The Poison Rose: A King Arthur Tale

by Matthew Argyle

  “Good girl!” he said as he patted her head. “We have a long ride today, much longer I fear than last night. What do you say? Will you make the ride?” After he untied her she jumped up on her front feet joyously. Arthur laughed. “Okay! Okay! Off we go then! To the Palace of the Poison Rose!” Arthur quickly mounted Llamrai, only to look back at Merlin’s abode one last time. Then they were off, back into the forest, going north, towards the Palace of the Poison Rose.

  Again the two journeyed through the forest, swamp, moorland, and just about any landscape you could think of, traveling for hours upon hours, stopping for a few moments to eat and drink. While riding thoughts drifted through Arthur’s mind. He thought about Alice and hoped that Mordred told her that he loved her and would be back soon. He also hoped that his knights had found a place to stay in Camelot for the time being. In a few days they would know for sure that he had gone after the witch.

  After exiting the forest they entered a long prairie. They moved swiftly and quietly past Camelot and towards the northeast, through Badon Fields. Badon Fields was the thick, green grassland that had been the sight of many ancient battles in Arthur’s kingdom. Without taking many breaks, except for water and rest, Arthur soon saw a glimpse of ‘Poison Rose’ mountain. He stopped riding Llamrai for a moment and stared up at the monument of nature. It was even better seeing it in real life. Near the bottom of the mountain was the dark forest which ran up the mountain about a quarter of the way where it suddenly seemed to stop. This was where Arthur assumed the wall around the palace of the Poison Rose began. Past the wall and forest up the mountain was, what appeared to be, a combination of snow and black, rock cliffs. Some cliffs looked steep and others not so steep. Either way Arthur knew that it would be a difficult climb for Llamrai to undertake (she had already traveled a long distance.) However, Arthur felt that he would be able to find a way up the mountain by the less steep paths, making it at least slightly easier for her.

  The only thing that Arthur couldn’t see was the Palace of the Poison Rose, but he figured that the witch’s palace was somewhere up at the top, most likely masked by the large rock cliffs of the mountain. “We are going up that?” said Arthur, looking down at Llamrai, who didn’t look up with much enthusiasm. “Come on, let us press on! The forest awaits!”

  So Arthur urged Llamrai further, even deeper into the dark forest. Immediately after Arthur entered the forest, he was filled the two of them with a morbid sense of distain. “I know…come on, we must go on,” said Arthur to Llamrai, although he too didn’t want to go into it. Arthur scanned the forest and quickly noticed its numerous defects. For one, the forest was filled with a dark smog. It wasn’t a fog, but much darker, much more like a charcoal smoke that slithered its way like a snake around the forest because it couldn’t find any escape through the thick treetops. Second, many of the trees that were once healthy and fresh had now been chopped down, torn, and twisted in horrific ways as if they had been deformed, not by wind or other external force, but by an internal malady. Indeed, the once beautiful and strong monuments of nature were now nothing more than deformed, rotting toothpicks. Third, the forest was extremely dark; its darkness was far darker than any forest Arthur had previously entered. Arthur didn’t know if this darkness was caused because the mountain was currently shielding the sun from them, or if it was because the overgrown trees that were still alive were covering it up. Perhaps it was both. Either way the forest was extremely dark, making the journey even more uncomfortable for the both of them.

  In addition, the air of the forest was extremely thick and musty. It was so thick and musty that it made it hard for Arthur or Llamrai to breathe. Finally, Arthur could, in his ride through the forest, on occasion see the animals of forest. Just as the knights had reported, the animals had grown fierce—both in appearance and action. Arthur drew his sword and watched in awe as animals of all types fought against each other. Deer fought against other deer, birds against other birds, bears against other bears, and basically any other obscure combination you could think of. For the most part, to Arthur’s joy, the animals seemed to disregard their presence. On occasion they would stop their ravaging in the forest to take a look at them. Arthur would hold up his sword to them as a sign for them to stay away. Some would growl at him, revealing their distorted yellow teeth, and then quickly go back to their meal. Others would see him and just dash away frantically back into the forest. Still others would simply ignore him.

  It would not be a lie to say that Arthur had never seen such a horrible place—a place he figured could only be the workings of some dark magic that he had never before considered or understood. But now he felt he was beginning to understand it better— the workings of this witch, that is. Arthur looked down and could tell that Llamrai too was disturbed. She moved forward through the forest with a sense of distraught nervousness that he had never seen in her before.

  “It’s okay Llamrai,” said Arthur, running his hands down her neck. “I will protect you...”

  The two traveled through the forest for almost an hour until eventually Arthur could see a light. He was relieved and glad that he hadn’t led them around in a circle through the forest. “We are near!” exclaimed Arthur. This made Llamrai more excited as she eager dashed out into the open clearing.

  Llamrai suddenly stopped, however, as the two examined the gate that lingered only about a hundred feet away. The first thing Arthur noticed about the gate was its amazing brightness. The gate was so bright that it blinded them as they emerged from the forest. He then suddenly noticed how tall and smooth it was. The entire wall had no cracks or markings in it at all, not a single defect or bulge, as he was used to seeing in any man-made structure. Arthur also noticed that the wall seemed to go on forever on both sides. It moved around the mountain like a ring. It seemed as if this woman was wed, not to a man, but to a mountain.

  Arthur had no idea what to expect now—his knights told him of their journey to the wall, but what was beyond remained, to him, entirely a mystery. Llamrai rode up to the gate where, from a few feet away, Arthur could read the words told by his knights. On the wall, in a spooky sort of bright red engraving, were the words, “Property of the Poison Rose.” These words sent shivers down his spine. He moved his hands along the gate, over the words etched deep into the wall. The words were the smoothest thing that he had ever before felt, as if they existed as a part of the wall by magic and not by any carving or inscribing tool man possessed. Arthur sighed. He felt he would soon meet this infamous Poison Rose.

  Arthur then drew and lifted up his sword. He yelled loudly and boldly, “In the name of Arthur the King of this land I command you to open the gate.” He waited for a few moments, but didn’t see any movement or hear any sounds. “Does the great ‘poison rose’ sleep? I know you are here! Answer the command of the king or suffer his wrath!”

  Although Arthur spoke boldly, he knew he actually had no power over this magic. He thought that perhaps the witch would never open the gate because she feared to speak with him. This meant that perhaps everything Merlin had told him, about the witch wanting him to come to her, was wrong. But then, a few moments later, he heard a rumbling sound and watched as the massive gate slowly began to creak open. The sight before him was beyond words.

  Nothing that Arthur saw in these moments was what he had expected to see. Beyond the gate he did not see a lifeless wasteland of snow and rock, but a beautiful garden, and a bright white pathway that led up a soft, but long hill.

  He couldn’t speak. He simply sat on Llamrai staring out at the mythical land in a state of shock. Now he saw the greenest grass, the healthiest trees, and as he inched his way through the gate, he could see, near the top of the mountain, the most unbelievable building he had ever before seen in his life.

  In addition, the garden smelled intoxicating, as if the entire land were made of the sweetest sugar, juiciest fruits, and most heavenly trees. It was a fresh smell, but nevertheless so powerful and wonderful that Arthur figured it coul
dn’t be natural.

  But all of this was not what drew his gaze the most; instead his gaze was almost immediately drawn to a figure so bright that he couldn’t see its face. Instead, he was forced to put his sword over his eyes to shield his eyes from the figure’s emanating light. Eventually, as the figure moved closer to him, he saw a bright white woman-shaped figure emerge. Arthur immediately flung himself off of Llamrai and tried to mask his fear and surprise with bold speech, hoping that this mysterious individual would feel threatened.

  “Who are you?” declared Arthur.

  For several moments the figure did not respond, and instead continued walking down the pathway towards Arthur. The figure stopped ten feet in front him.

  “Answer me!” he yelled. He still couldn’t see the figure’s face.

  “You know who I am,” said the figure. The voice was something unlike anything Arthur had ever before heard—it was soft and soothing, clearly the voice of a woman, but it was also powerful and authoritative.

  “You are the Poison Rose, are you not?” asked Arthur.

  “I have been waiting for you a long time,” replied the woman. “You have finally come, my dear Arthur.” After the woman said these words his eyes must have adapted to the brightness because he was finally able to lower his sword and behold this mysterious woman.

  The woman wore a long white tunic that trailed down to her ankles. Her feet were entirely bare, revealing her soft tan skin. Her hands were neatly clasped together over her stomach. Her arms and shoulders were only slightly covered, covered by a thin web-like cloth. Her mesmerizing curly dark-brown hair ran down past her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark brown and her lips full. Her face itself was so beautiful and spellbinding that no description would be sufficient (so no description will be attempted).

  The woman’s physical form was as perfect as every other part of her. She was not taller or shorter than five-foot seven inches, and must have weighed no more or less than a hundred and fifty pounds. Arthur was so astounded and felt weak the more he stared at the angelic woman. Indeed, for several moments the woman left him entirely speechless.

  “How do you know me?” asked Arthur, finally able to muster up enough strength to speak.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” replied the woman. “You are the great King Arthur! You are the man who fought off legions of men to protect your kingdom. You are the man who established the greatest brotherhood ever to walk the earth. You are the man who created the most powerful, prosperous, and joyful kingdom in the history of the world. There isn’t a person in this world who doesn’t know your name and you would be surprised that I don’t know yours? I may live behind this wall, but I assure you that I know you more than you know. Believe me when I tell you that I have been waiting for you to come for a long time.”

  “I am sure you have!” replied Arthur boldly, suddenly remembering why he had come. “You have brought me here—you have wanted me to come and because of this you have slowly been destroying my kingdom.”

  The woman laughed. “Men are so quick to blame the woman. But I assure you, I have always peacefully remained here. If anything your men are to blame. They have come here from afar, but I have merely given them what they wanted…” The woman turned around and pointed up towards her palace. “My palace is, as you may well be able to see, much larger than even your castle in Camelot. It is able to be a sanctuary for the many men who have come here for refuge—to dwell with me in paradise. Here the trees are always green and filled with fruit. Here the grass and bushes are lush and always trimmed with exactness. Here the flowers are always ripe and beautiful. Here the weather is always perfect. Indeed, you may well say that this garden is paradise. So please Arthur, you must have journeyed far and the sun will soon descend. Come stay with me in my palace! You will be my best guest yet. After all, I have never before had a king stroll into my abode. I would be honored and delighted with your presence.”

  After the woman spoke there were several moments of silence. Arthur felt a terrible conflict brooding within his soul. He knew who this woman was, that is, at least who Merlin and all his knights claimed she was. But none of these men had actually met her. What if they didn’t understand this woman? Doubts were beginning to fill his mind. He saw her beauty and confidence and felt like he couldn’t refute her reasonable offer. “Only for the night my lady, but then I must discuss many things of importance with you.”

  The woman smiled. “Oh my dear Arthur…it is almost dark. You must come up to my abode for dinner! I will have a bounteous meal prepared for you—a meal unlike anything you have ever before eaten, even in your grand castle in Camelot.” The woman extended her hand, but Arthur resisted and did not take hers. “You don’t trust me. Well, I suppose that it is to be suspected after all of the terrible things you may have heard about me. But you must trust me at least a little bit. Indeed, you must trust me when I say that there is no other man I would rather be with now than you.”

  Arthur followed the woman suspiciously as she led him up the hill towards the palace. The hill was amazingly long, but not very steep. As the two walked Arthur led Llamrai forward along the pathway. Llamrai, interestingly enough, seemed to possess the same attitude as Arthur—one of confusion melded with awe. Llamrai hung her head low but could not resist gazing up at the woman and the garden on occasion. What most disturbed Llamrai was that she could not see animals in this garden; and a garden so lush to not have birds, rabbits, or any number of such playful animals, was quite contrary to her experience out in nature.

  “Tell me, what is your name?” asked Arthur.

  “My real name is Dani, but you may call me whatever you like,” said the woman as she continued to lead them onward.

  “How did you do this? You see, from the outside it appears as if this garden shouldn’t even exist. Instead, I only saw snow and rock that led up to your palace.”

  “Yes,” said Dani, not at all surprised by the question. “This is a magical place Arthur—I do not want people to see the green of my garden or else too many would come.”

  “You are smart and know that if anyone saw your beautiful garden they would want to investigate it,” replied Arthur. “But you don’t want women investigating it. That is why you only let the men see your palace…that is why you let the men see you.” After Arthur had said these words he felt quite shocked that he had the strength and will to say them to such a beautiful woman.

  “So quick to assume my beloved Arthur,” replied Dani. “I assure you that none of that is true. I put a wall around my land and disguised my palace and precious garden for the same reason that you put a wall around your city and keep your daughter within your precious castle. I desire the same thing—I want to keep this holy place protected, undefiled from the outside world. I know the outside the world and the outside world is full of evil.”

  “Not entirely…”

  There was a long silence after this, until Dani decided to change the subject. “Are you impressed by my garden?” asked Dani.

  Arthur nodded. “Indeed, it is the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. Tell me, how do you keep it so beautiful?”

  “The men who stay here take care of the garden,” said Dani. “They take care of the palace and all of its affairs.”

  Arthur looked around the garden as they walked, suddenly noticing the dark, decrepit, hunched-backed figures that seemed to wander slowly and mysteriously through the bushes and trees. He was appalled at their faces. Some of them were men he recognized, men he had met once or twice in his wanderings throughout the kingdom. Their faces were expressionless. Their faces were also much darker, and some had scars on them as if the branches or thorns of the trees and bushes cut them. The zombie-like creatures walked around the garden, some plucking fruit from the fruit trees, others trimming the bushes, while others were planting more trees or bushes. Altogether they were doing everything that was needed to keep the garden perfectly ordered and clean. The words of Merlin rang vivid in his mind, “she wants to use men in
the same way they used her.” Indeed, Merlin’s words were beginning to become a reality in his mind. Of course, the entire scene made Arthur feel terribly sad—sad that any people should live like that.

  “What kind of place is this? You, forcing them to work…”

  “Not force Arthur. These men do it of their own accord. They could leave anytime but they choose to remain here. You see, they feel a need for me, a need to be with me, to care for me—indeed you may say that I have become the chief object of their obsession. Here they are kept safe from the storms of life in the outside world. They get what they want and, in turn, I get what I want. Is that not how love operates in your world Arthur?”

  Arthur didn’t know how to reply. “Perhaps…”

  “Remember that all of these men serve me willingly just as the men of your kingdom serve you willingly. I execute no more power over them as you do over the people of your kingdom. The people of your kingdom have it all wrong. Only here, in my garden, will you see clearly. I have power, ultimate power. I could kill you right now if I truly desired. But that is not my will. I want you to see the lies of men, the lies that have penetrated the thoughts and desires of men for centuries upon centuries and have now filled your kingdom. Your kingdom, Arthur, is a kingdom ruled by men—by virtuous, but no doubt tyrannical men. But here among the bushes and trees of this garden you will see the world at its finest—at its clearest. Here you will behold what may become of a world with a woman at its head. As you can see it is beautiful and healthy, unlike your kingdom now I suppose.”

  “I am not opposed to a woman at the head of a kingdom,” replied Arthur. “But know that I didn’t choose to become king—the title of king was given to me.”

  “This is the story of all the kings of men in the past who have lived and failed—but whether they chose to be king or not they all were eventually corrupted by their great power.”