The man peered around the corner of the stone corridor he was sneaking down, relieved to see no one there. “Oh corridor, would you like to hear a poem?” he asked dreamily. “Would you like a special poem, just for you?”
The corridor gave no answer. The man shook his wild mane of red hair in delight at not being told he couldn’t, and recited,
“Corridors are long and straight;
They’re filled with walls, but not one gate.
You travel through to a new place,
Or run on down in a game of chase!”
They’re filled with walls, but not one gate.
You travel through to a new place,
Or run on down in a game of chase!”
He sighed, contentment filling his wide amethyst-colored eyes. “Did you like my poem, oh corridor? It was most wonderful, wasn’t it? I am sure you agree. I am Horatio Faircloff, the best poet in the world. I have come to this forsaken kingdom of Ikani, to this very castle, to spread my poetic sunlight to all the poor, poetry-deprived people.”
In truth, he had been exiled from Watrasi, a country renowned for its exquisite culture and a haven for poets and artists of all kinds. Horatio glared in memory at the poets who had had feigned headaches whenever he opened his mouth. They had simply been jealous of his wondrous talent.
A young woman with shoulder-length black hair and piercing hazel eyes came around the opposite corner. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” she snapped, crystals of ice forming in her eyes.
With some difficulty, Horatio shook himself out of a daydream of running through a field of daffodils with her. “I am Horatio Faircloff, world-famous poet. I am here to grace these bleak walls with my magical poetry.”
The woman’s glare increased. “I am Jazz, King Darren’s strategist. You aren’t welcome here. Strangers aren’t permitted in the castle.”
Horatio had stopped listening to her after the word Jazz. “Oh Jazz, oh beautiful queen of my heart, it is so wonderful to make your acquaintance,” he told her dramatically.
“Oh Jazz, so lovely and pure,
I know I love you, I’m sure.
Your hair so straight and midnight-black,
Won’t you say you love me back?”
I know I love you, I’m sure.
Your hair so straight and midnight-black,
Won’t you say you love me back?”
The sound of her slap echoed as it rebounded off the walls. Jazz stalked away as Horatio rubbed his cheek, wondering what had gone wrong. After letting out a deep sigh, he continued on down the corridor, going the opposite direction Jazz had. Soon the corridor reached a dead end, stopping at a large mahogany door. Curious, he grabbed the engraved handle and pulled with all of his strength. The door finally creaked open, revealing a massive library with books covering the walls and stuffed into shelves on the floor.
Horatio gasped with delight as he entered the library. The door slammed shut behind him of its own accord, but he didn’t notice, being too busy drooling over the books. He had loved to read his entire life, seeing as his father had been a librarian and his mother a schoolteacher. After a minute of standing around gaping at all of the books, he ran over to a shelf to pick out something to read. In his haste, he tripped a blonde girl he hadn’t noticed before who had been curled up on the floor with a thick tome. “I’m sorry,” he began to say, but stopped and gasped as he caught a glimpse of her bright blue eyes. “Helen, my goddess, your beauty has launched a thousand ships,” he declared.
The girl, who couldn’t have been more than 15, blushed. “My name is Libba, not Helen,” she told him with a small frown.
Horatio cleared his throat and announced, “A haiku, just for you.
“Marvelous Libba,
Innocent as a lily
Fair as a red rose.”
Innocent as a lily
Fair as a red rose.”
Libba raised her eyebrows, looking worried. “I should probably leave,” she murmured. Horatio realized that her deep love for him was making her uncomfortable, and tried to reassure her.
“I know, I know.
Poor Libba, poor Libby,
I see now that you are in love with me.
But fear not,
Oh daughter of the sun.
I love you too, and our hearts beat as one.”
Poor Libba, poor Libby,
I see now that you are in love with me.
But fear not,
Oh daughter of the sun.
I love you too, and our hearts beat as one.”
“I don’t like your poems very much,” Libba said in a small voice as she stood up and backed away from him.
“But Libba, my dear sweet angel, surely you know that poetry is the food of love,” he cried.
“I thought that was music,” she called as she bolted for the door. She had no problem pushing it open and was gone within seconds.
Horatio sighed again. Having lost his craving for books, he headed out the door, spending a good thirty seconds trying to force the door open. He finally pushed it open enough for him to squeeze through and stood in the familiar corridor for a minute, panting loudly. When he had regained his breath he took off again, strolling aimlessly through the hallways and paying no attention to the twists and turns. Within five minutes he was hopelessly lost.
When he came to a door, he opened it with a sigh of relief. Inside was a small sitting room with yellow armchairs and a large window, featuring a breathtaking view of the lake outside, just a short walk away. A pretty girl of about 18 with shining brown curls sat in a chair, neglected embroidery sitting on her lap. Her bright green eyes widened. “Hello,” she said hesitantly in a light, musical voice. “Who are you?”
“I am the rising and the setting sun,
To your Juliet, I am Romeo.
A poet am I, the very best one,
My dearest, I am Horatio.”
To your Juliet, I am Romeo.
A poet am I, the very best one,
My dearest, I am Horatio.”
The girl puckered her brow thoughtfully. “Are you a minstrel my father hired?” she asked.
Horatio laughed loudly, trying to sound attractively masculine. When the girl’s lips twitched, he knew he had succeeded. “I am no minstrel, to be hired by an insignificant nobleman. I am Horatio Faircloff, the wandering poet. I have come to spread my wonderful talent to you poor people in this land of Ikani.”
The girl’s spine automatically straightened, and she met Horatio’s eyes angrily. “I am Princess Amalie. My father, King Darren, is no insignificant nobleman. And if he did not invite you here, then you are not welcome.”
Once again, Horatio’s mind ceased to comprehend her words after she had uttered Princess Amalie.
“A princess? I should
Have known, for you are clearly
No common girl,” Horatio proclaimed.
Have known, for you are clearly
No common girl,” Horatio proclaimed.
Amalie’s eyes grew cold. “Yes, I am no common girl. I have the authority to send you to the dungeon for trespassing.”
Horatio stared into her eyes dreamily. “But you won’t. I know that you will not, for you are in love with me, fair Amalie, just as I am in love with you. I am yours to command.” He strode over to her chair and grabbed her hands in a fit of passion.
“Then I command you to let go of my hands and leave Ikani at once,” Amalie snarled.
“My love, I cannot,” he sighed.
“You are so beautiful and true
My heart beats only for you.
I can never leave your side.
I’ll be with you ‘till the day I’ve died.”
“You are so beautiful and true
My heart beats only for you.
I can never leave your side.
I’ll be with you ‘till the day I’ve died.”
At that moment the door opened, letting in a majestic man with dark brown hair and a short beard. When he saw Horatio, his face darkened. “Why are you holding my daughter’s hands?” he demanded in a deep voice.
Horatio got down on one knee. “My good sir, I wish to receive your daughter’s hand in marriage,” he announced, wishing that he could come up with a poem to express his urgent desire.
The man’s eyes widened in fury. “Guards!” he yelled loudly. Within seconds four enormous, muscular men were crowded into the room. “Take this princess-molesting intruder to the dungeon,” he ordered.
“You cannot part me from my true love!” Horatio cried as he was yanked away from Amalie. “Amalie, my sweet darling, don’t-!” An elbow to the ribs cut off what he was trying to say. With the wind knocked out of him, Horatio was unable to speak as he was dragged away from Amalie and through the castle’s hallways. When he came back to his senses, he was being dragged through a dark, damp chamber with granite walls. The guards unlocked a door and unceremoniously threw him in.
Horatio was left in complete darkness, except for a tiny pattern on the floor where the door’s bars let light in. He cried out in fear,
“Let me out, let me out, let me out I say!
I fear I'll go mad and not live one more day.
I must get out now and sit in the light;
I hate being trapped in this perpetual night!"
I fear I'll go mad and not live one more day.
I must get out now and sit in the light;
I hate being trapped in this perpetual night!"
The guards didn’t let him out, although he heard a grunt from somewhere behind him. Horatio ignored it and tried again.
“Alone in the dark without hope for the light,
I must get out now and away from this night.
I need to see Amalie, so beautiful and pure,
And now you will let me go free, I am sure!"
I must get out now and away from this night.
I need to see Amalie, so beautiful and pure,
And now you will let me go free, I am sure!"
“That’s enough poetry,” a voice growled from the back of the cell. When Horatio turned to see who it was, he felt something heavy hit his head, and everything faded away.
