by Bruce Lansky
They each agreed to the other’s condition and were married.
After some time passed, a man came to speak with the young wife, who had become known for her wisdom. “Help me, please,” the man begged. “I need your advice.”
“Tell me what is wrong, for you look very troubled, sir,” she answered. And the man told her his story.
“My partner and I share a barn. He keeps his wagon there, and I keep my horse there. Well, last night my horse gave birth to a foal under the wagon. So my partner said the foal belonged to him. We argued and fought and then brought our dispute to your husband. Unfortunately, he judged that my partner was right. I protested, but he didn’t change the decision. Now I must give the foal to my partner. What can I do?”
The young woman felt sorry for the man and gave him some advice. Following her instructions, he went to the nobleman’s well with a fishing pole, put some bait on a hook, and dropped the line into the well. When the nobleman rode by the well and saw the man, he stopped and asked, “What are you doing?”
The man replied, “I am fishing in the well.”
The nobleman started to laugh and asked, “Don’t you know that you can’t catch fish in a well?”
“Well,” he replied, “if a wagon can give birth to a foal, then I can catch fish in a well.”
The nobleman burst out laughing. Then he asked the man, “Tell me, how did you think of this idea?”
When the man answered, “I told my story to your wife and she took pity on me,” the nobleman became very angry and went looking for his wife.
When he found her, he said, “You promised not to interfere with my judgments, but you did not keep your promise. Now I must send you back to your father’s home.”
“You are right, my husband,” she said. “But before I leave, let us dine together one last time.” The nobleman agreed to this request.
At dinner the nobleman drank a great deal of wine, for his wife kept refilling his cup. As a result he soon became very sleepy. As soon as he was asleep, the wife signaled to the servants to pick him up and put him in the carriage next to her, and they returned to her father’s home.
The next morning when the nobleman woke up, he looked around and realized where he was. “How did I get here? What is the meaning of this?” he shouted.
“You may remember, dear husband, that you made an agreement with me,” she answered. “You promised that if you sent me away, I would be able to take with me whatever I treasured most in your house. What I treasure most in your house is you. So that is why I took you with me.”
The nobleman laughed, embraced his wife, and said, “Knowing how much you love me, I now realize how much I love you. Let us return to our home.”
And they did go home, where they lived with love and respect for many happy years.
The Royal Joust
AN ORIGINAL STORY BY BRUCE LANSKY
Lady Rowena looked at the empty chair at the breakfast table and then at Lindsey. “Where is your brother? If he doesn’t hurry up, he’ll be late for the tournament.”
“Don’t worry, Mother. Reggie won’t miss the finals of the Royal Joust. I’ll see to that,” Lindsey answered.
When she knocked on Reggie’s bedroom door, Lindsey thought she heard a moan. As she opened the door, she noticed that Reggie’s curtains were drawn. He was still in bed. Stepping into the room, she realized he was moaning—and talking to himself.
“Oh, no! I can’t move!” Reggie repeated this lament over and over.
“You can’t stay in bed, Reggie. Today is the last day of the tournament, so you’d better roll your aching body out of bed and into your armor. Then ride over to North Hampton by noon, or you’ll be disqualified.”
“I want to, but I can’t. I was sideswiped by Sir Garth’s horse yesterday. I have no idea how I stayed in my saddle. Now I can’t ride, I can’t walk, I can’t even get out of bed,” explained Reggie.
“Reggie, today is the last day of the tournament, and you’re still undefeated. This is your big chance. At least give it a try.”
“Sorry,” said Reggie, “I hate to let you down. Would you mind riding to North Hampton to tell the tournament officials I’m withdrawing from the competition?”
“No problem, Reggie. I was planning to go anyway, to watch you win. No one in the tournament has worked harder than you. I wish I could take your place and bring back a trophy for you.”
“So do I!” said Reggie. “Too bad they don’t let girls compete.”
Lindsey thought about what he said. It bothered her that Reggie would have to drop out of the tournament on the final day. She and Reggie had been training all year. Every day, weather permitting, Reggie’s page, Giles, would help them suit up in armor and hoist them onto chargers so they could joust with padded lances. Reggie was bigger and stronger than Lindsey, but Lindsey was a skilled rider, better able to guide her horse to precisely the right place at the right time. She was almost impossible to hit, let alone unseat. And Giles knew enough to keep his mouth shut about a girl learning the knightly arts.
“You don’t mind if I borrow your charger for the trip, do you?” asked Lindsey.
“No problem,” Reggie responded, even though it was unusual to ride a charger to town. “Lightning could use the exercise.”
“Thanks, Reggie. I’ll send them a message they won’t soon forget.”
Lindsey explained to her mother that Reggie had asked her to let the tournament officials know he was unable to compete. Then she hurried to find Giles, for without a page to help her, she couldn’t put her plan into action. Giles helped Lindsey put on Reggie’s suit of armor and saddle up Lightning. Together, they set off at a trot on the road to North Hampton.
Lindsey and Giles reached North Hampton just as the tournament was about to begin. The crowd milled about in a festive mood while the knights were hoisted onto their horses. No one noticed that Lindsey (disguised as Reggie) was already mounted.
Anticipation built as each contestant rode onto the field. There would be three rounds of competition with eight contestants in the first round, four in the second, and two in the third. Lindsey had drawn Sir Wilton, one of the tallest knights on the circuit, as her first opponent.
With her helmet on and her visor down, Lindsey rode past the tournament officials, dipping her lance in the traditional salute to the king and queen. Then she lined up in Reggie’s place at the edge of the field, opposite Sir Wilton. Trumpets blew a fanfare, and the tournament was under way.
On the first pass, Lindsey ducked under Sir Wilton’s lance and managed to strike him on the shoulder. Although Sir Wilton was stunned, he remained in his saddle.
On the second pass, Lindsey guided Lightning inside toward Sir Wilton, whose horse shied away. Sir Wilton dropped his lance as he grabbed for the reins with both hands to gain control of his horse. That’s when Lindsey’s lance struck him and knocked him out of his saddle.
As was the custom, Lindsey rode up to where the king and queen were seated on the reviewing stand and again lowered her lance. A murmur of surprise went through the crowd when she did not lift her visor. Lindsey didn’t care; she’d made it to the second round.
Her next opponent was Sir Rockwell, last year’s champion. As Lindsey lined up at the end of the field opposite him, she wondered how she could possibly unseat such a seasoned opponent. The trumpets blared and both horses galloped toward each other at breakneck pace.
Suddenly, Lindsey reigned in Lightning. The horse whinnied and dug in its heavy hooves. Sir Rockwell swung his lance away to avoid hitting Lightning, because injuring a horse meant instant disqualification. But Lindsey kept her lance trained on Sir Rockwell as he swept past her. The blow hit him squarely. He fell hard and didn’t get up. Sir Rockwell seemed unconscious as his page carried him off the field, but a bucket of cold water quickly revived him.
Again Lindsey saluted the king and queen. Again she kept her visor shut. This time the crowd buzzed. People wondered why “Reggie” would not acknowled
ge the praise of the royal couple and the applause of the crowd by showing his face.
As Lindsey watched the other semifinalists compete, she saw Sir Gavilan unhorse his opponent in a single pass. The crowd cheered as Sir Gavilan lifted up his visor and lowered his lance to the king and queen. Clearly, he would be the crowd’s favorite in the finals.
As both Lindsey and Sir Gavilan mounted their horses for the final round, he called to her, “If you won’t open your visor, I’ll just have to knock your helmet off.”
Lindsey rode to her end of the field without saying a word. “Tongue-tied?” Sir Gavilan called out. Again, Lindsey didn’t answer.
As the trumpets blared to start the final round, Sir Gavilan took off at a full gallop. But Lindsey merely trotted toward him, then stopped. Sir Gavilan was puzzled and lowered his lance. Lindsey suddenly spurred Lightning forward and would have scored a direct hit on Sir Gavilan had he not blocked her lance with his shield. He slipped to the right and almost lost his balance, but he managed to hang onto his horse with his strong legs.
Sir Gavilan’s smile had been knocked off his face. He was worried as he prepared for the second pass. At the sound of the trumpets, the horses surged toward each other once again. This time, Sir Gavilan did not drop his guard. He kept his lance aimed directly at Lindsey. And even though Lindsey swerved toward him, he did not lower his lance.
Instead of trying to strike him with her own lance, Lindsey put all her strength and that of Lightning behind her shield as it met Sir Gavilan’s lance. Shield crashed against lance with terrible force, and the blow knocked the lance out of Sir Gavilan’s hand. It clattered, useless, to the ground.
Without a lance, Sir Gavilan had to draw his sword for the third pass; he was now at a distinct disadvantage. Bravely he drove his horse toward Lindsey, trying to get close enough to strike. But Lindsey swerved away to maintain her advantage and struck Sir Gavilan with her lance, bouncing him out of the saddle.
She had won. The tournament was over.
To a rising swell of cheers, Lindsey rode to the reviewing stand and waved to acknowledge the ovation. Without lifting her visor, she dismounted and bowed to the king and queen. The queen then presented the winner’s trophy to Lindsey, who held it above her head as the crowd applauded thunderously. Then Lindsey mounted Lightning and rode around the field, holding the trophy aloft. When she returned to the reviewing stand, Lindsey handed the trophy back to the head judge so it could be engraved and happily galloped toward home.
That evening, a tournament official arrived at Lindsey’s home and asked to see Sir Reginald. Lady Rowena greeted him instead, introducing herself and adding, “Reggie is in no condition to see any visitors. Please state your business to me.”
“I am Sir William, head judge of the Royal Joust. I am here to present the championship trophy to Sir Reginald. His name has been engraved in silver upon it.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. Reggie had to drop out. He has been in bed all day.”
Sir William was taken aback. “This is quite confusing. We all watched Sir Reginald win three jousts, unseating Sir Wilton, Sir Rockwell, and Sir Gavilan. The queen herself presented the trophy.”
“Are you sure it was Reggie?” asked Lady Rowena.
“Well, he was riding the same horse he’s been on all week, and wearing his usual armor—”
“But did you ever see his face?” interrupted Lady Rowena.
“Now that you mention it, Sir Reginald caused quite a stir by refusing to lift his visor before the king and queen. Rather odd, if you ask me,” Sir William replied.
“Lindsey! Come here this minute!” Lady Rowena’s voice rang throughout the castle. Lindsey appeared so quickly, she must have been nearby listening to the conversation.
“Lindsey, didn’t you inform Sir William that Reggie was injured and would have to drop out of the tournament?”
“No, Mother, I did not.”
“Did you ride to North Hampton on Reggie’s horse, Lightning?”
“Yes, Mother, I did.”
“You weren’t, by any chance, wearing Reggie’s armor, were you?”
Lindsey looked first at her mother, then at Sir William. “Yes, Mother, I was.”
Lady Rowena smiled at her daughter. “Lindsey, I’m proud of you.” Turning to Sir William, she said, “It is my pleasure to inform you that my daughter, Lindsey, and her brother, Reginald, have won the Royal Joust together.”
“This is quite irregular! In fact, it’s ... it’s ... unheard of!” Sir William stammered.
Now it was Lindsey’s turn to speak. “You would not have allowed me to compete if I had asked to take Reggie’s place. So I took his place and kept my visor down so I would not be recognized.”
Sir William frowned.
“Sir William, I would remind you of your duty as head judge to congratulate the winners,” said Lady Rowena with a broad smile.
Sir William shook Lindsey’s hand grudgingly. “By all means, congratulations are in order,” he replied.
“I don’t suppose you’d mind taking the trophy back and engraving Lindsey’s name next to Reggie’s?” Lady Rowena asked.
“Under the circumstances, I don’t believe I have a choice,” sputtered the befuddled judge.
Lindsey was dying to tell Reggie that they had won the Royal Joust together, but he could not be roused from a very deep sleep. So the good news would have to wait till morning.
Chardae’s Thousand and One Nights
ADAPTED BY CRAIG HANSEN FROM THE “SCHEHERAZADE” STORY IN THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
When Sultan Malik first came to power, the people of Persia rejoiced. Unlike his father, a harsh and merciless ruler, Malik listened to his subjects and often freed those he judged to be falsely accused of wrong-doing.
Many people also admired the sultan’s lovely wife, Kalila, judging that it was his great love for her that aided Malik in ruling so wisely. Kalila was everything Malik could want in a wife: a gracious hostess, a talented singer, a thoughtful advisor, and a trustworthy friend.
For seven years Malik and Kalila ruled Persia with fairness and justice. Then, in the rainy season of their seventh year, Kalila came down with a grave illness. The court doctors did what they could to save her, but nothing worked. The sickness overtook Kalila so suddenly that she died within a week of the day she first felt ill.
The sultan ordered a monument built to the memory of his beloved Kalila, and when the rainy season ended, he buried her beneath the monument in the east corner of the royal courtyard. All the people of Persia mourned with their ruler. On the night of her funeral, when he was alone at the site of her grave, Malik swore, “By Allah, I shall never love another, Kalila, as I have loved you.”
A full year passed as the sultan mourned for his dead wife. Each day he spent hours sitting beside her grave. He began to neglect his official duties and became short-tempered with those who came before him seeking justice.
The people of Persia grew worried, for Kalila had never given birth to an heir. In spite of this, the sultan showed no signs of wishing to marry again. Finally Jamal, the grand vizier and the sultan’s most trusted advisor, confronted Malik.
“O Great Sultan, rule forever,” Jamal said. “If I may be so bold, do you not think it is time to take a new wife?”
“Why should I take a new wife?” Malik asked, his voice weary and bitter. “The woman I loved is dead. Who could ever replace her?”
“This is not just about you, Malik. You are the sultan. The people expect you to produce a wise and benevolent heir who will follow in your footsteps.”
At this Malik grew agitated, but he understood the value of Jamal’s advice. “Perhaps you are correct. Seek out a new wife for me. I shall give you one year. But be forewarned: I will do this for my people, for I can never love again.”
So Jamal set out on a journey across the great land of Persia in search of a woman who could please the still-grieving sultan. He talked to many women, all of whom were eager to marr
y the sultan. When a year had passed Jamal returned with the woman he felt would most please Malik.
“O Great Sultan, rule forever,” Jamal said with a flourish. “I have completed my journey and behold, I present to you Rihana, daughter of Salim, your most faithful subject in the mountains to the north.”
When Rihana entered, Malik was amazed, for she looked exactly like Kalila. “You have served me well, Jamal,” Malik said. “Let the wedding preparations begin.”
Now, it was the custom of the land that if a wife displeased her husband, he could divorce her by simply telling her so three times. Such women were then forced to return to the house of their fathers in disgrace, unable to marry again. For as long as anyone could remember, no sultan had ever divorced his wife, because it brought great shame not only on the woman, but on the royal throne as well.
But on the night of their wedding, Malik asked Rihana to sing him a song before bedtime, just as his beloved Kalila had done. “I am sorry, but my singing is so poor, I am afraid it will offend your ears,” Rihana said.
At this, Malik became angry and told Rihana, “I divorce you.”
The next day, Malik invited some visitors from a distant kingdom to a great party thrown in their honor. But when they arrived, Rihana did not greet them in the accustomed manner; no one had ever taught her the fine points of court etiquette. Again the sultan grew angry and, in front of his guests, told Rihana, “I divorce you.”
Soon afterward, when Malik told Rihana he had to leave the court for a few days to supervise the defense of a province that had been attacked by enemy forces, she blurted out, “Please do not leave me.”
Malik then knew he had made a mistake and told his wife, “You are a bad advisor, for you put your own needs ahead of those of the people of Persia.” Then, for the third time he said, “I divorce you. Go, return to the house of your father.” And so she did.
