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Action Heroes

posted by Brenda at 06:32 AM, May 03, 2005 | Filed under : Fiction | Comments and Followups

And now for something lighter — a look at royal politics through the eyes of the servants’ children.

The children arrived at the swimming hole around midmorning. They had all agreed last night to get their chores done quickly this morning when they noticed “red sky at night, sailors delight.” Sparrow’s father always said that meant the next day would be a good for mowing. He was a gardener, so he should know.

Their excitement had grown the higher up the mountain they climbed. Their goal was their favorite stream, one of the many which tumbled down the side of Kolvir. This one had a large waterfall that had long ago carved out the swimming hole favored by the children of the castle servants. When they heard the falls, they all broke into a run.

Garrett arrived first as he always did, bounding over fallen trees and dodging hanging branches as easily as a young deer. The rest arrived in their customary order. Weed and Sparrow raced in together. Weed was tall and reedy, with long legs that could cover the ground quickly, but he had to duck the branches often. Sparrow was about normal nine-year-old girl size, but very athletic and agile. It was to her credit that she could keep up with Weed even while wearing skirts.

Phoebe was next. Phoebe was Sparrow’s older sister, a sweet, dainty girl with honey-colored hair who was painfully shy. She hung around with her sister’s friends not because she liked playing their active games, but because she didn’t really have any friends of her own. That was fine, though, because Phoebe was always happy to fill any girl-roles they might require - the princess trapped in the tower, the mother, whatever. When she didn’t play, she watched and laughed at their antics. Phoebe was okay.

Grub, as usual, puffed in last. He was a big kid, weighing a bit more than he probably needed to. He was average in height, but barrel-chested and solid, more suited to be a rock than sprint over them. He took after his father, who was one of the blacksmiths.

It was late spring and the day was fast warming up, but the crystal clear water rushing over the falls was still like ice. Garrett cupped his hands under the falls and drank deeply, getting soaked all the way past his elbows. He moved aside when Weed arrived and laughed as he flicked water up into his friend’s face.

“I’ll toss you in, Garrett, I swear,” Weed laughed as he got his own drink.

“Gotta catch me first, old man,” Garrett grinned. At eleven, Weed was a couple years older than Garrett.

“Make way, make way,” Sparrow ordered importantly, shoving them aside as she approached the stream.

Garrett stepped back and bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Highness,” he exaggerated the response they had all heard their parents utter so often. All three children erupted in a fit of giggles.

Phoebe quietly approached the group, looking, as she so often did, as if she thought they were laughing at her. Weed explained quickly, “Lady Sparrow reckons she’s a princess. We had to set her straight.” Phoebe smiled and relaxed.

“She’s lucky she’s still dry. HEY!” Garrett exclaimed as Sparrow splashed him with a hands-cup full of water.

“Leave…some…for …me,” Grub puffed as he approached the stream. He laid down on the wet rocks and plunged his entire head into the pool. Just when they were beginning to worry, he pushed himself up, stood and shook his head like a dog. Everyone stepped back to avoid the flying drops.

“Glad you could make it, Grub,” Weed drawled.

“Oh, shut up,” Grub replied, dripping. “How come you lads always have to run it?” He was still panting.

“To make you sweat,” answered Sparrow with a grin. “And I’m NOT a lad.”

“You’re not?” gasped Garrett and Weed together, as if this was news to them.

Sparrow just laughed and shook her head. She hiked up her skirt and lithely hopped across the rocky streambed to the other side. The rest followed, Weed helping Phoebe over the wider sections of water. Once on the other side, Sparrow asked, “So what do y’all want to do?”

As they debated, they searched around the rocks and shrubs for where they had left their swords the last time they were here. The swords, of course, were long sticks. But not JUST long sticks. They had all gone to a lot of effort to ensure that their sticks were just the right shape and weight. They had even peeled all the bark off of their blades so they shined.

Finally, they decided on their favorite game - the Mountain Battle. “I’m Bleys,” Weed piped up quickly.

“No fair! You were Bleys last time,” Garrett complained.

“So what’s wrong with Corwin,” Weed argued.

“Nothin’. It’s just Bleys is more dashing,” Garrett grinned. “And I’m way more dashing than you.”

Sparrow settled the matter. “He’s right, Weed. Not the dashing part…” she corrected quickly. “The ‘you-were-Bleys-last-time’ part.” She took up her sword-stick and menaced the boys with it, grinning evilly. “And I’m gonna be Caine.”

“You can’t be Caine,” Grub moaned. “You’re a girl. You be Flora.”

“UGH!” Sparrow made a face. “I am NOT gonna be Flora. She’s PRISSY!”

“I’ll be Flora,” Phoebe ventured softly from her rock on the sidelines.

Garrett shrugged as Weed grinned and said, “Sure, Phoebe. You’d be a good Flora.” Phoebe beamed.

“Grub, you gonna be the guards again?” Garrett asked.

“Yup,” he answered. Grub was a lad of few words. He liked being the guards because he got to jump off the rocks into the pool below. The splashes were beautiful to behold.

“I’m still gonna be Caine,” Sparrow insisted.

“Caine wasn’t even there,” Weed argued.

“I know, but we can do the ship thing first.” Sparrow had apparently planned this all out. She skipped out onto a large rock in midstream. “Avast, ye scurvy dogs! Beware the wrath of Prince Caine!” she snarled in her most menacing pirate voice.

“Oh, let her be Caine,” Garrett acquiesced. “And see, if she wants to do the ship thing, you’re better off being Corwin,” Garrett argued with perfect nine-year-old logic.

“I reckon,” Weed answered with a shrug. He took up a position on another rock and challenged Sparrow-Caine. The battle was pitched and intense, full of pretend blood and make-believe gore. Both children ended up soaked as each tried to board the other’s rock-ship. Finally, as Weed-Corwin was about to be taken, he called out to Garrett-Bleys on the shore. “Bleys, get me outta here!”

Garrett did an exaggerated magical hand waving and Weed leaped from his rock to the shore. He clasped Garrett’s hand and plowed into him as if his friend had actually pulled him off his ship.

Having conquered Weed-Corwin’s rock, Sparrow-Caine cursed at his escape. “Curses!” she shouted. “He escaped again!” She cackled a most evil laugh. “If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll burn out his eyes!”

“Good one, Sparrow,” Grub complimented her creativity.

“Thanks, Grub,” Sparrow nodded in her own voice, before once again becoming the evil Prince Caine.

Back on shore, there was much congratulating and back-slapping between Garrett-Bleys and Weed-Corwin. Long enough for Grub and Sparrow, now playing guards, to take up their swords and command positions farther up the streambank., alongside the pool. This well-rehearsed scene had obviously been played out before. Phoebe also climbed to the highest tower of the castle to confer with Pretend-King Eric and watch the action from a safe distance.

Garrett-Bleys led the way on the narrow path up the bank, sword a-blazing. Grub, who had taken off his shirt, cracked swords with him once, twice, three times before falling to his “death” with a scream and a splash. The children all paused to look over the side like Olympic judges watching the high diver. The scene was then repeated with Sparrow taking the dive, fully clothed. After each guard fell, he (or she) scrambled out of the water and climbed back up the rock to face the invaders.

About halfway up the hill, Garrett-Bleys pretended to tire. He huffed and puffed dramatically as his sword swung more slowly. Finally, with a great shove, Grub pushed him over the side. On the way down, Garrett-Bleys did the magical hand waving again, just before hitting the water. He, however, did not scream. Everyone knows Princes of Amber don’t scream.

Once his part was done, Garrett joined Grub and Sparrow as a guard to fight Weed-Corwin. When they reached the top of the hill, Grub and Sparrow pounced on Weed, knocking him to the ground. They pinned his arms and legs as Garrett strode up to them in a new role, holding a large branch-scepter. “I, King Eric, command that Prince Corwin be thrown in the dungeons and left there FOREVER!” King Garrett-Eric shouted regally.

“Don’t forget to burn out his eyes,” prompted Phoebe quietly from behind.

“Oh, yeah,” Garrett corrected himself. In his kingly voice, he continued, “But first, we’ll burn out his eyes so my coronation will be the last thing he ever sees!”

Sparrow looked positively gleeful as she resumed her Caine role. Weed writhed on the ground, yelling, “Noooooo…!” as Sparrow held a stick menacingly over his face.

“ZZsshh…” came the sizzling sound from Sparrow’s lips as Weed played it up good. “AAAAhhhhrrrr…!”

Then they all they picked up Weed and dragged him behind the big rock that was their dungeon. “And THAT’S what we do with traitors,” Garrett proclaimed triumphantly after slamming the pretend door shut.

“Yup,” nodded Grub as Phoebe made a show of dusting off her hands, marking the end of the game.

“Hey, ya think they’ll do that to Prince Bleys too when they catch him?” Sparrow asked the group.

Grub and Weed looked at Sparrow like she had four heads. “Ah, Sparrow…Prince Bleys is dead.” Weed said as if he was speaking to the village idiot.

“How do you know…?” she countered mysteriously. “They never did find him, did they, Garrett?” The way she turned to Garrett indicated that the two of them had discussed this before.

“No…” Garrett began cautiously.

Weed and Grub turned on him. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone as daft as her,” Weed grinned incredulously.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say,” Garrett shrugged. “Me grandda did say they never found his body. He went lookin’, too, to see if he could find any pieces, but he didn’t see nothin’.” Phoebe cringed at the thought.

Weed looked skeptical. “But he fell off the cliff. ‘Bout a thousand feet. Straight down. Nothin’ left but a splatter.”

“But there wasn’t, though,” Garrett argued. “No splatter, no nothin’.” He leaned into the group conspiratorially. “I think it was magic and he got away.” Sparrow, who always loved a mystery, nodded enthusiastically.

“Ain’t no such thing as magic,” stated Grub.

“Is too,” Sparrow chimed. “Me dad said he once saw Prince Gerard just fade away in a rainbow…”

“What was he drinkin’,” Weed interrupted with a snigger. Grub sniggered along with him.

“Nothing. He was workin’,” she answered indignantly. “Anyway, the Prince started talkin’ to thin air, then stuck his hand out and just … disappeared in a sparkly rainbow.” She fanned her fingers for emphasis.

“Hey, I’ve heard of that too,” Garrett remembered. “Dad’s Aunt Fern works up at the castle. She saw that happen once, a long time ago. I don’t remember which one of ‘em it was, though.”

Weed and Grub continued to chuckle. Sparrow would not be swayed. “Well, you just laugh, Master Know-It-All. There’s something there and I know it. I’ll bet you five Pritchel rings Bleys comes back someday.”

Weed promptly stuck out his hand. “You’re on. Garrett, you’re a witness.”

Garrett grinned and nodded once. “You got it,” he confirmed as he placed his hand on top of theirs for the ritual. “It’s…a…bet,” they chanted in unison, shaking their clasped hands up and down with each syllable.

“Well, if he does come back, he deserves whatever he gets,” Weed went on. “My dad says he’s a traitor to the Crown.”

“I reckon,” Garrett agreed. “But if Prince Eric wasn’t the King yet, does it still count?”

“‘Course it does,” Weed stated authoritatively. “He’s the King’s oldest son. Close enough.”

“Nope. Prince Benedict is,” corrected Grub.

“Whatever,” Weed dismissed. “He’s the oldest one here. So it counts.”

Silence descended over the boys as they considered the intricacies of royal politics. It was quickly broken by a timid giggle from behind them. The boys turned to see Phoebe hugging her knees and smiling widely at them.

“What?” Weed demanded.

“You all sound like your fathers,” she laughed.

“They DO!” Sparrow squealed, laughing along with her sister.
Garrett and Grub looked at each other and started laughing as well. Finally, Weed’s self-importance began to crumble and he too grinned in spite of himself.

Garrett leaned over to Sparrow and said in mock-secrecy, “I think Prince Corwin needs to go for a swim.”

She leaned past him to gaze over at Weed mischievously. So did Grub.

As his friends descended upon him, Weed jumped up and leaped into the pool below, crying, “I’m going!” The rest of the children, even Phoebe, splashed right in behind him.

Follow up: the trackback URL for this entry is: http://www.whiterose.org/MT/mt-tb.cgi/5368

1 Comments

Arref
May 3, 2005 8:39 AM

Thanks, B. That was splendid.

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