Saturday, October 1, 2011

A fairy tale for the conference break

Sir Marcello was a royal knight in the humble kingdom of Provo. He was loyal and kind. His horse was small but sturdy and reliable. The horse was small because Marcello was small.

Marcello was one of the king's most trusted knights. He had been sent on many a dangerous mission and returned to tell the tale. He was instrumental in keeping the peace the kingdom had enjoyed for many years.

"Marcello, you've worked hard," the king said to the knight one day. "Take some time off. A week or two. There are many ladies I know who would be delighted to attend a dance with you, if that's how you want to spend your time."

The king often held dances and festivals for the people in his kingdom to enjoy themselves.

"I think I'll go home," Marcello said. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Sir Marcello hadn't been home for more than a week in all the past year. He packed light and left that afternoon, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair and anticipating a cheerful reunion with friends and family he'd left. He arrived home as the sun was setting, transforming the western sky into a glorious painting of red and gold.

His mother ran out of the house just as he was dismounting and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back automatically and was surprised when she pulled away after only a second. There were tears in her eyes.

"You've returned at the perfect time," she said.

"What's wrong?" Marcello asked.

"It's your sister. She caught a chill a few days ago and it's gotten bad. I was just about to send a message to you when old Nelson down the road heard you were on your way. I don't know why the king chose this time to give you a vacation, but I'm grateful he did."

"Tell me what I can do."

His mother smiled broadly at him. "I knew you would say that. You're a good boy. I'm proud of the man you have become. I know the apothecary in the capital has the medicine Laura needs. I hate to ask you to go back just when you've returned, but-"

"You don't have to say it." Marcello glanced at his faithful horse. "Just give Bertha a moment's rest and I'll be on my way."

A bright harvest moon lit the way as Marcello rode back. Despite the urgency he felt, he could almost forget the nature of his errand in the dazzling array of stars winking happily at him from the black night.

The apothecary was closed when Marcello arrived around 2 a.m. He had expected it.

"Come on, Bertha," he said tiredly, sliding off his horse's back. "We've got about four hours to rest."

He slept in the stable with Bertha, and in the morning he was there when the apothecary opened. He paid for the medicine and threw his aching body over the horse again.

It was high noon when he got back to his childhood home. After he stabled Bertha, his mother sent him in with the medicine to his sister, lying miserably in bed with a fever and racking cough, and fed him a satisfying and delicious lunch after he delivered the medicine.

"Thank you again," his mother said as she washed dishes afterward. "You saved her a lot of misery."

"It was no problem," Marcello said. He enjoyed the rest of his vacation thoroughly.

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