The Four Gifts of the King

by R. Scott Rodin

  Cassandra glowered at her. “I know all too well the best use of the Quash. And I see that you have found out the secret of the paving mixture. Well, that is fine with me because I will have you both turned over to the guards as soon as we are down the Ascender.”

  Steward stiffened. She had to be shown. She had to know. “You’re wrong. You don’t know the real purpose of the Quash and sash. And regardless of what you plan to do to me, I will fulfill the king’s command and show you.”

  Steward climbed off his horse, untied his own Quash, and removed the sling from it. He walked over to the stream running along the path and scooped fresh water from it. Then, draping the sash over his arm, he walked to Cassandra. Before she could react, he removed her foot from the stirrup, untied her sandal, dipped the sash in water, and began to wash her foot.

  She froze. But only for a moment. She kicked the Quash from Steward’s hands. It went flying, just missing his head.

  “Idiot! Who do you take me for? You think the Quash is nothing more than a washbasin? Is this more of your trickery?” She looked at Astrid—it was the look of betrayal.

  “No, Cassandra, it’s the truth.” But before Astrid could continue, something caught Cassandra’s attention.

  Steward turned and saw it too. In the distance, silhouetted against the azure sky, was the roofline of a great house.

  Cassandra gloated. “That must be Donturnates’s house. You’ve lost! Your little ruse has failed. Come. Let me show you the purpose of my ramp building!” She spurred her horse to a gallop.

  Steward jumped on his own horse, and they followed in rapid chase behind her.

  The castle soon came into full view. At first it looked to be a magnificent structure. Towers with parapets rose on six sides, and a large road led to mighty gates. Ivy grew up the walls, and a stream of cool, clear water ran along the entire length of the front of the castle.

  Steward swallowed hard. Had their plan failed? But as they turned the final corner on the approach to the impressive mansion, the reality of the situation came into full view. The castle was only partly finished. The walls on the north side were nearly complete, but the south and west walls were still under construction, and the east walls weren’t even started. More surprising was the clear evidence that no construction had gone on there for years. The partly completed walls were covered in thornbushes, and the ground around the mansion was overtaken with heavy brush. This was not just an incomplete construction site…

  It was an abandoned project.

  The whole scene took on an eerie feel, as though someone had packed up and left right in the middle of the work. What could make someone do such a thing?

  Steward guided his horse up the main path to the gates, and his eye caught the movement of a figure walking within the house’s courtyard.

  Cassandra must have seen it too. She called out, “Donturnates, are you there? We are here to greet you. May we come in?” She dismounted, peering toward the figure.

  Steward and Astrid also dismounted and examined the ruins of the project. It was even more overgrown than Steward first thought. What could have happened to Donturnates and his grand castle home?

  Just then the main gates creaked open and a thin young man walked out. He was ashen at the site of visitors.

  The young man’s voice shook as he spoke. “May…may I help you? And how did you get here?”

  Cassandra stepped forward. “I am Cassandra of the House of Bendor. This is my sister Astrid and…her bodyguard. We are here to visit Donturnates. Is this his house?”

  “Yes, this is his house, but he’s not here. He’s never here. He lives and works every day at the ramp. I am just a caretaker who guards the house.”

  Cassandra pulled her head back in disbelief. She scoffed. “We’ve just come up the ramp from Ascendia, and we saw no one there.”

  “Oh, I do not mean the ramp from Ascendia, but the new ramp. You’ll find it just a short distance farther down the road.”

  Cassandra looked back at Astrid. “There’s a new ramp? I must see what he is up to.”

  She was up on her horse and away before Steward or Astrid could say a word. They mounted and tried to catch up to her, but Cassandra arrived first at the scene. As Astrid and Steward approached, Steward was sure his eyes must be deceiving him.

  Cassandra slid from her horse and stood frozen for several moments. In front of them was a massive cliff and, in the distance, a mountain higher than Steward had ever seen before.

  But that was not what fixed his attention.

  Near the cliff’s edge, a single figure was working. He was small in stature, hunched over and frail. His face was ashen gray, and he struggled to complete even the smallest movement. As the three drew nearer, Steward could see that he had gathered two small mounds of stones fashioned into little walls about twenty feet apart. They were crude in construction, and as the bent-over man stooped, picked up a stone, and struggled to carry it to the wall and place it on top of the others, Steward surmised that even the modest piles of rocks must have taken months to complete. The hunched-over man stopped, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

  Steward had never seen a more pathetic sight.

  Cassandra walked up to the man, who startled when he saw her. Then his eyes widened and his mouth formed a sinister grin. “So, the great Cassandra could not wait to see how badly she’s been beaten. Well, take a good look at what you have yet to achieve. While you are still toiling in the hot Ascendia sun to reach this mountain, I have already conquered it.”

  Cassandra looked back down the road from where they had ridden. “But why did you stop building your castle?”

  The man circled in front of her. “Why? Why? Can you not see what’s right in front of you? Open your eyes and look at that!” He swept his hand across the skyline toward the mountain looming in front of them. “Imagine what must be up there. We all thought that this mountain was the goal. That here we would find the contentment and happiness we all thirst for.” Then he drew close, and Steward almost stepped back, so wild were the man’s eyes and distorted his face.

  “But, Cassandra, it’s not here. No, it’s not here. It’s up there. There is where we must go. Everything we want is up there. This is just a transitional place. We must keep building a new ramp, and when we reach that mountainside, then we will find it!”

  Steward felt a lump in his throat at the man’s desperation. He’s losing his mind.

  Cassandra looked around her. “But you have so much here. This is a wonderful place. Your mansion is huge. There are forests and streams and flowers and so much here. Why don’t you stay here?”

  Donturnates glared at her. “Stay here? Stay here? And I thought you were my greatest competitor. How can you be content here when there is such a great mountain calling to you? The same thirst that called you to this mountain will call you to the next one. You say the forests and meadows are fine here? My dear deluded Cassandra, the forests and streams and meadows in the lowland are every bit as grand as these. But they weren’t enough for you. No, you were quick to leave them behind and give your life to ramp building so that you may stand in this place. Now that you are here, the same drive will keep you building to the next mountain—”

  “And the next,” Astrid said.

  “Yes, and the next.” Donturnates sneered. He spun on his heel and went back to his work. “Whatever it takes.” He picked up a battered, dented Quash. With tired, feeble motions he began filling it with dirt.

  Cassandra looked down at Donturnates’s hands as he gripped the Quash. They were cut and bloody from the work. Such pain, and for what?

  She looked around at all the beauty of this place and watched the figure before them struggle in the impossible task of building yet another ramp to yet another paradise.

  She looked up at the mountain looming in front of her. If she did make it up her own Ascender, how long would she be content here knowing another mountain loomed? How soon would she wonder what was up there? How long before
she would be just like Donturnates? Hunched over, pathetic, and never at peace. Always ramp building. Always yearning for the next mountain. And what if that wasn’t the end? What if there was another mountain? And another. And…

  Shock jolted through her.

  I’ve been a fool! Her heart pounded and her hands trembled. How could I have been so blind? Astrid is right. There will always be another mountain.

  As this truth struck deeply, piercing her heart and soul, Cassandra turned away. She looked to the woods, to the beauty of the meadow and the flowers…

  And cried out.

  Undone.

  Wasted. All these years, all this energy, all her hopes…wasted. And on what? On a lie! Donturnates was right! The forest and meadows here were no more beautiful, no more wondrous than those in Ascendia. This place, her desired paradise, was just like where she’d grown up. It was beautiful and wondrous, but so was Ascendia. She’d just been too blind to see it. Too determined to reach her goal. So determined that—

  Oh! The terrible things she’d done!

  She looked around. What was she to do now? What could she do to make up for it all? How could she?

  Of course. Steward had told her. At least he’d given her a place to start.

  Fighting tears, she untied her Quash and held it in her hands. Her symbol of power and progress. She ran her fingers over its fine, smooth edges…

  What would happen if she used the Quash as Steward said the king intended? She looked at Donturnates as he stumbled between the rock pile and his sad little ramp, and foreign emotions flooded her.

  Pity.

  Compassion.

  She walked over to a small stream trickling out of the mountainside and filled her Quash with cool water. She placed the sash over her arm and walked to Donturnates.

  He startled as she approached, but she didn’t hesitate.

  “Here, let me show you how a Quash is meant to be used.”

  He watched as she dipped the sash in the water, took his bleeding hand in hers, and began to wash his wounds.

  Frozen. Disbelief.

  Anger.

  Donturnates snatched his hand back and spat at Cassandra. “Get away from me! Who do you think you are? I am the great Donturnates! I beat you and everyone else to the mountain. I am the greatest ramp builder in all the kingdom!” He backed away as if the three of them were somehow contagious. Or mad.

  He continued shouting at them, and Cassandra wanted to weep. It was hopeless. He would never accept her help.

  Someone touched her arm, and she turned to meet Steward’s gaze.

  “Come. It’s time for us to leave.”

  Steward and the two sisters mounted their horses and trotted away. As they left the cliff’s edge and entered the forest, they could still hear Donturnates shouting.

  “How dare you pity me! Pity yourselves. You will never be as great as I am. You will never reach the mountainside. You have lost, and I have won. Do you hear me? I have won! You should bow down to me. Don’t you understand? I have won, I have won!”

  Finally, the bitter voice trailed off and gave way to the sound of the stream running along at the path’s edge. Steward glanced at Cassandra. She looked so…lost.

  They plodded on, passing the abandoned mansion, and through the forest, emerging back at the end of the ramp. The view back down into the valley was spectacular. Cassandra drew her horse to a stop and paused to take it in.

  “It’s beautiful.” She shook her head. “What a fool I’ve been.”

  Steward wanted to comfort her, but no words came. Then he caught the sound of a distant rumble. The crushers.

  Cassandra must have heard it too. She jerked at the reins of her horse. “I will stop this! No one will ever again die in the crushers. Not to build these ramps. Not for any reason. I will stop this today!”

  Astrid grabbed the reins of her sister’s horse before she could gallop off. “Cassandra, you’ll face great opposition when we return. People won’t believe you when you tell them about Donturnates or the next mountain.”

  Steward pulled up beside her. “Your heart has been changed, but how will you change the hearts of those who haven’t seen what you have?”

  Cassandra reached down and ran her hands along her Quash. Then she looked up at the sprawling city before her. “I will change minds and hearts by showing them how I’ve been changed. They may not listen to words, but they will pay attention to actions. First we must destroy the crushers. Then we’ll start using the Quash and sash for the king’s purposes.” She met Steward’s, then Astrid’s, eyes. “That is how we will change Ascendia—one act of service at a time.”

  Astrid looked out on the city and blew a short breath through her lips. “An entire generation has been raised to think that ramp building is the only way to happiness.”

  Cassandra’s determination was clear in the set of her jaw. “Then we’ll raise up a new generation to know the joy that comes from using the Quash to serve one another, to give life instead of taking life.” She looked back at Astrid. “And we’ll begin with Elopia.”

  “Huh, good luck with that one!” Steward couldn’t believe he’d actually said that out loud. But Cassandra and Astrid broke out in laughter.

  They eased their way back onto the ramp for the ride down. Steward looked at the peace on Cassandra’s face. She didn’t even look like the same person. Probably because she wasn’t! “Cassandra, what did you feel when you washed Donturnates’s hands?”

  She thought for a moment. “I guess it was a sense of certainty. A sense of rightness and completeness and…contentment.”

  Steward smiled. “That is what the king calls the Deep Peace. It’s his gift, and he desires that you know it every day.”

  Astrid smiled at her sister. “That peace guides you in knowing what is truly of the king. Whenever you are doing the king’s work, you will know it, even when times are hard.”

  “It’s a wonderful gift.” Cassandra looked toward the end of the ramp as it came more into view. “If only I might show them how to know it and experience it for themselves.”

  They arrived at the end of the ramp, where Zedekai and the ten warriors awaited them. They all smiled as they saw Cassandra’s face—the peace evident in her features. The plan had worked.

  Steward put a hand on Cassandra’s arm. “This is our friend and fellow warrior, Zedekai, and these are the king’s warriors.”

  As the sound of the crushers roared in the distance, Cassandra looked at the mighty warriors before her. “May I borrow them?”

  Zedekai didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” He turned to the warriors. “Do whatever she tells you, and then meet us at Pitcairn Moor when you have completed your work here.”

  Steward looked around. “Now where is Dunston?”

  Zedekai flipped his hand to the horizon. “He’s already on his way to Pitcairn Moor. He feels he failed the mission since Elopia made it to the ramp. We didn’t tell him you’d already left.” A sly smile flashed across his face.

  “Steward, look.”

  He turned to follow Cassandra’s gaze. A large contingent of Phaedra was making their way toward them—with Elopia in the lead.

  Cassandra put her hand on Astrid’s arm. “Quickly, you all must leave at once. I will contend with the Phaedra and Elopia. Your work here is done. Now it’s up to me. Please go, and hurry.”

  “I will miss you!” Astrid spoke through tears. “Remember, the king is always near you. Trust him, and the king’s Deep Peace will be with you.”

  Cassandra leaned forward and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Thank you. You have saved me. Please return soon and see what we’ve done in the king’s name. Deep Peace to you. Now ride!”

  The Phaedra were getting close enough to see who they were. Steward gathered his horse’s reins. “Come on, Astrid, we must go!”

  There was shouting and a rush of black robes as Steward, Astrid, and Zedekai rode down the side road leading past Creaker’s Tunnel. They rode hard and fast to the city g
ates. They held tightly in a darkened alleyway, and Steward watched Zedekai for his signal. When he gave it, they galloped through the gates and up into the hills beyond. Finally, out of danger, Steward reined his horse to a halt and looked back down on Ascendia.

  In the distance, he heard a great noise. “Look!” He pointed, and Astrid and Zedekai turned to Ascendia. In the fading light of day, they watched as the crushing machines came crashing down in clouds of dust and debris.

  Astrid put her hand to her mouth. “Good work, sister.”

  Steward looked at Astrid. “You were wonderful. Your plan worked, and now the liberation of Ascendia has begun.”

  She returned the smile. “One day I will return and work by Cassandra’s side for the full liberation of the city. But for now we have more to do than hours to do it. And we have a disheartened friend to find.”

  “To Pitcairn Moor then,” Zedekai shouted, and the three rode off into the Fungle Woods.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  As Alex read the last words, the bells in the steeple of St. Anne’s rang out their weekly four o’clock tribute to the great hymns of the faith, starting with “The Old Rugged Cross” followed by “Amazing Grace.”

  The Roberts children sat and soaked it in.

  All but Merideth. She muttered, “Whatever it takes. That’s a stake to the heart.”

  Reed overheard her. “Why’s that phrase so important?”

  Merideth leaned back, shook her head, and closed her eyes. She drew a breath and pushed it out through her pursed lips. She opened her eyes and looked around at her siblings.

  Might as well come clean.

  “You remember Margaret Erskine-Jones?”

  Alex reared back. “Whoa, yeah, the second coming of the iron lady, right?”

  Reed nodded. “She was in Congress for about a hundred years. No one wanted to challenge her. She was a piece of work, as I remember.”

  Anna looked at her sister. “You worked on her campaign, didn’t you?”

  Merideth folded her hands. “Yup, for one glorious summer. I admired her and relished every chance to watch her work. She was intimidating, confident, and shrewd.”