The Wizard, the Farmer, and the Very Petty Princess

by Daniel Fox

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when a young woman's voice said, "Daddy, you have to talk to Anisim before-"

  And a man, presumably the daddy in question, replied, "Now's not the time love."

  Idwal peeked upwards. Realized he still had his cap on. Whipped it off. A long table stood crosswise on the dais before him. Behind it sat Idwal's own king, the King of the Family Owl, Torquil. Much to Idwal's surprise, the king was a bit of a roly-poly man, he didn't quite match the image Idwal had made in his head when he heard what few stories passed around his village. In those, King Torquil had been a beast of the battlefields, a ferocious and unstoppable warrior. The man seated before Idwal, behind the platter of devoured turkey legs, looked like your favourite, and slightly naughty, uncle.

  Beside the king sat a lovely young woman dressed all in pink. Idwal's guess was that this was the Princess Willuna. She didn't look all that happy to be there. She was pouting, and maybe it was just the smoke in the room, but Idwal thought she might have been crying. She didn't seem to have touched any of the food on the golden plate in front of her.

  The king looked down at the boy from the country with an eager look on his face. To Idwal's surprise the king's legs swung back and forth in the air, he was too short to reach the ground from when seated. "So!" said the king, all vim and vigour, "I hear you have a gift for me."

  "Yes," croaked Idwal. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes your Majesty. I found it, well, it was… see there was this woman… um… The village elders figured that it being of a somewhat important nature it should go to our most important man. So…" Idwal flapped his hands in a gesture that might have been taken for a voila! or a ta-da! or maybe just an attempt to get rid of mosquitoes. "…here."

  "Oh!" cried the king, "I just can't wait any longer!" He dropped to his feet, grabbed a sword from a nearby guard, and rushed in a surprisingly nimble fashion to Idwal's cart. With three quick and sure swings the ropes were cut. The king whipped away the tarp. The mystery object stood revealed.

  Utter silence in the great hall.

  King Torquil stepped around the object, eyes wide, arms wide, measuring. "Willuna," he said in awed tones, "do you see?"

  Willuna thumped her head back against the back of her chair. She rolled her eyes. "It's a turnip daddy."

  "But what a turnip!" And indeed it was. There's no need for us to go into other great turnips of times past, none of the rest ever came close. This was a turnip for the ages. Imagine the biggest fruit or vegetable you've ever seen at a fair. This turnip would kick sand in its face and then take its girl.

  There was no applause. There was a bit of muttering, and a single dry cough. Nobody quite knew if it was proper etiquette to applaud enormous vegetables, no matter how fine a sample of the species they might be. Everyone looked to Torquil for his reaction. After all he was their host and this was his gift.

  The king spun around to Idwal. "This may very well be the most amazing thing I've ever laid eyes on, and you're talking to a gentleman who's been drinking with dwarves." He bellowed out to the stewards lined up at attention against the walls around the room. "Bring this fellow a chair!" He turned back to Idwal. "I absolutely insist you join us tonight and tell us all about your fabulous turnip techniques." He grabbed Idwal's hand and pumped it like a thirsty man pumps for water. "Thank you," he said, "thank you thank you thank you!"

  The room erupted into applause. Except the princess who just shot the farmer a dirty glare. The king steered Idwal up onto the dais and had the stewards place the chair right next to him. The rest of the assembled royals went back to stuffing their faces.

  The king grabbed up a gold plate, tossed whatever refuse was on there onto the floor, and plunked it down on front of Idwal. He started throwing on any bit of food he could grab, turkey legs, roasted potatoes and vegetables, slices of ham, a small mountain of food that piled up as high as Idwal's chest. It was more than the famer usually ate in four or five days.

  "Daddy," said Willuna on the other side of the king, "I want to go."

  "But you haven't touched your food," said the king. "Just a bite or two, that's my pretty little petunia." Torquil leaned back to Idwal. "I'll bet it was the soil."

  Idwal was busy shoving aside an eruption of gravy to see what kind of meat was underneath. "I suppose so, your Majesty."

  "The water, perhaps?"

  "It might have been."

  The king waved a good-natured finger at Idwal. "You're keeping secrets from your king."

  "Honestly your Highness, never! I'm telling the truth!"

  "Relax my boy, I was kidding with you."

  "I didn't do a single thing different, your Grace. I actually try my very hardest to avoid 'different'. The only thing that's really changed in my life is that the maiden of my dreams agreed to marry me."

  "Oho! Congratulations!"

  "Thank you your Majesty. Oh, and there was that old woman. Anyway-"

  The king frowned. "Old woman? What did she look like? She didn't happen to be wearing-" A porter leaned in and whispered in the king's ear. "Ah, yes, right right…" He waved the porter away. The king patted Idwal's shoulder. "To be continued. Duty calls. But first!" The king fished around in his long sleeves (which had apparently been used more than the fine linen napkins) and came out with a small leather sack which he pressed into Idwal's hand.

  Idwal opened the sack to find it full of gold coins. "Oh no, your Majesty, I couldn't. The turnip was a gift."

  "Then consider it a wedding present." The king stood, a trifle unsteady, and raised his goblet. His voice cut through the merriment, bringing all eyes to himself. "Kings and Queens! Princes and Princesses! Dukes and Barons and all other such, a toast! When I was Willuna's age the thought of peace would have had no place in what passes for my mind. I was far too busy dreaming about which of your bottoms I wanted to paddle next!"

  A large man, bigger even than the wild man from the archery contest, stood up under the banner of the Family Bear. "Ha!" he said, "I'd like to see you try!"

  Idwal tensed. Was this how wars were started? Luckily, the rest of the room laughed. Idwal couldn't say he understood royal humour, but right then he was very glad that it existed.

  "No no," King Torquil waved the Bear King down, "happily those days are behind us. I'd much rather attack some more of those roast chickens. At any rate, my friends, I say this with all the joy in the world, to the peace!"

  Goblets were raised, voices replied, "To the peace!"

  King Torquil cleaned out his cup, then turned back to his guests. "And now in keeping with this happy theme of unity I would like to present to all of you fine boys my daughter, Princess of the Family Owl, Willuna. Isn't she lovely? Isn't she just lovely?"

  Applause applause.

  The king peered out at the assembled tables, searching out princes. "Now let's see if I can remember the names of all you fine boys."

  "No need daddy." Willuna stood and made her way around the table, stepping down off the dais. She circled around the tables. "I know everyone here and exactly what they have to offer." She stopped behind a particularly fat prince and tapped him on the head. "Round as a tub," she said. She moved to another table, pointed at another prince who was astonishingly tall and fantastically skinny. "Good for dusting."

  Up at the head table King Torquil was starting to sweat. "Ah, my dear…"

  This last prince was apparently too short. "Twice the voice at half the size. What fun!" said Willuna. "How exciting! My heart is all aflutter. Who to choose? Who to marry?" She flopped down into her seat and slumped. She flapped a hand at the guests. "You go ahead and pick one for me daddy. I await your choice with bated breath."

  There was a tense quiet. A bad quiet. It hung in the air and Idwal thought maybe a war might break out after all. Forty years of peace wiped out by one peevish girl. On the upside, Idwal figured that if he made it out of this room alive he'd be able to get free drinks from the story for the rest of his life. His calm, quiet life, that involved no ro
yalty whatsoever.

  "Ah, yes, well…" said King Torquil, casting about for some way to ease the tension. "Entertainment!" He clapped his hands. "Send in the magician!"

  The great double doors at the far end of the hall were thrown open. And then the torches winked out.

  This is how Idwal learned that war is always only ever about half a dozen insults away.

  Chapter 4

  If you were to ask Bodolomous the magician if this story was about him he would say no, but it should be. He was, after all, a man who had ventured where even goblins fear to tread in order to study, to learn, to grow greater than any witch or wizard that had ever lived before. Here he was in a great hall stuffed full of nobles and knights who already had people singing songs about them years before they were due to die off, but could any of them snuff out all of the braziers and torches in the room with a single gesture? Not bloody likely.

  There weren't any shrieks or cries from the assembled royals, they were by and large all veterans from the wars and had nerves tempered like steel. Bodolomous did hear, on the other hand, a lot of knives being snatched up from trenchers and plates. He found himself taking a surprised step back, sincerely hoping that he wouldn't get stabbed before he got to the good bits of his show. After all, this evening had been a long time coming for him.

  "My lords and ladies," he called out, and thrust out his arms. Assembled around him, crouching and bobbing, were a dozen wiry people dressed in jester outfits, their faces painted like clowns. They sprinted outward, fanning around the room. "I give you my most humble thanks for this grand opportunity to perform my poor tricks."

  The jesters, never making a sound, tumbled around the room in the most amazing display of acrobatics that had ever been seen by human eyes. Goblins had once seen a grander display, put on by fairy folk, but no one is really sure that counts since the goblins were busy setting the fairies on fire at the time. The jesters cartwheeled, somersaulted, vaulted and leapt, springing their way over the long tables until they were spread all around the room.

  As one, the jesters threw streamers across the room, the thin fabrics unspooling in the air. At a word from the magician the streamers began to glow like they had fires within them, filling the room with just about every colour imaginable. Bodolomous took in the sight of the greatest names in the human kingdoms, their faces upturned and coloured by his magic streaming lights, their eyes full of childish wonder. He was sure he could have gone around the room and picked all of their pockets at that moment, and not a one of them would have noticed.

  He let his eyes move to the high host table. There sat the King Torquil and, where was she… ah yes, the princess. Much to the wizard's satisfaction her face was also upturned, her eyes watching as the glowing streamers slowly began to drift down out of the air.

  Bodolomous raised his hands, ready to wow the room with his next bit of magic. But just then his eyes happened to flick to the other side of King Torquil and found the oddest thing - a commoner. And so common. Ridiculously common. His clothes were so plain that it was like he had taken a look at all the other common people in the world and had decided to dress down from their example. Bodolomous had the knowledge of the ages in his head, and he had had to beg and borrow and plot and steal to gain permission (which was an affront in itself, really - these silly people who happened to be accidentally born into their stations should have to gain permission to watch him perform) to put on this show. How did that plain boring bugger rate sitting next to the king? The world was a cruel and unusual place.

  He put the plain fellow out of his mind for the moment. He hadn't come this far to screw up things now. He turned his eyes back to the princess once more to remind himself why he was here. And then he smiled his showman's smile and said to the royals, "Wonders never cease."

  This was how Bodolomous the wizard learned that he had competition.

  ***

  The wizard found the princess wandering the castle's parapets alone. Her personal guard stood some ways off, having been told to give her some space. It was a simple task for Bodolomous to slip past the guard and into the princess' presence.

  She spun around, hearing his footsteps, and was delightfully surprised to find him just an arm's length away. "How did you-"

  They heard the grinding of feet on stone as the guard turned, first thinking that the princess was addressing him. Seeing Bodolomous, he started forward, angry at himself for having allowed someone to sneak past.

  The wizard had studied the princess for quite some time. Not up close, because that would probably have gotten his head chopped off. His surveillance had at first been accomplished from afar, through stories and rumours. The same two truths always seemed to come through - that the princess was beautiful, and that she was a vain little creature. Bodolomous was able to better confirm this later, as the years went by and his powers grew, from a much more personal perspective. He was sure that he knew how to handle her; he knew just what to say. Or at least he very much hoped he did; that lumbering guard was quite large and mean-looking. "Forgive me your Grace," he said with a low bow, "I didn't mean to frighten you."

  The princess responded just as Bodolomous hoped. She stuck her nose in the air. "You?" she said. "Frighten me?" The very idea of it was beneath her. She waved off the guard. Bodolomous ducked his chin so that the princess couldn't see his smile. Not all tricks require wizardry.

  Bodolomous peered over the castle's wall. Below them the city spread out down the hill. People below celebrated - making fireflies of themselves with sparklers, making themselves hyenas with their laughter, some of them making themselves pregnant with regrettably ugly people and a great deal of ale. The wizard sniffed. He had been one of them, once. "Noisy," he said, his voice all disdain.

  "They're happy," said Willuna. Then she stomped her foot. It wasn't an especially impressive stomp seeing as how her foot was tiny and in a little pink slipper with a little pink bow on top. It reminded the wizard of some kind of overly sweet pastry. The princess pouted. "It's not fair."

  "So," said the wizard, getting down to business. "Did you enjoy my show?"

  We have to be clear here, this was the crux not only of this conversation, but of the wizard's entire life. Everything he did and was, since he had been a very young man, was focused in on this particular question, asked of this particular princess. In his travels he had gone to very dark places, horrible places were just the flora had given him nightmares, never mind the fauna.

  He'd apprenticed with fiends, and been mentored by some of the most rotten souls on the planet. (This isn't to say that all the people who used magic were evil, it's just that the ones who would be considered "good" and "just" were always so picky about what sorts of people they passed their knowledge on to. At the beginning Bodolomous probably would have passed through all their soul-searching tests, but he was starving for knowledge, and quite frankly just didn't want to spend all that extra time polishing up his spirit to a squeaky shine. And once he'd started working with some of those nastier sorts he figured none of the more heroic types would have wanted anything to do with him.)

  He'd left bits of himself behind, in all those dark places and with all those dark people. Bits of his soul. Some of the shinier bits, the types of bits that he supposed the most noble of heroes had in spades. Sometimes he missed those bits of himself, and he got to wondering what he would have made of his life if he'd left a few more of them intact.

  But those were other paths, this path led to this particular princess and this particular question. So, you can understand that Bodolomous was somewhat put out when the princess replied, "Hm? Oh, the show. The magic, right. I'm afraid my mind was somewhere else."

  Her mind was somewhere else.

  Her mind was somewhere else?

  Where else could it have been? There were the streamer lights and flames that shaped themselves into dragons and sea shells that roared like lions and shadow puppets that picked up goblets and drank them dry. There had been the inhuman tumbl
ing of the jesters, the dark stories that had been played out by knives and forks and chicken bones come to life. Twenty years of fear and terror and loneliness and sweat and blood had poured out of Bodolomous. He had given a show that had astounded royalty. He had put on a performance that was even now being woven into songs.

  And the princess' mind had been somewhere else? That was not the answer Bodolomous had worked for all those years.

  Rage came flooding into him. Dark and angry thoughts that many of his mentors had tried to bring to the front of his being through the years. Bodolomous had fought back against those tides, he knew that if he'd committed deeds as evil as those of some of his teachers he'd never be allowed into the presence of the princess.

  But right now, chucking the girl over the parapet seemed a fantastic idea. He even took a shaking step toward her, but realized that guard was still somewhere behind him. As much as he desired to do something just tremendously awful to the young woman right then, he had no desire to end up with a pike stuck into his back as a reward.

  He clasped his shaking hands together and grit his teeth. He'd been silent for a little too long and the princess had turned to look at him. He gave her what he hoped passed for a smile as he raced for something, anything to talk about. "Might…" he said, and stopped to clear his throat. He tried again. "Might I enquire as to the name of that fellow seated up next to your father, the one dressed in the dreadfully humble attire?" It wasn't really a subject that was going to calm the wizard, but maybe at least he could direct his rage elsewhere instead of it present focus of the princess' long slim neck that would fit oh so nicely in his hands.

  "Who?" said the princess. "Oh, him. He's just some turnip farmer." The princess turned away again.

  Good thing. She missed seeing Bodolomous' face grow a fantastic shade of raging red. The veins stood out in his neck, another started throbbing its way down his forehead. Bodolomous believed he now knew what cursed people felt like. First the princess missed his life's work, and now he finds out that some rube from the country got to have dinner with the king? "Gah-" he sort of said, and sort of just choked out. "A turnip-"