Bartimus (Prompt 16)

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a just and kind king who ruled over his subjects with a firm, yet loving hand. King Edward was his name and he presided over the kingdom of Bravia. People all around the kingdom were in awe of the king and his best friend, Bartimus, a bald eagle. In their admiration, they had hired the best painter in the lands and gifted the king a painting. The painting showed the king at the front, with Bartimus on his outstretched arm, its wings spread out. On the horizon was the magnificent castle of Bravia, with a rainbow stretching across the sky. The king had been amazed at the painting and had thanked his subjects, graciously. So bowled over was he, that he had mandated that the painting be hung over his throne, so that all his visitors and courtesans could admire its beauty.

Peace was widespread within the kingdom of Bravia and with trade at its peak, riches flowed in. The farmers sang songs about the dams the king had built to help irrigate their farms. The merchants wrote poems about his transparent and fair trade policies. The army sang ballads about his bravery in the battlefield. His courtesans narrated stories of his intelligence and cunning. Everyone was happy in the kingdom, except one. King Edward’s mother, Shaira.

‘When will you marry, son?’ she asked him for the hundredth time today. ‘Will I ever get to see the girl you marry? The girl who will rule beside you.’ They were having their lunch in the castle gardens.

‘Enough, mum.’ The King replied, pushing his food aside. His appetite had vanished. ‘What do you suggest I do?’

‘Why don’t we have a ball? We will invite the princesses from all over the world. You can choose from among them.’

‘Should we throw away the hard earned money of the people in dance balls and parties? Do you see me as a ruler who would undertake such excursions?’ 

Shaira was taken aback with the backlash. She sat quietly in her chair.

‘I have a suggestion.’ Bartimus chipped in. Both King Edward and Shaira turned to him looking surprised.

Bartimus did not usually interrupt the king’s discussions, although he spent every minute of every day with him. He kept his counsel private, reserved for the king’s ears only. Recently, though, Bartimus had realised that he was not immortal. His age had caught up with him and soon, he would leave the king’s side to forever fly in God’s kingdom. The king would need a friend to help him through tough times, to cheer him when he was depressed and to celebrate his joys, to counter and counsel him when he would go wrong. 

‘I will help you find a daughter, Queen Shaira. I will help in searching for a suitable wife for our king.’ Bartimus said.

The queen was startled. Bartimus never took her side. In fact, she was sure Bartimus always counselled the king against her advice. What had caused the eagle to take her side?

‘What makes you the best judge to decide on my son’s bride?’ The queen asked, still pondering over the inconceivable.

‘He is my friend, mum. He knows me best.’ The king replied. Noticing the change in the queen’s expression, he immediately added, ‘Apart from you, of course.’

The queen wanted to debate further, but she knew nothing would come out of it. She reluctantly agreed, hoping it was not just a flimflam between the two friends to fool her.

The next day, Bartimus said his goodbyes to the king and flew upwards and onwards to the kingdom of Farra.

The king of Farra welcomed Bartimus with pomp and flamboyance. He was given a welcome reserved for a king, though he was merely a king’s friend. News of Bartimus’ undertaking had spread across the kingdoms. Every eligible princess in the world had put her menials to work. Farra’s princess, Greta, was no different. She dressed in the finest of gowns adorning herself with the most beautiful of gems and jewellery. Her lustrous black hair reflected the light of the sun, and her sharp facial features provided an insight to her intelligence.

After completing the formalities of his visit which involved meet and greet with the lords and ladies of Farra and with the permission of the king, Bartimus finally found himself in conversation with Greta. Seated in her chambers, accompanied by her ladies in waiting, they started with small talk, discussing each of their kingdoms at large, the weather and some titbits about their personal lives. Bartimus found the princess to be well versed with the finer points of running a kingdom and he was pleased to see that she never once faltered on etiquette. There was only one thing left to validate.

‘My lady. Forgive me if I seem forward, but if you were to become the queen of Bravia, the bride of King Edward, what, in your opinion, would be your most important duty?’

Greta smiled. She had been expecting this question. She feigned astonishment and then contemplation, before answering the question.

‘I would have to say, I would improve on the foreign relations of the kingdom. For years, Bravia has kept to itself, without exchanging their culture and processes. I believe Bravia will benefit comprehensively, if for example, they were to invite the architects from Farra, who are the best in the world, to design their public structures and Farra will benefit from their artisans. Trade is great. What is greater, in my opinion, is the exchange of knowledge.’ Greta seemed proud of her answer. There was a small applause from her first maid.

The advantage of being a bird is that your expressions and body language are not easily readable. It was impossible for Greta to figure out if her answer had pleased Bartimus. So, when Barimus left Farra, bidding her goodbye, her ambition to become the queen of Bravia was left stranded.

Bartimus travelled to the kingdoms of Pavan, Mustid, Danga, Honq, Poksa, Choux, Bandum and many more. He was shown the utmost respect wherever he went and was treated to the finest of the specialities the kingdoms had to offer. He met dozens of princesses. Each one of them were always politically astute in their opinion and flawless in their etiquette. 

But when asked what would be their most important duty, their answer was not the one Bartimus expected. Princess Helga of Pavan said she would like to improve on the education of children, Princess Brina of Danga said she would like to see fair treatment of the subjects, Princess Jyna of Poksa said she would want to strengthen the army, Princess Ponita of Bandum said that she would desire to have displays of art, music and dance in the palace. The others he met had similar answers. Dejected, Bartimus made his way back to Bravia. He had failed. He wasn’t sure how to break the news to his friend, King Edward. 

A day away from Bravia, Bartimus met with thunderstorms and heavy rains. He decided to wait out the rains and stopped at a farmhouse. An ordinary eagle would have found a lush, thick tree and nested there. But Bartimus had grown accustomed to the treatment he received at the hands of humans. He had been domesticated. He wasn’t even sure if he could hunt for food on his own anymore.

Bartimus encroached upon the farmhouse, hoping the residents would not mind him staying over for a few hours. He stood on the railing of the window and pecked the glass lightly with his beak. An old man, sitting across an old, dingy mattress looked towards the sound. He got up and came closer to have a better look. As realisation dawned upon him, he shouted, ‘My Lord!’ Apparently, Bartimus was a celebrity, recognised by even the common people.

The old man, Kapse, bowed to Bartimus and displayed formal etiquettes while addressing Bartimus. The eagle was surprised. Kapse called for her daughter, Beth, to bring some water and meat for their esteemed guest. 

Bartimus was looking in the direction of the kitchen, when Beth walked out with bowls of water and food. She was stunning. Her brunette hair fell down to her shoulders and bounced with each step that she took. Her big, hazel eyes looked curiously at Barimus. Her voluptuous body would have made her the envy of the other farmgirls and the desire of many a men. She bowed slightly, not as supremely as her father, yet acceptable. She sat next to Barimus, as he started to nibble on his food.

‘Is it true, you are tasked with finding the king a bride? Have you found anyone?’ Beth asked rather abashedly.

‘Elizabeth!’ Her father chided her.

‘No, please. It is quite all right. The girl is curious.’ Bartimus came to the defence of the girl.

‘So?’ Beth continued. ‘My bet is on Princess Greta of Farra. I hear she is quite charming.’

‘Your inquisitiveness is quite alluring, my dear. But I’m afraid I am in no position to reveal anything, to anyone. Not even the king knows yet’ Bartimus stared long at Beth, trying to dissuade her to ask a follow up question.

After he was sure, he had shut her up for sometime, Bartimus got back to his food. 

‘How did you judge them? What did you ask?’ Beth asked, soon enough. She was not easily intimidated.

Bartimus sighed. ‘Do you promise to leave me at peace if I tell you?’ Beth smiled in victory. Her father looked paler by the minute, flabbergasted at Beth’s behaviour.

‘I asked all those I met, what would their most important duty be as queen of Bravia.’

‘That’s so simple. It would be to love the king.’ Beth answered immediately, as if the question had been put to her.

Bartimus stopped chewing his food. He glanced at the girl and then as their eyes met, broke away to look in the distance. How did the girl know?

‘It is not that simple.’ Bartimus said. ‘What if the king becomes a tyrant? What if he loses his mind? What if he is violent with you?’

Beth gave a small chuckle. ‘A wife is as much to blame for her husband's behaviour as he is. If a wife cannot be an equal partner in a relationship, then that marriage was not meant to be. Men are not born evil. Situations and their choices make them so. A good partner helps the other make the correct choice. The most important duty of a king’s wife is to support her husband in his decisions in public and debate with him in private, to ensure his heart is at the right place. This level of commitment could only come when she loves him. A wife has to love her husband unconditionally.’

Bartimus looked awestricken. Leaving his meal unfinished, he asked the girl to fetch him a scribe.

When King Edward received Bartimus’ note, he was not surprised in the least. Same couldn’t be said about Queen Sharia. She called the eagle, a traitor, a fool and many other names. She begged King Edward to not seek this idiotic counsel. 

‘We should invite Princess Greta to Bravia. She would be perfect as his bride.’ The queen said. 

King Edward assured his mother that her suggestions would be taken into consideration, although he would like to wait for Bartimus to arrive and explain his decision.

Bartimus, meanwhile, having found the perfect bride for his king, took it upon himself to train the farm girl in the ways of royalty. It was a pain at first, but the girl caught on quickly. Rather, extraordinarily, the old farmer was harder to train. His emotions, his joy over his daughter becoming the queen, always interfered in his training.

Bartimus arrived at the palace a few weeks later. He flew into the King’s private chambers and greeted him, as friends who had not seen each other for a long time. Before the king could ask him any further details, there was a knock on the door, and Queen Shaira entered the chambers. The gatekeeper then announced the arrival of Elizabeth. Both the king and his mother turned their attention to the door.

Dressed with a white flowing gown, with a hue of blue, Elizabeth entered the king’s chambers.She wore a golden crown, suitable for a prospective queen. Apart from a small piece of necklace that adorned her neck, she wore no other jewellery. Her large hazel eyes found her suitor. The king was lost in her deep, dreamy eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from staring. Queen Shaira, surprisingly, looked pleased. Bartimus whirred his wings delightedly, having found his friend the perfect wife.