A Wish Fulfilled
“Pipsqueak!” laughed the older boy as the little girl burst into tears.
Iyan, her brother, let go of her hand and ran to face the bully and defend her honor saying, “leave her alone! Go bother someone else. What makes you think you can tease my sister and get away with it?”
The mean boy laughed, “I can do as I please but she ain’t worth the effort.” He laughed all the more as he turned and vanished into the market day crowds.
Sara’s tear had abated and she could not decide whether she was more insulted by the bully or embarrassed that her big brother had to step in to protect her. Her brother sighed and again took her hand as they continued on their way home after finishing the errand upon which their mother had sent them. Sara was sulky when she got home and was eager to tell her mother the story and enjoy the coming solace, but her mother had no patience for sulkiness and soon told the girl that she had chores to finish. Sara complained bitterly, “why must I always sweep the floor and wash dishes? Iyan never has to do that sort of thing!”
Her mother smiled grimly, “Iyan has his own chores, as do you.”
Sara whined, “but he gets to do stuff like milk cows and chop wood. He never has to do any girly stuff!” This debate was still going on as her father came inside the house. He could see that his two favorite ladies were in the midst of a disagreement and was wise enough not to get involved but Sara did not allow him that chance.
She said, “I want to chop wood and feed pigs father. Why must I always have the inside chores?”
Her father shook his head, “maybe when you are a bit older, but for now you must obey your mother. I must be off dear heart, those pigs are ready to go to town so you had best say your goodbyes to me and Iyan.”
The girl broke into sobs, “why must I ever stay home when Iyan gets to go EVERYWHERE!”
Her father shook his head and said, “I would not say driving pigs to market was that much fun darling. You are needed at home to help your mother.”
Sara began to screech and wail and her father was forced to leave without so much as a goodbye kiss and her mother was quick in ordering the girl to bed without supper. She ran to her room and sobbed inconsolably until bedtime and then her mother came to tuck her in. “Have you said your prayers?” asked her mother gently.
The girl sulked on the bed, “I have not and I never will again! I hate being a little girl! I never get to do anything or have any fun. I will never forgive the Master for making me a little girl!”
Her mother sat beside her on the bed and tried to brush the disarrayed hair from her face but the child turned away in anger and would not endure her mother’s gentle touch. Her mother sighed and stood saying, “the Master made you exactly as you are and he loves you very much and has a very special purpose for your life, but I suppose in the heat of the moment you cannot believe such a thing but it is true nonetheless.” The girl glared insolently at her mother who could only blow out the candle and leave the child to sulk herself to sleep.
The quiet little room suddenly seemed filled with moonlight but the girl could see no full moon streaming in the window. Then a quiet voice asked, “do you really hate being who and what you are?”
She stared in astonishment at the great unicorn that stood in her tiny sleeping chamber as he continued, “do you not know that I made you to be yourself and that that self is infinitely precious to me?”
A tear came unbidden to her eyes and she sobbed, “but it is so hard being a little girl! It must be much easier to be a boy or a princess! Not to mention more fun! Why did you make me such a miserable little thing? Can you not let me be something else?”
The Unicorn shook his head in amusement, “child, you can only be as I have made you, but I can show you why you will never be content until you are content as who and what you are. Perhaps you will realize your seeming plight is not so terrible after all. If you tire of your new life, simply call out to me and then we shall discuss this further.” Suddenly he was gone and the whole world shifted into darkness. For a moment Sara was dizzy and wondering what had happened and if this were perhaps a dream but she felt quite awake though not quite herself.
It was no longer evening for the noon sun was high overhead; she was also certainly not herself. She was taller and stronger and older than she had ever been in her life. She caught her reflection in a water barrel and gasped, she was also a boy! She or rather he smiled in anticipation, this was going to be fun! No more housework or bullies. Now she could be the bully and she could run around and get into scrapes and have adventures and play with bows and swords and horses. Sara wandered out into the market square and gaped, there was Iyan as she had seen him that morning but he was not escorting her, but some other little girl that must be his sister in this weird reality. Sara smiled in malicious glee and ran up to the pair and scoffed, “Iyan, why don’t you throw that little mouse to the cat? That’s about all she’s worth.”
The girl started to cry and Iyan ran to her defense but Sara did not hear him for she felt very sad for the little girl and worse that her own brother was defending some other child than herself! Iyan gaped in astonishment as the big, mean boy ran off with tears in his eyes and a confused look on is face. Sara hid in an alley and could not imagine what had come over her. She had thought it would be fun to pick on a little kid but she felt so horrible and wretched inside that she wished with all her heart to have that moment back but it was too late. Maybe being a boy was not so easy and fun after all.
“Hey Stan!” came the voice of a boy her own age, “let’s go raid Farmer Bout’s orchard.” She nodded and ran off with the other boy thinking that at least here would be an adventure that would not make a little girl cry. They climbed over the fence, but Sara’s pants caught on a nail and tore slightly. She laughed and joined the other boy on the far side but her amusement was short lived as the farmer had seen their intent and came after them with a stick and set loose his two great dogs. The boys howled in fear and dashed for the fence but not before feeling the sting of the farmer’s stick upon their backsides and suffering a great fright from the dogs.
Sara ran all the way home, not quite knowing where she was but certain that in this reality, this was the way home. She came into the yard panting and a sloppily dressed woman of amazing girth stepped out of the house, “where have you been you worthless wretch? Thankfully yer father’s at the tavern else he’d have your hide. You’d better go cut some wood or he’ll be in no good mood when he gets home. What? Tore yer pants? Yer only pants!” She disappeared inside and reappeared with a willow switch and applied it liberally to her son’s exterior. She hissed, “now quit that caterwauling and get busy!” Sara apparently knew how to cut wood in this bizarre alternate reality and spent the rest of the sweltering day doing so and was quite miserable in the process for her stripes ached, especially when the sweat ran into them. She decided being a boy was not as much fun as she had hoped. Finally the man of the house came home quite drunk and beat his wife and son just for good measure and then fell into bed and was sound asleep before he hit the pillow. Sara sat down behind the wretched little house and wept. She was well and truly tired of being a boy. The world shifted around her and she found herself in a brand new reality.
The morning sun slanting through the windows of the grandiose chamber filled her with joy and trepidation for she must certainly be a princess to have a room such as this! And oh the clothes! A servant girl came into the room, bowed deeply, and helped her majesty rise from her bed and begin her morning dressing ritual. Sara was so happy she wanted to share it with the world and the servant girl seemed a chipper little thing and perhaps they could be friends. The girl was mystified when the princess began talking to her as if they were equals and said quite respectfully but her astonishment and mortification came through in her voice, “majesty, perhaps you may go riding with some of the young ladies that wil
l come this afternoon but I would never dare to aspire to chat as an old friend with such as yourself! Your father would have me switched and sent from the castle!”
Sara wanted to cry for all her joy yet she had no one to share it with. Her loneliness only became more acute as the day wore on for after her solitary breakfast, her tutor was brought in for her morning lessons. The ancient man was as dry as winter leaves and his voice sounded like the wind rattling through said faded leaves. He asked questions and lectured on in his boring manner but he was no fit companion for such a creature as the princess; it seemed as if the morning lasted a century but finally lunch came and joy with it.
Finally Sara had company of her own sort, or so she thought for she was to lunch with two noble daughters of her acquaintance. But they talked of nothing substantive for all they could manage was to giggle vapidly at some lord’s nose or some lady’s ill-fitting gown or swoon about a young lord or gossip about some intrigue or other that had happened to one of their coterie. The talk was shallow and mean spirited and Sara’s heart sank to be engulfed in such a mire. After lunch, she rejoiced to know that she would be allowed to go riding! She loved riding very much but only ever got to sit on the plow horse while her father led the beast about; this would be a real horse and she was big enough to stay aback it on her own. But she was sorely disappointed for she was not to gallop free upon the hills but was required to ride slowly and in the insipid company of her two lunch mates who chatted on as ever while a half dozen soldiers came with them.
Sara made one last dash for freedom but the stern eyed captain cut her off and said harshly, “majesty, if you desire to ride so recklessly I must certainly accompany you back to the castle.” She sighed and returned to her silent place in the retinue.
Finally they returned to the palace and prepared for supper, which was to be a grand affair for it was said a visiting prince from a neighboring Kingdom had arrived that afternoon on an important errand for his father. Supper was an experience but Sara’s heart ached for some real companionship, even if it meant a plain meal of meat and bread and cheese at her father’s table. Her parents were quite regal but neither paid her any heed and her younger sisters prattled on eagerly with one another in the same fashion as her shallow friends from lunch. She was seated next to the Prince who was above forty years of age and was far from handsome and even farther from intelligent. After the meal, the King and his family attended the man privately until bedtime and Sara was forced once again to sit beside him while he bragged about his riches and power and of his father’s Kingdom. No one else said much of anything.
Mercifully bedtime came and after the Prince had left Sara asked her mother, “would you come and tuck me in?”
She gaped at the child and said, “you old enough to go to sleep without such a nicety, besides the servants can certainly manage such a task. Why would you want the tedium of my company? Have you not enough entertainments and amusements that you are in need of my attention?” She laughed and walked away wondering at the fit that seemed to have taken her daughter.
The King said quietly, “I hope you like the Prince for you shall be married in a fortnight.”
“Married!” gasped Sara, “but he is three times my age! I do not like him in the least!”
Her father shook his head sadly and said, “well you shall do your duty nonetheless I think, for this is the first chance at peace we have had with Ambroth since my father’s time!” He patted her on the back and walked away. Sara ran to her room and wept, wishing she were not a princess.
The world lurched again and with both hope and fear she opened her eyes to find herself in a great house and garbed as a great lady. She smiled, perhaps a princess was bound to duty and all that but perhaps a Lady had more control over her own destiny. She sat down at the table and the servants brought forth what should have been sumptuous fare but what turned out to be nothing but turnips and dried pork. “What is this?” she demanded of the servant.
He stuttered, “is it not as you have ordered Lady? During this terrible drought the peasants suffer greatly and you have declared that you shall suffer with them. You eat as they eat, if they eat at all.” She sighed and apologized for her outburst and set to work on the pitiful plate, which seemed far more pathetic after her recent feast. After the dismal meal, a great lord was led into her audience chamber and made his bows, far too obsequious for her taste.
He began, “your ladyship I have come to offer you peace.”
She smiled slightly, “and what shall be the cost of this peace? Have you finally realized that raiding my border farms is unethical?”
He laughed harshly, “certainly not! If you will marry me, we shall unite our lands and you shall have peace on all your borders.”
She sighed, “be gone from my presence until you can speak sense. If your men will not quit harassing my folk I fear violence may result.”
He laughed darkly as he left, “that would be unfortunate for you I think.”
And she knew with dread that he was right, for he had twice the men at arms that she had. Suddenly a servant appeared bearing a letter from the King asking for her presence at a grand ball this very evening. A ball? In the midst of a drought that had lasted two years? She sighed and knew she must attend or suffer the consequences for such a slight to the King, which meant arraying herself and her retinue in their best finery and taking the carriage and the best team of horses. Such would not look good to her starving peasants but she could not insult the King. As they rode out, the stony faced peasants they passed smote her heart but she knew she could do naught else. She started to cry and wished she were not a lady any more.
This time she found herself a wandering minstrel. She laughed for joy, now here was true freedom! She wandered into the local inn and played and sang all the night but met with only indifferent appreciation for her talents. The innkeeper and his patrons gave her a scant donation and then it was all to bed. She was given a crust of bread for supper and allowed to stay in the leaky stable loft though it poured all night so she slept very little. Stiff and cold, she set out once more and hoped to reach the estates of a very rich lord ere dark. Footsore, weary, and ravenous, she came into the lord’s house. He was already drunk and only had a taste for a certain whining ballad that Sara personally hated and he had her play through the entire, lengthy piece eight times. Finally he was dozing in a chair and the housekeeper beckoned her to follow. She showed her out the kitchen door, handed her a pittance, and told her to have a nice evening. It was well past midnight and it was raining again. Sara wandered out into the dark and decided this was no ideal life either.
She found herself a soldier which she thought might be quite exciting for she had always wanted to use a sword and ride about in armor, but she found herself standing watch on a great wall in the middle of the night with a cold wind howling out of the west. Trying very hard not to fall asleep and tumble from her post, she spent a miserable four hours before she was relieved. She found the barracks but could not sleep on the bed which was little more than a board. Word came early the next morning that they must ride to war and her heart leapt for joy, at last an end to the tedium! They spent weeks riding, sleeping on the ground, eating stale rations, and by the end of it Sara was desperate for a battle. But the terror and the confusion and the danger of a battle were no place for her she quickly decided. She gasped in horror as she killed a man and then screamed in agony as another soldier ran her through with his own blade. She lay dying in a muddy pool of her own blood and decided she did not like being a soldier any more than she liked being a princess.
She awoke to find herself a wealthy merchant riding with her wares from village to village. This she thought, would truly be an adventure! She could meet new people and see new places and be her own mistress yet would not have to sleep outside or starve! She wandered from place to place, sleeping in inns when she could and spending her days haggling
with housewives over the prices of her various wares. She grew very lonely and the excitement of travel and sleeping at an inn was soon lost. Every person she talked to seemed interested only in what kind of a deal or profit they could make by her acquaintance. Then she met a horde of bandits one day as she was nearing an inn and they managed to steal everything she possessed and would have stolen even more had she not screamed and brought help from the village. She wept for her lost livelihood and knew herself to have become suddenly poor and oh so alone. The innkeeper said not ungently, “at least you still have your life.” She wept all the more for what kind of a life was this?
The world lurched and she found herself aback a galloping unicorn, wearing a sword, and off on another adventure for she was one of those mythic warriors known as the Brethren. At last, here was a wonderful and happy life. She drew rein in front of an inn and spent the night speaking to those within but most ignored her and some mocked. She retired for the night and spent the next several weeks in similar pursuit which very much reminded her of her time as a minstrel though the unicorn was a dear companion and certainly was better than walking. She still felt an aching loneliness and wished that someone might appreciate her efforts. Finally someone did take notice but not as she would have hoped. She found herself crossing swords with a dark man who seemed intent on silencing her permanently and he very nearly succeeded but before the darkness consumed her utterly she cried wretchedly, “oh to be a little girl again!” And then all was darkness.
She sat in the dark, alone and weeping until she saw moonlight and felt a gentle touch upon her cheek. She looked up into the fathomless eyes of the Master and laughed, for here was true joy! She did not care who or what she was if only she could spend forever looking deep into those eyes. He shook his head in amusement and said, “someday child, but now is not that time. So you do not wish to be a princess or a boy or a lady or soldier or anything else but what you are?”
Tears came to her eyes and she wept, “oh what a fool I am! For mine is the happiest life of all and my miniscule trials are nothing compared to what others must suffer.”
The Master said, “all lives are filled with sorrow and fleeting joy child, but you have learned well that just because you have money or power or have traveled much or have attained some lofty goal that that does not mean you shall ever find joy, purpose, or meaning. To find such you must be who and what I have created you to be.”
She threw her arms around his neck and said, “can I go back to be plain, old, simple Sara? I shall never sass my mother again or refuse to say my prayers.”
He laughed, “child you shall certainly sass your mother again but I would hope that it becomes an infrequent occurrence as you grow in virtue and grace and learn to live as I would have you. I shall never be far off if you truly seek me!” He was gone and her lovely, familiar room was again before her.
She leapt from her bed and ran to her mother’s room and threw herself into that dear lady’s arms weeping, “oh mother! How I have missed you. I shall be such a good girl from now on. I am so happy to be your little girl!” Her mother stared down in amazement at the change that had come over the child for only a moment ago she had put the furious child to bed.
She told her tale with such vivid detail that her parents could not help but believe her and the lesson remained long in her young heart. She did, as the Master had said, sass her mother and misbehave but she was never again unthankful that she was who and what she was.
Legends of the Brethren: The Sampler Page 7