A Tale of KieranVegepythicus, editorKieran Ò) (j¸á ȳCJ$w)B.´2¯7-<ÿ@ùýTales of KieranùýLibrarian's Note ... The recorded tales of Kieran the Bard fall into threecategories: the Woodland Cycle, Castles and Kings, and anunnamed cycle of lusty tales (recently destroyed bymysterious accident). Some are in the bard's own hand, whileothers, mere shadows of the originals, remain only as bedtimetales for children. The structure exemplifies the helicalform favoured by listeners about the hearth on a longwinter's eve. As to whether they describe real events, beallegory, or be mere entertaining fancy, the reader mustdecide.ý***öýI. Kieran was on the road from Wren to Fairtree, when he grewweary from the midday sun. His boots were tight and he thoughtto remove them for a bit in the shade of a nearby oak (oaks beinga favourite of bards). This particular oak was venerable andgnarled, with sturdy branches that dipped and swooped,nearly touching the ground in spots. From its shade Kieranwatched the forest creatures playing in the warm sun. But forthe rustling of leaves, high above, the only sounds were ofbutterfly wings and birdsong. "What a peaceful day," Kieran thought as he watched abutterfly drift by, "What a beautiful day! In truth, sincebards first told tales, has there ever been a day morepeaceful and beautiful than this?" He drank from his waterskin and, taking his lute from its sack,cleared his throat and began to sing: "Oh, the maidens of Wren are passing fair ... ...with breastslike melons, and flaxen hair ..." He had just taken a deep breath to bellow the lusty chorus whena small, feminine voice said, "Kind sir ..." He leaped to his stockinged feet, his face flaming red. "Who'söthere?" he cried. The small voice repeated, "Please, sir, if you will be sokind ..." Kieran looked about but saw no person or creature addressinghim. "Pray thee," he cried. "Show thyself or have cause to fear mydagger." (He tried desperately to remember where he had lastseen it.) "Whether thee be friend or foe, pray thee showthyself now." The small voice replied from above him, "Kind sir, thou hastno cause to fear me, and I am in need of help. Can thou find itin thy heart to aid me?" He looked up and saw naught but a small robin's nest, threebranches above him. Climbing swiftly, he found a robin withthree tiny robinlings, their mouths open wide. "Good mother robin," he asked, "Can it be thee who addresses me thus?" "Kind sir," she replied, "I have hurt my wing and it will be at least a day before I might fly. If my children do not eatsoon, they will die. Would you be so kind as to bring a fat,juicy meal? Would you find a caterpillar or earthworm orgrub for my children?" Now, Kieran was kind of heart and it was not within him toörefuse a plea such as this, so off he went into the forest.Searching under some mulberry leaves, he soon found a smallgreen caterpillar. It seemed a perfect meal for youngrobins. Plucking it from the leaf upon which it fed, he prepared tohurry back to the oak when he heard a tiny voice. He opened hishand and the caterpillar looked up at him with her big browneyes wide with fear. "Kind sir," she said, "wouldst thou killme so thoughtlessly?" Kieran scratched his head in puzzlement and the caterpillarcontinued: "When thou cooled thy feet beneath the oak, didstthou not find joy in my parents' beauty as they danced beforethee in the sun? I, too, am soon to change. Wouldst thou denythy successors the joy of my dancing? And if I do not live tohave children, how will thine own children find such joy?Please, sir, would not an earthworm serve the needs of the robinlings just as well? Kieran looked into the eyes of the caterpillar and knew that hecould not feed her to the robins. Carefully, he placed herbeneath her mulberry bush and continued his search. Near a rushing brook, Kieran found a flat stone that, whenmoved, revealed a juicy earthworm enjoying the cool moistearth. "Aha." he thought. "As nice as the caterpillar mayöhave been, this truly seems a more fitting meal for youngrobins." He had no sooner plucked the earthworm from it's cool abode(where it had been frantically trying to burrow away fromhim), when he heard a voice so faint he might have imagined it: "Kind sir," he thought he heard, and Kieran looked in his hand.The worm continued: "I am but a lowly creature, it's true,but might I plead such case that I have?" Kieran rolled his eyes skyward as the worm sat up and seized itschance. "I am not a lowborn worm like others you might find.No, I am a prince among earthworms. I come from an ancientlineage. My ancestors burrowed the earth when fires belchedfrom black pits throughout these lands. I command millionslike myself. Were it not for my loyal followers, you, goodsir, would be up to your neck in leaves, tree trunks andmouldy carcasses. I'll make a bargain with you. If yourelease me and choose, instead, a pathetic grub for therobinlings, I will dispatch an entire clan of earthworms tokeep your foreyard clean and sweet-smelling for as long asye shall live." The earthworm looked hopefully at Kieran(while calculating the distance to the ground). "Good sir,what say ye?" Kieran was beginning to lose his patience, but, seeing theövalue of the earthworm's offer, decided that a grub would,indeed, make a tasty morsel for the young robins. He returnedthe earthworm to its moist haven and carefully replaced theflat stone above it. And, true to his desire, a short whilelater, in a forest glade, beneath a wide slab of discardedbark, Kieran chanced upon that which he sought: a fat whitegrub that would grow the robinlings into beautifulsongsters. He plucked it from its hiding place and set forth.It was a beautiful day, indeed.ýII. Nearby, in stately Trowbridge, King Caladan did live withhis lovely daughter, Einlea. The princess was the apple ofthe old man's eye and the crown jewel of his small kingdom. Helooked upon her with the blind pride of a doting father, andshe, for her part, did naught but bask and flourish in hisbounty. Trowbridge was quiet now, the chief sounds being the clatterof cart wheels and the cries of street vendors, but it was notalways so. Three years earlier there had been trouble withCarthan to the west. It was not much, a border dispute, butthe king persuaded a wizard named Loziard to come toöTrowbridge in his employ, to aid him in the contest. Loziardwas unknown by all in Trowbridge and kept to himself withinthe palace, coming and going as he pleased. When Trowbridgeprevailed, with almost no loss of life, there was joyouscelebration for days and weeks thereafter. Time passed, yetLoziard remained. The King, not wanting to seem ungrateful,said nothing, but became increasingly discomforted with thewizard's presence and wished for his departure. On Einlea's twentieth birthday, King Caladan called for acelebration and holiday through all his land. Unknown to hissubjects, he intended to proclaim his retirement and thetransference of his crown to his beautiful daughter. Out ofpoliteness, and nothing more, he invited the wizard Loziard toaid him in devising a proper speech. Loziard was furious. He paced his chamber, his black browsknitted with intensity that would have soured any cow's milk."Why," he cried aloud, "am I treated so unjustly by the oldbuffoon? Were it not for my skills, the border contest,mayhaps even the kingdom itself, might have been lost. Ideserve more. I deserve the crown. To give it to thatprimping simpering daughter of his, who thinks naught of morethan her own whim, is a slap more stinging than that ofgauntlet. I will have justice. I will demonstrate, amply,öfor all to see, wherein lies true power." Thereupon, Loziard made his preparations. Princess Einlea's birthday came on a summer morning. Everyonewithin the city, and from the farms without, gathered to thepalace for the festival. Banners waved from every rooftop.Fiddlers fiddled and dancers danced. Bakers baked wonderfulsweets for the occasion. It was a day long to be remembered. At noon, precisely, King Caladan and Princess Einleaemerged onto the main balcony to the cheers of the kingdom."Good citizens of Trowbridge," called the King, "We are buta tiny kingdom, but we prosper, do we not?" Loud hails (mostly) erupted from the crowd below.Encouraged, Caladan continued, "But now I am an old man.The day has arrived when younger blood can better attend tothe needs and events of the kingdom. My subjects ... My loyalsubjects and friends ... It is with honour ...and pride ...and the greatest of expectations ...that I transfer mykingdom and my crown to my loving daughter. To one andall, I give you" (a long pause here) "Einlea." As cheers filled the air, Caladan made a grand, sweepinggesture with his arm, intending to make the presentation asspectacular as the pride that filled him. His robe went"swoooosh" and his hand pointed to ... nobody. What wasöthis? Where had she gone? Where Einlea had been, momentsearlier, there now was naught but vacant air. "Er ...Einlea ...?" he called, uncertainly. But there wasno response. Silence fell over park and courtyard. Peopleglanced at each other nervously. Old Loziard clapped his hands in glee. He danced. He huggedhimself with uncontained laughter. "How wonderful ..." hecried. "What a breathtakingly stunning and talented a wizardI am.." For what he had done, of course, was to rid himself ofEinlea for once and for all. With one stroke, crafty andevil, he had removed the vain creature from the palace. Noughtelse remained between him and that which he desired. Now, magic is a tricky thing. Like all forces in the world, itmust be kept in balance. As surely as day balances night andsummer balances winter, so too must positive magic balancenegative. For every hurtful or destructive spell, theremust be an act of equal goodness or charity lest troubleoverflow into the world. For every black wizard, there mustbe a white. For every spell of combat destruction, there mustbe healing. Know ye this ...if all who practice magic castnaught but healing or protective spells, dark, horribleforces would build up until chaos and ruin would burst forthand rain our doom down upon us. Thus may spells of healingöbe broken by harm, and the worst of spells be broken bycharity. Knowing this, Loziard planned well his act of vengeance. Topermanently rid himself of Einlea (short of killing heroutright) he must devise a spell so cunning that no act ofkindness would ever break it. He was pulling lice out of hislong beard, late one evening, when he burst into laughter. Hewould make her into something ...disgusting. "I will make her into a frog." he laughed, then frowned. No... that had been done. People might expect it and go around,like mindless idiots, seeking frogs, hoping to earn a kingsransom. And then, a brilliant plan occurred to him. "I will make her into a bug, an insect, a WORM ..." He almostchoked on his wine. "Oh. How perfect.. I will make her intosomething so truly loathsome that she will spend the rest ofher little bug life in terror of being squashed by the firstperson who sees her." He squealed and his rings jangled and hisfat jiggled and he snorted wine out his nose in laughter. "Oh,how absolutely delicious ..." And that's exactly what he did. While King Caladan and hissubjects scratched their heads in puzzlement, nobody saw asmall fat white tree grub plop to the cobblestones beneathöthe main balcony and immediately curl up, glistening andquivering.ýIII. Einlea was terrified. What had happened? Well, she had seenenough of Loziard's magic to know what had happened. But why?Why would he do this to her? She didn't have long to ponder thequestion. A huge black hound, hundreds of times her size, ran tothe cobblestone where she lay, and almost gobbled her with oneslurp of his tongue. From somewhere, she found the wherewithalto roll out of his way and into the crevice between the stones.His HUGE slurpy tongue followed her, drooling and pantinggreat hurricanes of hot awful breath down at her. But just asthe tongue was about to lick her into the waiting stomach, thehound's owner yanked his massive chain and pulled the beasttoward home. It is true that Einlea, in her life as a human, was selfindulgent and not inclined to effort or resource, but thatwas merely because she had no need of either. In the followingdays, she had cause to discover plenty of both within her.After the incident with the hound, she knew she must go far awayfrom people and dogs. And she knew what kinds of creaturesödined on grubs, too. She slept out of sight under leaves, inplaces where grubs would not likely be sought. Even so, Einlea's days were filled with terror and adventure.There were circling hawks by day and owls by night. A bear,tearing at a rotting tree trunk, gobbled grubs,indistinguishable from Einlea, by the hundreds, as she watchedin horror from behind a nearby rock. The smallest stream wasnow an enormous, gushing torrent, to be crossed in a nutshellunder the greatest of peril. Einlea passed these tests, alongwith many others, and she passed them well. It was on her tenth such day that a clumsy boot kicked aside thepiece of bark under which she had sought shelter from the sun.Blinded by the sudden light, she heard an exclamation from highabove. Then, before she could react, two fingers droppedfrom the sky and plucked her up and deposited her firmly insidea huge fist. Ten days ago, Einlea would have been paralysed with terror.But that was ten days ago. Her mind raced. "Who is this clumsyidiot, anyway??" she thought, "and what on earth does he wantwith a tree grub? At least he didn't squash me on the spot.That's encouraging, isn't it? So he must be here to rescueme.." She wriggled and squirmed in his fist until she could see hisöface, high above her, between two of his fingers. "Ugh. Abeard. If I'm going to be rescued, why can't it be by a fineyoung prince?" But it then occurred to her that she wasspeaking from old habit. "I wonder how many of those foppishboys could have survived these past ten days?" She laughed,thinking of them. "Not many, I bet. Those who wouldn't havecurled up and died immediately would, by now, be whimperingand crying for their mothers." She looked at Kieran again."Well ... maybe he would look better if I wasn't lookingstraight up his nostrils. Ouch.. Why isn't he more careful withme??" And then it occurred to Einlea that, if this oaf were trulyrescuing her, he probably would have said something to her. "Uh-oh." Einlea's heart raced and she started wrigglingfuriously , imagining the worst of all possible deaths. "Hemust be going fishing." Einlea couldn't do much in her current state, but she couldspit. And spit she did. In quantities unimaginable for sosmall a grub. She spit and spit and spit until her tiny grubmouth was too dry to spit another drop. She felt Kieran'shand squirming and thought, "It's working.."öIV. Kieran was fair disgusted. Twas bad enough that he had to touchthe slimy thing, but now it was oozing something and becomingtruly revolting. Finally, just before he reached the robin'soak, he could take it no longer. He stopped and examined thecreature in his hand. White and plump and glistening, it was,in truth, a repellent creature. Yet the poor thing wasobviously terrified. It gazed up at him with what he imaginedto be minuscule grub eyes, pleading. Kieran thought of thecaterpillar and the earthworm, and his heart gave in. Heavinga great resigned sigh, he found a nice clean root and placedthe grub upon it. And thus was Loziard's spell broken. None could have been more astonished than Einlea when sheunexpectedly grew to her former size, except, perhaps forKieran, who nearly died of fright. He was no more than catchinghis breath when Einlea regained her wits. Raising her indexfinger, warning Kieran not to say even ONE word, Einleasnatched Kieran's coat to cover herself. Then, with fire in hereyes, and as much dignity as she could muster, she was off toTrowbridge, leaving Kieran to stare, open- mouthed, at herdeparting figure. Einlea knew she could not simply enter the city and confrontöLoziard. The moment he saw her, he would but cast anotherenchantment upon her. So, disguising herself as a shepherd,she found an abandoned house on the moors and began to makeher plans. What happened next is a tale worth hearing. But itis a tale for another evening. Indeed, it is a tale to be toldover many an evening, and many a good pot of ale. And what of the baby robins? Having no alternative, Kieranclimbed the tree and took from his pack his last piece of fattymutton. Tearing it into small shreds, he gave it to thegrateful mother robin, who fed it to her family. Upon returning to the ground, Kieran looked first towardFairtree, his former destination, then, grinning, set offafter the most surprising young lady, for whom he now had manyquestions. "Who knows ..." he called back to the robins, "Itmay be fate. And besides, I need my coat." He was heard, late that evening, far down the road, singing: "Oh, the maidens of Trowbridge are passing fair ... ...withbreasts like melons, and flaxen hair ..." ö