Tuesday, 14 January 2014

PART 10: Sad Sam and Sly Strange - A Serial by Grant Harbison and Manuela Cardiga

“Pity on thee? Set thee free? Nay, my lofty princess. Thee belong to me. A delectable prize of extraordinary size is exactly what I need. For when I infuse thee with my seed, a child of the tall will grow. One who will tower, securing my family’s power. I be King Red of Allabed

“Sire, I know not your cause or your laws.”

“It is imperative that a future king or queen not be too diminutive. If a child of the monarch at the age of sixteen is no taller than three feet, then the existing king or queen has to relinquish their seat to the adolescent in the realm who is taller to rule over the smaller. The present queen is barren, so the need is urgent indeed.”

“Your laws lack sagacity. Though one may feel empathy for your plight, there is a chance that I might not produce the offspring that you desire. We know not what will transpire. The result could be dire. Tell me King Red, think ye the queen will willingly share her bed? Sire, I do think the queen will deem it obscene.”

“The queen has no say and there is no other way. I am in command and she will simply have to understand that on the throne to remain and over the kingdom to reign, she will have to accept and show us respect.”

“Ye expect her to respect when thee plan to neglect her love and devotion? Nay, sire, ye have no notion of love and affection. Your mind has one direction and being forced to conceive what ye consider to be perfection, know ye this – Ye might use my body, but you’ll never have my heart and mind; for that belongs to a kind and wonderful man, and heed ye, Sam will do all that he can to find me.”

“Enough of this tirade! When we reach Allabed all your hopes will fade. Now, the hour is late and our carriage awaits. If you behave I may be kind, and remove your binds.”


The four arrived at the mart and sensed something wrong from the start. When they saw the retreating crowd with their heads bowed low, they immediately knew that a part of the show had perturbed or disturbed them

“Lady of Light, something isn’t right,” cried Sam. “I be afeart for Esprelotta’s life. This place is rife with iniquity and strife.”

The Lady listened to the voices in her head and what they told her filled her with dread and with tears in her eyes, she turned to Sam, Barbon and Sly. “I’ve just been told that Esprelotta has been sold to the king of Allabed. Let us remain calm, for at least she’s not dead; but forth must we proceed to prevent her rape instead.”


In Allabed did fair Esperlotte spurn the rough wooing of the vicious King; and her high disdain in his low face fling. With a fierce passionate cry did the Dwarf Sovereign reply: "Why do you me refuse, recuse and deny? Is it my size you so despise? My sword stands as high as any, as does my heart." and with an awkward bow the Red King did raise a hopeful smile, along with his proffered heart.

Esprelotta sighed, "That I do not want thee cannot be denied; yet Sir, blame not thy size! Am I not Esprelotta the Giant's daughter? To me all men are small, yet some hearts stand tall. I love a man no bigger than my shoulder, my sweet Sam stands no taller. Yet, King though ye be, I hath no love for thee. It is not thy size that I despise: it is the vicious light in your eyes."

Now rage infused the face of the Red King with a crimson caul. "Think thou that thy dislike will appal my manhood? THERE stand I as tall as your sluggard Sam, or any Giant fool of a man! And there lies your Doom! I shall sharpen my appetite on thy despite, proud Esprelotta! I shall plough thy field, and upon thy flesh raise up a crop of sons, a veritable crowd! Thou shall suckle them all, and beg me for more..."

"Nay, Sire. Dead shall I be if such comes to be. Forget thee not, I am Selkie yet. My Mother's Sea-Magic, tragic inheritance though it be, resides yet in me. I shall summon the inner sea. One child only wilt thou wrest from me: there after, death shall embrace me. And that is what I will gift to thee: one babe, one corpse, and an endless voice of clamouring passion. The Curse of Selkie-Blood is this fashion thy lust wilt turn to endless love, though dead, I will hold thee in thrall. Thus did my Father taste bitter gall. His rape was repaid a million-fold with a pain he cannot escape. Nightly he sees in Selkie-Dreams my Mother: her smile, her eyes, her hair like streams of gold; yet nightly he awakens cold. No woman flesh has him consoled, nor ever will again. From this blow, no mighty warrior can defend."

by Grant Harbison and Manuela Cardiga

No comments:

Post a Comment