Solstice Goose, Spineless King
A short fantasy comedy...
Read to the end for my author’s note!
His majesty cowered on his throne, dressed in voluminously regal robes, but on the whole, he looked like a fool. My poor, wonderful, lovely king, was getting cussed out by a peasant, spittle flying and all that.
If only his majesty acted more kingly, then everyone would see what I saw!
No, I more than wished he would toughen up. I went to sleep every night praying that he would, rubbing the small doll of him they sold in droves at the market. I had about a dozen of them. Sometimes I prayed too hard and the head popped off.
It wasn’t just me, either. The whole court was sick of the king’s spinelessness; though I doubt anyone but me prayed for him. But it was clear to me that prayers weren’t enough. Especially not when this peasant was allowed to spew profanities at him. And for what? No one had a clue. At least his majesty took it like a champ. In other words, he took it without even threatening to burn down that villager’s farm.
When the pleb finished screaming, he wiped all that horrible spit from his mouth, bowed with strange politeness, and turned away.
A guard coughed.
“His majesty is such a good listener,” I said to the maid beside me without believing it. I wanted my king to feel supported, even from behind the scenes.
“Next, the Ambassador from Catrias,” bellowed the Herald.
“Oh, God. Not him,” whispered his majesty. “He’s so mean.”
Yes, his majesty just used the word mean. Thing was, most kings learned who to be soft on and who to keep in an iron grip, but not this king. He was soft as a hot roll.
And this was my shame. I loved this soft man. Over my years of service, he’s always treated me like a real person. He even knew my name! On the winter solstice, my family received a goose from him. A whole goose!
To top it all off, he was quite dreamy. Those dark brows. Piercing brown eyes. Long, braided hair.
He was a whole goose if you took my meaning.
All these things made him very unlike his hard-assed mother, the queen who ruled before him and died quite suddenly. Nobody liked her, which was unfair. She was a good dealmaker. Everything she turned her attention to produced insane amounts of gold!
The issue now was that everyone loved his majesty, but they all knew he was spineless as a spatchcocked bird about to be roasted with some nice potatoes.
That pompous, young, and brightly-robed ambassador from Catrias waltzed in. Ugh. He even smelled nice. His cologne wafted over to my place behind the throne - where I served the king food and drink.
My king began, “My Lord Ambassador, welcome back to my kingdom.”
The ambassador spat on the ground. “This place is still a shithole at the bottom of a cesspool. Why don’t you clean it up?”
Already with the insults, I thought. My king, if I could wield a sword for you…
He continued, “I am here to tell you that we are going to annex fifty-thousand hectares of the Fierceholden Domain.”
The king’s head slumped into his hand with a groan. He legitimately whined, “When?”
“Well, what time is it?”
Everyone looked at each other as if the time was written on their foreheads.
“Three turns till sundown,” replied the Herald, who always knew the time.
The ambassador cleared his throat, then said with ease, “Ah, then we’ve already annexed it.”
The king stood up in righteous fury. I squealed with joy (on the inside.) Oh boy, now we’re going to see him do it. He’s going to put this man in his place!
My king asked dumbly, “Did anyone get hurt?”
No, your majesty! No! Bad question! Horrible response!
“How should I know? I’m here…,” the ambassador replied with raised brows. “All resistance was going to be met with impunity. So, honestly, all the villagers there are probably dead.”
The king’s fists clenched. “So you want war, then.”
Oh, fates, I must be dreaming. A war?
Mr. Fancy-pants smirked, chuckled, said “No, no. Absolutely not. We want you to recognize our ownership. We already have the land, so it’s just a matter of getting your stamp of approval. Or whatever.” He popped his lips to accentuate his garish request.
My mouth hung agape. I couldn’t believe it. The whole court couldn’t believe it. The Catrionans thought the king was so spineless that they could take the land, tell the king they took it, and then be on their merry way.
The ambassador picked something from his teeth, bored as a boar.
Damned Catrionans. Always so nonchalant. Always with such nice teeth and flirty accents and ugly coattails.
“Get. Out,” bellowed the king’s Herald, putting a pause in this travesty of my king’s response. “GET OUT!”
“Does that mean you approve?” the ambassador called over his shoulder, trying to stay abreast of the guards guiding him out.
The hall’s doors slammed shut. His majesty slumped into his throne, again. His attendants, the captain of the guard, the Herald, and even the bloody maid dusting statues in the corner begged him to do something. To stand and fight this tyranny! Not to mention they had family and livestock, like geese, and such.
Did that mean no more solstice geese for me? How else would my king express his undying love?
He spoke weakly, “I…I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
I’d had it. My king, my true love, could not be allowed to behave in such a way. My dreamy, beloved, wonderful goose needed to change; he needed to become a real king. And when silent prayers to your true love’s doll failed you…
When his disappointed entourage left the hall, leaving just him and myself and his bodyguards, I stepped out of the shadows. Ascending the dais, standing before him as I’d never done before, I cleared my throat.
“Yes?” he said, sadly, beautifully. I almost let my mouth go slack at his casual grace. How did he get that lock of hair to trail down that way?
I avoided looking at him to focus. I said, “This is going to hurt me more than you, m’lord.”
“What is?” I loved the way his h’s sounded. So pronounced! So refined.
I slapped him. The shock on both our faces! But he needed more than pure shock, he needed to be woken up down to his bones!
Again, I slapped, but harder. Then thrice! Again and again, until he cowered in the chair, then fell out of the chair, his lips bloodied, his cheeks taking on color. The bodyguards had their hands on their swords and had taken more than one frightening step toward me, but m’lord stayed them with a raised hand, his face wild with fear and…was that intrigue?
“You are a king!” I said, delivering the words with a perfect balance of love and certainty. “You are a king! Not a loser. Not a peasant. Kings are supposed to be kingly. You are a good man. But not a good king. You’re like hot butter, melting over everything. That’s certainly good for bread and other things, but not for being kingly!”
“Eh!” said the king, his first of many sobs. Poor sod was crying.
“Uh…your majesty?” asked the captain of the guard. His eyebrows had disappeared into his shiny gold helmet.
Did I kneel and hold my king? You bet I did! Whenever else would I get the chance?
As I cradled him, I said, “But you don’t have to be soft. You just need some tweaking. You just need to look tough to everyone.”
“Wha—what do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you.”
The guards lowered their swords, their captain muttering sotto voce, “Don’t make chambermaids like that no more.”
The next day, the guards brought in that screaming peasant from before. They were a little tough on him, per the king’s instructions (per my instructions). The king grimaced at the sight, raised his hand to stop their shoving. I kicked his throne. He was allowing me to stand beside him as his advisor, and also serve him wine and cakes.
The peasant didn’t look shaken. He looked angrier than yesterday. He opened his mouth to scream profanities when the king stood and advanced on him, one hand held behind his back, the other swirling a cup of wine. Then, he tossed the wine onto the peasant.
I got goosebumps at the sight.
The king said, “You do not scream at your king. You kneel.”
He said it so coldly I almost swooned. I saw that he was shaking like a pup just learning it had a bark.
“I—I don’t understand.” The peasant stammered. The king pointed at the floor. The peasant gasped and started a screaming tirade, not unlike a mating elephant, and equally as unintelligible. His majesty turned around and looked at me—he looked at me!—for help.
I made a slapping gesture and a fierce face. The king looked aghast.
“And you must be the worst ruler since your mother!” the peasant spat.
The king whipped around and slapped the peasant so hard he fell back, clutching at his face. But to me this happened in a wonderful moment of stretched time: The rage boiling away his fear, his hair a whirling storm, his robes flowing like spirits.
“Next I see you, behave, or there will be a tenfold increase in collections from your group of mud huts you call a village. I expect this season’s taxes in full, or in equal parts grain, furs, and meats. No breaks. No stipulations!”
And beneath all that butter, a lion, I thought.
The next morning, the guards dragged in the Catrionan diplomat, still in nightclothes, and now totally frazzled. I squealed with glee. Again, on the inside, of course. It wouldn’t do to squeal with glee at this sort of thing.
The king looked so handsome today, so fierce. He wore full armor and stood at an angle, with a hand on his sword. Heavens knew if he’d ever used one, but he sure looked like he knew with his fingers casually draped over its hilt. The guards tossed the diplomat to the floor and he rolled, yelping, crying out until he came to a stop at the steps before the dais.
He blinked, wiped away snot from his face, and stared dumbly up at the king.
My lord snarled, “Stand. Up.”
The diplomat scrambled to his feet, two guards closing in from behind to keep him from backing away. He was forced to crane his neck to meet the king’s eyes. He took a moment to gather himself, then the fury came; it was a hollow fury, its core gutted by fear.
The ambassador bristled. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you!”
The king spat on him.
Oh, mama.
“I am not here to listen to you as a benevolent ruler. I am here as a warrior, a general, a knight for the people of this land. You spat on me yesterday. You spat on my people. Tell your queen to remove her troops and to cede the lands that ARE ALREADY MINE. Or there will be total war.”
I could watch him say that over and over…
“I…I…I,” went the fancy-pants-from-Catrias. “Her majesty will be happy to meet you on the field of battle.”
“Oh, will she? You know her mind so well?” The king pulled out his sword like he actually knew what he was doing and leveled it to the diplomat’s throat.
Was he going to kill him? I squealed with joy, audibly this time, and had to turn it into a cough. The whole room glanced at me for a horrible moment, then returned its collective gaze back to the king.
“Yes,” the diplomat replied, rather firmly.
My king stepped away from him, in fury. Well, not really. He stroked his chin—a chiseled one, I might add–and this was the sign we devised for him to ask me for help. I took my finger and carved a line on my neck, but made it look like I had an itch. Actually, I did, right near my clavicle.
He looked disgusted. I repeated the gesture with a smile, an encouraging smile, an eager smile. Also, it was a deep itch.
His majesty shrugged as though he gave in to my sheer force of reason—which of course he did, I’m brilliant—and spun around fast, as he did with his slap yesterday.
And suddenly there was gore in the throne room the likes of which hadn’t been seen since his grandfather’s time; his grandfather was known as The Gutter.
The court was shocked. Someone yakked. A soldier cheered. A lady of the court lamented, “He had such a pretty neck.”
As for me, I about fainted. Stars filled my vision.
He turned to me again, as though quaking in fury, but he looked very much like he would be the next to reveal his breakfast. He stroked his chin again. I outlined the shape of a box with my hands. He nodded.
“Send this charlatan’s noggin back to his queen…in a lovely box. With a velvet bow.”
“Yes, sir!” said that one random advisor who was always begging for war against this queen. He oversaw the manufactories in the kingdom, but that was totally unrelated, I was sure.
“Heavens help us,” muttered the wizened woman from the college.
“Heavens helped me,” I muttered as I stared at the great man before me, his sword bloodied, the light from the sunrise bursting through the stained glass.
Later, as I was cleaning out the king’s chamber pot, he asked me, “Was it too much? It felt like a lot.”
“No, sir, it was…perfect.” I closed my eyes and sighed in delight. “You were a vision of strength and decisiveness.”
“There was a lot of blood, though.”
“Who knew we had so much in us?” I said.
“And more will be spilled if they don’t back down,” he lamented.
“True,” I mused. “Now, what else is there to handle? I feel like we’re on a roll.”
He sighed. “I don’t think I can handle much more of this. I don’t like being that angry. Well, maybe I do. It makes me feel like a real king. Especially when that peasant wouldn’t meet my eyes. Or—I saw this as it happened—when the ambassador realized that his head was gonna roll. What a thrill! No wonder my gramps was so vindictive, it’s a good time!”
“See, sire? It’s good to flex a little. What I think’s important is that no one should know whether you’re going to give them mercy or violence. That was the whole problem with your gramps and your mom, may they rest in peace; there simply was no balance. It was either blood and guts or raise the taxes…”
“You might have something there. Yes...”
The next evening, a commoner entered. She was a laundress, it appeared. And very pregnant. The king judged her with stunning, unfeeling eyes.
“My lord…”
“Approach, if you please, and kneel.”
I got goosebumps again.
She did so. “Sire, I have come to ask for assistance. The ambassador from Catrias is—was—the father of my unborn child. And since you—I mean—he was killed for perfectly sound reasons, I am left without support. And so–”
“Hold on. Guards, make sure she’s really pregnant.”
Woah, I thought. What cunning!
They stood next to her and pulled her to standing and pressed their hands to her belly. She tried to control her unease, but her eyes were wild.
The short guard said, “Seems legit, your majesty. Isn’t a cushion or some such.”
“Very well. I have already decided what I shall do.”
She was surprised. “You…you’re going to do something?”
He flashed his winning smile and the woman’s heart melted. Mine did too, and then I was jealous that he smiled at her like that. What gave her the right to enjoy his gaze?!
“I was planning on opening a royal orphanage. We will care for those who cannot support their children or take on the upbringing of youths. It’s the right thing to do.”
“But, sire, I don’t want to give up the child.”
His smile turned threatening. “Oh, but you will. It’s what’s best for you.”
I went weak at the knees. What generosity!
“Herald, announce that all children without parents, or those who cannot be supported by their family, are welcome at the orphanage. Starting with this child,” he said, “we will care for those who need it most.”
The mother looked horrified. But I was about to cry! Who could be more loving and kind than the king! Doing what was right even when his subjects didn’t want him to!
That was the first of many amazing things he did that day. Later, while emptying and cleaning his chamber pot, I reminisced on the day with a full smile. I barely noticed the smell. He sat in bed, thinking, his hair loose, flowing all around him.
“Do you want to hear my plan? I mean, it sounded good in my head when I considered it.”
How cute! He was sharing his uncertainties with me!
“Please, m’lord. Go on…”
“The orphanage will become the source of a new kind of soldier. Indoctrinated from the early years to serve me. They will be the cream of the crop and become my spies and right hand throughout the nations!” His arms had spread out wide, then they plopped down onto his blankets. “Unless you think it’s a bad idea.”
“No! It’s so amazing. You’ll take in these poor, unfortunate souls and feed them, teach them, train them, then release them into the world like vicious cats! It’s beautiful and brilliant!”
I dropped the pot, which I’d been scrubbing right beside him, threw my arms around him, and kissed him. “My king…I love you. I can’t hide it anymore. You’re releasing your potential and I feel like my heart’s at a feast!”
But not really. I relived the fantasy over and over, all while scrubbing his chamber pot. It wouldn’t do to break the social bonds of servant and lord. Not yet, anyhow.
He said, “I have another idea stewing. But it’s still just an idea.”
“What is it, my king?” I couldn’t wait to hear this idea, to help him give it life. I felt like we were little gods together, creating beings out of ideas. Our first offspring!
“Instead of war, I should sue for peace. Offer my hand in marriage to the Queen of Catrias.”
The wooden brush handle snapped in my hand, the brush itself falling into the filthy water. I had to swiftly drown the urge to dump this nasty water on my king.
“You dropped your brush,” my king commented, attentively.
I had to say something! He was going to feel bad about his idea, and that wouldn’t do.
“Oh. Yes, my brush fell into the water. Let me dump it out.”
I rushed into the hallway, found the nearest operable window, opened it, and threw out the whole chamberpot with a scream. Then, I tried to compose myself. But not before the pot clanged down below, which was followed by a scream.
I hustled back to his majesty’s room and shut the door.
“Well?” He asked from his bed. I spun, pressed myself against the door. Why was he lying like that on his side, tempting me like some great, kingly buffet? and with all that velvet around him? I’ve always loved velvet. Wished I could drape myself in it.
“I have two things, m’lord. First, why would you marry someone so…unknown to you? Shouldn’t you wed someone you know and trust?”
Like me?
“And secondly, you need a new chamber pot.”
“You make good points,” he replied, equally concerned with both of them. He cared so much about the big ideas and the little details, it was hard to find a man that could do both! They’re usually useless at one and pretending to be good about the other. “But I shan’t stand by and let innocents perish! I will make peace no matter what! I’ll even suffer mortal bondage to the Queen of Catrias.”
“Your…generosity is endless, my king.” I bowed to hide my gritted teeth and twitching eyes, which definitely would have freaked him out.
But he was hell-bent on marrying this woman.
If the wedding came to pass, then I’d just have to…take care of her, yes.
I’d volunteer to be her chambermaid. Then I’d wait for an opportunity.
The thing royalty couldn’t see was that they could die at any time from a million different mishaps. They were just people with fancy clothes, except my king, of course, he was actually divine. Why else would I be so devoted?
I resolved my eye twitching and teeth grinding, then met his succulent gaze.
I’ll do anything for you, I thought.
I said, “My king, your plan is sound. Invite the Queen. Make peace! After all, What’s good for my—I mean—the goose is good for the gaggle.”
“Is that how that saying goes?”
“Of course, m’lord. I would never deceive you.”
Unless my lies were a shield against the arrows of life, of course.
Author’s Note.
This comedy piece came to me as a scene: A king, at his servant’s behest, tossing his wine at an offending guest. (wow look at that rhyme!) And it also might have been inspired by CalebCity…
And from there, I tapped into this odd character who’s overly obsessed with her boss. I wish I could say there was something deeper to this whole thing other than getting you to laugh, but there’s not.
The sad thing? I forgot I wrote most of this, and upon rediscovering it, I found myself cackling and laughing as if someone else wrote the story. There might be a deeper truth to delve into there, but we haven’t the time to unpack my issues.
Hope you laughed! Hope you forgot your troubles for a few thousand words.
Leave your thoughts, comments, and more!
And if you’re feeling like a generous king during the winter solstice, share with someone else who could use a laugh.
Reads like “The Canterbury Tales” with an off beat humor. Definitely gets you thinking!
What Kingdom? You took me on a journey with this short story, but the land being presided over was not defined! I am only left to wonder at the external setting this descriptive author could have dreamed up. Great fantasy!