The Restless Prince

“Hear ye! Hear ye! Your attention please!” The official kingdom crier stood at the front of the room, dressed from head to toe in the palace’s royal colors of purple and yellow. All eyes were upon him. No one spoke or moved. Everyone was simply too hot to do much of anything. The large gathering hall, used for meetings with dignitaries and the kingdom’s royal subjects, was particularly stifling. Although it had a high, vaulted ceiling, the room was airless due to thick gray stone walls that heated up like an oven. Moreover, the room’s narrow, arched windows were placed too high to capture any sort of cooling breeze. 

All the lords and ladies in waiting stood at rapt attention, lined up in rows. Those who had the highest rank were nearest the front where the prince stood next to his father the king. The prince pulled on his tight frilled collar under his official high dress robes. The stiff collar was choking him, the fabric of his lacy shirt sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin. It was not an outfit that anyone should be wearing on such a hot day. Not even a prince. In fact, sometimes being a prince was a real pain. 

The crier cleared his throat and continued speaking, “Upon official proclamation from our royal highness our exalted King, all official meetings and gatherings have hereby been canceled today due to the heat wave. The king advises everyone to retire to their chambers. Royal subjects are also advised to drink plenty of water. Chamber maids will be circulating to make sure everyone stays well hydrated.”

The crier unrolled his scroll of paper further and continued reading. “Assuming tomorrow’s temperatures are more moderate, normal palatial activity will once again resume. You are hereby dismissed.” With those words, he gave a courtly bow to the king. The others soon followed suit, the lords and ladies kneeling low to the ground in reverence before slowly shuffling off.

The prince felt his heart beat wildly. A free day! A day to do anything he pleased! Such a day didn’t come along very often. Being a prince was a full time job. The entire day loomed before him, full of possibilities, even if it was ungodly hot. 

He quickly decided that the first thing he needed to do was visit the palace’s library. Then he needed to escape the palace with a good book, cold drink in hand, and retreat to the shady gardens where it was cooler. 

The prince’s favorite room was the library. It was the only place where he could get away from everyone – his parents, all of the lords, ladies-in-waiting, the knights, the palace crier, even the jester who seemed to be always following him around trying to get him to laugh through ridiculous, nonsensical antics. Yes, the prince often desperately wanted to be alone. When he felt that way, he would trudge to the far end of the castle, directly to the library.

At the end of a long stone corridor was the cavernous inviting room, filled with books from floor to ceiling on every available wall with deep comfortable armchairs resting in the center. In the winter, a roaring fire was always lit. In the summer, the large windows were open to catch cooling breezes. Despite the windows being open, however, the prince knew the air would be stagnant today. The castle was not constructed for coolness.

At least he would be alone while he perused the stacks, he told himself, even if it was unseasonably warm. No one dared disturb him. The library was his sanctuary. Sometimes he felt he would explode if he were forced to be around others for even one more minute. He felt like a show pony, always keeping up appearances. Unlike this morning’s brief royal gathering, he was often forced to stand for hours on end in his uncomfortable royal clothing.

Not only that, but at the ripe old age of twenty, he was also expected to soon marry a suitable mate. He couldn’t just marry anyone. He had to select the right sort of girl. Upon his marriage, his wife would become princess and eventually queen. Someday soon, in the not so distant future, his father would cede the kingdom to him. He and his mate would then become king and queen, exalted rulers of the land. 

The prince was torn. He knew he should be looking forward to that momentous day, but his heart just wasn’t in it. With great power also comes great responsibility. He didn’t know if he was equal to the task. He felt tremendous pressure and longed for simpler times.

He often thought that the best days were when he was a child and had no demands or expectations placed upon him. Back then, his best friend Richard, who was now a knight in training, would accompany him on many adventures. Together, particularly in the summer, they wandered the kingdom far and wide, exploring its deep forests, magical streams, and winding paths, often getting into all sorts of mischief — catching frogs, trapping wild animals, daring each other to jump from the highest branches of the imposing trees that surrounded the palace . . . Somehow, they had survived those exploits with no more than bumps and bruises along with fantastical tales and memories. Those were the days. With the carefree carelessness of youth, however, he had no idea that those days would all too soon come to an end.

Back then, he and Richard were equals. With time and age, however, came separation. The prince was royalty, and Richard, although he was part of the noble court, held no official title. His title, if he had one, was a knight in training. The prince now rarely saw Richard since they were both busy with their respective duties. When they did run into each other, it was in a formal setting where the prince felt an unwelcome, ever increasing distance between them. 

He tried to smile and tease Richard like he had done in the olden days, but Richard rarely broke rank and responded. His face was impassive and stoic whenever the prince encountered him. It wouldn’t do for a knight to joke around with royalty. The prince sadly didn’t know how to bridge that gap. He greatly missed his friend and youthful companion.

He was now forced to find solace in books. He liked reading adventure stories such as the exploits of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. He sometimes wondered if he liked reading about knights because he wanted to be a knight himself, like Richard. Knights got to have all the fun, riding horses, sparring with others, roaming around the kingdom. They were free. Unlike him.

Besides reading about knights, the prince also enjoyed exploring other cultures and languages. Lately, he had become fascinated with France and its history. He liked reading about the French Revolution and the three things the peasants had fought for – liberté, egalité, fraternité. These were the three very things the prince longed for most. He wished for liberty – to be free to wander about like he did as a young boy. He wished he and Richard were still equals, and lastly, he wished for their old carefree camaraderie or fraternity. 

In his quest to learn the French language (a pursuit his father strongly encouraged since he would one day be expected to foster diplomatic relations between their kingdom and France), he had learned a new word: “flâneur”. A flâneur was someone who wandered in an aimless way, observing others around him for mere entertainment. The prince decided that was what he most wanted to do – be a careless, footloose and fancy free flâneur, having many exciting adventures along the way. Now that he was getting older, he was fascinated with life outside of the castle’s thick walls. He wanted to see how the other half lived. Like any young person, he felt stifled and longed to explore the larger world. But how to go about doing so?

A prince could not just wander freely. Everywhere he went, he was surrounded by others, surrounded by his parents or the royal court. The only time he was alone was when he was reading. He suspected that his parents knew he needed some time to decompress. They allowed him unrestricted solitary access to the library, because they thought reading was an admirable pursuit. A prince was expected to be educated and well spoken. Everyone agreed that reading was a good way to achieve that end.

He sank into the deep velvet armchair and rested his chin in his hand thoughtfully. How could he escape the castle, even momentarily? How could he explore the larger world incognito? If he were to venture outside of the kingdom, it would raise many alarms. Everyone would recognize him immediately and he could not wander unrestricted. 

His thoughts once again jumped to his old friend Richard. Richard didn’t know how lucky he was. As a knight, he could venture anywhere he pleased. He could mingle with whomever he chose and ride his horse all throughout the land. 

Well, it was no use. They both had their stations in life. The prince needed to find his adventures in the pages of a good book. He pulled several from the shelf, grabbing two of his old favorites – the King Arthur book and the Count of Monte Cristo – both daring, swashbuckling tales.

As he exited the library, he passed a chambermaid in the hallway. The town crier’s words about staying hydrated came back to him. He requested a large pitcher of water to be brought to the garden where a wrought iron table rested under the shade of a towering oak tree. It was the coolest place in the kingdom he could think of. 

Before heading outside, he removed his outer robe and unbuttoned his frilled collar. He simply couldn’t tolerate heat for another minute. He carelessly tossed his robe on a bench, knowing that a maid would surely pick it up and launder it. A prince never had to ask for anything. All of his life everything had been carefully arranged for him. At times, it was convenient and other times, annoying.

He shifted his stack of books to his other hand and stepped outdoors. He sat down at the table in the welcoming shade, placing his books on the table in front of him. Despite the heat, the birds sang sweetly in the trees. Not a breath of air stirred, however. Although it was hot, even in the shade, it was peaceful. He opened the page of his first book: The Count of Monte Cristo. 

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, boots scrunching on the gravel walking path. He glanced up from his pages. To his surprise, he saw Richard standing there. Like him, Richard had discarded his outer garment, but instead of a frilly collar he wore a simple broadcloth shirt.

“Hello Richard,” the prince said and smiled.

“Your highness,” Richard bowed dramatically.

“Hey! It’s me, your old friend. No need to be so formal,” the prince admonished.

“Sorry, sir. It is what it is.”

“Have a seat.” Richard pulled out a spindly chair, sweeping his arm in front of him in a “won’t you sit down" gesture.

“I suppose. Only for a minute.”

At that moment, the maid approached with a pitcher of water and a goblet. The prince felt strangely uncomfortable. Richard didn’t seem very friendly. Well, the least he could do was offer him a drink.

“Can you please get me another glass?” he asked the maid.

“No, it’s okay. I’m not staying.” Richard said. 

“As you wish, sir.” The maid curtsied and left.

“I insist you have something to drink. I’ll take the glass and you can drink straight from the pitcher. You’ve drunk from worse.” He paused, “Remember the old days when we drank right out of the stream? It’s a wonder we survived. I don’t know how clean that creek is.”

“I remember,” Richard said in a low voice. He glanced at his erstwhile friend. Did the prince realize how annoyingly shiny he was? His shirt was blindingly white, he wore a large flashy, emerald ring, and his crystal goblet reflected sunlight off its tiny etched prisms, even in the shade.

“What I wouldn't give to go again on another adventure like that,” the prince said longingly. “When we were kids, we roamed the woods like bandits.”

Richard thought hard for a moment. “Do you want to go on an adventure?” he asked mockingly. “Finish your water and follow me.”

The prince sat dumbstruck. Richard’s offer had seemingly come out of nowhere.

“Cat got your tongue?” Richard grimaced. “No matter. Just stash your stuff somewhere, your books I mean, and let’s go.”

The prince felt suddenly embarrassed. He lived vicariously through the pages of a book, while Richard probably had real adventures everyday. And now his old friend was inviting him to come along.

“Ok. Can we pass by the library? I’ll just set the books on a table. They don’t have to be shelved till later.” As he spoke, he suddenly felt even more ashamed. He sounded like a librarian.

“Sure thing,” Richard said.

“Where are we going?” the prince asked.

“You’ll see,” Richard promised. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to show you for a very long time. It seems like today’s the day.”

They passed through the library and made their way to the far end of the castle. Richard led him to a tiny storage room next to the kitchen.

“Why are we going here?” The prince was confused.

“Shhh!” Richard put his fingers to his lips. “I want to show you a secret tunnel.”

A secret tunnel? The prince could scarcely believe it.

Richard opened the door and led him over to the far side of the room. There stood shelves of pickled vegetables, bottles of ale, and coarse brown bags of flour. Bending down, he reached for a black metal ring that protruded from a wooden plank on the floor. He pulled the ring and the panel opened up, revealing a ladder descending into the gloom. 

“Follow me,” Richard said. 

He climbed down. The prince followed closely behind, placing his feet carefully on each rung. They finally got to the bottom and jumped down, landing on a tightly packed dirt floor. It was dark and cool in the depths of the castle, and some sort of long, winding corridor beckoned. 

“Where does this go?” the prince asked.

“It goes to the village outside the castle.” Richard answered shortly.

“Interesting,” the prince said. “Can we go there?”

“Do you really want to?” Richard asked with a sharp tone in his voice. “It'll be like history repeating itself.”

“What do you mean?” The prince was confused. One moment, Richard acted like his best friend. The next, he was distant and cold, speaking harshly. 

“Do you want to know how I know about this tunnel?” Richard asked.

“Yes,” the prince said meekly. What was Richard getting at?

“My mother told me.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes.” Richard paused one long moment. He looked hard at his old friend. “And you know how she discovered the tunnel?”

“How?” The prince asked curiously.

“Once, long ago, a king came out on the other side of the tunnel. He visited the village where she lived with her parents. She was but a simple peasant girl, daughter of shopkeepers, and he was the exalted king.”

“She saw the tunnel?” The prince pressed his friend.

“Yes, she came in here with the king. It was their secret hiding place.”

“Secret hiding place?” The prince echoed.

“Yes, it was their love nest!” He spat out the last words.

The prince’s thoughts swirled. He didn’t know what to say.

“And out of this love nest, a child was born!” Richard shouted. 

“A child?” The prince felt like a parrot, continually repeating Richard’s words. He didn’t quite know what to say.

“Yes, and you know who that child was?”

“Who?” the prince asked dumbfoundedly.

“Me! I'm your half brother!”

Half brother? Richard was his half brother? How was that possible? His parents had been betrothed since childhood. His father had never gone with another woman. It simply wasn’t possible. 

“But I was born on the wrong side of the sheets, and you're the high and mighty one!” Richard said bitterly. “I learned this about two years ago.”

The prince said nothing. He swallowed hard, again not knowing what to say. He and Richard were brothers? 

“Do you know when I found this out? Right before my mother arranged it so I could come live at the castle and be a knight. She acted like it was a big deal!” Richard almost shouted the last words. “But you're the one who'll be king someday! I’m only a knight!”

“I’m sorry,” the prince said slowly.

“It should've been me!” Richard roared. Suddenly, he reached in the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a rock honed into a sharp point. He raised it high in the air, bringing it down forcefully on the prince’s head. 

The prince fell to the floor bleeding. As he lay on the hard dirt floor in dazed pain and confusion, he saw Richard out of the corner of his eye raise the rock once again before smashing it mercilessly into his skull.

“No!” the prince cried. Several short moments later, he lay still. 

Richard’s breath heaved in tandem with the prince’s last desperate gasp. The deed had been done. Long live the king and his new number one son.