The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  ~Nursery Rhyme~

  If Only...

  Tom sat disconsolately on his doorstep, wondering what was the point of life. He was neither rich nor terribly handsome; he had no great prospects before him, just to continue in the footsteps of all his forefathers and till the bit of earth that had been in their family since time immemorial, or at least since his great-great-grandfather was a boy, which was basically the same thing. There was nothing wrong with farming, it was a respectable living, but he would never be rich and there was also a good chance of things getting very tight now and again should the rain not come or a blight appear. He sighed heavily, wishing with all his heart for some way out of his current predicament. And as in all fairy tales, his wish soon attracted the attention of a well-meaning fairy: the pesky creatures are drawn to wishes like moths to flame.

  She settled quite prettily upon his knee and peered up at him with merrily dancing but not very wise eyes. A smile came unbidden to his troubled young face as he realized this mirthful creature might give him all the desires of his heart. Said she without preamble, in a voice like a baby’s laugh, “you wish to be all things that you are not? I cannot bear to see a young creature unhappy, happiness is the province of youth so I must restore you to your native soil. Let it be as you wish it!” She smiled cheekily at him and vanished in a rosy flash of light. Tom stood, stretched, and eagerly went back into the house to pack, knowing full well that his dreams had only just begun.

  His family was just sitting down to dinner when he walked past, satchel on his back. His mother smiled knowingly and shook her head ruefully; his father momentarily took his pipe out of his mouth in curiosity but soon enough went back to his puffing. Said Tom, with near giddiness, “well, my fortune is assured and I am off to seek it.” They all wished him well, knowing this strange wandering sickness was a common affliction of boys his age, and also knowing the cure was to let him have his head and discover that the wide world was a far harsher place than the stories fully told. He would be back before a fortnight was over. His sensible mother did insist that he at least wait until after dinner to go forth and seek his destiny and saw that he was well stocked with provender to last him a week or so. As the sun was now setting, he decided to wait until the morrow and leave after a filling breakfast.

  But his wish was not to be, as he had failed to go forth and seize his good fortune by the horns, it sensibly came a-knocking in search of him. In the twilight, a very short but richly clad man stood upon the doorstep, when his mother answered the summons, and asked very grandly whether ‘Young Master Tom’ would kindly accompany him. Tom happily snatched up his satchel, kissed his mother in passing, and was gratified to see his father’s pipe drop to the floor in his utter astonishment. He waved a farewell and was handed up into the lavish coach that stood waiting; the smartly clad herald doing his best not to sniff at the lad’s sturdy but unfashionable peasant garb. Nothing so mortified his stuffy heart as seeing a socialite so improperly attired. He shut the door and launched himself onto the back of the vehicle as it set off into the night. Tom held his satchel in his lap and stared dreamily off into space, imagining what grandeur and wonder awaited at journey’s end.

  He must have dozed off, for the pallid grey and rose of dawn had transformed the misty, waking world into a dream when he woke. The clatter of the horses suddenly ceased as the coach drew up before a great and beautiful house; the wee little man was immediately at the door and waiting for the boy to descend. Tom clutched his satchel and stepped from the equipage, feeling all of a sudden very lonely and small before the intimidating structure. The servant pretended not to notice his discomfiture and motioned for him to follow him into the house. Tom obeyed and they found themselves in a room whose sole purpose appeared to be the scrubbing and cleansing of dirty aristocrats. Tom was duly washed and outfitted in apparel far more satisfying to the Steward’s taste and was then allowed to eat a meal that was called breakfast, but to Tom’s sensibilities it seemed far grander than any King’s feast.

  Once the necessities were finished, the Steward asked if his lordship had a moment to become acquainted with his new situation. Tom heartily agreed, having no idea exactly what it was he found himself in the middle of, save that it was thanks to a fairy’s well-intentioned meddling. They went to the library where Tom was seated by the fire in a monstrous, velvet chair while the Steward stood politely at his elbow, speaking thus, “welcome home Sir, we are most grateful that you have finally arrived. We have been keeping up the Residence as instructed by your predecessors in anticipation of your arrival. And I hope you find everything far exceeding your expectations. You are Lord and Master of all the land hereabouts within a day’s hard ride; it is to do with as you please.”

  Tom smiled broadly and asked, “how is it I am Lord here, peasant that I am?”

  The Steward shook his head gravely, “that is a matter into which we mere servants dare not inquire. We are here to serve, not question.” He bowed stiffly and asked, “what are your first orders, my Lord?”

  Tom shook his head, “I have never been a Lord before and am quite a stranger in this place, what is a usual day like?”

  The Steward said awkwardly, little liking the position of having to explain anything to one of his ‘betters,’ “we are at your service Sir, ask and we shall obey. The only thing routine or usual in this house shall be that which you proclaim to be so.”

  Tom said in wonder, “whatever I say goes? Have I no duties or responsibilities?”

  The Steward shook his head, “that you alone know, again it is not ours to question but simply to obey.”

  Said Tom in impish delight, “then I want to host a ball, the most extravagant the neighborhood has ever seen, to celebrate my arrival. Can you invite a princess or three?”

  The Steward bowed eagerly, “would tonight be acceptable, sir?”

  Tom stared, “really? That soon!”

  The Steward seemed rather insulted, “of course, my Lord, we are always ready for whatever you might wish or propose.”

  Tom shook his head in wonder, “very well, tonight will be perfect. I would like to tour the grounds during the balance of the day.”

  The Steward bowed and said, “very good Sir.” He then vanished from the room, leaving Tom to himself. He smiled eagerly, knowing this was only the beginning. He went to the stable and ordered his horse, which turned out to be a sleek, high-spirited but willing beast. He mounted eagerly and rode about until he was truly sick of viewing the immaculately landscaped grounds, the impeccable woods, and the tidy farmsteads that dotted his domain. The villages were something out of a storybook and he was certain that nothing of note had or would ever happen therein. It all seemed too perfect.

  A groom took the sweaty horse and a servant waited to escort him back to the bath chamber to expunge the evidence of his ride. And then it was on to a sumptuous late lunch before preparing for the evening’s excitement. He was primped and dandied and dressed until he was ready to scream, but the result was impressive. He descended to the ballroom and the Steward told him that his guests had arrived and were waiting his pleasure, with no less than five princesses in attendance. Agape, the young lord allowed himself to be herded to his place and tried to remember names as he was introduced to half the population of the planet. Afterwards, he danced with anyone vaguely human and female in attendance that was ranked above a lady’s maid. After that, they sat down to a feast grand enough to bankrupt a King, before resuming their dancing. Exhausted and bewildered, His Lordship crawled gratefully into bed as the sun was again gracing the sky.

  The Steward interrupted his repose to politely remind His Lordship that he had promised to go hunting with several of the young men he had met at the ball the previous evening. Tom groaned but allowed himself to be duly prepared for the outing. His companions laughed and talked ceaselessly, about what, Tom could not fathom but he joined in with a hollow laugh and a fake smile. Priding himself on ha
ving survived the day, he hoped to go early to bed, but the Steward reminded him that he had promised a visit to a neighboring Lord that evening in recompense for the ball. Tom sighed but again resigned himself to his fate. So it was that days passed into weeks and then into months, and ever was Tom visiting or being visited by various royal or noble personages, all with painted smiles and empty laughter, saying nothing worth remembering an hour hence. Worse, every unmarried girl old enough to be out in public, some older than his mother, flung herself or was flung by various mothers, aunts, and sisters into his way. For one always surrounded by people, he found himself very much alone.

  Finally, one bright day in the early autumn, he told his Steward that he wanted a day off from the continual merriment and was going for a ride. The Steward was aghast that his master would flout tradition and ignore his many invitations and guests, but would not dare defy a direct order. So it was that young Tom rode off while the Steward hastily wrote elaborate and insincere excuses to all those who would soon be affronted by such unseemly behavior.

  Tom galloped off into the burgeoning day, refreshed by the stillness of the world about him and the chill in the air. An hour later, he dismounted and led the weary beast to a small stream in the midst of a meadow in which a flock of sheep was grazing peacefully at the far end. He watched the young shepherdess with some envy as she quietly tended her charges, as yet unaware of the stranger in her meadow; he thought wistfully back to his own rustic duties, what seemed a lifetime ago. Suddenly, her tranquility was shattered as she noticed the richly garbed youth and well-bred horse that had invaded her pastoral refuge. She bowed nervously, still at a great distance, and hastily gathered up her sheep, intent on driving them to a pasture where they would not disturb His Lordship. Tom sighed mournfully, mounted his horse, and rode slowly out of the meadow, leaving the lady to her sheep.

  As he passed a small cottage in his retreat, a sudden whimsical smile lit his face, the first real smile he had borne in many days; he turned in at the gate and knocked upon the door. The aged woman who answered his summons stared at him in surprise and dread, bowed inexpertly, and said graciously, if with a nervous trill, “what may I do for you Lord?”

  Tom grinned foolishly, “I wish to make an exchange madam. Have you a horse and a set of clothes to trade for my own?”

  She stared at him in incomprehension, “nay lord, I have but a poor beast and only the rough garb of my late husband, I have nothing that would be of service or worth to you!”

  He nodded eagerly, “exactly madam, that is what I wish. Take my finery and give me your serviceable items in their stead.”

  She shook her head in wonder but motioned for him to come in. She spent a little time rummaging in drawer and trunk while he sipped hastily brewed tea, but finally she produced some plain, but well made clothes that would fit the lad reasonably well. He left the tired, but expensive horse in the small lean-to that served as barn and stable and mounted the aged sorrel gelding that had once pulled cart and plow. He told the good lady in parting, “keep or sell what I have given you madam, whatever serves you best! Farewell.” He turned the ancient beast and plodded back towards the meadow where the shepherdess waited with her sheep.

  The appearance of a peasant lad did not frighten the poor lass, as had the daunting vision of a nobleman in the distance. She even went so far as to share her noon meal with him once she was convinced he was simply a weary traveler rather than either villain or lord. They shared a merry meal together and spoke of her stock, the weather, village gossip, her kin, and the crops. As the sun was setting, Tom was reluctant to leave, having had a real conversation for the first time since his advent into this strange reality and feeling again as if he were a mortal man, rather than a puppet that wandered purposelessly from one grand entertainment to the next. The girl saw his unease and misinterpreting it said, “come home with me, my father would gladly put you up for the night and my mother will have a good supper on the table.” He smiled gratefully at her and accompanied her home, showing himself well accustomed to the practice as he helped her gather up the scattered flock for the night.

  The Steward watched intently all the day and well into the night, but the boy never returned. He sighed heavily and knew that his Lordship was forever lost to them, as had so many been before him. He went to tell the other servants to put the house in order that they might await their next ephemeral Lord. Tom eventually married the shepherdess and returned to his unassuming life, now quite content therein. The insipid but well-meaning fairy continued to grant wishes, that for some reason never quite brought their recipients the joy and meaning they had anticipated, but rather taught them to appreciate that which they already had, which was truly a wish come true.

  
A cloud was on the mind of men,

  and wailing went the weather,

  Yea, a sick cloud upon the soul

  When we were boys together.