The Curse

Flames devoured the city far off. The evil trolls set everything ablaze but that that was valuable like gold and silver, cattle and sheep. As houses and cathedrals continued to burn, the vile creatures left the city with all their plunder.

High priest, Bronus, fell to his knees. “Oh, Lord, why!” He gripped his scalp before the burning cathedral before him.

Those who were left alive put out fires with buckets of water from troughs, wells, ponds and fountains. The living mourned aloud for those that were slain. Children cried as they clung to parents.

The fires were extinguished. Only the governor’s keep remained which was surrounded by a deep moat where the bridge was pulled up. Trophimus, the governor of city looked out his window. All that could fit were hid in the small fortress.

“My wonderful city! Spoiled!”

A man in a scarlet robe shoved his way through the crowds to Trophimus. “My lord, there are no guards left. All were killed.”

Trophimus hung his head. “Nithose, have the bridge lowered and let the people vacate.”

Nithose shouted. “Everyone, the danger has passed. Please return to your homes.” Then he realized what he had said. “First, we must rebuild. Do not lose heart. It will take time, but we will restore our great city!”

The people left the governor’s chamber and the rest of the keep. Only Nithose and Trophimus remained in the room.

“Nithose, our crops are scorched, and our livestock stolen.”

“We must seek help from the kingdom of Solace.”

“We have no dealings with them. We’re strangers,” said Trophimus.

“They worship the same God we do. I have faith they will pity us.”

Trophimus took a deep breath and ran a palm down his face. “Very well. Send a servant to Solace.”

Nithose nodded and dashed away.

Trophimus left his chamber and descended the spiraling stairs to the ground. He passed through the front gate and crossed the bridge. The destruction brought tears to his eyes.

Then High priest Bronus approached him. “I do not know the reason for this…disaster. Nevertheless, God is sovereign.”

“I admire your faith. But it brings no comfort.”

A young man in a green tunic with eyes that flickered with anger marched up to Trophimus and raised his finger to him. “You should have protected us! This is because of you!”

Trophimus’s brow creased in sadness. “I did all I could! The enemy was just too strong!”

“Excuses! I am a sorcerer with the power to cast spells. I vex you with the curse of sleeplessness!” He made a devious grin and scoffed before walking away.

Trophimus was torn over the anguish of the man. Perhaps he was right. After all, Trophimus was governor. He turned and reentered the keep and made his way to his chamber and brooded. After some time, he stood to pace around.

Twilight broke and Trophimus sighed before laying down. Pictures of the violence filled his mind. The thoughts persisted until tiredness affected him. Despite his fatigue, he could not sleep. He tossed and turned for hours. He rose from his bed and looked out the window. The moonlight exposed people sleeping outdoors on quilts and sleeping sacks.

Exhausted, he returned to bed and closed his eyes. Slumber came late and before he knew it, he heard the cock of a rooster. He had slept three hours.

He stayed in bed until a knock came from the door. “My Lord, it is past noon,” came a voice from the other side of the door.

Trophimus got out of bed and opened the door to show a servant. “I’ve gotten little sleep. I must take an hour rest at midday. Until then I will do my duties.”

The servant turned to walk away then halted and faced Trophimus. “My Lord, I heard what that man said. Do you think you really are cursed?”

Trophimus paused and pulled at his chin. “I have not thought of that. Nevertheless, this must be a sudden occurrence.”

The governor began instructing the rebuilding of homes. Suddenly, the servant sent to Solace approached him on a horse then dismounted. “My lord, Solace has offered to bring an envoy of supplies to help!”

“Excellent! Help spread the news! The people must know!”

Trophimus was ecstatic but soon fatigue overtook his resolve. He went to the keep to nap. Still, he could not sleep. “Am I cursed?”

He rose and selected one of the chamberlains to play chess with, to induce mental tiredness. After several games, his mind was still restless.

The rest of the day was the same until dusk came. He laid on his bed and struggled to sleep for hours! He jumped to his feet. “I can’t go on like this! I must be cursed!”

Trophimus ran downstairs and crossed the bridge and fell to his knees. He grabbed his head and clenched his teeth.

Then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at a smiling man. “By my magical power, I lift this curse! You are free!”

“You…you freed me from the curse? Truly?”

“Indeed,” said the man. “Return to your bed and sleep will be there to welcome you.”

Trophimus rose and embraced the man and ran back up into his chamber and laid on his bed and immediately fell asleep.

In the morning he rose to look outside the window and saw the man who freed him and jolted downstairs, over the bridge and neared the magic wielder. “Thank you for your magical power that freed me!”

“The man chuckled. “I am no wizard. What you experienced was all in your mind. Neither was the one who you thought cursed you. The mind is very powerful.”

“This was…all in my head? In any case, I thank you. As for that cretin, he’ll pay for…”

“Forgive him, my Lord. He acted out of sorrow.”

Trophimus composed himself. “Very well. Would you play me a game of chess?”