Agathos, The Rocky Island, and Other Stories

by Chris Wright

  "Is it easy to find this new home?" Edward asked.

  "It is easy to know the way, but not always easy to get there," the prince replied. "To reach it you have to pass over steep hills and walk through dark places. Why, Rachel, you look puzzled."

  "I'm wondering how we'll know when we've found the right place," she said. "There must be all sorts of large houses out there."

  "There are, but none of them is as good as the home I have prepared for you with my father. Your journey will be over when you come to a large palace surrounded by beautiful gardens. When you arrive, my father will be there to welcome you."

  "Suppose we go the wrong way?" Rachel said anxiously. She sounded as though she always looked for difficulties. "Will we get lost for ever if we take a wrong turning?"

  The prince smiled reassuringly. "You need have no fear, Rachel -- as long as you follow my instructions carefully. I have already made the journey myself, and you will see my footprints along the path. But more than this, I shall walk with each of you, although you will not see me."

  The boy named Edward spoke again. He looked to be the oldest. "Can the new home be better than this?"

  'It is better than you can possibly imagine," the prince told him. "No danger can reach you there. There will be no darkness, no evil beasts to frighten or harm you. It is a home of love and peace and beauty."

  Edward said it sounded so good that he wanted to set out as soon as possible. Charlotte and Oliver did not appear quite so certain, and Rachel wanted to know just how dangerous the journey would be.

  "To a few travellers the way is safe and easy," the prince explained. "But many find it hard at times. Some hills are dangerous to climb, although others will be gentle on your feet. You must keep to the path I have made for you, but always remember I will help you every step of the way -- if you ask. Come, Charlotte and Oliver, will you start on the journey now?"

  "I'd rather stay here and enjoy myself until the afternoon," Oliver said awkwardly. "Will the journey be easier if we start straight away?"

  The prince said that many found it to be so. "The path is surest and safest in the morning."

  Charlotte picked another wild strawberry. "I'll stay with Oliver," she said. "It's a beautiful spring morning, and this garden is too beautiful to think of leaving yet. But I'll start soon. That's a promise."

  "I cannot make you go," the prince replied. "But, see, I have a reed flute for each of you. When you play a few notes on it, you will know for certain that I am with you. The wild beasts along the way will flee when they hear it. If you are lost, or cannot pick out the path clearly, the music will make my footprints easier to follow."

  All four took their flutes and blew on them. The music filled the garden with a beautiful harmony.

  Edward and Rachel were already on their feet, ready to start their journey. Charlotte and Oliver remained on the ground. A few minutes after the prince faded from their sight, an argument broke out as to whether anyone had ever come to the garden at all.

  Then Edward blew gently on his reed flute, and Rachel looked at him and smiled. She clapped her hands together and said there was not a moment to lose in setting out for the new home where the king's son was leading them.

  "We'll catch up with you," Charlotte told Edward and Rachel. "You'll soon get tired, starting out so quickly. We may even reach the new home before you!" Then she laughed, and Oliver laughed with her.

  "Not so," Edward replied. "The prince said the journey will be easier if we start out now. There's a much better place waiting for us, so why do you want to stay here a moment longer?"

  Rachel bid her friends goodbye, urging them to start as soon as possible. But Charlotte and Oliver jeered, and picked up stones to throw at the two who had been their friends before the prince came to the garden.

  "Be quick, Rachel," Edward urged. "The sun is already climbing above the hills." He could see that his friend looked frightened. "Listen," he said, "I'll blow on my reed flute."

  He blew softly as they hurried away, and soon they were out of reach of the stones, and could hear the taunting voices no more.

  So they walked on together, talking about the king's palace and some of the things they might find along the way.

  "I wonder how long the journey will be," Edward said. "I'm longing to get safely to the end."

  "I can't think about the end" Rachel replied. "We've only just set out, and to tell you the truth I'm scared of what lies ahead."

  "Well, whatever there is, the king's palace must be wonderful if it's better than the garden we've just left," Edward said.

  "And the king will be there," Rachel added thoughtfully, and that seemed to cheer her up. "But do you really believe his son is with us now, even though we can't see him?"

  Edward said he really believed that he was. As they talked, they realised that the gentle path they had been walking along was becoming dry and stony. A stile across the way led into a barren valley.

  Rachel held back. "I can see thorns," she said fearfully.

  Edward paused. "But there's a path through them."

  "If it's all the same to you," Rachel said, shivering, "I think I'll wait here."

  "It's foolish to stop now," Edward protested. "Not only is Prince with us, but look, I can see his footprints on the path." And once again he played a few notes on his reed flute.

  But Rachel refused to listen, either to Edward or to the music.

  Edward jumped over the stile and began walking.

  "Wait for me!" Rachel shouted in panic, getting to her feet.

  "Then come quickly," Edward called back, for he was already some way along the stony path.

  "Wait for just a moment," Rachel called. "I want to pick some fruit. We may not be able to find any along the path. It looks as though it leads through such a bleak valley."

  "You mustn't delay," Edward urged. "The king's son will have food for us when we need it. If you stop to pick it now, you will slow us both down."

  "Then I'll only pick a little," Rachel said, but she stayed a long time before crossing the stile.

  "You're going much too fast," she complained to Edward once she had caught up with him. "I'm waiting for Charlotte and Oliver. Perhaps they'll not be as keen to press on as you are."

  Once more Edward begged Rachel to stay with him, and for a moment he almost succeeded. But try as he most certainly did, she could not be persuaded to continue the journey.

  "There'll be time enough," she insisted. "Besides, the other two probably haven't even started out yet. See, I've done better than them by going early with you. If I wait here, you will be able to walk as fast as you like."

  Edward, unable to convince his friend how important it was to keep on with the journey, was soon out of sight down the valley.

  It was not long before Rachel began to feel frightened and alone. So she made her way back to the garden to find Charlotte and Oliver still resting by the bank of the river.

  "You're back soon!" Oliver called.

  Then he and Charlotte began to laugh as they thought of the hurry Rachel had been in to set off. But eventually Charlotte said that she wished she had set out with Edward, for she felt less inclined to go now than she had when the king's son had spoken to them.

  As the sun rose higher in the sky, the three became good friends again and forgot about Edward on his journey to the new home. By the middle of the day, when the sun was at its highest, the garden became too hot to do anything except lie down under a tree with their feet in the cool water of the river.

  Charlotte said she had started thinking about Edward on his journey, and wondered if the sun was as hot for him. "Perhaps we should be leaving now," she told Oliver.

  Oliver laughed. "What sort of person sets out on a journey when the sun is so high?" he sneered. "No, there will be time enough for us to start when it's cooler."

  Charlotte sounded cross. "I wish I'd never stayed here with you. I should have set out with Edward and Rachel. Why, where's Rachel gone?"


  While the two of them were arguing, Rachel had glimpsed the king's son standing at the edge of the garden. She looked down at her reed flute and felt a strong desire to play on it. The sound of the music did not fill the garden, but the prince heard it, and again he told Rachel of the home he had prepared for her. Gladly Rachel went out again on her journey, leaving her two quarrelling friends behind.

  Soon she came to the stile where she had left Edward earlier. The path through the valley now looked more thorny and dangerous, and the footprints Edward had followed were not so clear. The sun felt hot, and there was not a breath of wind. Nor was there any shelter. Edward would be far ahead. She sat on the stile and began to cry.

  Edward was indeed far ahead. At first, after leaving Rachel, he felt sad and lonely. Then, as he played softly on his reed flute the certain feeling came over him that the king's son was with him, just as he had promised in the garden. Then Edward thought of the king who would be waiting to welcome him to his new home.

  Soon his path became flat and easier. Before long he came to a river, and could see that at times it must flood after heavy rain, for sticks and dead leaves were caught in the branches of the trees that grew on the banks. The path continued on the far side, but the water was low and Edward found he could cross on the large rocks in the bed of the river.

  As he left the river behind, the sun seemed to grow hotter and hotter, and he felt too tired to continue. Again he pulled his reed flute from his pocket and played a gentle tune. The path led past a dense flowering shrub. It looked as though it would make an excellent place to shelter until the sun was lower in the sky.

  As Edward moved towards the bush, dark and coolly inviting inside, he was aware of someone holding him gently but firmly by the shoulder. He pulled away almost angrily, and would have sat down in the cool shade -- when he saw a large snake watching him from the undergrowth.

  Edward drew away in alarm. "Perhaps if I'd fallen asleep in there I would never have woken up," he exclaimed to himself. "That must have been the prince who held me back. I must press on with my journey. I can rest when I reach the king's palace."

  As the sun scorched him, Edward played on the flute as he walked along. Immediately he felt refreshed and strengthened. Then as he looked ahead he realised that the path ran between some tall, shady trees. He hurried towards them, feeling the cool breeze blowing between the sturdy branches. Now he could make his way along the path quickly and easily.

  A little further on the trees grew more thickly, forming a dark wood. All around him, among the trees, he could see traps and snares.

  "This will be a dangerous place at the end of the day," he said to himself. A sudden noise among the trees caused him to stop in fright. A great lion leapt out and crouched ready to spring -- its long teeth flashing in the sunlight flickering through the trees.

  Edward already had the reed flute in his hand. Loudly and urgently he played on it as his legs shook in terror. But at the first note the lion turned, and crept back between the trees, and Edward saw him no more. Instead of the angry growl, there came a voice with a refreshing breeze. "Blow on your flute at all times," the voice said.

  "The prince," Edward thought to himself as he recognized the voice.

  As Edward passed out of the wood, before him in the far distance he saw a beautiful building surrounded by large gardens. At the edge of the gardens was a high wall with a door set in it, golden and shining. This must be the palace where the king lived. It would be the end of his journey.

  He wanted to run, but his feet were aching and he knew there was still some way to go. Now that he was out in the open, the sun beat down on his head again and seemed even hotter than before.

  He wondered whether to return to the shelter of the wood, but as he played on his reed flute the way ahead became easier and the sun became less hot. By the side of the road he found a shelter built from leafy branches, with a notice from the king saying travellers were allowed to rest there awhile.

  Being footsore and weary, Edward needed no further invitation. As he sat down, he began to play softly on his reed flute. As he played, the sky clouded over and a terrifying storm swept across the land. The rain fell in torrents, and he could hear the wild beasts roaring in the wood. But in his shelter Edward felt no fear, for he knew that the prince who had invited him to make the journey was there with him, unseen.

  At last the sky began to clear, and Edward set out to continue on his way. The sun was now past its hottest place in the sky, and a cool breeze blew on his face. He moved speedily on, and thought perhaps it would not be long before he reached the golden door that would take him into the palace gardens and his new home.

  * * *

  Rachel was a long way behind. She had stayed at the stile, unable to bring herself to follow Edward -- until she realised how much time she had wasted already. Soon it might be too late to start. So, gathering up all her courage, Rachel climbed quickly over the stile onto the stony path.

  Was it her imagination, or was the path narrower than it had been earlier? It was certainly hard-going now. The thorns tore at her feet and ankles, and for a moment she felt inclined to return to the garden. Then she remembered the reed flute that had been such a help to Edward. At first, Rachel was unable to play any sort of tune, but the long, sad note that came from it was enough to let her know that the king's son was holding her hand and leading her carefully along the path where it was safest to walk.

  "I really do want you with me," she whispered. "I will try harder to please you next time, because I want to reach the palace."

  Then came a quiet but definite voice in the breeze. "You are not able to earn a place with me in the palace," the voice said. "You must accept it as a gift."

  Rachel fell to the ground in dismay. "I can't. I want to deserve the reward at the end."

  "That is not possible," the voice answered.

  Rachel did not answer, but stood up and began to hurry over the open ground. "I must make sure the king lets me into the new home," she said to herself.

  At that moment the storm, which had passed over the shelter where Edward had been resting, beat down on Rachel. The rain fell in torrents, and fierce gusts of wind swept past, while the pealing thunderclouds seemed to come down all around.

  The ground quickly turned to mud, making Rachel slip and fall as she tried to hurry forward. She saw a hill ahead, and struggled to the top, for surely to press on like this would be enough to please the king.

  Once over the hill, which provided no break from the storm, Rachel came to the river that Edward had crossed so easily. Now it had swollen into a roaring torrent that dashed along, foaming and boiling, carrying all in its course.

  What should she do? Either she must venture into the river to get to the far bank, or else give up all idea of reaching the new home that was waiting for her. She had already made up her mind not to ask for help.

  The large rocks in the river were not fully covered by the raging water. So, plucking up a little courage, Rachel started to creep along by holding onto them. At first the water was ankle deep, then knee deep, then it rushed past her waist. Still she kept on, clinging tightly to the rocks. One more step and the water covered her shoulders, sweeping her feet off the ground.

  In panic, Rachel managed to clutch onto a jagged rock before she could be carried away and drowned. She was not nearly through the river -- what if the next step should carry her away altogether?

  The reed flute was in her pocket, and she knew she could reach it if she tried. But Rachel thought only of getting to the far bank. Each rock proved harder to reach than the last, and the water seemed to grow colder by the minute.

  She could stand the force of the river no longer. Then it seemed to her that she could make out the king's son standing beside her in the fast-running torrent.

  "My flute! My reed flute!" something seemed to say inside her.

  Caring nothing for her safety now, Rachel let go of the rock to which she had been clinging so desperately,
and reached for her flute. Even before she played it, she felt herself being lifted from the raging waters and placed safely on the grassy bank on the far side of the angry river.

  "I'm trying so hard to get to the palace," she said earnestly. "Please forgive me for getting it so wrong. I promise I'll do better from now on."

  "Do you still not understand what I am telling you, Rachel? Your own strength will never be enough to get you safely to the end of your journey."

  Rachel lay on the riverbank, exhausted. "If I'm so weak, how can I ever get there?"

  "You still do not understand," the gentle voice of the prince continued. "It is in your weakness that I want you to come to me. You are not able to earn my love. Will you trust me now?"

  And there, on the safety of the river bank, Rachel wept. Now, at last, she could see that the king's son loved her -- not because she deserved it, which she didn't, but simply because he wanted her to be with him in the safety of the new home.

  Rachel rose slowly to her feet. "Forgive me," she said. "I will keep going, if you come with me."

  She could no longer see the prince, but Rachel knew he was there. It seemed to her that he was smiling and putting a caring arm around her shoulder.

  "Have I not been with you always?" his voice seemed to say. "It was you who did not understand that I was with you."

  * * *

  At this very moment, Edward was on a hill overlooking the palace and its gardens. The setting sun hung low over the far hills, pouring its golden brightness over everything. Rich and beautiful did the palace shine out before his joyful eyes. As he looked, he thought he could make out people in the gardens, wearing robes of light and crowns that looked like living fire.

  He ran down the hill and hurried to the golden door set in the high wall, his heart full of hope and joy. The troubles of the way were over. He looked back over his shoulder at the path he had trodden, and it seemed that all his difficulties had been no more than a preparation for this happy home.