Wool of the Prince-- Chapter 59

~1,516

“Is that really you, Shep?” Jay asked. It felt strange to call this young man, still blond with youth, his skin smooth and unwrinkled the name of his aged companion. Fleta stepped back to join jay, still grinning.

“You are free to call me Atolicus, or Ato, as Fleta calls me, if that makes you more comfortable.” His voice was strong and smooth. It seemed that the very ground listened when he spoke.

“Why are you…?” Jay groped for the right words.

“Suddenly youthful?” Ato said with a smile. “This was part of the Enchantress’s curse. This is what she was referring to when she said that she made me that way. I now appear the same age I was when she cursed all of us. It would have been much easier to get help looking like this than like a senile old codger.” He winked.

“Are all the sheep restored as well?” Jay asked, peering around to see some sign of his wooly friends.

Shep nodded. “That they are. I believe they are still recovering in their rooms, however.”

“That reminds me, Atolicus,” the Enchantress said with a knowing smile. “I have something of yours.” She giggled mischievously, and held up something shiny.

It was a golden crown. It had twelve points and every point had a gemstone. Jay stared at the lustrous circle for a moment, uncomprehending. Then it hit him. Shep is a prince!

Ato grinned at Jay’s surprise. He took the crown from the Enchantress and plopped it on his head. It fit perfectly, but he adjusted it to a jauntier angle. “Surprised Jay?”

“So that’s what you were hiding all this time. You’re the prince of Vonrut!”

Ato held up a finger. “Ah, not quite. I am one of the princes.”

Jay squinted in confusion before remembering. “Oh! That’s right. Tart was the younger prince. That’s what you said. I never wondered why you never mentioned an older prince. It was you all along!”

Ato nodded. “Indeed.”

“But since you’re oldest,” Jay went on, “that means you’re in line for the throne, correct?”

“Correct. But luckily, my father is still around, thanks to the excellent medical attentions of Fleta.”

Fleta blushed with the praise.

“I am certain the king will be most indebted to you,” Ato said. “And to you Jay. You are welcome here at the castle any time.” He drew closer to Jay and lowered his voice, “But if you wish to leave, you need only say the word, and we can take you back home, to Earth.”

“How will you get me there?” Jay asked, puzzled.

Ato smiled slyly. “The answer to that will come clear shortly. We must wait for everyone else to wake up, however. Including all the previous sheep. Then the Enchantress will wake up the rest of the castle—they have been in a state of magical suspension. Where the ex-sheep will remember a little of what happened in the previous years, the rest of the castle inhabitants will wake up as if they just dropped off for a nap… and suddenly their kingdom is in shambles. I have a feeling it will be very hard for them.”

Jay nodded. “So Fleta,” he said, turning towards her, “what happened in your trial?”

She smiled. “Well, it started off where I was back on the streets. Like you, I had doubts that any of this adventure had actually happened. I was scrambling to find someplace to hide, when I was suddenly transported to a deserted tropical island.”

Jay winced, knowing her hatred toward heat.

“Oh Jay,” she mourned at the memory, “It was so hot. And I was so tired. I thought I would lie down there and die, I didn’t think anyone needed me. But then I heard one of Atolicus’s songs in the back of my mind...”

“Hey!” Jay cut in. “Me too! That helped me remember everything I learned on the journey.”

Fleta nodded. “I as well. I remembered everything he taught me, about being strong. I remembered the circles that I had to jump through, and how I had been needed. And even though I had a really hard time doing some things on the island—the Enchantress had set up all sorts of trials for me—I just remembered how she had mentioned that it was a trial, and I was terrified that if I failed, everyone would fail. So I didn’t give up, not even a little.”

The Enchantress was nodding and smiling as Fleta told the story. The Enchantress looked younger now, but she held herself more like a woman. It seemed that she had looked like an older woman and acted like a child before, and now it was just the opposite—looking like a young woman, and acting maturely. Perhaps the curse had had some sort of effect on herself as well.

One by one, people, trolls, and ex-sheep filed out into the courtyard. The Enchantress poured the warm fruitwash, and the table, which had seemed small when Jay first saw it, was now seating everyone, as if it had grown to accommodate all. People were laughing and telling stories, and introducing themselves. Jay learned that the court jester really knew his jokes, and that the gardener had big plans for the courtyard.

One by one, in all their many ways, each ex-sheep apologized to the Enchantress for their insults. All, that is, except for the younger prince. Jay slowly gathered that the insults had occurred at a feast when the Enchantress was out of the room to prepare for something. When Jay asked what, they all went tight-lipped and glanced at Atolicus, who shook his head slightly.

“I’m afraid that’s Atolicus’s secrect,” the court chef said with her plump pink lips in a sad smile.

There came a lull in the conversation, when it was obvious that everyone was waiting for the young prince—Jay had learned his name was Leon—to apologize. Everyone was watching him, and the Enchantress had her arms folded cordially. Leon glanced around at the expectancy on the faces of the crowd and swallowed. “I’m not going to apologize, because what I said was true, and I still believe it.” Jay saw the perspiration on his forehead.

Jay glanced questioningly at the gardener, who was sitting next to him. The gardener leaned over and whispered, “Leon said that the Enchantress was evil, that she had no place in our court, that she would bring about Vonrut’s destruction with her evil, feminine enchantments. That magic would destroy our land and tear it apart.”

Despite his whispering, everyone at the table heard the gardener in the dead silence.

“And was I wrong?” Leon blasted. “Was I wrong that she destroyed Vonrut with her magic? Look at what has happened because of her curse,” he spat.

“Yes,” the princess said quietly. It was one of the few times she had spoken. “It wasn’t the Enchantress who razed Vonrut. It was you. And I. And all of us. The only one who saved Vonrut from total annihilation was Atolicus.”

“Hear, hear!” called the jester. “Long live the crown prince!” The rest of the table took up the cry, leaving Leon scowling.

Then the Enchantress spoke, her voice took on all the smoothness and fury of a roiling stream. “Then you do not apologize, Prince Leon?”

“That is correct,” he said darkly. “I would never apologize to an unnatural demon such as you.”

The Enchantress shrugged gracefully, like a cat. Suddenly, the young prince was no longer there. The queen gasped. “What did you do to him? My son!” The words were passionate, but Jay could hear in their tone some sort of relief. He thought perhaps Leon was rude to everyone.

“You shall find him in the stables. He needs to learn his place, his humility. Although he is now a fine beast, I fear you shall have some trouble breaking him in.” She smiled coldly.

“You turned our son into a horse?” The queen was aghast. But the king chuckled.

“Perhaps this time he’ll learn his lesson. Perhaps now he will be a boon to the kingdom rather than a constant headache.” Leon’s father broke out into guffaws.

“Shall I awaken the rest of the castle?” the Enchantress asked.

“That is up to you, my lady,” the king answered.

“What I would like to know,” the queen asked, “is if you two are still holding to your previous arrangements.” She gestured towards Ato and the Enchantress.

Ato gazed at the woman sitting across from him, the woman who had turned his family into sheep and himself into an old man. Who had led him on a goose-chase across a continent. Who had played with his chances of success. But also the woman by whose interference he had met Fleta, Jay, Marc, Gilfred, Godfrey, Salim, and yes, even Cabot. Who had reinstated he and his family to their previous state. The woman who was now sitting there, beaming at him like a ray of sunshine. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, we are still getting married.”