I’d need not have taken… from you!’

He offered one of his notable pauses, to which all were accustomed as prompt for them to cheer whatever he’d said. And cheer, these people did, while the child who knew better did not. With eyes unseen from within that hood, the cloaked figure turned to the girl and gave a reassuring nod. The girl, although now weeping, offered a small nod in return.

‘And that…!’ the king continued loudly, pointing to the phoenix above. ‘That… was not as was promised! Not only has this person seen to theft of your freedoms, your purse, but in having us wait for that shameful dawn, they made theft of our very time itself for no fire was seen at all!’

Again, he paused so that all could cheer. And cheer, those people did… until with the most gentle of voices, not at all loud like the king, the cloaked figure spoke. No one could say that they’d raised their voice, yet their words were heard by all above their jeering cacophony, bringing every person to silence.

‘If I may…’ the cloaked figure began in that gentle ever-yet-never tone, ‘I do believe that I never once promised anything of fire, I merely spoke of it. Likewise, I spoke only of the phoenix rising should it choose to, and I believe that’s just what it did.’

The king drew a sharp breath, about to challenge any such thing, and the crowd drew their breath also when he was met by that raised finger that had silenced him once before and only did so again. The brazen act inspired awe and fear in equal measure, awaiting the king's response.

‘Shall we ask that man who you had return the phoenix?' the cloaked figure asked. 'For I surely recall he was there when the phoenix, most definitely dead, did in fact rise with the sun that day. Pray tell, where might he be?’

That hush that had settled over the crowd was now ever more so quiet. It was seldom spoken out loud, yet spoken often enough, that all knew very well the fate that this servant had sadly met.

The king, noting the distinct shift in the silence the gathered crowd offered, stared at the cloaked figure almost gloatingly, as if to convey that their silence was yet one more thing at his great command. But then, like the rustling trees that had mocked him when nearby that cottage, there came a soft whisper from somewhere within the crowd.

There then came another, and yet another, until that whispering rose in volume so much that one distinct word among the muttering was all too very clear, and it was the name of that man he’d had beaten for simply speaking true of the phoenix.

The whispering continued and as it did, growing ever louder and louder, the king heard another name spoken then more. The king was soon met with a chorus of names, of which there were so very many… those who’d been starved, killed, abused, beaten, all by the king himself or by others at his consent.

He was about to bark a command to his guards to silence the gathered crowd, but just as he’d earlier spoken of theft, he found even this stolen from him. The crowd was suddenly silent and, looking away from the guards he’d glared at, the king turned to find that the cloaked figure had raised their hand. Had their murmurings not been so bold, he’d have been enraged by this intervention.  

‘It is true,’ the cloaked figure told one and all, ‘that your king was denied what was offered. Or, rather, what he was entitled to. If I am to concede anything, I will readily concede that.’

The king was just as surprised to hear this as were all else in attendance. He hid it from his face, however, as he turned to the cloaked figure and very quickly gave a nod that suggested they continue. The swiftness of his gesture was only lest they speak whether he desired them to do so or not. Nodding in return, the cloaked figure did as suggested, but only as they’d choose.

‘It is true that the phoenix can be of flame, but this needn’t speak of new beginnings. Was the bird not stripped of those flames in waiting and yet, bare, did rise as suggested? Does a thing such as life itself not burn bright, as might also the sun?’

The cloaked figure offered a pause, much as the king was known to do, as cue for some form of response. The king, despite not quite understanding all that had been said, nodded to his subjects that this indeed was true, but only after sharing a glance with one of his advisors, who’d also nodded agreement.

‘As said,’ the cloaked figure continued, ‘I do concede that you were denied, but only by interpretation. I never promised you a blaze, and yet a blaze you felt you were owed. Among much else that you’re owed, that, I believe, falls to words my own, having not expressed myself… clearly.’

‘Then your land…’ the king began loudly, so that all may hear what he now expected. ‘You would also concede that your land should be mine, for if mine then it shall be ours?’

He looked to the crowd with that final word, wanting again to remind all that it was any such refusal that lay at the heart of his ire, and therefore their woes. He was pleased no end when the crowd that had threatened him with whispers of names now cheered, as he thought they should.

‘Oh, indeed,’ the cloaked figure nodded as the phoenix circled above. ‘Upon my word you shall own my land for as long as you may live.’

The crowd now cheered more so, with the king raising his hands to encourage such a jubilant reception. Very quickly though, as before, they suddenly fell silent and he turned to find the cloaked figure raising their hand yet again.

‘My land,’ the cloaked figure said again, ‘for as long as you may live. And also… this,’ they added, finally opening the bag that they’d held since leaving their small, humble cottage.

The crowd gasped at the robe withdrawn from that bag, glimmering bright in the sun. Every feather the king had seen cast to the wind was woven into it with care.

The cloaked figure held the robe out wide and the king, hearing the loudest of cheers, nodded to one and all that this was truly a great offering, as was he, himself. He even drew laughter from many as he danced the briefest of jigs, drawing closer to the cloaked figure who awaited with the open robe.

And just like that, with the robe draped upon his shoulders… that king’s world began anew, as did the world of all who he’d long cruelly reigned over.

For the robe burst into the brightest of flames, swiftly taking the shrieking king with it until nothing but ash remained. The phoenix, seeming to smirk, promptly flew away.

Advisors, servants, soldiers, and common folk alike… all were unsure as to what should be done without the king to command them. Indeed, anything that they might do was suddenly given pause. The cloaked figure yet again raised their hand and everyone feared what might come, having played a part in the king’s cruel endeavours and wary of whatever sway had seen their king now reduced to ash.

That raised hand was held for an ever-yet-never moment, one that would haunt all for the rest of their days. And then that hand closed… gently. And the girl, knowing that she alone had been beckoned, climbed up upon that stage.

She took the hand of the cloaked figure and together they walked toward a tree that had never been there and yet was. They were just about to walk past it when the cloaked figure stopped, turning to address all else.

‘To new beginnings,’ they said very quietly in a whisper that all heard clearly. ‘Make of them what you will, but never darken my door again. You'll find me not wanting for feathers should any desire a robe of their own.’

And with that, the cloaked figure and child stepped beyond a tree that was no longer. The stage was suddenly bare but for the ash of that once-was-king, already drifting away in the wind.

The stunned silence lasted but a moment before it was broken by a whisper, and then another whisper and more. It was broken by names they’d long dared not speak and with every name that was spoken, those whispers became much louder. And soon it was not in any hushed tones that people began to speak freely.

They spoke of kindness. They spoke of care. They spoke of reason, compassion, empathy… all manner of traits that they’d long feared to show, kept silent within their chests.

As the last of the ash of that once-was-king drifted away in the wind, far away in that small cottage upon that small plot of land, while many spoke of names long lost, the girl at last offered her own.

It was then, but also perhaps on a day yet to come - for stories such as this are held in people's hearts, not held in time – that the cloaked figure laughed fondly, saying…

‘And there it is! Said with pride, no less, as every child should.’

The End... by way of a Beginning.