Goldest and the Kingdom of Thorns

by Joanne Durda

  Deep within the woods, Esbri heard her, again, crying out to him. He reined in his horse and looked around. The other Gypsy Warriors rode past him. The Monks had pulled away from them a long, long time ago, and rode into their own kingdom as the Gypsy Warriors rode on to theirs. An impatient Carlos reined in his horse next to Esbri’s.

  “What is wrong with you, Esbri? You haven’t been the same since we left that accursed castle!” an exasperated Carlos told him.

  “I can hear Goldest calling to me. It is eerie. Something is not right,” a restless Esbri whispered to Carlos, as he turned his horse around, making tight circles.

  “Is she croaking?” Carlos laughed at his remark to Esbri. Esbri retaliated by giving Carlos a damning look.

  “But she is only a frog, Esbri! Now come, the hour is late. We must ride back to our own kingdom before the first scarlet rays of the sun touch the earth,” Carlos said as he turned his horse around towards the direction of the other Gypsy Warriors.

  “Think what you wish! I’m riding to the Thorn Castle. The Monks took what is not rightfully theirs,” Esbri remarked in a bitter tone of voice.

  Now, Carlos was maddened by all this. “What makes you think the Monks have her?”

  “I don’t know. Call it a gypsy feeling. I go now to my fate. Do whatever, Carlos!”

  Esbri spurred his horse in the direction of the Thorn Castle, giving Carlos no time to respond. Carlos gave Esbri’s back a look of rage and his face reddened. “That damn frog! She will be the death of us, yet!”

  Carlos went and collected the Gypsy Warriors who waited for Esbri and him to join them. Carlos had disgust written all over his face. I am tired, he thought to himself, and mumbled, “Mistakes are made when you are tired. But those words of – ‘I go now to my fate’ – mean something to a gypsy, and it could be or lead to an unpleasant or disastrous situation.”

  “Where’s Esbri?” a Gypsy Warrior asked as they watered their horses in a brook.

  “We ride to the Thorn Castle,” Carlos stated bluntly as he watered his horse, also.

  “But why is that, Carlos? We saw the Monks turning off towards their own castle…”

  “You don’t really want to know. Esbri is riding there, and I fear for his safety. That is the only real reason,” Carlos told the other Gypsy Warriors.

  The superstitious gypsies drew back, but they knew that they were bound by blood, so they relented and gave in.

  “We must stay together, fight together, and lay our superstitions to rest. Or we would not be gypsies!” another Gypsy Warrior informed them.

  “We must break the unrighteous spell that has been cast upon Esbri,” Carlos quietly told them.

  They all agreed, and turned their fatigued mounts in the direction of the Thorn Castle.

  “This is going to be another long, insane night,” Carlos bellowed out to all.

  Carlos and the other worn-down Gypsy Warriors caught up to Esbri only because they rode like madmen as the moonbeams shone on their backs and pushed them onward. As they rode into the Kingdom of Thorns, the serene wind picked up and howled at them. Irate, pounding thunder followed the wind towards the unwelcome intruders, as the crackling lightning, which had taken on a waxy complexion, antagonized them. They approached the Thorn Castle. They all dismounted in haste and unsheathed their swords.

  “There be an unsettling strangeness here,” a Gypsy Warrior remarked, as his keen eyes panned the frightful area. They all felt like they were the hunted, even though they were the ones doing the hunting.

  The gypsies were disturbed with a worrying nervousness – something that they had never felt before, brave as they were. Even Carlos felt uneasy. Carlos and Esbri both noticed that no Monks were posted as guards.

  “Strange, there being no Monks to guard the castle at night,” Esbri remarked.

  “Let me remind you, Esbri, they have had a long night and day, just as we have had. They probably expect no trouble from any warriors until tomorrow, or maybe not even until a few more days are past. They want to rest –just like all of us here do,” Carlos stated with a mocking attitude brought on by his fatigue.

  “I’m sure they have all retired for what is left of the night. We should be safe enough. We are stronger because we are warriors,” a gypsy remarked.

  “We may be stronger, but crazed magic we do not practice. We are flesh. Remember that,” another Gypsy Warrior warned.

  “They are probably conjuring up something more evil in their sleep tonight – haunting nightmares shall be their dreams tonight!” another tired gypsy mumbled.

  “I’m going in to look for her. You and the others can keep the Monks at bay if they make any type of appearance,” Esbri informed Carlos.

  “This is ridiculous, Esbri! Let’s go home. The men are spent – and truthfully, so am I,” an irritated Carlos whispered loudly.

  Esbri ignored him and climbed up the stone steps leading into the Thorn Castle. He opened the unbolted door and went inside. Strange, this door being open like this, thought Esbri, with an uncanny chill mounting inside of him. Someone must be waiting up for me… With this one thought in mind, a suspicious Esbri made sure that he was more than just careful.

  Carlos and the Gypsy Warriors watched Esbri go inside.

  “Dare I ask, who or what does Esbri look for?” a curious Gypsy Warrior asked Carlos.

  “A frog!” exclaimed Carlos venomously.

  The Gypsy Warriors stared at one another with questioning looks. As exhausted as they all were, no one had any more to ask of Carlos.

  Inside the Thorn Castle, Esbri cautiously made his way through the shadows of the buildings. Many shadows made an appearance, as if to hide him. He peeped into a few rooms as he made his way upwards. The Monks appeared to be bedded down for the night, all in a deep sleep, each within their own rooms. He was sure they were all drugged with wine and other hallucinatory potions after the day’s fateful events for them all. The air of the castle hung heavy with the burning of frankincense. Esbri’s nose started to curl and his face was distorted with distaste for the heavy, strong smell.

  “The burning of frankincense is to remove unwanted influences. I wonder if it is meant for me,” said Esbri, and chuckled silently to himself.

  He saw a room with candlelight glowing from beneath the door. This room seemed to welcome him, and he took his chances by slowly opening the door to see if Goldest was in this room.

  Octagon, in his time of quiet, was seated at an ancient oak desk with many white candles aflame with a bright, overpowering yellow light. He seemed to be writing in a huge, ancient book of some kind, which was bound in dark bark. This Monk seemed to be in no hurry to look up to see who had opened his door.

  Octagon finally looked up and stared at Esbri, as if to look him over. “I’ve been waiting for you. But I had expected Ushi, and not you, Esbri.”

  “How do you know of me?” Esbri asked the Monk.

  “I heard Goldest frantically calling out to you. There was nothing that I could do. Theo commands here, not I,” Octagon told him.

  “You must be Octagon, the wise one.”

  “I am he.”

  “Was that you that left the front door to the castle unbolted during the night?”

  “Of course. I had expected Ushi to show. Instead, it was you.”

  “Why Ushi?” Esbri asked, with a touch of jealousy creeping into his heart.

  “Because Ushi and Goldest hold a powerful, unique bond with one another that no other could or will ever break. You see, Esbri, they are steadfast, loyal and honest with one another, as well as respectful, which holds an unbreakable force together.”

  Unbreakable force, thought Esbri with wonderment.

  “What are you writing so late at night that could not wait until the first light of morning? Surely, you must be exhausted as we all are from the day’s battle,” a curious Esbri asked.

  “The events of the night, day and night,” Octagon replied with a smile. “Many books I have written about oursel
ves and our being. And many ancient books have I read about ourselves and our being,” he remarked. He smiled, again, at Esbri’s inquisitive character.

  “Talk is you are one of the last remaining honorable Monks filled with wisdom from centuries past. You have attained the knowledge, insight and good sense of an ancient Monk and Shaman. You carry such strong qualities of compassion, honesty and benevolence –just to name a few. It is known that your heart still beats warmly and has not been turned to grayish stone, like some of the others. I trust you, Octagon. Where is she?”

  “She that we are talking of is on the floor above us. They put her inside an ancient, evil thorn net to pierce her and prevent her from disappearing into her magical gold dust smoke. The thorns inside this net are coated with a poison made from amanitas.” Octagon sighed heavily and then stated with compassion, “She is slowly dying, Esbri.”

  Esbri turned, hurried out of the room to the upper floor above him. His feet felt heavy as he climbed the cold stone steps. He peeped inside the main room. There, he found Goldest inside the thorn net, lying on the bed. He rushed over to the bed and felt the cold caress his skin. He noticed there were several cream-colored candles in the room with bright flames, but no fire was lit in the fireplace. The night started to give way to light, with brazen copper coloring from the rising of the early morning sun.

  He unsheathed his knife and carefully snipped the thorn net, not wanting to cut himself on the thorns. Goldest did not move. She appeared to be dead. Esbri looked at the golden frog with sad eyes and a heavy heart. He walked over to the open window and gazed out over the early morning landscape.

  “I am sorry, Goldest. I have failed a Queen. I am not worthy of being a Gypsy Warrior,” Esbri wailed out the open window. Again, he shouted out in grief, “I have failed a Queen!” Tears welled up inside his eyes and ran down his waxen cheeks. “I am shamed,” he ruefully told himself.

  “You are not shamed, Esbri,” a gentle female voice said softly.

  Esbri quickly turned around and saw a beautiful golden princess with long golden hair, sultry golden eyes, golden lashes and golden nails sitting sideways on the bed. She rose slowly and gracefully walked over to him. Even her smile was golden. Her gown was made with the purest, softest golden thread and materials. A girdle of diamonds completed her dress while ballet slippers graced her feet.

  “You came to rescue a Queen,” she stated simply.

  “Goldest? Is that really you? Why – why, you are beautiful!” a bewildered Esbri exclaimed.

  She fluttered her golden lashes and looked at him with her large golden eyes. She had a teasing, playful smile on her golden lips.

  “Of course I am beautiful, Esbri. How could you not think otherwise? You see, you have broken the stubborn magical spell over me that my grandfather had so painstakingly cast upon me so that I could flee to safety when our kingdom was invaded by the ancestors of blackened, magical evil-mindedness,” she told him.

  “But how?” Esbri asked her.

  “You came to save a Queen, and the essence of your tears, compassion and mournful heart helped to break that ridiculous spell that was cast upon me with good intentions.”

  “You are not croaking anymore, Goldest.”

  “I am not a frog, Esbri. I am a lady,” Goldest tartly informed him.

  “Yes, I remember you telling me that when us gypsies had first met you,” Esbri told her smiling fondly at the memory.

  Esbri went down on bended knee before Goldest. Goldest bent over, put her hands on his upper arms, and made him rise.

  “Do not bow on bended knee before me, Esbri. You see, you will be my King and rule beside me in the Kingdom of the Ladybugs.”

  Goldest then threw herself at a flabbergasted Esbri and passionately kissed him. He was stunned, and she nearly took his breath away. But being a lady’s man, he knew how to handle every given situation and took advantage of having this beautiful golden girl in his arms. He circled her with his arms and smiled down at her, picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He gently set her down as he took up the thorn net and threw it into the fireplace. The morning sun was starting to warm the room with shades of red and orange. He lay down on the bed with her and carried on where she had left off. Goldest giggled.

  The impatient Gypsy Warriors, with the rising of the morning sun, knew they had to get back to their own kingdom. They were also worried about what was taking Esbri so long, and feared for him. Some grouped together with Carlos and they quietly made their way inside the castle. They boldly walked into the main dining room and saw a relaxed Octagon in his long, white woolen night robes sitting at the long main table sipping on a hot, steaming chocolate brew. His feet and gray woolen socks were stuffed into dark sandals of bark. Not having slept at all that night, dark rings circled his puffy eyes. Expecting Ushi to show, he had taken it upon himself to make sure all went well. Enough was enough. And though he did not know it, he was showing signs of taking over as the keeper and leader of the Kingdom of Thorns.

  The Gypsy Warriors curled their noses up at the burning frankincense. Their own shadows seemed to laugh at them.

  “Your warrior is on the third floor of the castle, east wing, with the girl. You best leave them alone for a few seconds longer,” he discreetly told the band of Gypsy Warriors.

  “Girl?” Carlos questioned. The exhausted Gypsy Warriors all looked at one another and darted to the third floor, without hesitation.

  “Now what?” an exasperated Carlos mumbled to himself.

  They found the door ajar and went in. There, before their very eyes was Esbri and Goldest in a passionate embrace on the bed. Both were in a disheveled state.

  “What’s this, Esbri? We come to rescue a frog and find you instead, in an ardent embrace with this golden girl!” a maddened Carlos exclaimed. “Where’s the frog?”

  The band of Gypsy Warriors chuckled, not surprised at all by what they saw where Esbri was concerned.

  “Here, we have been worried with heartsickness about you. And what are you doing, but making love to another woman!” a Gypsy Warrior exclaimed, laughing.

  Goldest rose smugly from the bed and straightened out her soft golden gown, while Esbri jumped up and straightened out his shirt. Goldest suddenly felt like jelly wrapped inside a pastry shell. Even though the window was open and the room still had a chill to it, she felt stuffy and that her jelly was about to melt down around her.

  “Do not refer to me as just any woman! I am Queen Goldest, and you men shall be justly rewarded for your services rendered,” Goldest smartly informed them, trying to keep her character of tartness deep inside her.

  The band of Gypsy Warriors were shocked and tongue-tied, and Carlos smacked himself in the head. That damn frog! an agitated Carlos thought to himself

  “You were the frog?” he asked her, astounded.

  “What frog?” Goldest haughtily informed them.

  The band of Gypsy Warriors stood there gaping at the mouth. Even their shadows were taken by surprise. Esbri laughed at them. He picked up Goldest and carried her past the Gypsy Warriors and out of the door, saying to his fellow companions, “Come, I will take her back safely to her kingdom and you can all ride back to our own kingdom. Even your shadows look weary and you all need to rest.”

  They walked through the castle without any encounter of any kind.

  “The Monks seem to be hiding with their shame in their rooms,” Carlos remarked.

  “They are not alone. Their dishonored shadows are also with them,” a Gypsy Warrior responded.

  “It appears it will be awhile before they build their courage back up and venture out again,” Carlos stated.

  “Do not try to fool a Gypsy Warrior, Carlos. They will be out and about sooner than you think. You watch,” another Gypsy Warrior warned.

  “They fear nothing, even guilt,” Esbri added.

  They met up with Octagon, Meek, Alme and Onion at the main entrance of the castle. Octagon held a long black woolen cloak for Goldest to put
on over her flimsy attire. No words were spoken. Octagon put the cloak around her. She smiled at Octagon. “Thank you, Octagon. I will not forget you.”

  “I will remember those words, Goldest,” he told her as he respectfully bowed his head to her.

  Meek, Alme and Onion respectfully bowed their heads to Goldest, who acknowledged them with a nod. Golden silence was better for the time being.

  They left the castle with feelings of relief. The other gypsies, waiting impatiently, were not surprised to see Esbri carrying a beautiful golden girl in his arms. This was not an unusual sight for them to see. Too tired were they all to speak further. They accepted what they saw without question.

  Esbri placed Goldest on the front of his horse and mounted. He put his arms around her and held her tightly to him. Goldest wondered if he would be treating her this delicately if she were still a frog. At the same time, Esbri could not imagine himself doing this if she were still a frog. Why, all my gypsy women would scorn me, and the gypsy men would laugh at me, he thought to himself with a shiver.

  “I’m used to riding on the back of horses and not the front,” she coyly reminded him, breaking him away from this own thoughts.

  “Not this time, Goldest. You ride in the front, where I can hold you close to me and warm you.”

  It was finally agreed upon as the men mounted that the exhausted Gypsy Warriors would ride back to their own kingdom, and that Carlos would have the honor of riding with Esbri and keeping an eye on him and Goldest.

  As fatigued as they were, the Gypsy Warriors laughed together, wondering if Carlos went along for extra protection, or as a chaperon for their beloved Esbri.

  A few of the Gypsy Warriors were in awe at Goldest’s exquisite beauty and began to envy their comrade Esbri. Esbri loved the attention. They all rode tightly together until they had totally left the boundaries of the Kingdom of Thorns. Then they parted. Carlos and Esbri with Goldest riding back to the Kingdom of the Ladybugs, and the Gypsy Warriors riding back to the Kingdom of the Gypsies. The sky was a clear, deep turquoise, with no billowy masses hovering over them. The light-hearted Sun was joyous and shone brightly with hues of yellows and platinum – so pleased was it by what it shone upon. A smile was upon the Sun’s face, as its warm, gleaming fingertips touched the riders with rays and warmed them to the core of their hearts – so contented were they all, even though fatigued.