Chapter Fourteen

ANNOPOLIS WAS A CITY larger than any other Steven had visited. It was surrounded by a wall and soldiers at the gate saluted smartly as the knights galloped past with Steven running behind. The broad road they came in on turned sharply to the left, then to the right and right again. Amid the towering shops and houses closing in on them, Steven quickly lost his sense of direction. There was not just one inn, but a row of hostellers lining the street they came upon and the knights reined in at one bearing a sign with a rooster on it.

Steven was familiar with the routine of the knights by this time and went immediately into the inn to commandeer a table and food for their pleasure as they directed pages in the stable to care for their horses. Steven carried his staff as a symbol of authority when he entered instead of his bow. He was surprised, however, to find the common room had, already, a number of knights seated, eating, drinking, and making loud conversation.

Steven rapped his staff sharply on the floor when he entered and announced, “A table and provisions for six of the kings knights and their humble page.” A few of the knights glanced up, but most ignored him. A lone man sat at one table large enough for the company, so Steven marched up to him and stated boldly, “Knights of the king have need of this table, kind sir.”

The stocky man looked at Steven silently through slitted eyes. “Is that so?” he remarked. “It seems knights of the king need all the tables then,” he said pointing around the room. Indeed, every other table in the common was occupied by knights and their pages. “Where is a poor citizen to get food and drink? Are not the knights the protectors of the citizens?”

Steven realized at once that this might be a heated situation, and not wanting to put his masters in the midst of a fight before they even reached the battlefield, he stepped up the man and bent near his ear.

“These knights have journeyed far and have had naught but my poor cooking on the road. But they are noble and kind and would crave your company at their table, kind sir,” he spoke quietly.

“Indeed we would, brother,” said a voice behind Steven. The leader of Steven’s little band of knights stood behind him.

“Well, who is a humble merchant to rebuff such a kind invitation?” said the man at the table. He rose from his chair and brushing Steven aside reached and embraced the knight. “Welcome to Zannopolis, brother.”

The other knights in the band pulled up chairs and scuffled into places at the table as the innkeeper brought ale for them. Steven immediately began directing the placement of mugs, dishes, and platters of food on the table. Then he took a stand at the head of the table behind the right shoulder of the knight and clutched his staff at his side.

“Steven George,” said the knight, “come sit at the table with us, for as of this meal you have completed your service to us, and while this food is not so tasty as that served us on the trail, it is good, hot, and refreshing.” Steven smiled and sat next to the knight on the offered bench. The knight continued, “Brother, this fine fellow is Steven George, the dragonslayer. Steven, my brother, the Merchant of the North.”

“Honored to meet you,” Steven said nodding at the merchant. “Are you really brothers?” Perhaps the question was blunt, but following the excitement, he completely forgot his manners.

“Brothers as much as two born of the same mother can be,” said the knight.

“Tell me, Dragonslayer,” said the merchant, “how many dragons have fallen beneath your valiant charge?”

“On, none yet, sir,” Steven answered. “I am on the road to find and master my dragon. In that capacity I fell in with these fine gentlemen knights.”

“I fear,” said the knight, “that our insistence that Steven join us on this trek has delayed his own mission. He should be in Byziatica by now and headed on the south road had we not pressed him into service.”

“All roads lead to the dragon,” Steven repeated.

“Perhaps,” said the knight, “but I would speed you on your journey. Brother, are you traveling soon to Byziatica?”

“Indeed, I leave on the morrow,” said the merchant. “I would have gone today but that I tarried to see you arrive. So, you see, you have delayed me on my journey as well!” The company laughed. “Can I possibly assist your friend in his journey? The travel will not be fast, but it is safer by far in this country to travel in company than to venture alone.”

“I hoped you would suggest it,” said the knight. “Steven, my brother journeys often between Zannopolis and Byziatica. And there might be opportunity to practice your other craft as well.”

“Is he then a man of many talents?” asked the merchant. “Does he do more than slay dragons and build cookfires for knights?”

“Indeed, brother, Steven is of those people who make currency of people’s stories. If you have an especially good story, he will surely repay you in kind.”

“Most gladly, sir,” said Steven.

“Then it is settled,” said the merchant. “We will leave Zannopolis when the gates open at dawn and journey southeastward to Byziatica. When we camp along the road, we can exchange stories and both come away wealthier.”

And so it was decided that Steven would leave the knight’s service and join the merchant for the trip to Byziatica. It did not take long for Steven to discover that while not so jovial as his brother, the merchant was pleasant company. But it was becoming more difficult for Steven to keep track of where he was. The merchant had a huge wagon pulled by a team of horses and two guards who rode alongside. The merchant insisted that Steven ride in the wagon with him and thus Steven had no idea how many steps he was from his home any more. For much of the first day, this distressed Steven and he tapped his feet on the floor of the wagon in mock walking. The merchant was amused by this. Finally the merchant asked, “Where are you from, Dragonslayer?”

“I am five hundred ninety-seven thousand, five hundred sixty-five steps, a wagon ride, a boat across a lake, and a fording of the river from home,” Steven said. “That way,” he added, pointing back toward Zannopolis. Knowing the direction from which the knights had come, the merchant quickly computed the approximate direction of Steven’s journey.

“Ah, you mean that way,” the merchant said pointing southwest.

“I came from there,” repeated Steven pointing back northwest toward Zannopolis.

“Steven,” said the merchant, “you don’t have to retrace every step if you journey back. There are many roads that lead to where you want to go.”

“But there is only one by which I have come,” Steven said.

“Ah. Yes,” agreed the merchant. He shrugged his shoulders and urged the horses on more quickly. As dusk was settling over the valley, they came to a small inn in a village almost as small as Steven’s. Here they secured their wagon and left the two guards with it while Steven and the Merchant ate dinner. Then the merchant called for wine and settled into his chair to address Steven.

The Beggar Prince

NCE UPON A TIME in the youth of the world there was a poor beggar named Feirou who lived in a hovel in the shadow of a great palace. Each day the poor man would sit in the streets before the palace and beg for food. Some days he would receive a dry crust of bread or a bean, but other days he would return to his hovel with an empty belly and tears in his eyes. He would watch the wealthy merchants and princes as they made their way to the palace and about their business and think, “If only I were wealthy and wise, I would never have to sit in the path and beg again. But day after day he begged.

Then one day the king announced that his daughter, now being of marriageable age, would seek a husband among the men of the kingdom. Those who were eligible were to present themselves at the palace in exactly one year to make their proposal.

Now the king’s daughter was kind and beautiful, and never failed when she passed the beggar to give him food or coins. And so the beggar thought that he would have to win the heart of this woman and become her husband so that he would never have to beg again. And so the beggar left behind his hovel and the palace and set his face into the wide world to seek his fortune.

When he had traveled many days away from the palace, and was no closer to his fortune than he had ever been it seemed, he came upon an old woman who asked of him, “Please give me something to eat, for I am very hungry.” The beggar had looked in his empty pockets, for he had had nothing to eat for two days. Deep in a fold of the cloth, Feirou found a crumb of bread and this he offered to the old woman.

“I have nothing, but such as I have I will share with you.”

The old woman accepted the crumb and gobbled it down. Then she said, “For your kindness in sharing with me, I will share with you.” And she led him to a little cottage and set before him a dinner such as he had never had before. He ate venison and potatoes, bread and butter, carrots and spinach. And when he had eaten his fill, she gave him a place to sleep.

Feirou slept soundly and awoke with a start out in the forest under a tree. He thought at first it had all been a dream, but beside him was a small packet of bread and cheese and there was a single copper coin in his pocket.

He walked on through the world for many days. The bread and cheese had long since been eaten and he found no place where he could trade the coin for food. He became very hungry. Then he met an old man by the side of the road.

“Give me something to eat,” cried the old man. Feirou searched in his pocket and found a crumb of bread and a flake of cheese. These he offered the old man.

“I have nothing, but such as I have I will share with you.”

The old man snatched the crumb and cheese from Feirou’s hand and gobbled them up. Then he said, “You have been kind to share with me that which you had. Now I will share with you.” The old man took Feirou off the path and before long he was seated at a table in a little house with more food than Feirou had ever seen before. When he had eaten his fill he was given a soft bed to sleep in and fell instantly into deep slumber.

When Feirou awoke in the morning, he again thought it must have been a dream, for he had slept under a tree deep in the forest. But beside him was a packet of bread and meat and when Feirou pulled the coin from his pocket it was not copper but silver. Feirou continued his pilgrimage seeking his fortune for he reasoned rightly enough that a single silver coin was not enough to gain him an audience with the princess. His journey was hard and food was scarce, and all too soon Feirou found himself hungry. He had gone as far as he could when he spied a small child beside the path. The child looked plaintively at Feirou and begged, “Please give me something to eat.” Feirou searched his pockets and found a dried and stringy scrap of meat and a crumb of bread and offered them to the child.

“I have nothing, but such as I have I will share with you.”

The child snatched the crumbs and gobbled them up. Then he said, “You have been kind to one less fortunate than yourself. Therefore I shall be kind to you. The child took Feirou to a little cottage and laid a spread of food so royal that Feirou was overwhelmed. He ate pheasant pies and pastries until he was sated and then the child showed him to a bed softer yet than any he had known. Feirou slept so soundly that he did not wake up until late the next day. As on the previous occasions, he found himself in the middle of a glade thinking he must have been dreaming. But a pouch of fine pheasant pies was next to him and in his pocket he found the coin was not silver, but gold.

Now Feirou decided that he was as rich as he was likely to get and he returned to the palace just days before the princess was to choose her husband. He could not appear before the princess in his rags, so he went to a little old tailor and offered him the gold coin in exchange for new clothes, which the tailor gladly provided. Feirou left the tailor’s shop and people stopped to admire his new clothes. When they left him, they went to the tailor to have clothes made for themselves.

Then Feirou passed a bakery where a little old woman stopped him and said, “Kind gentleman, please stop and eat in my shop. For such a fine gentleman in my pie shop will certainly attract others.” And so Feirou ate at the pie shop and, indeed, people passing by, seeing such a fine gentleman eating there stopped and ate there as well. The old woman sold all her wares.

Feirou was tired and was just turning to go to his old hovel when a boy ran up to him and exclaimed, “Good sir, the master of yon inn begs that you would rest your head there for the night, for certainly you are here to ask the princess for her hand and when people see that you are staying with him others will come as well.” So Feirou followed the boy and was given the best room at the inn. Sure enough, others saw that he was staying there and soon the inn was full for the night.

The next morning, Feirou descended the stairs at the inn to find a crowded common room where people bowed to him and offered him the things that he needed, be it food, drink, or companionship. Then a great parade formed around him to escort him to the palace to meet the princess.

Feirou knelt before the princess and asked for her hand. The princess asked him haughtily, what man are you that would ask the hand of a princess.

“I am a poor man,” said Feirou, “who will share what I have with you.”

“And what do you have that you would share?” asked the princess.

Then Feirou answered, “I have an old woman in the forest that I shared a crumb of bread with who gave me a copper coin, an old man that I shared a bit of bread and some cheese with who gave me a silver coin, and a child that I shared a scrap of bread and some jerky with who gave me a gold coin. I have a tailor who has given me coins, a baker who has given me food, and a hosteller who has given me lodging. And I have all these people who have fine people of your kingdom who have accompanied me to seek your hand, for it is true that what I have more than anything else that I would share with you is my love.”

And having thus spoken, the princess was so moved that she willingly gave the beggar his hand and he became the beloved son of the king. And wherever Feirou went, if anyone asked of him, he searched his pockets and shared what he had, whether it was food or coins or a kerchief to dry an eye, for he never lacked for anything that he reached in his pocket to find.

For a long moment Steven was silent as he considered this very unmerchantlike story. Finally he spoke. “So is that how you became such a successful merchant,” he asked.

“Mercy no, man!” exclaimed the merchant. “I look for profit and trade for better than I have. You can’t succeed in trade by giving things away.”

“Oh,” said Steven, disappointedly.

“However,” continued the merchant, “there is a fundamental truth in the story. You will succeed more grandly if you are good to people than if you are bad to them. If everyone hates you for your success, you will not have it long. Everyone needs to love you because your success is good for them.”

On these words, Steven retired to think on his great mission to slay the dragon.

Chapter 13
Chapter 15