Fighting for Freedom
The New Jester
After I was done washing my hair I sat on my bed, twirling a withered white flower in my hand. I closed the big leather book I had taken it out of.
10 years earlier…
Adela was lacing my stays when Cassie came rushed into my room to inform me that my father wanted to see me in the throne room. She arrived out of breath with her dress all bunched up in her arms, showing off her legs. Adela turned to her with a disapproving look on her face.
“Cassie! How many times must I tell you not to rush about with your dress bunched up like that? ’Tis unladylike to rush about like you do!” Adela scolded her. Cassie just looked down at the floor and nodded. No matter how many times Adela reprimanded her she never listened to her, even though she was supposed to be learning from her how to be a maid-in-waiting. Adela sort of adopted Cassie when her mother, who was a lady-in-waiting to my mother, died. Her father had long since died, so Adela took her under her wing and she became my maid-in-waiting since she was only a year older than me, while Adela was 15 years my senior.
Adela finished lacing my corset and sent me off with Cassie to the throne room. We raced the whole way there until we finally made it to the door. I sucked in a breath and straightened myself up as the guard opened the door and I entered my father’s presence. He smiled at me and gestured for me to come over to him.
“Sit. Lydia, I need to tell you something.” I sat down on my mother’s throne and looked expectantly at my father. He turned his gaze to our court jester Rowan, who was standing in the middle of the room.
“Lydia,” my father paused, looking uncertain. “Rowan has been our court jester now from the time since my father was a boy, and now he is getting very aged. He is no longer able to do the tricks he once did, and that is why we are bringing in a new jester.” My mouth almost fell open in surprise and my eyes filled with tears.
“But father, I love Rowan’s tricks! He makes us laugh, how can you send him away?” I cried. My father’s eyes turned sympathetic.
“My dear daughter, he will not be sent away, he will be here to teach the new jester, but he will not be entertaining us anymore, that is all,” my father said gently. My cries were reduced to sniffles, but they did not stop. I would still miss Rowan.
“Bring in the new court fool,” my father ordered the guard at the door. He nodded and opened the door. A boy of about fourteen stood in the doorway. He had black locks of hair that fell into his eyes and blue eyes that seemed to shine through his thick mess of hair. He put on a smile and strode forward.
“Yes, your majesty?” he asked with a bow.
“What is your name, boy?”
“Dawson.” He cast his eyes upon me and saw my tear-streaked face.
"Oh, your majesty, why the tears?” he asked. My father put his hand on my shoulder.
“She is rather upset about the departing of our old court jester. Can you show her that you will be just as good?” my father asked. “Perform a trick for us.”
No one can replace Rowan, I thought bitterly, but I knew better than to speak that. A gleam appeared in the boy’s light blue eyes. “I have a better idea your majesty, I will tell a story to the young princess.” My father just waved his arm for him to proceed.
“Once upon a time there lived a princess who never laughed or smiled. Her father began to worry about his only daughter, so he called upon all the jesters and magicians to make his daughter laugh, but it did not work. He called upon all the lords and dukes to make his daughter laugh, but it did not work. Finally, he commanded that anyone who could make his daughter laugh would win her hand in marriage. Men of every age and social status showed up and tried with everything they had to make the princess laugh, but alas, it did not work.
In a nearby village there was a poor young man, who worked for a very wealthy shoemaker. At the end of the year the shoemaker gave the young man three gold coins and sent him on his way. As he was walking along a road he met a hare, a frog, and a turtle, and they each asked the man for a gold coin, and since he had a big heart, he gave each creature a gold coin. As he walked along he passed by the castle when he suddenly fell into the mud. The creatures he gave the coins to leaped to assist him and help him back on his feet, but they all fell into the mud too.
From the castle the young princess was watching, and when she saw the antics of the man and the three creatures, she-”
Suddenly a guard walked in and announced to the King.
"Your majesty, the Spanish King is here.”
“Yes, I will be there shortly,” my father told the guard.
“Well, Lydia, do you like the new jester?” my father asked. I wanted to ask Dawson to finish his story, but father was busy with other matters at this time.
“Oh please father, do make him the court jester, I want to hear the end of the story!” I begged my father. He turned to stare at Dawson in amazement.
“Well, it seems you have a talent for telling stories,” he said. “Yes, you will be the new court jester.”
I looked around the garden, searching for Dawson. I spotted him over by the white flowers. He had plucked one and was studying it. I ran over to him.
“Hello, Dawson,” I greeted him. I was about to ask him to finish his story when he looked up from the flower and handed it to me.
“For you princess,” he said. I blushed and put it in my hair.
“Thank you.” He only smiled as he strolled away.
I stared down at the flat white flower in my hand. Ever since that day I had saved this flower Dawson gave me. I know, it seemed silly, but it was of great value to me simply because of the fact that Dawson gave it to me. Ever since that day in the garden we became fast friends and played together as friends do, when I wasn’t having a lesson, that is. We were the best of friends, until one day…
I walked into my father’s throne room and curtsied as always. He had a frown on his face as he motioned for me to approach him. It must be something I have done.
“Yes father?” I asked as I sat down on my mother’s throne.
“Lydia, you are growing into quite a fine young woman of fourteen,” he began, “And as such, I am ordering that you stop playing with Dawson.”
“Why father? Has he angered you?” I asked, disappointed. Dawson had been my friend now for four years. He was now a young man of eighteen, four years my senior.
“No Lydia, ’tis nothing like that. ’Tis just that it is not proper for a young woman, a princess, to follow around a young man she is not courting.”
“I do not understand father, we like to keep each other company.”
“Yes, but you are older now and it is different. You are now a young woman, you have your womanly duties to tend too, and he has his manly duties to attend too. The only man a young lady should be around a man she is courting or betrothed to marry,” my father explained, “It is no longer proper for you to be around Dawson unless he is entertaining us in the court.” I cast my eyes down to the hem of my skirt and studied the design to keep from crying in my father’s presence.
“Yes, father,” I said obediently.
I was taking a morning stroll the next morning when I was approached by Dawson. He had a leather bound book in his hand and a big smile on his face.
“Lydia, I was looking for you everywhere!” he exclaimed. “I was looking through my books when I came across one that I thought might interest you.” He pressed the book into my hands. When he saw the sullen expression on my face his smile disappeared.
“Lydia, is something wrong?” he asked.
“Dawson,” I said quietly. “It is not proper for us to keep one another company anymore. I am sorry.” I said this quickly to avoid looking into his eyes and seeing the pain I knew it would cause him. I only wish he knew how much it hurt me too. When I got back to my room I looked down at the book Dawson gave me. It was a collection of poems from the surrounding countries, some from centuries ago.
I opened the book and something fluttered to the ground. I picked it up and saw that it was a piece of parchment with writing on it.
"My dear friend Lydia,
I do hope you enjoy this book of poems. I saw the first one and thought of you. In fact, several of them in these pages made me think of you. I only hope you enjoy them as much as I have.
Your most bounded and devoted friend, Dawson.”
I felt my eyes prickling with tears as I opened the worn leather binding and read the first poem. After I was done reading it, I cried.
It was by a new poet called William Shakespeare, although nobody really believed he would go anywhere with his poetry. Maybe make a few poems then be forgotten within a couple decades. His poem read:
I placed the lifeless flower back between the pages of the poem by William Shakespeare as I read over the lines once again. I couldn’t help but wonder: how did Dawson feel about me back then?
10 years earlier…
Adela was lacing my stays when Cassie came rushed into my room to inform me that my father wanted to see me in the throne room. She arrived out of breath with her dress all bunched up in her arms, showing off her legs. Adela turned to her with a disapproving look on her face.
“Cassie! How many times must I tell you not to rush about with your dress bunched up like that? ’Tis unladylike to rush about like you do!” Adela scolded her. Cassie just looked down at the floor and nodded. No matter how many times Adela reprimanded her she never listened to her, even though she was supposed to be learning from her how to be a maid-in-waiting. Adela sort of adopted Cassie when her mother, who was a lady-in-waiting to my mother, died. Her father had long since died, so Adela took her under her wing and she became my maid-in-waiting since she was only a year older than me, while Adela was 15 years my senior.
Adela finished lacing my corset and sent me off with Cassie to the throne room. We raced the whole way there until we finally made it to the door. I sucked in a breath and straightened myself up as the guard opened the door and I entered my father’s presence. He smiled at me and gestured for me to come over to him.
“Sit. Lydia, I need to tell you something.” I sat down on my mother’s throne and looked expectantly at my father. He turned his gaze to our court jester Rowan, who was standing in the middle of the room.
“Lydia,” my father paused, looking uncertain. “Rowan has been our court jester now from the time since my father was a boy, and now he is getting very aged. He is no longer able to do the tricks he once did, and that is why we are bringing in a new jester.” My mouth almost fell open in surprise and my eyes filled with tears.
“But father, I love Rowan’s tricks! He makes us laugh, how can you send him away?” I cried. My father’s eyes turned sympathetic.
“My dear daughter, he will not be sent away, he will be here to teach the new jester, but he will not be entertaining us anymore, that is all,” my father said gently. My cries were reduced to sniffles, but they did not stop. I would still miss Rowan.
“Bring in the new court fool,” my father ordered the guard at the door. He nodded and opened the door. A boy of about fourteen stood in the doorway. He had black locks of hair that fell into his eyes and blue eyes that seemed to shine through his thick mess of hair. He put on a smile and strode forward.
“Yes, your majesty?” he asked with a bow.
“What is your name, boy?”
“Dawson.” He cast his eyes upon me and saw my tear-streaked face.
"Oh, your majesty, why the tears?” he asked. My father put his hand on my shoulder.
“She is rather upset about the departing of our old court jester. Can you show her that you will be just as good?” my father asked. “Perform a trick for us.”
No one can replace Rowan, I thought bitterly, but I knew better than to speak that. A gleam appeared in the boy’s light blue eyes. “I have a better idea your majesty, I will tell a story to the young princess.” My father just waved his arm for him to proceed.
“Once upon a time there lived a princess who never laughed or smiled. Her father began to worry about his only daughter, so he called upon all the jesters and magicians to make his daughter laugh, but it did not work. He called upon all the lords and dukes to make his daughter laugh, but it did not work. Finally, he commanded that anyone who could make his daughter laugh would win her hand in marriage. Men of every age and social status showed up and tried with everything they had to make the princess laugh, but alas, it did not work.
In a nearby village there was a poor young man, who worked for a very wealthy shoemaker. At the end of the year the shoemaker gave the young man three gold coins and sent him on his way. As he was walking along a road he met a hare, a frog, and a turtle, and they each asked the man for a gold coin, and since he had a big heart, he gave each creature a gold coin. As he walked along he passed by the castle when he suddenly fell into the mud. The creatures he gave the coins to leaped to assist him and help him back on his feet, but they all fell into the mud too.
From the castle the young princess was watching, and when she saw the antics of the man and the three creatures, she-”
Suddenly a guard walked in and announced to the King.
"Your majesty, the Spanish King is here.”
“Yes, I will be there shortly,” my father told the guard.
“Well, Lydia, do you like the new jester?” my father asked. I wanted to ask Dawson to finish his story, but father was busy with other matters at this time.
“Oh please father, do make him the court jester, I want to hear the end of the story!” I begged my father. He turned to stare at Dawson in amazement.
“Well, it seems you have a talent for telling stories,” he said. “Yes, you will be the new court jester.”
I looked around the garden, searching for Dawson. I spotted him over by the white flowers. He had plucked one and was studying it. I ran over to him.
“Hello, Dawson,” I greeted him. I was about to ask him to finish his story when he looked up from the flower and handed it to me.
“For you princess,” he said. I blushed and put it in my hair.
“Thank you.” He only smiled as he strolled away.
I stared down at the flat white flower in my hand. Ever since that day I had saved this flower Dawson gave me. I know, it seemed silly, but it was of great value to me simply because of the fact that Dawson gave it to me. Ever since that day in the garden we became fast friends and played together as friends do, when I wasn’t having a lesson, that is. We were the best of friends, until one day…
I walked into my father’s throne room and curtsied as always. He had a frown on his face as he motioned for me to approach him. It must be something I have done.
“Yes father?” I asked as I sat down on my mother’s throne.
“Lydia, you are growing into quite a fine young woman of fourteen,” he began, “And as such, I am ordering that you stop playing with Dawson.”
“Why father? Has he angered you?” I asked, disappointed. Dawson had been my friend now for four years. He was now a young man of eighteen, four years my senior.
“No Lydia, ’tis nothing like that. ’Tis just that it is not proper for a young woman, a princess, to follow around a young man she is not courting.”
“I do not understand father, we like to keep each other company.”
“Yes, but you are older now and it is different. You are now a young woman, you have your womanly duties to tend too, and he has his manly duties to attend too. The only man a young lady should be around a man she is courting or betrothed to marry,” my father explained, “It is no longer proper for you to be around Dawson unless he is entertaining us in the court.” I cast my eyes down to the hem of my skirt and studied the design to keep from crying in my father’s presence.
“Yes, father,” I said obediently.
I was taking a morning stroll the next morning when I was approached by Dawson. He had a leather bound book in his hand and a big smile on his face.
“Lydia, I was looking for you everywhere!” he exclaimed. “I was looking through my books when I came across one that I thought might interest you.” He pressed the book into my hands. When he saw the sullen expression on my face his smile disappeared.
“Lydia, is something wrong?” he asked.
“Dawson,” I said quietly. “It is not proper for us to keep one another company anymore. I am sorry.” I said this quickly to avoid looking into his eyes and seeing the pain I knew it would cause him. I only wish he knew how much it hurt me too. When I got back to my room I looked down at the book Dawson gave me. It was a collection of poems from the surrounding countries, some from centuries ago.
I opened the book and something fluttered to the ground. I picked it up and saw that it was a piece of parchment with writing on it.
"My dear friend Lydia,
I do hope you enjoy this book of poems. I saw the first one and thought of you. In fact, several of them in these pages made me think of you. I only hope you enjoy them as much as I have.
Your most bounded and devoted friend, Dawson.”
I felt my eyes prickling with tears as I opened the worn leather binding and read the first poem. After I was done reading it, I cried.
It was by a new poet called William Shakespeare, although nobody really believed he would go anywhere with his poetry. Maybe make a few poems then be forgotten within a couple decades. His poem read:
“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.”
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.”
I placed the lifeless flower back between the pages of the poem by William Shakespeare as I read over the lines once again. I couldn’t help but wonder: how did Dawson feel about me back then?
♠ ♠ ♠
Well, this is the new chapter If you're a returning reader, you know I had the layout changed. See, I liked the old layout, but the person who made it deactivated their account, so poof goes the layout with it. So, elizabeth was kind and made me a new one, which truthfully, I like better. So yeah, that's why it changed.I would have updated sooner except I couldn't come up with a story I wanted Dawson to tell, so I finally decided to use one already written. It's a fairytale called The Princess Who Never Smiled, if you wanna look it up.
I'd like to thank my commentors on the last chapters: LyricalLullabies;, love.laugh.music., Isadora Pierce, Inked Art, reason.to.believe (love the name, by the way!), allyr97, and mellifluous. And last but not least, I'd like to thank my one new subscriber. It really means a lot, guys! =)