The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  ~Lord Alfred Tennyson, ‘Song of the Brook’~

  Blood and Water

  With a crash and a snort, the great stag broke cover and went bounding off towards the heart of the forest; the hounds were at his heels and added their own cacophony to the noise of the morning. Prince Garret had no need to urge his horse onwards as the beast too was caught up in the thrill of the chase. A pair of servants followed after their young master, ready to aide him however they could. The young prince was alone this morning except for the servants; his brother and various friends had all declined to accompany him on this morning’s foray. The disappointed young man had set out in an ill humor but the beauty of the morning and an almost immediate discovery of their quarry quickly dispelled his frustration so that he completely forgot himself in sheer exhilaration, but the stag was no unwary yearling. He had not attained his size and age by simple luck; he knew the lost paths of the wood and gave the hounds the challenge of their lives. The dogs were good but the stag was better, after several hours of slogging through fen and briar, the stymied creatures gave up the chase with whines of frustration and confusion. Garret drew up his weary horse and dismounted, annoyed at having lost their quarry but still exultant from the thrill of the chase. The servants likewise quitted their saddles, but instead of tending to the dogs and horses as their young master was intent in doing, they whispered quietly together for a moment.

  The Prince was busy with his favorite dog when his world suddenly collapsed into nothing but darkness and pain, followed by an all consuming cold and wetness before he knew nothing more. The hounds whined in confusion and the horses snorted at the scent of blood, but no one intervened as the two servants murdered their one time master. The Prince’s younger brother had paid them well to kill the heir to the throne and then vanish indefinitely from the Kingdom. So it was that they stuck a knife in his ribs while he was preoccupied and then flung him into a nearby pond, watching as the boy’s body sank from sight and waited a few minutes to make sure it did not rise again. When they were certain the boy was either dead of his wounds or had drowned, they gathered up the horses and dogs and made good their voluntary exile. If this had not been a fairy tale, it would have been the end of the story, but thankfully our young Prince lives in a world where myth goes about under mortal sun and star. And thankfully he had fallen into a pond, wherein at this very moment dwelt a water sprite. While the villains watched their victim sink from view, the unseen denizen of the pond took hold of the young man’s hand and drew him deeper still.

  While she touched him, he would not drown but the grievous wound in his side was another matter entirely. The healing arts were not unknown to her people but to aide a mortal man brought with it severe and sometimes dire consequences. She could simply let go of his hand and let him sink, drown, die, that would be the easiest choice but it could not be hers. But what could she do? Could she pay the price? She looked at him then, intently, pityingly, and she knew she could and she must.

  Garret awoke on the bank of the small pool, completely soaked, frozen to the bone, and utterly exhausted, but alive. He thought it had all been some terrible dream, but there was a puddle of fresh blood on the trampled grass and no sign of the hunting party remained. Slowly and painstakingly, he sat up and inspected himself and his surroundings. He stared in amazement to see a young maiden sitting a few feet from him, smiling as if she knew some secret the world could never know. Said she without preamble, “the choice is before you, child of men. I have saved your life, but that act will cost us both dearly. You can become my husband and one of my people, you can reject my gift and go the way of all flesh, or I must become a mortal and dwell forever away from my own kind.” He thought the day could get no stranger but he was quite mistaken.

  Said he after several minutes of silent bewilderment, “who or what are you lady?”

  She smiled coyly at him and said, “a water sprite is what your uncreative tales label my folk, but in our own tongue we are the Undine.”

  Asked he in astonishment, “and why is such a burden placed upon you for aiding me?”

  She shook her head, “the healing of a minor wound or illness might be overlooked, but to salvage a soul from death comes only at a great price. Thus is some great sacrifice required on both our parts. I must lose my immortality or gain a husband of which I know little. You must either leave your own people and life to take a wife of an unknown people or live in knowing what your life has cost another.”

  The boy smiled in spite of himself, “or I might die and absolve you of all responsibility?”

  She smiled at his jest and said, “yes, I did mention that as an option but I thought you too sensible a creature to accept it as an option.”

  “What if I were a vile fiend and let you sacrifice everything on my behalf rather than do what any honorable man knows he must?” said he, intrigued by this lovely, playful maiden.

  She laughed like water splashing in a fountain, “ah, sir! But would it not be far worse to be wed to such a terrible man for all of Time rather than to endure a few short years of mortality? But it seems you have made your choice.”

  He nodded, “there can be but one choice lady, but am I so completely cut off from my own people hereafter? For there is yet one thing I must do. My attackers did not do this merely to steal my horse and hounds, rather some fell villain put them up to it to gain the crown for himself.”

  She smiled at him with laughing eyes, “you will belong to the Undine hereafter, but you may interact with men as your heart desires. You cannot be a King among men but you can certainly aide in bringing your enemy to justice and protecting your Kingdom from such a threat.” He rose on unsteady feet and cordially offered her his arm, yet found himself leaning on her for support rather than simply escorting her as a man ought to accompany a lady. Said she, “we must wed immediately, how is it done among your people?”

  He stared at her, “I thought this must be done according to your traditions?”

  She shook her head and smiled demurely, “nay, it is the husband’s traditions that must be followed but hereafter our traditions shall be yours, but first we must commence with our union.” He glanced about him, trying to remember where he was and if there might be someone close to hand that might avail them in their plight. He thought for a moment and finally remembered an old hermit that dwelt in this remote part of the forest; he might not be able to solemnize a marriage but he could at least give the boy dry clothes or possibly a horse.

  A half hour of walking brought them to the rather rundown cottage and Garret’s hopes of horses died aborning, but perhaps this old recluse had the authority that they required. He knocked upon the door but there was no answer. Garret slumped down on a sagging bench beside the door to wait, wondering if he would die of pneumonia before the old man returned, but he came almost immediately out of the woods with a bundle of firewood on his back. He stopped for a moment to study his company and then hurried forward, offering apologies and welcome. He soon had a fire going, from which the maid drew back somewhat timidly, and had laid a simple but hearty meal on the table and given the boy a dry set of clothes.

  Once the lad seemed recovered somewhat from the trials of the day, the man broached the subject upon which none of them had yet spoken, “so what brings such noble younglings out this far? Trying to elope are you?”

  The pair exchanged an almost guilty look of surprise at the man’s insight, but Garret said quietly, “can you conduct a legal wedding, my good man?”

  The man’s smile was answer enough, but it vanished under a look of concern as he said, “do you know what you are entangling yourself in lad?” The boy looked hopefully at his bride and then questioningly at the man, who continued, “have you run away because your parents disapprove of the union or are you in some trouble that you think a hasty marriage might patch up?”

  Said the girl quite abashedly, “sir, we are in a rather odd predicamen
t but I would not call it a hasty marriage but rather a necessity. As to our parents, they can have no say over this union.”

  The man said sternly, “I will not be a party to something that will only end in disaster!”

  The boy shook his head, “nay sir, we know very well what we are about to undertake. Marriage is a serious business and this particular union even more so.”

  The man looked more closely at the boy, surprised by the earnestness and sincerity in his voice. Then he studied the girl and a knowing look entered his eyes, as he said to the lad, “you know then that your bride is no mortal maid?”

  The boy said quietly, “I am well aware of that sir and it is what must be done in our strange situation.” He looked to the maiden, “and you lady? Would you unite yourself irrevocably to a mere man?”

  She nodded, “I have already made my choice in the matter and must abide by his decision.” He shook his head in wonder but soon enough did as they asked of him.

  No sooner had the boy avowed himself as the girl’s husband, than he collapsed in agony and flopped like a landed fish into the little brook beside which the girl had insisted the ceremony take place, vanishing suddenly from sight. The men had thought she wanted to be married there in a fit of whimsy or romance, as it was a very pretty spot, but she had a much more practical reason in mind. In thus uniting himself with a water sprite, he had yet to abide by the second part of his promise, and that was to become such himself, which of course required water. They both stared at the little beck in silence for a moment, the girl in anticipation and the man in wonder.

  Suddenly the boy’s head appeared above the water and he smiled joyously at his bride. Then he turned to look at the old hermit and said, “my gratitude is ever yours sir, if ever we can be of service, simply come to this little stream and ask us to come.” He looked to the lady once more, smiled deeply as she leapt in beside him, and they vanished like water poured from a cup into a bucket. The man had seen much in his wandering days but this still managed to make him scratch his head in wonder.