"Nobody can write a new fairy tale ; you can only mix up and dress up the old, old stories, and put the characters in new dresses."

 -- Andrew Lang  

Signs

Do you remember the day I gave you the bouquet?
Of yellow roses blushing pink at the tips of their petals
And deep pink-crimson ones
Arranged to match the pattern on the antique china vase in which they were set

Yellow roses turning pink
mean friendship turning to love
I didn't know that at the time
But it was right

Nor did I know
that they were your favorite rose
But that, too, was right

I didn't know, still, which one you meant
So I gave you another one of each
another time
And asked which was your favorite
You pointed to the yellow and pink one
with your little finger
and a little tremble in your hand

We sat together that day at the ice cream parlour
you fidgeted and fussed, and put on the scarf I'd complimented before
then took it off
then put it back on again
and arranged it to look pretty
You glanced at me, and then away
and then at me, and then away

Did you ever realize
that just after you met me
was when you caught the bouquet at your cousin's wedding?
The picture is gone now, but I still remember the proud, shy smile
Half-playful
But half pleased and wanting to believe that it truly did mean something
And the caption: "High time!"

Do you remember the last day we were friends?
The day I gave you the basket full of rasperries
that I'd picked myself
washed, and sorted
dried, then carefully arranged in layers
with wax paper and tissue paper in brilliant aquamarine blue
to match your eyes
and a ribbon of the same color wrapped around the handle
and tied in a bow

Do you remember, as you left the party that day
after coming to say goodbye to me on the front porch
where I sat, smoking my pipe
the way you looked at me
over your shoulder
as you walked away?

Still

I was thinking this morning
that it's time to move on.

I still love you.
I always will.
I'll never love anyone
Like I've loved you.

But I could find someone
to love with a different kind of love.

But then I'm out
I'm surrounded by beautiful young women
And all I can do is imagine you
Walking up to me
Saying Hello
Like you did on that cold Midwinter evening in Staunton.

"Hi, Mike."
I close my eyes.
I hear your voice.
I see your smile.

"Hi, Mike."
I've never particularly cared for my own name.
But I like it when you say it.

I close my eyes.
I hear your voice.
I see your smile
Your blush.
I feel the warmth of your presence
The glow of your femininity.
I sigh.
I stand and leave.

The Scarred Princess (part 12)

Now you may be wondering, as was Sir Perditus, what Princess Viola was doing; whether she knew of his plight; and if so, why she did not at least send word requesting mercy for him, as the cruel giant had offered to free him if she did. What happened was this:

One day, while she was gone on one of her rides, her parents began discussing her behavior and the change that had come over her, as they had often done before. The fact that it had begun with Sir Perditus did not escape them, and the Queen, who was tender-hearted and good, even wondered if Viola was, after all, in love. Her husband dismissed such a thought (he did not believe in love) but could not deny that it might very well have something to do with the errant knight.

Now there was a courtier in their household who loved Viola and wanted her for himself, and who had the ear of the king. This gentleman, after the queen had retired, approached the king and spoke thus:

"Your Majesty," he bowed low. "I hope you will forgive me, but as I was attending Your Majesties both just now, I could not help overhear. And I confess to your Majesty that I, too, am very concerned for Her Highness the Princess, and remarked, as did Your Majesties, the alarming change in her from the time the rogue knight came. And, if Your Majesty will further pardon me, I will tell Your Majesty that it seems to me...a most peculiar and unnatural change." Here he caught the king's eye, and the king took his meaning at once, and his eyes grew wide.

"Verily," he said, with rapidly-increasing alarm and conviction, "I think thou hast there hit upon it, Sir Ictis. I wonder that I did not see it myself. Hast thou any further thoughts?"

"Only, Your Majesty, that I have heard gossip among the ladies-in-waiting that from the time the recreant escaped, Her Highness has been more reclusive than was her wont, and very secretive about her chamber."

The king thanked Sir Ictis, and dismissed him, then hurried to speak to his wife about his new fears. Although she was not as convinced as her husband, she was duly alarmed and agreed that they must find out the truth of the matter. They waited until the next time Viola ventured away, for on the queen's advice they did not wish to reveal their suspicions to her until they knew whether there was aught to them, and searched her chamber. And the mirror and rose were found. So when the poor princess returned, she was horrified to learn that her secrets had been discovered, and that she was to be confined for her own good until a cure could be found for her, for her parents were now certain that she had been ensorcelled and were deaf to her pleas and arguments.

And so Viola was having a miserable time as well, and had no news of Sir Perditus's suffering, for the last she had seen had been when he entered the giant's castle. The king promised Sir Ictis that as soon as the princess was brought back to her senses, he should have her as reward for his faithfulness, which is, of course, exactly what Sir Ictis wanted. Viola made no secret that she loathed and despised him, but her parents were sure that, once she was cured of the sorcery, she would look on him with gratitude and love as her deliverer. Search was made far and wide for an enchanter, leech, or wise-woman with the skill to unravel the spell, and the knights of the household took it as their personal quest to find the one who could free the princess, and also to hunt down the wicked false knight who had worked the dark magic upon her, and punish him.

Now the False King Sarx knew all this, for he had sent spies into the land as soon as he had learned whence Sir Perditus had come. And he laughed, for it suited his cruelty that the good and true knight should be thus maligned. He even began to consider releasing him so that he would be caught, in weakened condition and unable to defend himself, by the questing knights, for the thought of Sir Perditus bearing the shame, first, of ignoble defeat at some nameless knight's hand, then a trial and execution for vile deeds and witchcraft, brought more delight to his wicked heart than any torture he could have designed on his own. And when he made his offer to the knight, he thought that he would win either way: if Sir Perditus accepted, then he would have gained a very useful servant. But if not, he could free him, pretending to be gracious, then enjoy the very entertaining spectacle his further suffering would provide. But either way, he planned to take Viola's father's kingdom, and Viola too, whom he thought promised to be quite tasty, for he liked the taste of princess very much, when he could get it.

And so, after giving him a good long time to think, he returned to Perditus's prison, and asked him his answer.

Sir Perditus, for his part, had not needed to think at all, but knew his answer as soon as the giant asked, and never wavered. But he did need to think about other things, one being how best to show his last defiance to his enemy, for he was sure that his refusal would be his death.

He also, as I think you would agree would anyone, had a very great struggle to make his peace with how he had come to this pass. He had believed himself to be acting rightly, and following the guidance given to him by Heaven. But nonetheless, here he was, defeated, shamed, imprisoned, tormented. 

One night, or at least he believed it was night, for it had been many hours since he had last been brought food or heard the guard stir outside his door, he was revolving these things in his mind, and it occurred to him that it had been a very long time since he had said his hours--the last time, in fact, had been the night before the battle. He struggled to his knees, crossed himself, and recited the first thing that came to him--a psalm. But before he got through it, his heart finally broke, and the tears flowed, for the words of the psalm were, "Why, O Lord, have you forsaken me?" He fell to his face, and wept as only the truly brokenhearted can weep, until he fell into a deep sleep such as he had not slept since he had been in this horrible place.

And once again, though he could not say whether it was in a dream or whether he was woken in the night to receive a visitation, he saw his guide. 

"Father," he gasped, "How have I come here? What have I done? Was I not sent to defeat this wicked giant? Was it not the King Himself who guided me to Viola's castle? Was it not His voice, that bid my heart to love her?"

The hermit laid his hand gently on the weakened knight's bony shoulder. 

"Yes, you were guided to all these things."

"Then where is he now? Where is the Grail King, when I have served him, and suffered for him? Why does he not deliver me? Why does he not at least comfort me in my affliction, which I suffer gladly if it is his own will? Where is he?" The broken man's voice rose in complaint, then cracked and failed, for it had been long unused, and he succumbed to tears again.

"I Am Here," said a very different voice, and a light filled the darkened hole of the dungeon. Sir Perditus looked up, blinded at first by the brightness, to find that the image of the old hermit had been cast away and he was at last beholding his Master as he was. On his ageless head was a golden crown, and in his hand was the sacred vessel itself.

"My Lord," said the knight, and fell at his feet, but the King took his hand and raised him up.

"It is still my will that you defeat the giant and reclaim your birthright. But if you think, you know why you failed the first time."

"I do," Sir Perditus replied, hanging his head in shame. "I ate his tainted food, and accepted his hospitality, and it made me weak. I should have run his heart through the moment I saw him, though it cost me my life."

"Indeed, so should you have done. Why did you not?"

"For honour."

"Whose honour?"

Again the knight hung his head. "My own. Forgive me."

"You are forgiven. And furthermore, you are restored, to honour, to strength, and to my friendship." And he offered him the chalice which, as soon as Sir Perditus had drunk from, he felt strength and life and light run through him. He felt as though he could tear down the stone walls of his prison with his bare hands, and run all the way back to Viola's home in a single night.

And then the King was gone, with the light and the cup. But Sir Perditus knew what he had to do, and he slept peacefully the rest of the night. And when the jailer came again, he refused his food.

"Do not be afraid, for she was destined for you from eternity. You will save her, and she will accompany you."

 -- Tobit 6:18