Profitable Holidays

A king comes up with a plan to save his kingdom.

Profitable Holidays

            King Harry couldn’t sleep. He closed his eyes and counted sheep after sheep, but his mind simply refused to rest. Even his royal bed, filled with the very softest gryphon feathers, felt like a sack of rocks. He twisted and turned in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position.

            “Harry!” screeched the wife. “Stop moving, you revolting blister, I’m trying to sleep!”

            King Harry let out a heavy sigh. “Yes pumpkin, of course. I’m just a little nervous about tomorrow.”

            The queen yanked the blankets from Harry and turned away. “Always nervous harry, like a whiny child, constantly worrying about insignificant things.”

            “Honey, they are significant. Our coffers are almost bare, and if this plan doesn’t work I’m not sure what will become of the kingdom.” Harry sat up and covered his face with his hands. The wife rolled out of bed and began to pace.”It’s always about the kingdom,” she said. “My kingdom this, my kingdom that. What about me, Harry? You haven’t even bought me that jewel encrusted bingo wheel I asked for, and you know how badly I want it!”

            “But Cornelia, dearest—“

            “Stop, Harry. I’m tired of your miserable excuses. It’s clear that you care far more about yourself than you do me. I’m going to the stables to watch the farm boys tend to the horses. I’d rather be around stallions than an old fart like you.”

            Harry started to go after her, but Cornelia was already gone. Harry sighed before donning his robes and walking to his chamber. He slumped into his throne and clapped his hands. The king waited, but nothing happened. He clapped again, louder this time. “Geoffrey, I need you!” Still nothing. The king beat his mighty hands together and shouted, “Geoffrey! If you do not appear this instant I’ll—“

            There was a loud pop and a rather strange fairy appeared in the throne room. The fairy wore no shirt and in one hand he held a large pastry which dripped jelly onto his bulging stomach. “Hold your ponies,” said the creature, “I’m here; no need to get nasty. Always threatening poor Geoffrey, you don’t even care that you just interrupted my breakfast, I bet, not an insensitive oaf like you.”

            The king bent down to the fairy’s level and pointed at his face. “Don’t start with me Geoffrey, not today.”

            “Sorry, your majesty,” said Geoffrey with an exaggerated and insincere bow. “How may I assist you?” Geoffrey shoved the rest of the pastry into his mouth and wiped his hands on his belly.

            “Update me on the project. I’m anxious to know how we’ve done.”

            “Profits are up,” he said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of pastry. “Nearly the entire peasantry has bought into your little scheme. The royal factories are producing candy hearts at full capacity and the royal gardens are nearly sold out of roses. We can expect to bring in quite a bit of money, if I do say so myself.”

            For once, the king smiled. “Wonderful news! At first I was a bit worried that the premise wouldn’t take off, I mean, it’s so unbelievable. Any reasonable person would realize it was just a lot of nonsense, but I suppose the peasants of my kingdom are quite gullible creatures.”

            “Yes sire, this ‘love’ idea of yours has really taken hold. The people are emptying their pockets to show how much they love”—Geoffrey actually snorted with laughter then—“each other. They actually believe that it’s possible for someone to care about another person more than they care about themselves.” Tears began to form in Geoffrey’s eyes from trying so hard not to laugh. “And what’s even more ridiculous is that they think somehow this will make them happy!” There was no holding it in any longer. Geoffrey fell to the ground and burst into laughter.

            “Yes,” said the king, for some reason with a tinge of sadness in his voice, “how ridiculous.”   

            Just then there was a loud knocking on the door. “Harry! I don’t believe what you’ve done this time, you rotten slimy rat! Let me in this instant!”

            King Harry shot up from his throne and put a finger to his lips. Geoffrey did the same.

            “I know you’re in there! I can smell the stench from that disgusting little fairy! Don’t think I’ll go away if I can’t hear you. I’m not stupid, you ignoramus. I’ll beat this door down if I have to!”

            Geoffrey went to the door to intercept the monster. “Miss Cornelia, your majesty, the king is in official business and can not be disturbed at the moment. I can tell him of your visit and have him call on you later, but for now you must—“

            “Don’t you boss me around you miniscule vermin! When you see him, tell him that I saw Brooke today, and that when I see him, things will not go well for him!”

            “Yes your majesty.” Geoffrey sneaked back towards the throne, hoping the screeching wouldn’t continue.

            The king was no longer smiling as he fell back into his throne. “Thank you Geoffrey. That could have been very nasty.”

            “That was very nasty! She called me a vermin! None of my ancestors were even in the rodent family, thank you very much! And who is this Brooke girl that she’s so worked up about anyway?“

            “She’s just a servant in the castle, a piper engaged to be married to one of the dukes. The queen thinks she’s too pretty, and that she will take away attention from Cornelia’s own”—The king gagged a little—“feminine beauty. So she demanded Brooke be dismissed.”

            “Well, that’s hardly fair. Good thing none of the peasants get to see that monster of a wife in action. If they did, this Valentine’s Day thing would never fly.”

            “Yeah…” said the king, staring at an invisible dot on the floor. “I guess it wouldn’t. But still, I think I’m going to have to let Brooke go if I want to keep the peace, as much as it pains me to fire a good musician. Fetch her for me, will you?”

 

            The girl entered the room on a cloud, eyes shining, a bouquet of roses in her arms. She approached the throne and bowed. “You’re highness.”

            The king cleared his throat. “Brooke, I’m sorry, but—“

            “Oh, what a wondrous and magical day!” She held the roses to her face and breathed deeply. “Shall I play something for you? I’m very eager to play something; my heart is filled with nothing but beautiful music.”

            The king stared, dumbfounded at this strange girl who was so pleased by a simple plant. “All that, just because the duke brought you flowers?”

            Brooke blushed. “Actually, your highness, they are from another.”

            “Brooke! You are engaged to duke Codswallop! The dishonor!”

            “Sire...” There was a long pause as Brooke searched for the words. “I am not going to marry the duke. I am going to marry William.”

            “William? I’ve never heard of him. Is he another duke?”

            “No, my lord.”

            “Better, an Earl?”

            “No sire, he is a peasant.”

            There was a long silence as the king’s mind struggled to process this information. “But why? Duke Codswallop is a very wealthy man and has more land than most of the court.  It would be a wonderful match politically. How could you cancel your engagement?”

            “Oh… it’s not that there’s anything wrong with the duke. He’s a very nice man. But, honestly, I don’t really care about money or land. And I don’t love him. But William, oh my, he buys me flowers, writes me poetry, and the way he talks to me…” Her eyes began to glisten. “I couldn’t be happy without that, not for any amount of money. Wouldn’t you be miserable if the queen didn’t truly love you sire?”

            The king leaned over, resting his chin on a fist and thinking. “Yes Brooke. I suppose I would.”

            “So, shall I play for you my lord?”

            He gave a weak smile and shook his head. “Thank you, but not now, I’ve got something else to attend to at the moment.”

            The girl bowed and left.

            “Geoffrey!”

            The fairy poofed into existence at the side of Harry’s throne. “Yes?”

            “I need you to talk to my wife. Tell her that I demand her presence immediately.”

            Geoffrey sputtered and nearly choked on a candy heart. “You want me to tell her what? That you demand her presence? She’ll destroy you.”

            “Trust me, Geoffrey, I know what I’m doing.”

            The fairy disappeared through the doorway, muttering, “Poor bloke’s about to get himself killed.” It didn’t take long for the screaming to start. He heard the unholy sound make its way through the castle’s corridors long before its creator appeared.

            “Harry! What is the meaning of this!? How dare you try to order me around? I’ll rip your bloody head off.” Cornelia stomped through the door way and approached the throne. “You better explain yourself. Now!”

            King Harry stood up and straightened his back. He looked down into Cornelia’s eyes and poked her chest with his finger.

            “Don’t you dare touch me, you brute!”

            “SILENCE!” he bellowed. And for once, there was. “Cornelia. I am the king. You do not have the right to mistreat me. You will leave my castle, tonight. You will leave my kingdom, as soon as you possibly can. You will never again darken my doorway. Do you understand?”

            Cornelia was speechless. Her mouth opened and closed stupidly, like a fish, as she stared at Harry. After a moment, she harrumphed, spun on her heel, and stormed out of the castle.

            “Wow,” said Geoffrey.”I never thought you would do it.”

            “Yeah… Me neither.”

            “Why’d you do it?”

            “I… I wasn’t happy.”

            “Oh, right. Want a candy heart?”

            The king sighed. “Sure.” He took a tiny candy heart from Geoffrey’s hand and looked at the front. It said, Believe in Love. Harry held it at arm’s length for a moment, like a jeweler inspecting a diamond. Then he put it into his mouth and chomped it and chewed it until it was nothing but dust.