20 December 2012
Many years ago now (though it seems much more) the young prince Auletes - whom was the sixth son of the king of whose garden I manned - sat on his bedroom windowsill late one summer night. In only his nightshirt, I thought to myself that night how he looked like a little white bird, perched on a sill for some rest, and to admire the unusually bright moon. He sat, for a while, and watched the stars contently, and I glanced over occasionally to see him sigh; perhaps longingly. Keeping my mind set on pruning the silverweed (which had become tangled and sprawling in its neglect) I made sure not to disturb him, for I being nothing more than a groundsman was in no position to converse, or even look upon him.
After ten minuets or so, the young prince slipped back inside the open window, and appeared again at the edge of his large balcony, two floors up. Reaching into a basket of blueish flowers, he pulled out a handful of tiny stones, which I saw him slip into his pocket. He proceeded to pull a small, sharp one out, and throw it up into the air. I must say, for a boy so small, it went rather far, and later skittered down on the pathway not far from me.
The prince continued to do this, stone by stone. I did not question his motives; the prince was often seen to do such strange things, as he was never allowed outside the palace walls. The king: his loving and kind-hearted yet restrictive father, believed that Auletes was far too young to see the world, and so the prince found other ways of amusing himself. I had heard from the maids that his bedroom walls had been painted with constellations and planets, from rainy days when he had not been allowed outside.
All of a sudden, I heard a dull thud, and upon looking up, saw Prince Auletes sprawl backwards onto the floor. A hazy silver light illuminated his astonished face, and a look of glee seemed to play across it. Something terrible had happened.
He pulled himself back onto his feet, and reached down to pick up whatever had fallen. As he stood up, it dawned on me. The prince had been knocking stars out of the sky! I couldn't be sure, because I had no way of knowing, but I was sure the prince had been doing so because of the old wives tale; 'The Thief and the Star'. It is a very long and sprawling story, but the sum of it is that a prisoner knocked a star out of the sky, and used its magic to escape his cell.
The thud must have been much louder from inside the palace, because soon, three maids and a footman had burst between the thick blue velvet curtains that lead onto the balcony, and proceeded to gasp and fluster about.
"A star, Auletes, really?!" One of the maids gasped.
"Your father will be outraged, master! You know he has an agreement with the sky beings!" Growled the footman, straightening his wig.
The prince just looked down into his glowing palms, and smiled. Freedom, to him, was there: in his hands,
***
Apparently, the star died at dawn, because it had nowhere to hide away from daylight. I imagined to myself the heartbreak the young prince must have felt. .The king was told of his sons antics, and we heard him yelling from our tiny shed in the servants quarters.
That night, the spirits of the sky tumbled down on silk threads, much like acrobats on trapezes. They skipped in through the open window, and snatched him from his bed. Word got out that they were taking Auletes to replace the star, so that the constellations were still right. We heard them calling him 'Pax'. No one saw him again for 12 years.
Pax & Virtusa (Part I: How Pax Came To Be) • Opuss № I