The brown monster stood almost ten feet with its paws raised up in the air, growling at the two intruders. It had been on a feeding frenzy when it came across the two intruders in its territory. It was confused, unable to focus on one particular adversary. The intruders had split apart, standing a few feet from each other. When the bear was about to charge, the other intruder distracted it, howling at it with a sword and dagger in hands.
“Here, come, come, come, get me!” the Jester yelled at it. When it turned, it was Calysto’s turn to distract.
The specter went on for quite some time. By then, the sun was about to set. It hovered just over the horizon. The golden rays of the setting sun had filled every inch of the free space in the forest. Both Calysto and the jester had been panting, the sweat on their faces made them glow. Calysto looked pale. Her thin, puffy lips twitched. Her down turned hazel eyes hardly blinked. The hood had fallen off from her head, exposing the braid behind her head.
“Your highness, there’s an oak behind you,” the jester yelled.
“What?” Calysto yelled back.
“Behind you, there’s an oak. Climb up when the bear comes for me!”
“No, I’m not going to climb a tree. If you cannot take the heat, you climb it. I’m going to give it some foods,” Calysto replied sternly.
“Please don’t, your highness. There’s no shortage of berries, grapes and honey in the forest. Easy meals only make them more aggressive.”
The frustrated animal’s inability to attack and maim, only heightened its anger. The growls and aggressive postures continued. In the end, it gave up, and left the spot.
Calysto dropped at the base of the oak, resting her back against the trunk, still panting heavily. The jester smiled at her, thinking of a way to cheer her up.
“You have a warrior in you, your highness,” the jester remarked.
The jester threw the red and blue cap onto the ground, and sat a few feet from Calysto. He held his head low, smiling and sobbing at the same time. His broken cheeks, wrinkles on the forehead exposed his age. It was not clear what really made him sob, the helpless situation they were in, or the fatigue.
Calysto drank some water from the leather container. It helped to calm her down. “Let’s get back to the horses, soon it’s going to be dark,” she said to the jester.
“Your highness, stay where you are. I will fetch the horses.
“What if the bear returns?”
“I do not think it’s going to return any time soon. I will be back as soon as possible. We will have to light a fire as well.”
Calysto held the sword tightly in her grip, watching anxiously, the jester disappearing into the descending darkness. To her delight, the jester returned soon enough, holding the rein of Calysto’s horse while riding his own. The fire was fairly big. Later the jester urged Calysto to sleep. He said he was going to stay on guard. Apprehension would not let Calysto sleep. She handed out pieces of dry meat to the jester, and began chewing a piece.
“Will he be able to locate us in the darkness of the night?” Calysto asked the jester.
“He’s a trained tracker. He will find his way to where we are.”
“How is he going to do that? It’s so dark.”
Over the flicker of the flame, the jester smiled at Calysto, and said, “In time, we will hear the nightingale singing.”
“Oh please, it’s no time for your jokes.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“No, your highness, I’m in no mood for jokes either. Indeed, your son will be whistling the tune of the nightingale, in order to signal his presence when he’s around. I taught him the tune when he was a boy. It’s an essential skill when hunting at night in a pack. The late king was a master in this art. Often he hunted at night. This was the mode of communication with his companions. You know what, we humans are the greatest predator of all. The lions, tigers, hyenas, they’re all fearful of man, and for a very good reason.”
Calysto thought of her husband. One particular line from him echoed in her head.
“Life is short. Do not let your sadness spoil it for everyone. I expect you to be the source of joy, not the harp of a suicidal note,” Tegrios once said when she was appalled by his ruthless attitude. It was a night like this one, camping out at night. Tegrios was about to go to bed when he made the remark.
“Where does the soul travel to when someone dies? What happens to it?” Calysto asked the jester.
“So far no one has ever managed to return from the Hades to tell us the tale. Most likely it’s going to remain a mystery, till the end of this world.”
“Will there be an end to all this?”
“Anything that has a beginning should have an end too. Did this world always exist? That’s the question which circles in me sometimes,” casually, the jester muttered while turning on his side on the ground.
The two travelers stared at the fire, as if time had stopped for them. Moments passed. They seemed hypnotized by the power of the flame to give and destroy, at the same time.
“Your highness, do you not see my late master in your dreams?” the jester inquired.
“Every month, at least once, I see him in my dream.”
“Does he say anything to you?”
“In my dreams, he rarely talks. When he was alive, often he ridiculed me for being depressed. Now, in my dreams, I find him perpetually depressed, sometimes sitting on the stone bench in the garden, and at other times, roaming the hall rooms of the palace. Once, he asked me for his sword. Another night, he said he needed a pair of very durable sandals. He said he had a long way to go.”
The jester stared at the night sky when Calysto had stopped. The position of the Big Dipper relative to the Ursa Minor, conveyed to him the time. It was past midnight. Once again, he urged Calysto to go to sleep. This time, she lay on her side on the ground, closing her tired eyes for the much-needed rest.
Ursa Minor had drifted well over the eastern horizon when the jester heard the call of the nightingale. The jester’s response woke Calysto up from her sleep. She found the jester staring in the direction, he thought the call had come from. As time passed, the stress caused by their expectation, heightened. At last, through the veil of darkness, a dark shadow appeared, roughly fifty yards from them. As the distance diminished, Ismarus’ physical attributes became clearly distinguishable.
“What happened to you?” Calysto exclaimed, having noticed Ismarus’ garbs torn at several places.
“I was ambushed.”
“Where?” the jester asked.
“Perhaps six to seven miles to the north, just before sunset,” Ismarus replied in a somber voice. He did not dismount as expected.
“Are you not going to rest?” Calysto asked.
“We should be moving. As we speak, I’m sure, Eumoplus has his men scouring the forest,” Ismarus explained.
“It’s still way before dawn,” the jester reminded Ismarus.
“I know,” Ismarus responded flatly.
“Where do you plan to take us?” Calysto inquired.
“I’m going to take you to a potters’ village, a few miles from here. I met some truly wonderful people over there. The love and allegiance they displayed for their king, impressed me. At the moment, the path to Sarmizegetusa is too dangerous for us. I think we should find a place where we can hide for a while. The village chief and the villagers in general, loath Eumoplus. They know all about his ugly affairs. I doubt, if he will be able to buy sympathy in that village.”
The jester inquired, “How far is it from here?”
“It could be ten to fifteen miles from here. It’s difficult to tell when you’re passing through the forest.”
“Alright, if we must, let’s not waste time,” the jester suggested.
Ismarus and the jester rode ahead of Calysto. The jester held a torch in his hand, making way through the dark forest. When they reached a wheat field, Calysto called out to Ismarus. She said, she had a hunch, they were being followed.
“Did you hear anything unusual?” Ismarus inquired.
“I think, I heard snorting of horses.”
Ismarus turned to the jester, and said, “Azov, keep riding alongside mother. I’m going to stay back, and watch the trail for a while. The sky is already grey. When the dawn hits, gallop away in the direction we have been heading. If you do not see me in the next half an hour, ask any passerby for the potters’ village,” Ismarus instructed the jester.
Calysto was not comfortable with the idea. However, she kept quiet. She rode away with the jester with an anxious heart, wondering if she would ever see her son again. The jester could sense the storm inside Calysto. He felt he should somehow alleviate her fears.
Very softly, he said to her, “Your highness, if I were in your shoes, I would not worry. I have not yet seen a warrior who can stand up to the prince. And what we might face are no warriors, they are mercenaries, paid assassins. They are no match for your son. Ismarus knows what he’s doing. Therefore, I urge you to relax.”
Calysto refused to respond. She just sighed.