The Four Gifts of the King

by R. Scott Rodin

  This is where it had all begun.

  Astrid came to his side. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Petitzaros.”

  “It’s not been long enough for me.” Steward looked down and kicked the ground. “I spent the first night of my journey right here.”

  Zedekai joined them as Steward continued. “And this is where you and I sat when I left. I’ll bet if we look, we can find a few of the broken rings you smashed with your sword.”

  Zedekai pointed to him. “And you were wondering if I was evil in the flesh.” A slight smile crossed his lips.

  Steward nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” He stared at his friend for a long moment, keeping his eyes steady and his brow tight. Then they both roared with laughter.

  Astrid just shook her head and grinned. “You two. C’mon, we have work to do.”

  As they mounted, Dunston called out. “Where do we start in this awful place?”

  Steward pulled his reins and readied his horse to run. “To Trevor’s house, of course.”

  Zedekai rode to his side. “You mean Czartrevor?”

  Steward galloped off, shouting back, “No! Not after today!”

  Steward led the band down through the massive gates and into the streets already crowded with anxious citizens seeking the trappings of success. The presence of Steward and his warriors sent people scurrying for cover. As the entourage moved through the city, Steward sensed a familiar tension in the air. Ahead, Steward saw Phaedra hurrying through the street. They gathered in small groups under the colonnades near the city center.

  We must not engage in battle. We must keep from that for as long as possible.

  He signaled to the others. “Come, let’s ride!”

  They galloped onto a side street that took them through the southernmost part of the city into lesser Petitzaros. In this neighborhood of the poor and forgotten, no one took much notice of the band, and the Phaedra were nowhere to be seen.

  Steward reined in his horse. “Let’s stop here first.” He looked around at the dirt streets, rundown shops, and people clothed in simple clothes, even rags.

  Quite a contrast to the opulence of the gilded corridors of the city.

  “In the five years I lived in Petitzaros, I only visited here once. Early in my stay, I’d come to carry out my duty to share my wealth with the poor. That’s what I thought I was supposed to do. But once I got here, I was so unnerved and uncomfortable I just left a small gift and…ran.”

  “You never came back?” Astrid looked around.

  Steward shook his head. “Now that I’m back, I need to see these people for who they are.”

  Three children played in the street. Steward dismounted, seeing their eyes widen as he did so. They were surprised.

  But not afraid.

  He approached the boys and asked them their names.

  “I am James,” the first replied.

  “And where do you live, James?”

  “There.” He pointed to a small house made of mud brick, tin, and tarps. “These are my brothers, Jesse and Jacob.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I meet your parents?”

  The boys scanned the warriors’ fine clothes and weapons. James shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

  He ran to his house and soon returned with his mother and father. Astrid joined Steward, and he couldn’t restrain his sorrow as he watched the parents come to them.

  Tattered clothes, sickly appearance. This much poverty was unacceptable in a land so rich.

  The father spoke first. “What may we do for you, good knight?”

  “You can, my friend, tell me why you do not share in the wealth of this land? What keeps you here when there is so much abundance just blocks away?” He made sure there was no accusation in his voice, just curiosity.

  The father folded his hands together. “Do you know the golden bands worn by the wealthy and powerful of this land?”

  “I do.”

  The father continued. “They are earned by acts of selfishness and greed. They are multiplied when wealth is hoarded, and they are accumulated through work that is undertaken solely for that purpose. Look at my wrists.” The man held out his bare wrists. “I work harder than any of the kings of Petitzaros. Yet I have no bands. My work is not rewarded with wealth and power because I have no ambition to wealth and power.”

  Zedekai stepped forward. “But surely you want more than this?”

  “Yes, of course,” the mother responded. “We want new clothes for our children, and education and a future for them. We want everything every father and mother want. But this place will not allow the poor to prosper without their commitment to greed and selfishness. You cannot care for family, share your possessions, and set aside the thirst for power without also forfeiting your access to these other things.”

  The man slipped his arm around his thin wife. “I am afraid it is either the way of the czar or the way of poverty. There is no room for generosity without poverty, or compassion without cost.”

  Steward walked up and placed his hands on the man’s shoulders. “That day is now coming to an end. We will be back, and the liberation of Petitzaros will begin here.”

  Steward and Astrid mounted their horses and the band rode off. They returned to the wide boulevard that led past the gardens and gathering houses. Steward turned up a side road and soon arrived at the front gate of Czartrevor’s castle.

  The anxious gatekeeper looked past Steward and fixed his eyes on the Black Knight. He sprang from his post and disappeared into the palace.

  Zedekai laughed. “Looks like he remembered me.”

  Steward climbed down and walked up to the large palace doors. With both hands, he pounded the enormous bronze rings against the hard oak. The sound thundered throughout the palace. A second and a third time Steward pounded the doors, until a shout came from the other side.

  “Wait, wait! We will open the doors to you.”

  Steward stepped back, and the large doors swung open. He watched as the courtyard appeared, and standing in the middle of it was Czartrevor, surrounded by at least a hundred Phaedra.

  “Well, so much for keeping a low profile,” Astrid said under her breath.

  The rest of the band dismounted, and they all walked together through the doors and up to the waiting army of black-robed Phaedra.

  Steward walked straight to Trevor.

  “Czarsteward, is that really you? Oh, dear heaven, you gave us all such a fright! Welcome to you and your friends.” His supposed graciousness could not hide his nervousness and fear.

  Steward was shocked by Trevor’s appearance. He was disfigured by the weight of his chains and the deep wrinkles that engulfed his ashen face. He was so stooped over that he had to crane his neck to look up to talk to Steward. His eyes were lifeless, and his voice cracked as though he had to force out each word.

  Steward stepped closer. “My dear friend Trevor, you look terrible. What has this place done to you?”

  The wrinkled little man snorted in disdain. “Done to me? What do you mean? I am the one with the fine golden chains while you stand there with nothing to show for yourself. Do not pity me, for I pity you. When you disappeared from Petitzaros, we all expected the worst. That this demon—”

  Trevor spat the word out, pointing to Zedekai—“kidnapped you and brainwashed you to join the Tohu Wa-Bohu. And now I see that our greatest fears are true. Tell me, Steward, have you come back thinking that you can now overthrow Petitzaros and claim its wealth for yourself? Because if you do, you are quite mistaken and misguided, my old friend.”

  Trevor’s threatening tone grew in intensity, and the Phaedra drew in closer, preparing for the battle. From the corner of his eye, Steward saw his comrades place their hands on their swords. Though none drew their weapons, the scene grew tense as Steward looked down into his friend’s eyes.

  “I have not come to lay siege to Petitzaros, dear Trevor.” He let the sound of Trevor’s true name hang in the air. “I ha
ve come to set it free. And I shall begin with you!” With that, Steward drew his sword and lunged into the mass of Phaedra.

  The battle was intense but short. Although greater in number, the Phaedra were no match for the skill of the king’s finest. Empty black robes soon lay thick on the ground, and the remaining Phaedra withdrew, leaving a startled and shaken Trevor alone amid the warriors.

  “Please…please…do not kill me, Steward! I will give you all my wealth. Take everything—my Elixir, my palace, even my Bracelets. But please, spare my life!” Trevor managed to get even lower to the ground as he pleaded.

  Steward sheathed his sword and knelt next to his friend. He placed his hands on Trevor’s shoulders and straightened him to look in his eyes. “I have not come to kill you, my friend, but to give you back your life.” He drew his sword again.

  Trevor cowered and screamed as Steward brought his sword crashing down into the pile of golden rings that lay on the floor in front of his friend. The blow sent shards of metal flying through the air in every direction, and the sound echoed through the empty, gilded halls of the palace. Trevor looked up to see the remnants of broken rings, and he looked down to examine the few that were still attached to his wrists.

  “Look what you have done!” His voice shook with hate. “You might as well have killed me.”

  “No, Trevor, these rings are chains that have held your soul in bondage. Come with me and I will show you what real life looks like.” Steward pulled him to his feet—

  And Trevor stood.

  Straighter.

  He stared at the shattered golden links that lay around him and rubbed his shoulders as he stretched to straighten even more.

  Steward walked to the large mahogany chest behind Trevor’s throne and took from it the ornate bottle that held the Elixir of Mah Manon. He returned, mounted his horse, and pulled Trevor onto the saddle behind him.

  The band rode out of the palace.

  When the warriors were gone, the Phaedra emerged from hiding and began collecting the empty robes of their fallen comrades.

  One Phaedra looked at the others. “That cannot be Steward of Aiden Glenn. This is a trick of the king. Steward is dead. We saw him die on the steps of the king’s own throne room. This is a deception.”

  “Still,” a second Phaedra replied, “we must report this at once.”

  Three Phaedra were dispatched to carry the news across the Golden River.

  The riders galloped up the boulevard and turned down onto the dirt streets of lesser Petitzaros.

  Trevor protested. “What are we doing in this filthy place?”

  Steward was silent. He stopped again at the house of the three brothers, and he and the others dismounted. The father, mother, and three boys took cautious steps out from the doorway into the morning sun. Steward summoned them over. As they drew near, Steward pulled Trevor to his side.

  “I wish to introduce you to someone. This is my friend, Trevor.” Steward swept his hand toward the disgruntled, hunchbacked man.

  “Czartrevor!” he shouted at them.

  Steward ignored him. “Trevor is here to give you a most marvelous gift.” Steward removed the bottle of Elixir from his satchel.

  “No, you can’t! That belongs to me.” Trevor shook with anger.

  Steward stilled him with a look. “Surely you will not miss one small drop.”

  Trevor watched as Steward unstopped the bottle and moved to an open area in front of the rows of makeshift houses. People began to emerge from among the tangle of shacks to watch what was happening. Steward looked around at the faces of the poor of lesser Petitzaros and smiled at the transformation about to take place.

  He tipped the bottle on its side until a single drop of the potent Elixir fell from the rim and dropped into the dusty soil at his feet.

  At once, the ground exploded with life. Steward backed away as fruits and vegetables shot up from everywhere. Then the finest breads, meats, and cheeses emerged from the empty soil. Soon the entire square was filled with food and drink of all kinds, as much as the entire region of lesser Petitzaros would need.

  The people stood, mouths hanging open, staring at the banquet that had been created before them. Then all at once, like a bursting dam, delighted shouts and joyous laughter rang out so loudly Steward wagered it could be heard halfway across the valley. People came running from every direction, rejoicing as they plunged into the feast with total abandon.

  Steward worked his way over to Trevor, who still stood in a stunned silence as children ran past him on every side. “What do you think, my friend? Have you ever seen this much happiness in the gaudy homes and garish meeting halls of Petitzaros? And when, dear Trevor, was the last time you felt such pure joy as these, the poor?”

  Trevor watched the people then looked down at the few remaining links hanging from his heavy bands. He looked at the single thin Bracelet that hung from each of Steward’s wrists. “Steward…what was it like when you took these off?”

  “Absolutely liberating.”

  Trevor stood a little taller and lifted his head a little higher.

  The transformation taking shape in his friend made Steward smile. He held up the bottle of Elixir. “Just one drop did all that, Trevor. Imagine what it would mean to these people if they had the whole bottle.”

  Astrid reached out and took the bottle to examine it for herself. “They would probably make sure everyone had enough.”

  Trevor continued to stare at the feast. “And they would be thankful.”

  Astrid handed the bottle to Trevor. “This is how the king intended the Elixir to be used. This is its true purpose. Not that a few have everything, but that everyone would have what they need.”

  Trevor held the bottle up to the light. “There is enough Elixir in Petitzaros for everyone to have so much. How is it that these poor people had so little right here, in front of our very eyes?” As he spoke, he straightened more, his cheeks filled with color, and his eyes started to shine. He shook his head. “Steward, what is happening? It’s as though life is returning to my entire body!”

  Steward smiled at him. “Tell me what you are feeling right now.”

  Trevor pondered the question. “Light, settled, happy…even dare I say it…content.”

  “My dear Trevor.” Steward looked him in the eyes. “What you are feeling is the Deep Peace, and it’s the greatest gift from the king.”

  “It’s a feeling I don’t ever wish to lose. How do I keep it, Steward?”

  He was so proud of his friend. He was asking the right questions. He was sensing freedom. “You can only know the Deep Peace of the king when you know him and his purposes for your life. You keep the Deep Peace by setting aside everything that prevents you from hearing his voice.”

  “Steward, we have visitors.”

  At Zedekai’s words, Steward looked to find dozens of men and women from Petitzaros gathering at the edge of the courtyard. A few arrived in carriages, and a few walked, but the commotion of the feast brought them out to see what was causing such celebration.

  And there, throughout the growing crowd of Petitzaros’s finest, the Phaedra milled about, whispering into the ears of the Petitzaros elite, who nodded then shook their heads in disgust and resentment.

  “Look at their gold chains.”

  Steward heard Trevor’s low words and turned to see his friend staring at the wealthy people who had gathered.

  “How they glisten in the sun…”

  He looked at Steward, who recognized in Trevor’s eyes the yearning to hear the comforting whispers of the Phaedra assuring him that he was a good person, that his wealth was justified, and that his palace was nothing more than he deserved.

  Trevor stroked the bands on his wrists. He shook his head. “What have I done? I’ve lost my rings. My reputation. Prestige. Fame.” He looked back at the people feasting, and his lip curled. “Look at this mob! They don’t deserve this banquet.”

  Steward watched Trevor’s face begin to pale. His shoulder
s hunched ever so slightly. The deception of Petitzaros was calling him.

  “Dunston, I think we have need of your splendid spectacles!”

  At once the small figure came to Steward’s side. He reached into his waistcoat and produced the set of gold-rimmed glasses, which he presented to Trevor with notable ceremony.

  “What’s this? Who is this child, and what am I to do with these spectacles? I can see fine, thank you. And what I see is that I have been a fool to reject the finer things of Petitzaros.”

  Steward kept his voice even. “Trevor, you are so close to your freedom, but you will always be in bondage until you can see the world as the king wants you to see it.”

  “As it really is, you mean.” Dunston crossed his arms over his chest. “Not in the distorted way you have learned, but the way that is ordered by the king. And I am no child. I camped in these hills before the first castle was ever built, before the great lie was told to the people of this valley, and before the Phaedra began their campaign of quiet deception. Put on the glasses and see for yourself the reality of this scene.”

  Trevor snorted at Dunston but slid the glasses onto his nose. He looked up and caught his breath.

  Steward understood. Well he remembered the first time he looked through them. “Tell me what you see, my friend.”

  It took a few tries before Trevor could respond. “It is most startling! The poor people of lesser Petitzaros aren’t dirty or in rags. They are dressed in elegant robes that glisten like the finest silk. Their hair sparkles and their faces shine as if reflecting some wonderful warm light. Their eyes are bright, and their smiles and laughter are so sweet.”

  Trevor slid the glasses down and looked at the crowd without them.

  “And now?” Steward smiled encouragement.

  “When I look at them with just my eyes, the dirty garments of peasants return.” Trevor slid the spectacles back up his nose. “And now they are beautiful people feasting on the banquet in the square.” He frowned. “But if they look like this, then…”