by Su Williams
Tears of Adamas
By Su Williams
Diamonds are the most celebrated, most coveted gem in history. It was once believed that gemstones were caused by fermentation in the stars. In ancient Greek, the word for diamond is adamas, (pronounced ad-am-us), which means unbreakable or unalterable. Tears of Adamas is the story of a treasure found in the tears of a beautiful girl.
Once upon a time in the land of Kalos Province, lived a kind and generous king. This king had but one son, whose heart could not have been more different from his father’s…
Jagged branches and vines of thorns raked his face as he plunged through the outer forest in search of the doe that fell prey to his arrow. Crashing through slashing vines, the king’s only son, Poneros, discovered a lovely maiden, battered and bruised, seated amongst a mound of glittering diamonds. His eyes widened to take in the splendor of the gems.
“How is it that a peasant such as yourself has come to this fortune?” he sneered at her. But she only gazed back up at him, broken and forlorn. His hands groped her arms and shook her like one of his broken toys. “I asked you a question, wench! Answer me not and I shall run you through.”
The lovely face beamed up into his, her crystalline gaze, tears refracting in her clear blue eyes. “I have run away from my master. His cane grew too heavy for my back,” she confessed.
“And the diamonds?” Poneros growled.
The maid only shrugged and held her tongue, for she was bound by an oath to her murdered father to never reveal the treasure’s source.
“In the name of the King I claim this fortune,” said the prince and not knowing they were her tears, he gathered them up and filled his pockets to bulging. “For the King,” he proclaimed with a pat to the pocket on his left. “And for myself,” he murmured to himself as his fingers caressed the pocket on his right.
“And what of me, Your Highness?” the girl sighed when he turned away.
Scanning her angelic face and the maidenly curves of her body, the prince glared down at her with deliberation. She may yet reveal the source of this wealth, he thought to himself. His countenance softened in feigned sincerity and he cooed, “Of course, my dear. You must accompany me to my home.” He extended a hard, rough hand to her. She cringed as her fingers skimmed his and she divined the same hardness in his heart.
* * *
“Your majesty,” the girl curtsied before the king at that evening’s sup. The prince had charged the scullery maid with the task of giving the child a hot bath and a change of clothes, a coarse cotton dress borrowed from the laundress’ daughter.
“Well, well, well! What is this urchin you’ve brought into our walls, my son?” the King asked with a smile as bright and warm as the sun.
The prince waved his hand dismissively at the girl. “She is of little consequence, Father. But, she dowsed a treasure for your coffers.” With that, Poneros withdrew a bulging leather purse from within the folds of his cloak, and dumped the gems into a gleaming pile on the King’s plate.
“How came you to this treasure?” the King implored her. But again, her tongue remained still, bound by her promise. The King’s brow crunched in consternation. “Are you a thief, then, child?” he asked her.
“No, Your Majesty. The gems are my own,” she replied, soft and quiet as a breeze.
The King gazed upon her beauty. The girl was fair, more beautiful than freshest Spring dawn. Her eyes sparked with fire as sunrays upon dew drops. Her heart as pure as a Christmas snow. “What is your name, child?” Having sired only a son, and the Queen and his only daughter lost in childbirth, the good king’s heart softened to her loveliness.
“My master called me but one name—Girl!”
“Come,” beckoned the King with entreating hands. “Come stand before me.”
The maiden glided on silent feet to stand before the King. With bowed head she said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He turned her this way and that, perused her face, caressed the hardness of her work-calloused hands. “Now, there’ll be none of that. You will call me Father.”
Again, she curtsied and bowed her head. “Yes, Your…Father.” But behind her, Poneros fumed.
“What!? What is this? You would adopt a waif—a runaway waif, as your own? Father, are you mad, that I might call this—peasant, my sister?”
But the charms of the girl had snagged the old man’s heart and he waved away the prince’s protestations. “Sister? Hardly,” he said. “The child must have a name.” The King scratched the beard on his chin and searched the girl’s face for a name. “Tell me, Poneros, what was the first thing you saw when you beheld this girl?”
Diamonds, thought Poneros. He snorted. “I don’t recall, Father.”
“And the source of this treasure remains a secret,” the King ruminated out loud. “I see the facets and fire of diamonds in your eyes,” he spoke as though only he and the girl were present. “You will be called Adamas.”
The brilliance in her eyes already blazed, but at the King’s words, her entire countenance lit with resplendence, refracting the joy within her. “Yes, Your…Father,” she stammered again, and curtsied on wobbling knees.
But if the King and the girl’s hearts swelled with joy, then the Prince’s heart hardened to graphite doublefold.
* * *
With the same measure the King poured his doting affections upon Adamas, Poneros rained down the same measure of wrath. In her new father’s presence, she was all smiles and giddiness. Yet she cowered under the son’s glare. Each night in her luxurious bed chamber, she withdrew a crystal phial from the folds of her skirts, pressed it to her eye and deposited her tears for safe keeping. Each time the phial filled, she stood upon the highest balcony of the highest parapet, and flung the tiny jewels into the wind. She watched as the sparkling stones scattered far and wide, and plummeted into the chasm on the north ramparts of the castle.
One brisk, blustery evening as autumn spilled into winter, and Adamas gathered her grief in the crystalline phial. Stepping out onto the balcony of her bedchamber, she spilled the collection of tears into her palm. But Poneros kept watch from the shadows. He beheld her empty the phial into her hand, watched as she stirred up the tiny sparkles of light. But darkness only stirred inside his heart. He’d heard of women, and even some men, among the commoners that collected their tears in a bottle during their time of mourning over the loss of a child or lover. Once the bottle was full, their mourning came to an end. And the King’s son realized that, through some form of witchcraft or wizardry, the girl’s tears transformed into diamonds. Greed seized his heart. He pledged to himself, one way or another, he’d have the girl as his own.
* * *
Poneros feigned a softened heart, and wooed and courted Adamas. The prince transformed into the most charming and chivalrous suitor in the land. At first, she feared his former rage, but over weeks and months he slowly won her affections. And the need to empty her phial grew farther and farther apart, until she almost forgot what it was to cry.
On the night Adamas and Poneros became engaged, she cried tears of joy, pink-tinged jewels she secreted away in the cuff of her gown. But her joy was short-lived, for when they went to the King to seek his blessing, his response was unforeseen.
“Father,” Poneros said with a beguiling smile. “I wish to make Adamas my wife, and we wish your blessing.”
The King roared with mirth. “What, Poneros? You would marry your sister? No. No. It is unseemly.”
“But Father,” Poneros objected. “She is not kin through blood. Surely you remember this.”
“No. No. What would the
commoners think if I allowed siblings to wed?” And the King waved them away with a jovial chuckle—a secret jest for his heart only.
Adamas fled to her bedchamber and flung herself upon her downy quilt. Poneros climbed to the highest balustrade and peered down into the inky chasm at the reflections of light that bounded from Adamas discarded tears.
“I will have her as my own, old man. With or without your blessing,” he swore to the night.
Poneros planned and schemed, searched out a way to convince the old King and make the girl his own. But with every petition, he was waved away like a troublesome fly. The seed of his greed grew and abounded, a twining canker that weaved its way into the deepest, darkest part of his soul. His greed festered until not only did he crave the wealth of Adamas’ tears, but he craved the throne as well.
One evening, a fortnight after the King’s refusal to grant his blessing on their union, Adamas placed a cup of wine at the King’s right hand. Only scarce moments after the dark, rich juice passed his lips, the King’s eyes grew wide, and his breaths choked to a silence. The prince and Adamas rushed to his side, but it was already too late. The poison in the cup had hit its mark. The King was dead.
“Poisoned!” shouted Poneros. “The King has been poisoned.” He lifted his father’s cup to his nose and sniffed. “The poison is in his goblet. Who brought him his cup?”
Adamas’ face blanched white and her delicate hands trembled.
“She…” whimpered the scullery maid. “She, adopted daughter to the King, killed him.”
“No. No. I didn’t, Poneros. I swear to you upon my life. I loved him. I could not do this thing.”
“Who gave you the cup?” demanded the prince.
“It was the King’s steward, beloved. He gave the drink and bade I give it only to the King,” the maiden explained in a tremulous voice.
Guards brought their swords to bear on the trembling steward. “No! I did nothing. I filled the Kings cup as always, Sire. I put nothing in his drink.”
“Guards!” commanded Poneros. “Take this man to the guillotine. He shall pay for the King’s life with his own.” The guards scrambled to obey their new King. “And this one,” he continued with a wave at Adamas, “take her to the dungeons for her hand in the demise of our beloved Father and King.”
Amidst screams and protestations, Adamas and the steward were dragged from the dining hall. “So mote it be,” mumbled the new King with secreted smile.
* * *
Despite the gloom in the maiden’s cell, what small light from her single sallow candle cambered from her tears that mounted each day. And each day, King Poneros came to her, gathered the gems, and went away. The clang of her iron cage echoed deep inside her heart. No matter how she pleaded with Poneros, his ears remained deaf to her cries, his only thoughts for the fruit of her heartache.
The snow moon had come and gone, along with two others, and was phasing into the planting moon. Long ago, Adamas’ tears had dried up. Her heart was dry and withered and she hadn’t shed a single tear in many weeks. Her arid heart enraged King Poneros, for besides his incessant greed, he believed if he bound the diamonds about his arm they would ward off evil, and they would give him victory over any enemy for all his days of his life.
As the King prospered from Adamas’ grief, the people grew angrier. The King kept the best portions of meat for himself and squandered much. His dogs became more well-fed than the common folk of his domain. The people began revolting, and prayed for the return of their ‘good’ king. Poneros heaped greater and greater torments upon the maiden like coals on the fire. Guards were commanded to place a crown of thorns upon her head, and for 33 longsuffering days, she shed but a single, solitary tear of grief. Poneros held the jewel up to the light of his lanthorn, only to find it mottled with the inclusions of a darkening heart. But the prince didn’t understand the pollution of his cruelty, that only kindness and love would yield the brilliance he yearned for. In a fit of rage, he took away her only light, the single sallow candle, and pitched her into darkness. For 25 days, she was fed only water and stale bread, and her only light each day was the lanthorn held by the guard as he brought her some swill and searched the cell for diamonds for his sovereign.
Finally, when the harvest moon was waning, guards dragged her, filthy and broken, to the confinement of her bedchamber. After a hot bath, and an oil rub, Adamas donned the gown of the laundress’ daughter and sat in waiting for her betrothed.
“What must I do to you to make you weep?” he raged. But the maiden sat still and silent as ice. “How is it that you weep the finest and purest gems until now? How is that you shed but a single jewel, and that marked with inclusions that steal its worth?” And yet, the girl remained silent. The King abandoned her to her chambers, and held her freedoms ransom until she acquiesced to his cravings.
* * *
Ages passed. The girl grew into a woman and found what little peace her three small rooms contained. Bitterness barked at the door of her heart, but she vehemently denied its entry. Only once a year did she allow herself to shed a single tear—a single tear for the man who was her King and would have been her Father. Always, she relinquished the gem of her grief when Poneros came calling.
“Why can you not shed tears this pure, this lovely for me?” demanded the King one day.
Adamas only smiled at him sadly and said, “For you, I will cry no more. For my King and Father, who gained my undying fealty, I will give but one and the finest.”
More angry than ever, Poneros stormed from her rooms.
But a different storm raged outside the castle walls. The peasantry was rising up in rebellion of the King’s excesses while their children starved in their beds. Adamas watched on in sorrow, but denied herself the liberty to manifest that sadness with tears. As long as she remained prisoner, her tears would be held at bay.
On a still, warm evening, when shadows crept long and slow across the land, a brave young knight camped in the woods surrounding the King’s court. Adamas’ story, a lovely young maid held prisoner by the King of excess, had spread like dandelion fluff on the wind. It whispered her name in his ears, as he slept by the fire in his encampment. All the next day, he gathered men to fight, and all the next, he schemed and planned for the freedom of Adamas, and perhaps, usurpation of the King.
* * *
“How is it, wench, that you can betray me? After I brought you into my home, gave you food and clothing, a pillow for your head and a father for your heart?”
“You would dare to assassinate the kindest man in all the world in the name of your greed. You would enthrone yourself as King and wage your torments upon me—again, all for your greed. What you deposited in me, that you received out of me. You sowed only bitterness and darkness, and forgot the food of love and kindness.”
As Adamas words rebounded from the hard heart of the King, the revolt that roiled below in the cobbled streets spilled into the castle courtyard. Poneros rushed out of her chamber, sword drawn, and bounded down the grand staircase and into the roiling fray. He charged the brave knight, and the two engaged in the fiercest of battles. One by one, the King’s guard fell prey to the mob, until only the Knight and Poneros remained at odds. All the Knight’s kith and kinsmen gathered round about to look on at the spectacle of battle. Finally, after many wounds to both of them, the Knight disarmed King Poneros, and held him at bay at the point of his sword. As the Knight’s arm drew back for the killing blow, a voice like the tinkling of glass stayed his thrust.
“Stop! Please! I prithee, do not slay my lord and my king!” Adamas stood at the head of the stairs.
The Knight saluted the maid with a gracious bow. “My lady, your King is a cruel, wasteful man. While he stuffs his belly to overflowing thrice a day, his people starve in the streets.”
Adamas nodded sadly. “Tis true, sir Knight. Greater than most, I know of his cruelties. But how better are we if we repay his cruelty with yet more cruelty?” she asked as she floated down the stairs
.
“And what sentence would you deem acceptable, my lady?”
“Three things, and only three, I would ask. First, I beg my freedom, for my loss will cost him dearly. Second, that he be turned out of the domain, for the loss of his sovereignty will cost him more. And third…”
But the maiden never finished her demands. The King lunged at her and wrapped his fingers about her throat. The Knight charged forward, but Poneros eyes grew wide like saucers and his final breath gurgled in his chest. His body fell away and tumbled to the floor. A diamond-handled dagger dropped from Adamas’ bloodstained hand. Sparkling tears pooled in her crystalline eyes as they pleaded forgiveness for the death of the King.
“My lady…” gasped the Knight as her body swooned and he caught her in his arms. Scooping up her tiny body, he followed a waiting maid to Adamas’ chamber and laid her upon her bed. The maid staff scuttled and scurried to attend her. Presently, the girl’s eyes fluttered open to behold the Knight worrying the rug bare with his pacing.
“You must have a name,” she said and startled him from his brooding. “I cannot call you Knight.”
He knelt at the side of her bed and bowed his head. “I am…my name is Gennaios, and I am truly no knight. Only a man, a simple, common man, who would fight for a better life.”
Adamas reached out her hand and Gennaios lifted her to her feet. “And you, common man, Gennaios, did you wage this invasion to become king?”
“No, my lady. The whispers of your captivity have spread across the land. I sought only to give you your freedom and return sustenance to the people.”
Adamas was very quiet as she pattered around her room and grazed her fingers over trinkets of gold—gifts from her father-king. Her very soul ached for his strong hand upon her shoulder and his gentle words of wisdom.
“You are the victor in this war, Gennaios. You have won the right to the throne.” The young man stood limp and gawping, his mind not fully understanding her words. “What would you do with me, my King?”
“I…” he stammered. “I would give you the gift of your freedom, my lady. That is all my heart has yearned for since the news of your captivity reached my ears. I did not come to be King.”