The Winter's Rose: Chapter 2 – The Heroic Gardener

The Winter's Rose

Chapter 2 – The Heroic Gardener

The Alarm went out all over Castle Drakewood, the Queen had been captured by the evil Dark Prince Balthazar from the Grey Mountains, the guards had been knocked unconscious and the villainous prince was fast fleeing the kingdom with his prisoner trapped in a cage atop a well guarded wagon in his escaping caravan. The townsfolk, the noblemen and the ministers were all afraid to act but one man in all the kingdom was brave enough to go after Balthazar and attempt to rescue the Queen from his vile clutches.

Many knew him as the shy and crippled gardener, but Roberin Gossamer was in fact much more than that. He was a master horseman and skilled swordsman. He rode now on his powerful charger through the streets of the city and out into the forest where Prince Balthazar and his men were hoping to disappear from any possible pursuit, but they would not escape from the heroic gardener of Castle Drakewood. Roberin willed his horse to race faster and faster over the rocky forest trail and the valiant stallion heeded his need, practically flying over the ground, like a shadow escaping the sunrise. In no time at all Roberin and his trusty stead were upon the dark caravan and his sword whipped out from his scabbard like a flash of lightning.

Roberin rode up behind the rearguard and smacked the man in the back of the head with the flat of his sword, the clanging impact of blade against helmet knocked the unsuspecting minion out cold and off his horse, which fled into the forest in terror. The second rearguard noticed what Roberin had done and reacted quickly, turning his horse to meet the oncoming rescuer while reaching for his own sword. Roberin aimed his sword well as he met the second rearguard and cut the man’s sword belt from his waist before the other could even draw his weapon, then he punched Balthazar’s henchman square in the jaw, knocking him out of the horse’s saddle and onto the forest floor with a hard crash.

The heroic gardener was now gaining on the caged wagon that held the Queen and the beautiful captive called out to him to rescue her. Another of Balthazar’s men stood on the wagon’s bed next to the cage and in his hands he held a long bow loaded with an arrow, the string pulled taut and ready to fire. A lesser hero would’ve feared such a turn of events, believing there to be no chance of saving themselves from an archer at such close range with no time to turn away and no shield with which to defend themselves, but Roberin Gossamer was not any lesser hero. Balthazar’s archer released the bowstring and the arrow whistled through the air toward Roberin’s chest but it never struck him. With the ease and strength only a true hero could possess, Roberin used his sword to swat the arrow from the air and slice it in two. He urged his horse to run even faster toward the wagon and the stunned and fearful archer threw down his bow and jumped from the fast moving vehicle—rather than facing the unstoppable and quickly approaching rescuer.

Roberin rode up along beside the wagon and smiled at the Queen. “Hello, your majesty. How are you on this fine day?”

“Oh Roberin!” Sela raced up to the bars, gripping them tight as she smiled back at the heroic gardener. “You’re utterly amazing!”

“I’m just doing my civic duty, your highness,” Roberin laughed as he did half a bow from upon his still running stallion. “I’d wager you’d like to get out of that cage, wouldn’t you?”

Sela nodded. “I must confess the thought had crossed my mind, yes.”

“I’ll go get a key and see if I can’t convince the driver to pullover,” Roberin told her as he prepared to speed up toward the front of the wagon.

“Do be careful,” the Queen urged him.

“As you wish,” Roberin bowed once more and then sped away.

When Roberin reached the front of the wagon he leapt from his horse and landed on the buckboard right next to the startled driver. He smiled cordially. “Good day, sir. Could I trouble you for the keys to that cage back there?”

The driver regained his wits and reached for his dagger.

“You must’ve misheard me,” Roberin laughed as he knocked the driver out with a strong punch to the side of the head. “I asked for your keys, not your dagger.”

The horses pulling the wagon continued to run full speed forward, even though a fast moving river lay only about a hundred yards ahead as the trail bended along the riverbank. Roberin took hold of the reigns and managed to stop the wagon just a few feet short of the water’s edge. He took the keys from the unconscious driver’s pocket and hopped off. Roberin ran quickly to the back of the wagon and was working quickly to find the right key for the lock when the Queen shrieked and pointed to the north. “Oh no… Roberin! Prince Balthazar is heading this way!”

“Is he now?” Roberin handed the Queen the keys through the iron bars and turned to face the evil prince as he brought his horse to a stop a few feet away. “I hope he’s a better fighter than his men were.”

“So you are the man who has bested my soldiers and is now trying to steal my future bride away from me, are you?” Prince Balthazar asked as he slid down from his horse and drew his sword from its sheath. “Who may I ask are you?”

“The name is Roberin Gossamer and I’m the gardener at Castle Drakewood.” He redrew his own sword in response and smiled roguishly. “Well, that’s enough small talk. What do you say we get the main event over with so I can get the pretty lady back to the castle where she belongs?”

“I’ll pity you when I’m done humbling you, Master Gardener!”

Prince Balthazar attacked but his strike missed high as Roberin dove to the ground and knocked the vile abductor off his feet with a swift sweeping kick to the back of the Prince’s legs. Roberin jumped back up and when Prince Balthazar began to rise as well, the heroic gardener acted quickly, grabbing the Prince by the back of his collar and belt and tossing him into the river. The powerful currents pulled the humiliated Prince downstream as he cursed Roberin while struggling futilely against the force of the water. Seconds later the defeated Prince was lost from sight and his shouts and curses faded away.

Roberin turned around to find Queen Sela standing before him, free of her cage and a grateful and adoring smile on her timelessly beautiful face. He gave her a deep and respectful bow. “Your majesty.”

“Call me Sela.”

“Sela.” Her name tickled his tongue like the sweetest honey. “You’re safe now.”

“Oh Roberin,” she sighed as she draped her arms over his shoulders and moved in close. “You’re my hero. Kiss me…”

A loud and persistent knocking on his bedroom door brought Roberin fully awake and tore him away from his very pleasant dream. All month his dreams had been wonderful like never before. He was always the hero. The Queen always noticed him, always needed him. He felt more himself in these dreams than he did in real life, than he had in far too many years to remember. He was disappointed the dream had been interrupted before the best part but there was nothing he could do about it now. The knocking at the door increased and the familiar baritone of the castle’s chef barked at him from the other side.

“Hey Gossamer!” Orlando yelled from outside the room. “I know you’re in there! Get your crippled ass out of bed and answer this door! I can’t find my key to the garden and I need fresh vegetables for the banquet tonight! Wake up and open this door!”

Roberin sighed as he grabbed his staff from beside his bed and stood up, remembering that other detail: in his dreams he wasn’t a cripple and people respected him. Of course since his dreams had begun four weeks ago he had received new vigor and motivation to improve his lot in life. Secretly he’d been spending more time outside, taking long walks or taking his favorite horse out for long rides outside the city early in the morning. He also worked on walking up and down the stairs between his room and the castle garden over and over as many times as he could without the aid of his staff until fatigue or the pain in his leg overcame him and he had to sit down.

It was the dreams that inspired him. He liked the way he felt in them; strong and heroic. It was so unlike how he had felt for most of his life since the incident in the hills with the bear and the fog. His confidence was greater than it had been since before his mother’s death and he now wondered if there could be more to his solitary life than just his garden, though it was in the garden where he felt just as wonderful as he did in his dreams. It was almost as if he wasn’t alone up there among the flowers and the vegetables. He could sense someone with him. There was no way for Roberin to explain it, but he had a feeling the garden was somehow taking care of him; returning the tender love and care he’d shown to it over the past few years.

Perhaps, he wondered, the dreams even came from the garden…

“Open this door Gossamer or I’ll break it down and drag you out!” the impatient chef roared from the other side of the door.

Roberin finished pulling on his boots and a clean shirt and used his staff to help him from the bed to the door, but noticed with secret satisfaction how little pain he felt in his knee or his leg. It was perhaps a little stiff from the inactivity of sleep but it felt strong and alive. Roberin answered the door and smiled wide at the scowling middle aged and overweight chef standing impatiently before him.

“Good morning, Orlando!” Roberin greeted the other cheerfully, despite having been wakened nearly two hours too soon. “What is it I can do for you?”

“Oh my hell, Gossamer!” Orlando cursed. “Are your ears as broken as your legs? I need vegetables for the banquet tonight. The Queen will have a big announcement and every important person in the kingdom will be here. Now give me your keys so I can get them!”

“Tell me what you need and I’ll go get it for you,” Roberin offered.

“Humph!” The grumpy old chef grumbled. “If I have to wait for you I’ll never get the dinner prepared in time! Just give me your keys!”

“That’s not going to happen, my friend,” Roberin slipped past his impatient antagonist and out into the hall. “If you won’t tell me what you need I’ll just load you up two crates full of everything and send you on your way.” He tossed Orlando his walking staff. “Hold onto this for me. It’d only slow me down. I’ll be back toot-sweet, chef!”

Before Orlando could say anything, Roberin turned around and raced up the steps with a speed and grace he hadn’t possessed in many years. His bad knee protested with a fresh jolt of pain but it wasn’t enough to hold him back. What had taken him several minutes only a month earlier now took him seconds. He smiled roguishly as he imagined the look that he must’ve left on old Orlando’s massive face. Just a few minutes later Roberin had not just two but three crates filled with a variety of vegetables and herbs as Orlando came huffing and puffing into the garden. He was leaning heavily on the walking staff Roberin had once been so reliant on.

“Does that look like enough or should I crate up some more for you?” Roberin asked cordially while suppressing a superior smirk.

“No, three crates should be plenty,” Orlando was breathing heavily. “Just give me a minute and I’ll get them down to the kitchen.”

“Absurd, my friend,” Roberin patted the older man on his slumped and broad shoulders. “I’ll get it down there for you. You rest for a while. We don’t want you too tuckered out to cook, do we?”

Without waiting for the bewildered chef to reply, Roberin hefted the three heavy crates up against his chest and carried them out of the room. It took him a while to make his way downstairs and into the kitchen and the pain in his legs increased noticeably while his hair and underarms became drenched in sweat, but just completing the task made him feel far more alive than ever before. He wasn’t the castle cripple anymore. He was a man, whole and capable. Carrying three crates of produce from the top of the tower down to the kitchen on the castle’s main level wasn’t quite as impressive as riding out into the woods to single-handedly save the Queen from an evil prince and his armed band of kidnappers, but for a broken man who had only recently barely been able to walk with the aid of a staff, it was still an incredible feat.

None of the kitchen staff was yet on duty and the place was empty as Roberin dropped off the crates on a large table near the stove. No one, save Orlando had seen Roberin carry the produce down the stairs and into the kitchen so his secret was still safe. He had little doubt the jealous chef would never tell anyone anything positive about him if he didn’t have to. That was all more than fine for Roberin. He wanted to keep his physical improvements and greater confidence a secret for now. Tonight he would reveal it all to the one person who mattered most to him in the most spectacular fashion he could imagine.

Roberin had been privately practicing his footwork and dancing in his room late at night. The Queen had invited him, as she had invited all the castle staff, to the banquet and the ball to be held tonight. He had been saving his money for a rainy day and had just bought a nice white suit for the occasion. Roberin would ask the Queen to dance and he would tell her all the things he had been too afraid to tell her before. She would either share his feelings or reject him, but Roberin was tired of never knowing; of never even trying. He now believed that when it came to now or never situations, if you failed to act on the now it would no doubt become a never.

The now tired gardener sat down in a chair, eager to rest for a moment before returning upstairs to work in the garden before it was time for the banquet and the ball. He heard voices from the air vent in the ceiling and he quickly recognized them as two of Drakewood’s top ministers, Kynne and Bromon. Not usually one for eavesdropping, Roberin found himself compelled to listen in when he heard Kynne mention he knew what the Queen’s announcement would be.

“Are you certain?” Bromon asked.

“I am,” Kynne assured the other minister. “Sela confided this to me herself just yesterday.”

“Splendid, just splendid,” Bromon replied. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, old man. I can keep a secret. Tell me what our queen has to say.”

“Sela has chosen from her suitors,” Kynne revealed. “She will announce her intentions to accept the proposal of Lord Constantine of the city of Raisor in greater Valoria!”

“Oh, that’s excellent news, old friend!” Bromon could be heard clapping his hands together. “Lord Constantine is a fine choice indeed! Drakewood will be blessed to have him as our new king!”

Roberin felt his heart sink into his stomach. He was too late. All his self improvement and new found confidence had been for nothing. He may no longer be the crippled gardener but he was still no more than just the gardener. The Queen needed a suitor of noble blood to be her king and a poor man who spent his days watering flowers or digging in the dirt could never be good enough for her, no matter how many crates of vegetables he could carry up and down the stairs. Roberin now felt like a man lost at sea without a compass or even the stars to guide him home.

Defeated and deflated, Roberin stood up and left for his room up in the north tower. The pain in his knee now burned and hampered each and every arduous step. He looked down the entire way and refused to look up at the world around him or to acknowledge the people who passed him by. He wanted none of it, none of them. All he wanted was to return to his room, his bed, and go back to sleep. He needed to sleep. He needed to lose himself in the dreams he had come to depend on. He needed to dream, to escape into a world better than he could ever find in his waking life. He no longer wanted to work in the garden, or ride a horse, or practice dancing in his room late at night. It no longer mattered to him that he could run up the stairs or show up that loud mouth chef Orlando.

None of it mattered anymore. Roberin didn’t want anything if he couldn’t have what he wanted most. He didn’t want anyone if he couldn’t have her, if he couldn’t be with the woman he loved, the woman he had always loved if only from afar, if only in the secret realm of his heart. He knew now how foolish he’d been to ever think he could tell her how he felt, to ever think she could feel the same for him. He could never compare to someone like Lord Constantine with his political power and immense wealth. Sela needed a husband who could be king and Roberin barely outranked the pages who cleaned out the castle chamber pots.

As Roberin arrived at his bedroom door he found his walking staff propped up against the wall, waiting for him. He took the polished wood in hand and leaned against it gratefully. He needed it now, the staff he had come to see as a handicap but now knew to be the only thing in the world he could truly depend on. He couldn’t depend on his feelings, except for maybe despair. It was the only emotion he knew he’d feel when he woke up in the morning. Happiness and hope were fleeting. Love only led to disappointment and pain. Despair was constant and took no effort. He couldn’t remember why he had tried so hard to abandon it. It was so much easier and strangely comforting to wallow in it.

Roberin opened the door and entered his room, moving slowly to the bed and climbing under the covers, not bothering to get undressed or even remove his boots. He buried his head into his pillow and pulled the blanket up over his head, wishing and willing sleep to take him away and give him a reprieve from reality. Please, he silently asked the mystical forces of his garden (or wherever they were from), give me another dream. Give me a dream to take it all away…

To be concluded....