“How many soldiers did you say were coming?” asked Queen Mya of the Dryad people. She took the report from her advisor, Lord Ferdinand.
She sat at her cluttered mahogany desk that had grown up in the library of her hilltop castle. The ancient capital city encircled her tower fortress and was supplied by a cool river flowing down from the mountains. The castle was made of solid limestone but was covered in flowering vines that sprouted up in the various rooms to form furniture. The living furniture continued to grow leaves and flowers and to modify the furniture for the user’s needs.
Her faithful advisor stood before her, stroking his gray beard as he watched her read the report. The furniture waited as well.
The sun peered through the narrow arrow slits causing strips of golden light to fall on the sparse furniture and dusty books. Queen Mya’s birthplace was constructed for battle with small rooms, thick walls, and every fortification a monarch could desire. Inside the city and castle walls stood her soldier’s barracks, the stables, gardens, water from the river, her fortified palace, and everything she would need to hold off a siege.
But the petite queen felt aged as she scanned the report in her jeweled hands. She had just celebrated her twenty-first birthday and had already been queen for three long years. The weight of the kingdom on her shoulders, alone, was unbearably heavy, especially on days like today.
They were not a warrior race, but one known for creating beauty. Her people were inclined to avoid war at all costs.
“Six hundred Huldra,” said Lord Ferdinand. “All are ready for battle.”
His face wrinkled up in concern as he folded his arms before him. The stately man was old enough to be her grandfather and had been close friends with her late father. He now acted as both a father figure and friend to the young queen.
Queen Mya sighed and laid down the report with all the other papers and books that filled her busy workspace.
“So the king of Blackmoor thinks he can threaten me into marriage?” she said to her advisor. “Send out our army again. How many princes and kings think they can force me into marriage by schemes and threats?”
“I think this is why your father advised you to marry so often,” said Lord Ferdinand. “He knew people would think you were young and weak.”
This conversation was old and worn out, just like her father’s favorite chair in the corner of the royal library. Her father had started suggesting she marry from the time she was sixteen. Her mother was gone, and she was his only child. He never pushed her or forced her to meet suitors, but she heard him say over and over again that he didn’t want her to be alone. He often told her how hard ruling a country was. Even with all his experience, he felt the lack of support without a wife or companion. However, He never remarried, and Mya was never convinced she should marry either.
“I won’t give up my throne in a marriage,” Queen Mya told Lord Ferdinand. “If I marry a king, he will take my country from me and add it to his own empire. If I marry a prince, he will want to be my equal and have a say in what’s rightfully mine. If I marry someone below me, I am marrying a gold-digger or one grasping for power. I can’t trust anyone. I will rule this kingdom on my terms and not as the puppet of some man.”
Lord Ferdinand sat down in her father’s chair, which adjusted to him, and laid his hands on his lap. He, like all Dryad, took great care in his appearance. He had aged like wine and was stately in his flowing robes edged in pearls.
“When your father died, I promised him I would help you to the best of my abilities, but I too am old. You will need someone you can lean on and trust next to you. At least a younger advisor or companion than me, someone more than a servant or employee. Like your father always said, I don’t want to see you alone in life. Perhaps we can tackle this issue more purposefully. Instead of waiting until the right person appears, bring all the suitors to you. Test them and see what their merits are. A law can be crafted that your future companion will be your consort and never co-ruler. End all of this political maneuvering and threats by the rulers of various nations with a real search for a proper companion.”
“They will all be arrogant, power-hungry idiots,” said Queen Mya. “How will I know what their real motives are? A bad companion or advisor would be worse than what I am dealing with now. It could even cost me my life.”
“I suggest you make a list of what you are searching for,” said Lord Ferdinand. “Then use tests to prove these qualifications. If none pass the test, then do this again next year. At least it will keep the soldiers from battle and the political games at bay.”
Queen Mya nodded, shaking loose a black curl from her elaborate hairdo dotted with freshwater pearls. She put her hands in her silk gown, thinking over the suggestion. This kind of thing had been done before in other kingdoms. A proper series of tests would be a better judge of character than the sly masks of political chit-chat. Then again, if she made the tests impossible, she could put off the suitors and still not have to marry. Any king who wanted her throne could enter the tests. War could be averted, at least for a few years. If she was clever enough, she could keep this going the rest of her life until she found an heir she could groom to inherit the throne after her.
“It might work,” said the queen. “I will send a letter to the king of Blackmoor and invite him to compete for my hand in marriage in six months. Perhaps that will stop his soldiers for now. I will have to make the tests hard enough that he won’t win, but the hope of it will at least save a few lives.”
She wrote the letter and sent it to the aggressive monarch. The short, stout king of Blackmoor believed he could win any challenge she devised, and the army of Huldra soldiers was recalled. Queen Mya worked for months creating a list of tests and qualifications she wanted in a companion. She read ancient manuscripts filled with wisdom literature and listed virtues on a sheet of paper. Her emotions were steadily against marriage, but she had to make the impossible tasks appear sincere. Though a painful corner of her heart wished for company. The ancients had much to say about friendships, loyalty, and family. Still, this was not her lot in life. Once her father died, she saw how everyone jostled for her power. She wasn’t going to be forced into marriage by anyone.
Invitations were sent to all the kingdoms, and posters went out to the towns and villages to advertise the event to the nobility and knights of the various races. She ruled out no class or gender, rich or poor since it didn’t matter. They would need a horse and armor to compete, and the poor couldn’t afford that. No one could win her challenges anyway.
When the day came, the entire valley from forest to forest, west of the castle, was filled with the tents of potential suitors. The colorful striped tents were lavish in size, decorations, and flags. The villages around the capital held festivals with jugglers, puppeteers, food, and games. Merchants saile she found an heir she could groom to inherit the throne after her.
“It might work,” said the queen. “I will send a letter to the king of Blackmoor and invite him to compete for my hand in marriage in six months. Perhaps that will stop his soldiers for now. I will have to make the tests hard enough that he won’t win, but the hope of it will at least save a few lives.”
She wrote the letter and sent it to the aggressive monarch. The short, stout king of Blackmoor believed he could win any challenge she devised, and the army of Huldra soldiers was recalled. Queen Mya worked for months creating a list of tests and qualifications she wanted in a companion. She read ancient manuscripts filled with wisdom literature and listed virtues on a sheet of paper. Her emotionsd to the western lands just to set up booths at the event. People from all the countries of the Moorish peninsula came to watch the events in droves.
Only four tasks were planned that would last five days. Queen Mya even prepared a beautiful wedding and lavish feast at the end of the events, just so the suitors would think she was serious about her search. Each activity tested one of four traits: wisdom, honesty, faithfulness, and bravery. The tasks were challenging, and Queen Mya felt confident that no one could pass them.
She dressed in lavish sky blue and wore her best jewels that glistened like stars. She wore a wreath of flowers on her head, letting her long dark hair lay down her back, as most women of her ra she found an heir she could groom to inherit the throne after her.
“It might work,” said the queen. “I will send a letter to the king of Blackmoor and invite him to compete for my hand in marriage in six months. Perhaps that will stop his soldiers for now. I will have to make the tests hard enough that he won’t win, but the hope of it will at least save a few lives.”
She wrote the letter and sent it to the aggressive monarch. The short, stout king of Blackmoor believed he could win any challenge she devised, and the army of Huldra soldiers was recalled. Queen Mya worked for months creating a list of tests and qualifications she wanted in a companion. She read ancient manuscripts filled with wisdom literature and listed virtues on a sheet of paper. Her emotionsce did in the spring. She carried her blossoming staff, a symbol of her position of power. Her whole court attended the events in a fancy pavilion adorned in vines, pearls, and star-like jewels with stadium-style seating sprung out of the earth. It was built near the forest, north of the castle, near the knights’ training ground. Her living, flowering throne sat in the center front of the pavilion with Lord Ferdinand at her right hand. Many nobility and common people gave her good wishes for a successful search and a happy marriage.
The knights were the most accomplished anyone had ever seen. Huldra, Dryad, Sprites, Hiru, Nomads, and other races came. Every gender, age, and size, from kings to peasants, competed each day. No one could pass any of Queen Mya’s tests out of the one hundred and sixty-eight suitors who came. They universally complained about the ridiculous rules and unfair requirements. Magic had been forbidden entirely on the grounds of the competition, and everyone believed the tasks would never be possible without magic’s aid.
Queen Mya, pleased at the results, feigned disappointment and scheduled the competition to happen again the following year. She returned to the task of ruling in peace, content that her tests solved all her problems. Her court consoled her, and the villagers ended the festival in disappointment.
The second year, the celebrations were repeated, but with more caution and reserve. Word had spread about the impossibility of the competition. Some suitors returned to try a second time. Most did not return at all. Half of those who came were younger brothers, cousins, and relatives of the kings who had tried before. This time, all eighty-four suitors failed every test.
By the third year, Queen Mya continued to hold the event to put off war and political games. She felt thrilled that her plan had worked and was the only one jubilant at the competition. The village festival became more of a general day of shopping and entertainment. Queen Mya didn’t mind the loss of enthusiasm from her people. She had never expected a winner, and she was right again.
In the fourth year, the event took place during an exceptionally rainy week. The village postponed the festival, and many in the court complained about the muddy conditions. Since Queen Mya had no desire for anyone to succeed, she refused to put the event off. She wanted to get it over and done with like a horrible illness. It had become a tiresome duty to keep her kingdom out of a war.
Unfortunately, it wouldn’t keep her country out of war this year. Three kings swore they would invade if Queen Mya didn’t marry. The threat was unfair. What right did the world have to tell her what to do with her life? She was more determined that no one would win and would call on her alliances to back her if she was invaded. Her allies were still sending men to compete for her hand and would fight with her against invaders.
Instead of the gorgeous silk gowns she had worn in the past, she put on her worn-out hunting clothes and boots. She didn’t bother to wear her jewels or put on perfumes and cosmetics for tramping around in the mud, rain, and mosquitoes. She still wore her flowers because it was the symbol of her people. Even the male rulers of her country wore flowers.
Only forty men braved the weather to compete. She was surprised even that many men showed up. As in previous years, the suitors lined up in the field to be greeted by her on the first day before they competed. Each man wore his best clothes or armor. Many were second cousins or third-born princes. Some were knights or noblemen. As Queen Mya shook hands with each one, she gave a false smile and nod until she reached the end. The last man, a Nomos of the mountains, stood tall with a smirk. Instead of fine clothes, he wore work boots and wool work clothes of a commoner. He was wrapped in a tarp across his body like a sash and had a tin pot on his head. Across his back was a lute, and in his left hand, he held a cage with squirrels.
“Sir, are you here to compete for my hand in marriage?” asked Queen Mya, bewildered by the tan, course commoner.
He smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. He was well-proportioned and robust, but his eyes showed an intelligence she mistrusted. He would be handsome if he wasn’t dressed so ridiculously.
“Yes, of course,” he replied. “Was there a dress code? You’re not dressed up.”
“No,” said the queen, “but one usually dresses up to meet a queen.”
“I’m not here to meet a queen,” said the man with a sparkle in his hazel eyes. “I’m here to meet my future wife. I want her to see me for who I am.”
The queen scowled. She immediately hated him for his demeaning way of expressing himself. She pondered if she should have him arrested for his disrespect.
“Then who are you?” asked the queen, still trying to process the oddity before her.
“My name is Duende,” said the man with a bow that nearly lost him his pot hat.
“He’s the fool of White Rock Cove, your Majesty,” said Lord Ferdinand. “He did register. He is a fisherman who fishes the mountain lake north of our border. We weren’t certain if we should send him home or not. He isn’t the first commoner to compete.”
Queen Mya studied the tall, muscular man still smiling at her. Her anger diminished some. The pretense was that these people were wanting to marry her. She was offering herself up as the prize to be a wife. He was the first person she had met who made that unsavory reality coldly apparent to her. She wouldn’t do this competition again.
He was a fool, but his stark contrast to the highly polished line-up amused her. She needed a distraction from her dreary task. He might even be humorous to watch. She would relish him losing his smirk in the difficulties ahead.
“No, let him compete,” said Queen Mya. “I said any class. His presence will prevent this from becoming boring.”
Her advisor bowed, and she returned to the castle, eager for the next day. Something told her to expect odd things from Duende, and that thrilled her. She needed some amusement in her life.
The first event was to test wisdom. The task began at sunrise, and each suitor had to search the royal forest for a golden apple that Queen Mya hid by herself. They had to bring it back before sunset that same day. It sounded simple, but after four years, no one could find where she had hidden it. Each year, she placed the golden apple in the same obscure spot.
The rain had poured the night before, and the forty competitors slid in the mud dressed in their finest hunting garments. They took their place in line before the forest left of the royal pavilion. When the soldier announced they could go, the crowd of envy-worthy athletic elites rushed through the woods, all except Duende.
Queen Mya sat facing her left in the pavilion and watched the fisherman as he opened his cage with five squirrels. He cheered at them as they ran into the woods. Once they were all gone, he sat in the mud under a tree and ate an apple.
“Well, look at that idiot,” said one of the ladies-in-waiting. “He most certainly won’t find the golden apple like that.”
The other women laughed. Queen Mya also laughed, but then she wondered about the squirrels.
She knew that word of her competition had spread. Competitors had been coming from farther and farther away each year. Anyone could have easily learned what her tasks were before coming. She had feared a skilled tracker would be able to find her apple, but none did. Could the squirrels be part of this man’s solution?
Once Duende finished his apple, he pulled his lute out from behind his back and began playing. The nobility in the queen’s pavilion began to laugh again at his silliness.
“He’s making fun of you,” said one of the noblemen angrily. “He isn’t taking your competition seriously. Your Majesty, let me give him a lesson in respect.”
“No,” said Queen Mya. “Let us wait and see first.”
The nobility ate a grand lunch in the pavilion at noon. A few discouraged men returned from the forest covered in mud and ready to quit. Duende stayed by his tree and pulled a bag of nuts from his pocket. Queen Mya watched him as she ate her lunch.
Her court exclaimed disappointment at each man who appeared from the forest empty-handed. This was nothing new, though. Queen Mya had seen this happen every year.
What caught her interest was how one squirrel at a time brought various treasures to Duende. With each prize, Duende paid the squirrel a nut. She couldn’t see what each bit was, but some things were large, and some were small. Queen Mya ate her meal thoughtfully and was soon distracted by a fight between two suitors to the right of the pavilion near the knight’s training grounds.
The men were fussing at each other for splashing mud on the other’s beautiful things. Soldiers rushed in and split up the fight. Queen Mya sighed as she turned to her left again to watch the forest and the fool, but the fool was gone.
“Your Majesty,” said a soldier to her. “A competitor has brought the golden apple.”
Queen Mya sat up, surprised.
“Really? Bring him!” she exclaimed as she stood waiting nervously.
No one was supposed to be able to find it, and this success unnerved her. She would have to come up with a new event next year.
Duende came with the soldier with his tin hat in his hands and knelt before her.
Then she remembered she had decided she wouldn’t do this again next year. She would not just hand herself over to be a random person’s wife.
“Did you get the golden apple?” asked the queen. “How did you do it?”
Duende presented the small treasure and placed it in the queen’s hand.
“My squirrels can go anywhere you could,” said Duende.
“Then he didn’t do it,” said one of the noblemen. “That doesn’t count. He cheated.”
It would be easy to disqualify him as her court wanted, but he hadn’t broken the rules. It would indeed be unfair. He hadn’t used magic. He was just clever. She was so pleased with the creativity of his solution that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. What was wisdom if not this?
“No,” said Queen Mya as she stared at the odd man in amazement. “I hadn’t expected this solution, but he passed the test for wisdom by using his mind to save his effort. He broke no rules. Well done, but you have three more tasks to go.”
Duende smiled his cocky grin.
“It will be my pleasure, your Majesty.”
The queen dismissed him and studied her golden apple. It was about the size of the palm of her hand. She had hidden it up in a tree as far as she could climb. She had loved climbing trees as a child, and she knew of a good tall one in the center of the forest. It was remarkable that even the seven squirrels had found it, considering how many trees were in the woods. She wondered also how he had trained them. If she remembered correctly, everything they had brought him had been made of gold.
Could the fool pass all four tasks? It seemed impossible. Still, he was the first to accomplish any of the tests at all. She felt both fear at his success and admiration at his solution. No matter how she tried to put the thoughts out of her mind, she pondered his success the rest of the evening. Still, she did not intend to marry anyone, even if they succeeded. She would just disqualify them somehow at the end.
The next day’s task was to test honesty. Only thirty-four men remained, and most hoped that if they could complete the rest of the tests, the first one might not matter. This day, she would ask a riddle in which the suitors had all day to answer. She had heard many answers, but no one had been able to respond well.
It had rained again, so the queen wore her hunting clothes to walk through the mud into the camp. She would tell the riddle to the suitors and then go back to the palace to wait for the answers in her throne room. Only her soldiers and Lord Ferdinand were willing to travel in the mud with her. As she entered the camp, the wind blew, and the rain suddenly began to pour. The line of royalty, nobility, and knights scurried away to their tents in the downpour.
Duende unwrapped the tarp he always carried wrapped around him and covered his head with it. The queen was caught in the rain as her escorts searched for shelter for her. Her pavilion was on the other side of the castle near the forest, and there were no trees in the open valley where the suitors camped. Duende rushed up to Queen Mya with his tarp as her escorts scurried back across the moat to the castle gates.
“Would your Majesty like to share my shelter?” Duende asked. “We can walk to your pavilion or the castle if you like.”
“You’re very kind,” said Queen Mya as he extended the flap of the massive tarp so she could get under it. “Thank you. We will wait a bit for the rain to settle down. I don’t want to put off my riddle because of a little water.”
“Ah, you are gracious not to despise my humble company,” said Duende. “I had hoped to find you worthy.”
“Worthy?” exclaimed Queen Mya. “Worthy of what?”
“To be a wife,” said Duende. He gave another one of his grins.
“Your wife?” she exclaimed. She considered slapping him but restrained herself.
“Any man’s wife,” said Duende, tilting his head. “I hope to prove myself worth as well.”
“And my wealth and power don’t make me worthy of that?” asked the queen, amazed.
“What is wealth and fame when two are alone in the rain?” asked Duende.
“What then makes a person worthy?” asked the queen, still incredulous at the man’s impertinence.
“Kindness to those who could never repay that kindness,” said Duende. He paused and then added. “Being pretty doesn’t hurt much either.”
Queen Mya laughed at this addition.
“Now I know you lie,” she said. “I’m all wet, covered in mud, and in my hunting clothes. I’m hardly pretty at this moment. I suppose I am not worthy then.”
“I’ve never seen you prettier,” said Duende, shifting the tarp farther forward as the rain increased. “You are yourself with nothing to distract from it. Surely, you are more than jewels and a pretty dress.”
“Well said,” answered the queen as she took her corner of the tarp from his hands. “Since no one else is here to answer my riddle, I will ask you. What is my greatest flaw?”
Duende showed a flicker of surprise before a smirk returned to his face. His expression was not one of laughter, though. Instead, he looked at the queen like a man who was in love and knew her well. His gaze caused her to step away slightly, but then he smiled fully. The smile erased his intense demeanor. He looked back out at the rain.
“Your greatest flaw was becoming queen because you lost who you were,” he answered, but then he glanced back at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Your second flaw is that your nose is too big, but if you were a perfect beauty, your face would be just as boring as your queenly persona.”
At first, Queen Mya was stunned that he would be so frank “You will pick up each lentil with your tweezers and carry it to the bowl with your name on the palace steps. You must move all the lentils by sunset.”
“That’s impossible!” said one of the princes. “The palace is at least a hundred yards away.”
“You should have asked someone what the tasks were going to be before you came,” said a knight. “She’s been using the same tests every year.”
“This is ridiculous!” said the prince as he stormed off to his tent.
Queen Mya shrugged. It happened every year.
“You may begin,” she said.
Then she turned and walked to her pavilion to watch with her court. The suitors grabbed a lintel with their tweezers and ran to the palace with it. Whistling to himself, Duende took the pot off his head and spun it around before setting it down next to his pile of lentils. He then sat down in the mud and began to use the tweezers to fill his pot.
“He’s cheating,” said a lady-in-waiting.
“Is he?” asked Queen Mya with a smirk. “I don’t think we had any rules against that. They had to use the tweezers and could not scoop the lintels from the barrel, but using something in between was never in the rules either way.”
“But he’ll finish much quicker than the rest,” said a nobleman.
“No one has ever finished in time,” said Lord Ferdinand. “Even with the pot, it will take him most of the day.”
“Leave him alone, and let us watch,” said Queen Mya.
She again hadn’t expected such a solution to her test, but she couldn’t help respecting his inventiveness. Curiosity over whether a pot would be enough to win took over her entire attention. She had often wished someone would try something new rather than do the same thing every year.
The other suitors came running back and grabbed a lentil before running to the palace again. A few, though, saw what Duende was doing and ran to their tents instead. Two men brought back giant iron cauldrons to fill. One knight used his helmet. Duende patiently filled his pot and carried it to the palace. When he returned, many of the other suitors were out of breath from running back and forth from the palace steps multiple times. Three men quit and returned to their tents. Duende set down his pot and continued to fill it with lentils.
Queen Mya watched the competition with interest. Duende was influencing these arrogant know-it-alls without saying a word. In politics, one had to be creative and find answers that weren’t obvious. His clothes and silly ways couldn’t hide his ability to win others to his way of doing things. She pondered what kind of companion the fool of White Stone Cove would be in court. Would he continue to dress ridiculously? Then again, his clothes made sense for all the mud he was sitting in. Would he embarrass her in front of politicians? Observing his cleverness and thinking back to their previous conversation, she wondered if his kind of foolishness might be what her court needed.
Duende filled up his second pot and carried it to the palace. The other suitors had slowed down from their run to a walk. A few more had quit. At least three other suitors searched for containers to use like Duende was doing. The knight using his helmet had finished filling it, but once he began to walk towards the palace, lentils fell out of the eye slits. He had to stop and pick those lentils up before struggling to carry the helmet without spilling anymore.
Once Duende had filled his pot for the third time, the two men with the cauldrons had finished filling their containers. They stood up and tried to lift the iron cauldrons. The heavy containers were made even heavier by the contents. One man couldn’t lift his at all and swore. The other lifted his cauldron but waddled with it awkwardly toward the palace.
Queen Mya ate lunch in the pavilion, watching the event in wonder. Duende had picked a light pot that was not too big and not too small for the task. It seemed evident he knew what he would be asked to do and had appropriately prepared for it. His foresight pleased her so much that she wondered if his foolishness was just a persona like her own. What if he wasn’t a fool?
Suddenly, she began to imagine what kind of husband he might be. He was pleasing physically if he dressed well, but would he seek power? He seemed to despise her queenly position, though. He did find her attractive, but would he love her? He did amuse her and made her laugh almost every time they talked. The directions of her thoughts surprised her, and she pushed them away.
By the afternoon, all the suitors who didn’t have containers had quit or finally acquired one. Only twelve remained to pick up lentils. Duende’s pile was by far the lowest of any.
“I think he will succeed again, your Majesty,” said Lord Ferdinand.
“It appears so,” said Queen Mya, “but I wonder what he’ll do tomorrow.”
As she asked her standard question, she secretly hoped for his success. Again, she was stunned by her treacherous emotions. The problem was that she admired his intelligence and desired to see more of it. No one had surprised and thrilled her the way he did. She then found herself studying his serious expression as he worked. His rugged good looks and impressive strength filled her imagination. Could she actually be considering marrying this man? It was ridiculous!
Two hours before sunset, Duende carried his last pot of lentils to the palace. He was then presented to the queen and knelt before her.
“Well done, sir,” said Queen Mya as she stood. “You have done more than any man before you.”
“But it isn’t enough, is it?” said Duende, looking up at the queen with sad eyes.
Queen Mya was taken aback by this.
“Does the fool want to be called the winner already?” said an angry nobleman.
“Even if he completes the tasks, I can’t imagine that the queen would actually marry him,” said a lady-in-waiting with a sneer. “He’s just a commoner.”
Queen Mya heard her own previous thoughts in her lady-in-waiting’s words. She felt ashamed at her prejudice as she thoughtfully observed Duende’s mud-stained clothes and common appearance. He was asking if anything would be enough to win her hand. Considering how dangerous the next day’s event would be, it was a fair question.
Duende’s expression was solemn as he continued to look at the queen straight in the eyes. She felt lost in his gaze.
“It’s a lot to ask for empty promises,” said Duende in almost a whisper. “Would you marry a commoner and a fool? Are you everything you want your suitor to be? Are you wise, honest, faithful, and brave?”
The court erupted in anger. Queen Mya felt the sting of his words. She had intended to deceive and to break her promises, but he wasn’t asking in judgment of her. He wanted an assurance. Queen Mya held up her hand.
“He is right to ask this,” said the queen. “Why should he continue if I won’t keep my word. I can honestly say that I have pondered this question. There are four tasks. If you complete all four tasks, then you have my word that I will keep my promise. We will be wed after sunset tomorrow.”
She felt stunned by her own words. She had just promised to marry him. Her shock increased when she felt peace about her answer in her heart. Somehow, she just knew, if he won, he would be the perfect match for her.
Tears formed in Duende’s eyes as his mouth fell slightly open. It was the most transparent she had ever seen him. He had really wanted to win this. Queen Mya thought again about all the preparation he had done before coming to the competition. Had he done it for her, or was it for her throne? The court again erupted in protests. Lord Ferdinand stepped forward.
“The queen has spoken,” Lord Ferdinand stated in his booming voice, and the court quieted down.
Queen Mya smiled at the stunned fool with the pot back on his head. His transparent shock warmed her heart. She felt hope. Was this an honest man who she would be able to trust?
“What do you have to say?” she asked him.
He swallowed, then smiled his largest grin yet. He pulled his lute from behind his back as he stood in one motion.
“Ooooh, I am as happy as a sparrow,
No care, I’m there, no dare’s unfair.
Cupid has loosed his potent arrow,
No care, I’m there, no dare’s unfair.
And I am his mark.
I soar as a lark.
His call I will hark.
So I will depart.
Oooooh, I am as happy as a sparrow!”
And so he played and sang as he wandered away from the queen’s pavilion without ever being dismissed.
“He’s completely mad,” said a nobleman, reflecting the stunned expression of her whole court.
But the queen just laughed. Could she condemn a man who proclaimed he was in love with her? With all her heart, she hoped he would win. If nothing else, this man would bring joy back into her life, and she needed that desperately. Lord Ferdinand put his hand on the queen’s shoulder with an approving smile.
“I don’t think you will regret your words,” said Lord Ferdinand.
“I hope so,” said the queen. “I hope…” She couldn’t finish. She hoped for too much and feared even more.
A messenger rushed to the pavilion. She received a note from him and read it. Her general had written that the three kings were uniting to attack her and would be here once the competition ended.
War.
It was coming no matter what. “Lord Ferdinand, begin to prepare the army,” she commanded as she began to leave the pavilion. Then she paused until he caught up. “And perhaps,” she paused again, hesitating.
“Perhaps, a wedding?” whispered the adviser so only she could hear.
Queen Mya looked up at him, “and perhaps a wedding.”
He nodded with a fatherly expression of approval and left.
Queen Mya sighed and continued forward to the castle. Her resolve to never marry had been crushed by a fool in a tin hat. She was baffled by her own emotions.
The last day of the competition was the hardest. This was to test bravery. Queen Mya had chosen her task to find a person who would be a pillar to lean on in times of trouble. Courage was essential to a job that continually had threats of war, rebellion, assassination, and political crisis. Now, more than any other time in her short reign, she needed that pillar. She could hardly sleep that night, wondering how Duende could pass this trial. He needed a horse and armor but probably could not afford either.
The next morning, only nineteen suitors remained. Each one was dressed in a full suit of armor and sat on a horse. Queen Mya looked down the line of knights but didn’t see Duende in his wool clothes or pot hat. She had thought he might find a horse or mule, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Instead, she saw nineteen sparkling suits of armor with their visors down, ready for the last task.
She sighed, disappointed and heartbroken.
“He didn’t come,” whispered a few of her courtiers behind her in the pavilion. “The queen will be saved from a dreadful mistake.”
“Shows he’s a boastful coward,” said a nobleman.
Lord Ferdinand patted the queen’s hand in a consoling way.
“Perhaps it is best,” he said, “but it’s a shame. He seemed like a good man. I thought he was really in love with you.”
Queen Mya nodded and took a deep breath. Lord Ferdinand always knew what to say to her, and she took comfort in his presence. She had never intended to marry, but Duende’s absence showed her that she had been the fool in allowing herself to fall in love. Had the whole thing been a game to him just to get her to admit she would marry him? Her emotions felt unsteady, but she put on her queenly persona and pushed past the heartache and betrayal.
She then stood.
“The last task tests your bravery,” said the queen to the knights before her. “This gauntlet has never been beaten, and, as you know, a few have died in it. You will each have your turn in the order you now stand. Good luck.”
The knights turned their horses and rode to camp to wait their turn. Only the first three in line waited in the field before the forest for the gauntlet to begin.
The gauntlet was built for training knights in the days of Queen Mya’s father. The knights were supposed to ride between swinging weighted bags, logs, and mallets to test their horsemanship, but none succeeded. It became more dangerous as the ground became uneven from rain and wear, so it developed into a legendary challenge in that region. No knight could stay on his horse riding through it, and many came to try just for bragging rights. For amusement, the gauntlet was even used at festivals and fairs for anyone with a horse, but again, no one had ever been able to pass through it.
The first knight rode his mount to the front of the gauntlet, and the royal soldiers pushed the various swing objects into motion. Since the gauntlet was restarted for each turn, the rhythm and movement of the logs, boulders, swords, axes, and spears were always different. The objects swung high enough not to hit the horses. Still, occasionally, a horse would get injured by the uneven ground or from being startled into erratic behavior. The gauntlet was a simple concept but dangerous in practice.
Queen Mya watched the gauntlet towards the right of the pavilion in a listless, uninterested way as each knight in armor rode into the path of the swinging objects. Her court, though, was fascinated with each rider. They would comment on their horsemanship, armor, bearing, and speed. Some of the nobility placed bets on their favorites. The only reason any of the suitors stayed for this event was that most people saw it as the most critical test that trumped all the rest. The queen knew that this event was her court’s favorite and the one task they understood the most.
“After all, who wouldn’t want a heroic husband,” one noblewoman had said.
Knight after knight tried their hand at the gauntlet, kicking their steed into a full gallop. Some of the falls were spectacular, with their armor dented in many places. Many riders were injured enough to be carried away. Queen Mya was glad to see no deaths this year. She always felt guilty when someone died.
They took a lunch break and continued with the gauntlet in the afternoon. Queen Mya found herself dozing in boredom.
“Look at that one,” exclaimed a lady-in-waiting. “See how tall he sits in that armor. It shines and sparkles elegantly.”
“He does sit well on his horse,” said a nobleman. “He’s a natural rider.”
“I imagine he’s fast,” said another nobleman. “He hardly touches the reigns, and the horse obeys.”
“What’s that on his back?” asked a noblewoman.
“A lute,” said the first nobleman. “Odd.”
Queen Mya sat up at this and searched for the rider they discussed. He was the only one left in the field in front of the pavilion waiting for the gauntlet. He sat on a beautiful white stallion and was the very image of what every knight should be. She squinted her eyes. Could Duende afford a suit of armor like that? Who else had she seen carrying a lute?
“Lots of knights play instruments,” said another nobleman. “He needs to put it back in his tent so it doesn’t get broken in the gauntlet.”
The last rider before the knight entered the gauntlet at full gallop and was knocked off his horse almost immediately.
“Now it’s the lute player’s turn,” said a noblewoman. “There’s no one else left.”
The knight brought his horse to the front of the gauntlet and let go of the reigns. He then pulled the lute around to the front of him. The soldiers pushed the gauntlet into action, but the knight didn’t move. He just sat watching the swinging objects.
Queen Mya’s heart jumped into her throat. Only Duende would act so oddly. Could it be him?
Lord Ferdinand stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“What’s he doing?” asked one of the ladies-in-waiting.
“I think he must be afraid,” said a nobleman. “Get some guts, man! Charge!”
Queen Mya sat forward, watching. The knight strummed his lute. As he did so, his horse walked on and stopped. Then the knight strummed again, and the horse moved into the gauntlet and stopped.
“Don’t stop, you fool!” exclaimed one of the noblemen as he jumped to his feet.
The knight on the white stallion sat safely as the objects swung around him.
“I don’t get it,” said a noblewoman. “He’s just walking into the gauntlet. He’ll get killed.”
The knight strummed, and the horse moved a few steps.
“I think our fool may not have disappeared as we thought,” mumbled Lord Ferdinand.
Queen Mya gave her advisor only a quick glance. He had spoken what her heart told her, but she could hardly bear to pull her eyes away from the gauntlet.
The knight strummed again, and the horse moved a few more steps. Then, the horse took a step backward. The knight strummed twice, and the horse walked twice as far. The knight leaned far back in his saddle, barely kissing a passing log. The court all shouted at the near miss. Once the log swung out, the knight strummed again, and the horse moved forward a step.
Queen Mya held her breath as she watched from the edge of her seat. He was already one-third of the way through, which was much farther than she had seen anyone go.
The knight sat calmly as he strummed, and the horse stepped. The horse started to get nervous, but the knight stroked its neck quickly before strumming again. The horse and rider slowly and steadily made their way through. Once on the other side, the entire court in the pavilion cheered.
“He must be the bravest man alive,” said a noblewoman.
“Imagine sitting in the midst of that thing and not losing your nerve,” said a nobleman.
The knight placed the lute on his back and rode up to the pavilion. A royal soldier took his horse’s reigns so the knight could dismount. He walked up and began to unfasten his helmet. Then he knelt before the queen, and the whole court gasped.
“But he’s so handsome,” whispered a lady-in-waiting to the lady next to her. “What happened to him?”
“Duende,” said the queen as tears welled up in her eyes. “I thought you had left.”
He smiled, showing all his perfect white teeth.
“How could I possibly leave?” he said. “I have a wedding to go to.”
Queen Mya laughed as she stepped towards him.
“Rise, my betrothed,” she said. “You have certainly proven your worth.”
“And so have you, my queen,” said Duende as he stood and stepped closer to her with adoration in his eyes. “You are wise to see past my foolishness, honest to keep your word, faithful when your whole court laughed and scoffed at you, and brave to marry a poor fisherman you hardly know.”
“Tell me how a poor fisherman ended up with armor and rides like a knight,” said the queen.
“A kind knight once saw my worth as a child. He made me his squire,” said Duende. “I served him faithfully for six years before he died in battle. Since I was only the son of a poor fisherman, no other knight would have me serve under them. I went home poor and depressed. My father taught me his trade from where he left off in my childhood, but he also died. Being alone in the world, I decided to cheer myself as best as I could, but my odd behavior labeled me a fool. I heard of your competition but knew I couldn’t come until I saved enough money to buy the armor and horse. I worked hard fishing, playing music, and doing any task I could to be here.”
“Why did you want to compete so badly?” asked Lord Ferdinand. “Surely there were beautiful girls near where you live.”
“I saw the queen before she was a queen,” said Duende. “I fell in love with her back then.”
“Why?” asked Queen Mya as her heart fluttered.
Duende smiled as he looked down at his helmet on the ground next to him.
“Once, a tiny bit of a girl helped a young boy who sprained his ankle,” he said and then met the queen’s eyes. “You told him he was a fool for running on the slippery rocks of the shore. Even so, you rigged a splint from sticks and strips of cloth from the edge of your petticoat.”
Queen Mya blinked, vaguely remembering the interaction.
“When I turned red in anger and embarrassment, you kissed my tears and told me you would get help,” said Duende. “You did, but I never got to speak to you again. I could only watch you from afar. I have never forgotten and have seen you many times, though you never knew it.”
The whole court listened to the story in silence. Queen Mya took Duende’s hands in hers and smiled when she saw they were shaking. He didn’t fear the gauntlet or any task she had set before him, yet his hands shook now. Everything about this man made her heart melt.
“Come, my beloved fool,” she said, “or you’ll miss your wedding.”
They were wed in a rainy ceremony quickly put together. Duende rode out with his queen and the army when the invading kings came. They fought side by side, not as one greater than the other, but as one, looking out for each other. Each was braver because the love of their life was fighting next to them. The Dryad’ army felt their monarch’s passion and her consort’s bravery. They fought with the same vigor. Queen Mya and her consort won the day. Her throne was never seriously challenged again, neither by armies nor by suitors.
The End
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