The Elder Brother

Stories for Another Day

There were two brothers, whose father was the king. The eldest brother whose name was Ranald, would be king as soon as his father died, because that was the way things were done in that country. As he grew up, he studied hard to be a good king. He was very good at history, and learnt all about the kings and queens that had gone before him, but he wasn’t much good at arithmetic and numbers, so he could never remember which kings came before or after which, so all that history wasn’t much good at all, muddled up in his head as it was.

As time passed, his father grew very old and died, and Ranald became king. He didn’t feel any different, but he had a lot more work to do. All his advisors and ambassadors and the Prime Minister came to see him, and said, “The first thing you must do, your Majesty, is find a wife and get married.”

“Married?” said Ranald.

“Yes, of course,” they all said. “What is a king without a wise and beautiful queen to reign at his side?”

They gathered up all the beautiful maidens in the kingdom, mostly their own daughters, and they lined them up in the Great Hall so Ranald could choose one. Ranald peered at them doubtfully.

The Prime Minister said, “Have you chosen one, your Majesty?”

Ranald said, “Ummm…” He didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but none of them looked like the kind of person he would like to be married to. They were mostly quite beautiful, although one of them had very unusual ears, and one of them had long red fingernails that made him feel peculiar, but he found that no matter what they looked like, all of them made him feel shy and uncomfortable.

“Ummm, are these all the young maidens there are?” he asked.

Everyone was indignant. “These are the most beautiful young ladies in the kingdom!” they said. After all, most of them were their own daughters.

Ranald shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to marry any of them.”

His younger brother plucked at his sleeve. “Are you sure you don’t want any of them?” he asked.

Ranald shook his head firmly. His brother said, “Because I was wondering if it would be all right if I chose one of them for myself? The third one on the left seems very pretty, and not too intelligent, if you know what I mean.” It was widely known that if a queen was more than usually intelligent it generally led to trouble.

Ranald said, “I don’t mind at all. She’s seems quite pretty, and not too clever.”

In fact they were both wrong. The third one on the left was very pretty indeed, and in fact, very intelligent, but she took care to make sure that not many people knew. She didn’t mind at all marrying the king’s younger brother instead of the king. Being so very intelligent, she felt it would all work out for the best in any case.

Ranald went to his royal bedchamber and thought about what being the king was going to mean, and it seemed very hard to him. The next day, all his advisors and the Prime Minister came to him and said, “Your Majesty, today you must inspect the troops.”

“Inspect the troops? Why should I do that?” Ranald said.

“Because that is what the king does!” everyone said, quite offended. “The king has to see that they look their best and are ready for battle.”

“Battle?” Ranald said, going pale.

“Of course,” said the Prime Minister. “If another country comes to invade us, or if you decide to invade another country, the troops have to be ready to fight!”

“Fight?” Ranald said. He didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Stabbing and spearing and all that?” he gulped.

“Yes, your Majesty,” said the Prime Minister. “Lots of bashing and thumping and blood everywhere!”

At that, Ranald felt decidedly peculiar, and fainted. His faithful servant, Gray, gathered him up and took him away to his bedchamber to lie down until he felt better. Lying in the darkened room with a damp cloth on his forehead, Ranald asked, “Gray, have you ever been in a battle?”

“No, your Majesty,” Gray answered.

“It sounds awful, don’t you think?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Gray said.

Over the next weeks, Ranald felt as if an enormous weight had come down on him and was pressing down more heavily every day. All day he laboured in his offices, reading papers and signing laws and listening to people with complaints. In the evenings there were more papers to read, and foreign prime ministers and ambassadors to entertain at long, boring dinners. Some days he felt so weighed down he could hardly get out of bed.

Once a week a new group of princesses and countesses and ladies were lined up for him to choose a wife from, and every week it seemed to Ranald they were even less attractive, which was actually the case, since he had seen all the really beautiful young ladies the very first day. Every Saturday he had to inspect the troops and look at their pointed spears and their sharpened swords until his head swam. He grew paler and lost his appetite, until it nearly broke Gray’s heart to seem him pick listlessly at his food.

One day he was sitting in his chamber, wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole when he heard a wavering voice outside the window. “Healing herbs! Medicine for the soul! All natural!” the voice said.

Ranald asked Gray to go over to the window and see what it was.

“It’s a woman of considerable age with a large basket of herbs,” Gray told him.

“Ask her to come in, would you please, Gray,” said Ranald. “A nice cup of herbal tea might be just what I need.”

The old woman had small, wrinkled hands and a veil pulled down over her wrinkly face. Even her voice was wrinkly. “A tincture of hensbane or a decoction of larkspur, your Majesty?” she quavered. “A potion to soothe what troubles the soul?”

“I fear it would take more than a potion or a few herbs,” Ranald said fretfully.

The old woman slithered closer, up to Ranald’s chair and murmured into his ear, “Perhaps I have something that would make all your troubles seem so small that you could whisk them away with a fingertip.”

Ranald stirred in his chair, and said, “What do you mean?”

With a sly grin, the woman reached into her basket and brought out a bowl made of crystal, that glittered in the lamplight. “This is what some call a scrying bowl,” she said. “We pour in a little water, like this, then we look deep into the water. Look and you will see, not what is to come, but what you may bring about, if you choose to.”

The surface of the water was as still and smooth as glass. Ranald looked, and saw himself dressed finely in a white fur cloak, wearing a crown with huge rubies on it. His hair and his beard glistened with oil. He was sitting on a vast throne of solid gold with velvet cushions. The throne was perched on the back of an elephant that was striding through the streets of the city. Soldiers with spears of silver walked ahead of him to sweep aside anyone who got in the way. Dancing girls lined the street, and small children threw rose petals on the road in front of him. “Such grandeur!” Ranald thought to himself. “So much wealth!”

For a moment his glance flickered over his shoulder and he saw Gray looking at him with undisguised horror. He looked back into the bowl and this time he could not recognise the king he saw there, with his oiled hair and his supercilious sneer.

He took the bowl in both hands and threw it to the ground. It smashed into a thousand pieces and water splashed everywhere. Among the wreckage, something lay winking. It was a diamond, larger than Ranald had ever seen before. He reached down to pick it up but Gray caught his arm.

“Don’t, your Majesty – I fear it is a thing of evil,” he said.

Ranald drew back, and said, “You’re right, Gray. And as for you,” he said, turning to the woman, but quick as a flash she pocketed the diamond and disappeared in a puff of grey dust, leaving nothing behind but a nasty smell.

Ranald grasped Gray’s hand. “If it weren’t for you,” he said, “I could have become that thing that I saw.”

Gray smiled at him. “Never, your Majesty.”

The next day, Ranald called together all his advisors and the Prime Minister, and made an announcement. “From this moment on, I am no longer your king. My brother will be king instead, and his wife will be your queen.”

“But your Majesty,” gasped the Prime Minister, “you can’t do this!”

“A king may do anything he pleases,” Ranald said. “It pleases me not to be king, not for even a moment longer. My brother will make a much better job of it than I ever could.” He took off his crown and gave it to his brother, who put it on happily.

“You see, it fits him well,” Ranald said, and really, the Prime Minister and everyone else had to agree.

“But what will you do, your Majesty – I mean, Prince Ranald?” asked the Prime Minister.

“Oh, Gray and I will live quietly somewhere, and grow a few vegetables, and collect sea-shells or some such thing. We may even get a puppy, do you think, Gray?”

Gray smiled, and went to stand beside him.