A Story Half-told

A story in verse about desertion

The man, he took his dusty shawl and went
From tent to tent in hope of food, for gold
Was of no use when there was nobody
With whom to buy or sell or loan or lend.
The shawl he kept was there to save his frail
And worn-out self from desert elements
He’d had the cruel misfortune to have known -
Cruel misfortune knew this only too well.
The shawl protected him, protected all
The food he begged and all the gold he had -
A single coin of gold that he had got
From his maternal uncle when his
Bed-ridden mother answered heaven’s call.

The merchants in their shaded tents,
They sipped their drinks, they seldom went
Outside into the desert heat
Where the man stood famished -
His body bent by age, disease, defeat…

“A sip of water please,” he begged. No voice
Returned his call. His plea for just a sip
Was left unanswered. Then, with not much choice
He called again, “A single drop. My lips
Are parched. They’ve been this way for two whole days.”

Was it compassion for the man,
His plight, that made a woman come
Outside into the desert heat?
She offered him a metal can
And waited while he drank his fill. Her fan
Was waiting in the tent while she
Stood out there waiting for a man
To quench his thirst until his insides burst.

He watched her hands while he partook of what she gave
And noticed that they didn’t look like the hands
Of some young maiden who would be the wife of some
Old merchant who had tricked her into marrying
A knave.
Her hands were rough and worn like his. Already at
This tender age of twenty-one or twenty-two
She’d witnessed all the trials that labour oversaw,
Had hidden all her woes within the lines
Her wretched hands endured as law.
Her eyes shone brightly like a jungle cat’s.
She was a lioness at heart but stayed a
Servant-girl.

The servant-girl spoke suddenly -

“Do you remember when you killed my
Parents on that fateful night?
A night of stars, of hopes and dreams
You shattered with your blinding might?!
I recognised you from within
The tent when you called out to drink.
I know your voice, I know so well
The voice that makes my stomach shrink,
That all these years in dreams and memories,
Has cast me down,
And on that fateful night of butchery,
Had worn the crown.

“Were you not prince when they were hanged,
Death painted on their face?
Did you not say once they were gone -
‘They’re in their rightful place’?
Remember, bent man, remember
What they had done for which they paid
The price of their own precious heads.
They said you could not marry me
And take me for your own, for I
Was but a child. For this, they’re dead
And lie where nobody can say
A word to them -

She choked up. It was all too much
For her to bear, for her to reminisce
The life she’d led in anonymity
So she’d be safe, so no old ghouls
Might hound her to the end of time.
The man spoke up, “And yet you’ve given me
A drink to dull my thirst. Why did you come?
Why did you not just leave me for the grime?”

“My parents would not have it that I would
In any circumstance leave you to your
Own fate and let you perish here for good
If only for my ignorance.
What good will come of blind revenge
If all it makes is one more corpse that haunts
This earth while it lives broken in repentance?
A ghost that’s unrepentant too, could not
Bring slaughtered kin to life in deed or thought.”

“Indeed, you are the daughter of
Your parents who succumbed to wrath,
But know this:
It wasn’t my hand that moved the piece,
That cornered helpless, loving souls
And drew them to a close.
My father was the evil man -
The king, the one who wanted you
And began your woes.
He made me his toy,
His one, loving boy,
And used me as a puppet so that
Nobody would know the truth about the king.
I never wanted you to be a victim
So I protested, not having an inkling
Of the distance he’d go,
Of the horrors he’d show,
Just to have his way.

“He broke me with a knife he aimed
At my own mother’s throat. The queen who, in
Her languishing life, never disobeyed -
This time she pleaded that I would still hold
My ground and not be swayed.
I could not. I had been maimed.

“That very day I rode to your home and
I warned your parents, ‘Run and hide!
Your child is not safe anymore.’
Before they took you from the other room,
The king and his men had come, and I lied
That I was there to sweep you out the door.
I played the part I knew too well to save
The queen from monstrous fate — the queen who was
Too ill to even speak a word. The words I said
When your progenitors were killed — I hate
Myself for that and everyday I have
Begged and begged for forgiveness.

“The only way to save you now could be
By sleight of hand. I used my power and word
And had your rescue planned. A trusted man
Would steal you from the castle in the dead
Of night. It would be done unseen, unheard.

“The man who tried to rescue you
Succeeded only partially.
He got you out, into safe hands,
But met his end with dignity.
Not the dignity of men as we have
Always heard, but one who knows his duty
Well enough to know that he must
End his life to sail unhurt.

“I heard the news from trusted friends
And heard it each time to the end
And each time all I heard was that
You had been saved unharmed.
I went to tell my mother of the news
But when I reached her room, I found her there
In bed and not quite moving. People stood
Around and looked at me in pain, but they
Had no conception of what pain could
Mean in my position.

“My uncle gave me this,” he said and showed
The servant-girl the golden coin he had.
“He was the only one she trusted.

“My mother asked that I be given this
And when the time was right I’d know its use.
I ran away from home and wealth and took
The beggar’s life as my reward for good or bad.
I kept the coin with me but always knew
The value that it held. It’s not just gold
But with this seal of king and queen that you
See here, it’s so much more. You’d be a queen
Unto yourself. My life has left me worn and old
But it has also led me here
So I can give this gift to you
For all that we have taken.

“Now I know
That I can lie
In peace and you
Can live your
Destiny.”

Thus he spoke and with his hand
He placed the coin in hers
The lies, deceit, the pain of times long gone -
Like snowfall on the firs.
She took his hand and with her whole,
She took him in embrace
For all that he had gone through, she displayed
Her tearful, smiling face.

Another servant-girl inside the tent who knew
The story that the one outside had told
Her many times — she’d done something right at
The start when she found out about the man.
The girl outside didn’t know the girl inside
Would ever scheme a plan.
She thought the water from the tap was fine
But little did she know about
The poison in the can.

All told is half-heard.

All heard is half-told.