The Prince and the Gifted Sceptre

THE PRINCE AND THE GIFTED SCEPTRE

“Blossoms, the floret
Bests o’er nous an’ wit,
Allures the tempted;
After, realizes Lord,
And consummates His purpose,
O’ building an’ guarding the soul:
King he will be who fathoms this.”

The two tall elder Princes started pondering as soon as their father finished the riddle, for it was a competition between the three sons of the King of Havendvel to succeed him as the next. They were still thinking; yet, the only thing the elder of the three could decipher was that it referred to some flower; whereas the second supposed it was about some eminent personality. But the last son did not make much effort to think about it; he was standing in a leisurely manner, with a curt smile on his mouth. He was portraying the girl he had seen the previous day; she was the most beautiful he had ever seen.

“A gentlewoman,” said Prince Eskander, the younger of all; he made a little beam on his face, which added to his fine-looking face with flaxen curly hair and greenish eyes.

“Ho, ho, ho!” exclaimed King Inésh, with gusto and full of amusement. “There you are, my son. Ingenious! Extraordinary! That is it, then. My third son, Eskander, is now King Eskander.”

And the whole court roared in cheers and was filled with applauses. Inésh called him and gestured him to sit on the throne. He himself removed the Royal Crown from his head and placed it on his son’s; this followed by a standing ovation from the courtiers with tremendous appreciation.

“I bestowed you only the title of a King,” he said, “But, the most important of all is this” and he raised his Sceptre such that it was visible till every nook of the Great Hall, “wherein lies the ultimate power of the King.”

The new King genuflected before his father and grasped the Sceptre, a golden shaft on top of which rested an emerald-like pearl whose size was akin to a ball that could fit into one’s palm.

“Go on, son!” said Inésh, “Go and see what God’s gift is waiting for you. Go across the firmament, be a Victor and take pleasure in your dear life.”

“I have seen the God’s gift for me, father,”

“What is it, son?”

“The most beautiful floret; an alluring, but pathetic damsel in distress.”

“No worries, my dear son, go and conquer the foe whoever ‘tis,” and lowering his voice, he said, ”This Sceptre is no man-made and no mundane. It was gifted by the angel ‘Havendella’.
‘It will help you,
Not when you plead,
But when there’s an earnest need’” laying stress on each word very seriously.

The elder son, Amal walked near him and presented his Sword to him, and said,
“Use this in time of danger; this is the greatest of all swords and –“
He was about to say something, but broke off in middle.

And with his father’s Scepter and his brother’s Sword, Eskander left the Palace on his handsome white horse, heading towards the dense and dark forests, where he saw his damsel-of-dreams for the first time.

As he travelled he harked back one day, when he met one striking and gorgeous young maid, who had attractive silvery waist-length hair, which crowned a bright, charming face, where relaxed two eyes which greatly resembled a pair of sapphires. But the beauty was made inconspicuous by the tattered clothes. He became very fond of her, went near her, and said,

“I am the Prince of Havendvel, and I love you; and… I wish to marry you.”

Only then, the girl slowly lifted her head which was until that time bowed; and Eskander saw tears flowing down her cheeks.

“May I ask what worries you?”

She remained silent for a while. Eskander asked once again, in a much gentler voice,
“Tell me your problems. I will help in solving them.”

“Please,” beseeched the girl, “Leave me. You cannot solve my problem. It is my fate that I should endure all these.”

“I wish to hear your story. After that, we will decide whether to solve it or not.”

The tears started flowing quicker. She said,

“I am Ipsita. My parents departed their lives even before I knew this world and I had to live at my aunt’s. She… she is a witch, a wicked one. She never liked our family. And since I know, I have been living here, tortured all the time for no reason at all. I have never seen anything as happiness in my life. I wish to go my parents’ way too, for this life has never been dear to me.”

And she started snivelling. Thinking that it would soothe her, he patted on her shoulder and said,

“Do not worry. Your life will not be the same anymore. Tomorrow I will come to your home and take you away to my palace.”

But she shove off his hand, not bothering about what he had said and walked past the gloomy trees, where stood a ghostly building, very dark and which epitomized sadness and dismay. The Prince too departed.

The jungle was very dark and King Eskander had to slow down, before he could reach the dark, eerie house where his beautiful Queen lived. His instinct told him that she was in some kind of suffering. And so she was: She had made some mistake in doing a work and her aunt, the witch, who had curly black hair hanging just below her shoulders and dark eyes with white skin, was searing her with a red-hot rod. This was something she was used to; yet, she was wailing in agony.

“Please don’t hurt me – Aargh!” shrieked Ipsita, “No! It is burning! I can’t stand.”

“Oh yeah?” said Alka, her aunt, with a nasty smirk on her face, “Alright, I shall not singe you no more. Let us go and have some bath in the cold water outside,” and beckoned her outside.

“No,” said Ipsita, “I do not want to go anywhere. I beg you to forgive me this last time. It will not happen another time, I swear.”

Alka’s eyes turned crueler and she flicked her wand at Ipsita, and her insides started grieving incredibly. She screamed out loud and notwithstanding it, she tumbled over the floor. Alka dragged her out and threw her into the ‘Pond of the Dead’ which surrounded the house; and she disappeared into thin air. The body of Ipsita was still floating over the surface of water, which meant that there was still life in her, for only people alive could float on it, whereas the dead drowned. It was bitterly freezing and if she were conscious, she would have died then and there because of the chilly water.

The sounds of footsteps drew nearer as the magnificent white figure appeared from the periphery of the forest. King Eskander descended from the horse and hurried to the overpass that connected the house with the land; and he saw a body stay afloat on surface. He recognized it immediately and dived into the frosty pond, swam across it and brought Ipsita onto the bridge. She lay still and silent; her body was freezing. He stooped beside her head, which was facing the moon; he could not help but admire her majestic beauty. He touched her face and it was utterly cold. He had no idea of what happened to her, nor did he know what to do. Slowly, he bent forward and caressed his lips against her cheek, and at once, she sat upright with a jerk. The warmth of the kiss spread throughout the body and she felt so warm and pleasant as though she had never been put into that icy pond.

“Thanks,” she said, “for saving my life. Please get me away from here.”

“That is why I came to you.”

He held her a hand and she rose to her feet, ready to ride along with the King himself to what seemed to her as the safest place; she was beginning to feel happy for many years just when they heard a cold voice speak.

“Not so quick, Crown.”

Eskander turned around and saw the witch, Alka obstructing their path; Ipsita hastily hid herself behind him.

“Oooh, you are going to save her, are you?” said Alka and broke into malicious laughter.

“Yes,” said Eskander, his voice full of boldness and determination, “I will. But not before I vanquish you.”

“Ah! Really? Let us see if you can match my power.” She snapped her fingers in the pond’s direction and… Splash! About a dozen skeletons appeared out of water and were heading for Ipsita and Eskander.

Eskander removed the mighty Sword and stabbed the walking skeletons all alone: Few of them lost their heads, another few, hands and legs; he side-kicked one of them, which flew back into the pond; the last was daggered in the middle of the chest, when he heard a scream from his lover.

“Eskander! Help me!”

He whirled around, without even thinking once to remove the stabbed Sword, and saw Alka hold Ipsita’s beautiful hair with her filthy hands.

“Thinking you have beaten me, are you? Then, say good-bye to your new kingdom.”

She was about to aim her wand at him, but she was not that quick; before she could do so, thinking that it was his insight telling him, he took out the Sceptre from his pelisse and pointed at her. The emerald-like stone began shining and a flash of green light burst from it and hit Alka on her bosom; and she flew back a few yards, spun vigorously and lay prone on the black soil.

It took some time for this incident to sink in the pounding hearts of the lovers. After a while, they both closed in each other.

“Thank you,” said Ipsita, keeping her head as low as possible, “once again for saving my life… Is there anything I can do in return for this?”

“Yes,” said Eskander, with another cute and charming grin on his face, “You still owe me an answer.”

“I am afraid I cannot bring to mind what you said. I was too downhearted to pay heed to your voice.”

He went down on one knee, looked into her eyes, held his hand in front of her and with his voice barely louder than a whisper, he said again,

“I love you and I wish to marry you. Do you accept me?”

She raised her face and only then he saw how beautiful she really was; her face shone bright under the dreamy moonlight, which made the moon look dull; the eyes, which he considered as a pair of cerulean gems, were twinkling like distant stars; and there was something else too, which he had never seen before: With a pretty and cute simper, her face was beaming brighter the silver hair which enamelled it, and she said, in what looked like a mere sigh,
“Yes.”

The King of Havendvel was so enthralled by her stunning beauty that he stood frozen, though the pond had hardly anything to do with this, grinning handsomely. She drew nearer to him, and nearer; a cool, icy breeze started blowing; she came even closer and they both closed their eyes; she grasped him into a tight cuddle, and their lips met.

After what appeared to be ages of bliss and marvel, the King, along with his Queen, traversed through the thick, murky forest, to his home, his empire, where his father welcomed them with arms wide open.

“I did it, father,” said Eskander, thoroughly emphasizing each word with ecstasy and delight, “I fought the foe and I won the desire,” he glanced at Ipsita, who returned an amiable look with a more wonderful and much broader smile.

And since then, all was well.