A Poor Pitiful Man
As the day had eased into the twentieth hour, a man howled outside the castle door, demanding an audience with the king. He cried and moaned, the guards had felt uncomfortable, and no matter how many tried to drag him away, the man still managed to find a way to slip out of their hold. They reluctantly called upon Lord Ábel, to tell him of a man with no name, no title, and no class, that would not leave his front gate.
Ábel had given the man a firm smile, not to indicate warmth, but to warn him that any more noise would lead to something much worse. It was a minor flea. He is used to them. They jump on him occasionally, to create a complaint of minor inconvenience.
"I understand that you may have a dissatisfaction of some sort, but please, look at the time of day. I can only hear requests during the day. And if you had come to kill me sir, then there are rules you must follow. We hold the duel publicly, so that the people may gaze upon the one who desires to protect them in ways I cannot. Now you have seen me, please be off and come back in the morning."
"But I did not come for murder nor because I'm dissatisfied. I came to see you. To talk with you. To touch you. To know you! I have come far, I've watched winter take shape from autumn. That's how long I have traveled to see you!"
An odd man, he whined and sobbed, for he came all this way, and now the king was to not give him what he asked? Were they not both men? A title was the only thing that divided the two of them. There were hidden curiosities under his words, for the man had an accent. His 'a' would go high up, while his 'o' sank low in his stomach, and every 'e' sounded like a sad laugh.
"Would you be performing such an act right now if the hour was three? Deep in the night, when only the guards are awake. Why sir, could you not sit in an inn, and beg for an audience the next day. Surely, you are tired. Your words may not come out the way you want. Now please, I shall see any citizens in the morning."
The odd man did not speak back, but his eyes shifted along the grooves of Ábel's face.
"You have a horse face, my lord. Has anyone ever told you that?" A flea, a minor flea.
"No truly, it's gorgeous, but it reminds me of a working horse. The one that helps carry the heaviest of loads. Your face is long because you've made it that way. What has caused it? Is it disgust? Or desire? Or really just age! But you don't look too old. I'd say about forty, but you've developed an awful crow's foot on your left side. You probably frown more on that side, your smile line is wider there. But still, beautiful, just like a horse."
"My people praise me for being so open to speak with them, not many kings offer this, even so, most are stricken with fear to speak. So what makes you think you can shout insults just to get my attention? I would have listened to you if you acted like everyone else!"
"I'm in need of a job my lord, but I cannot have a home, and the winter has just come. I saw a buck with one horn when the snow started to fall. An old tale from a town far up north, I heard it once in a tavern, that one horned bucks mean a long, harsh winter is ahead. I'm a man of many talents, but I cannot fish or farm in the winter. The blacksmiths here do not care to see my talent. The tanner told me my jokes are too crude. And I don't believe I can make it as a bathmaid at my age! If the winter is harsh, then I'm sure your knights are provided with cozy lodging. I can prove it to you. I'm better than any guard here, let us spar, and you'll see. I probably even have the strength to kill you! But I'm a loyal man, my lord, you can have my strength. And who would want to be king, I'd end up with a face like yours."
"Oh, quit it with your speech! I will allow you to attempt to earn a spot, if that means you stop with your useless words. I'm tired, and you must go and not come back till the morning."
"And I'm seventy-seven, not forty."
Be off you poor, pitiful man! For now, I will stare at the mirror and only think of an aging draft horse when I gaze upon my face! You will not impress me by being a jester! Your tongue is not alluring!