ONCE UPON A TIME, in a time before pain, three friends lived in a house in a forest. The house stood at a crossroads, three roads from elsewhere that converged in the woods. The three friends stood at the gate, ready for the day. Willem, short but strong as an ox, stood with hammer and nails. Jakob, tall and clever as a fox, stood with traps and knives. Ricardo, thoughtful and full of curiosity, stood with buckets and rope.
Now the friends had not always lived in the house at the crossroads in the woods. No. For Willem had grown up in the town of Berg, away in the mountains. ‘Mother, Father’, he said, ‘I am a man now, and strong as an ox, and I must take my leave of you and make my way in the world’. A tear came to Willem’s mother’s eye as mother and father watched him heave his pack, strap on his work belt and take the road out of Berg. He turned back and waved, and then he was gone, obscured by the market stalls in the town square.
And what of Jakob? Jakob came of age in the town of Fluss, deep in the valley, astride the river. ‘Mother, Father’, he said, ‘I am a man now and clever as a fox, and I must leave this place and set to roaming’. Jakob’s mother clutched at her apron strings as mother and father watched him heave his pack and load his traps into a wagon. He led his donkey down the street then turned to wave and was gone, obscured by the fountain outside the town hall.
And then there was Ricardo, who spent his childhood in the town of Kuste, roaming the beaches and writing of the ships that ventured over the horizon. ‘Mother, Father’, he said, ‘I am a boy no longer and curious beyond measure. I yearn to explore our world’. Ricardo’s parents held each other and wept as they watched him heave his pack and walk down the lane with notebook in hand. He turned to wave and then was gone, obscured by the tears in their eyes.
Each man walked, and each held adventure in his heart. Willem trod the rocky path down from the mountains. Jakob followed the winding paths of the valley by the river. And Ricardo set his eyes on the road that took him inland and towards the crossroads.
As Willem roamed, he stopped every few nights and used hammer and nails and what materials he could find to build himself a shelter. He would sit each evening at dusk and eat a simple meal and marvel at the world he was seeing – travelling merchants, performing bears, and fortune tellers. ‘Three coins’, one had said, ‘and I will speak of your future’. Willem laughed at such things and waved the old crone on her way. But as he ate, a small part of him craved a woman’s company, craved a wife to spend forever with.
As Jakob roamed, he too stopped every few nights, in caves or old trappers’ huts. He ate well, trapping rabbits and preparing them with herbs from the side of the road. And he would sit at dawn and wonder at what the day would bring – soldiers of the king, new animals to hunt, and fortune tellers. ‘Two coins’, one had said, ‘and I will speak of your future’. Jakob laughed at such things, and waved the old crone on her way. But as he sat and ate, a small part of him craved the company of others, to talk and argue and discuss ideas.
As Ricardo roamed, he too stopped every few nights and experienced the generous hospitality of the good folk who lived in the small hamlets of just five or six houses. At night he would lie in the bed in the house in which he stayed and dream of his days on the road – meadows full of game, wondrous structures, and fortune tellers. ‘A single coin’, one had said, ‘and I will speak of your future’. And Ricardo considered this and smiled and handed over a single silver coin.
The crone was surprised, but took the coin as it glinted in the sun and placed it in a pouch that hung at her waist. Holding Ricardo’s hands, she stared into his eyes and closed her own. She leant in close and sniffed deeply at his neck, and Ricardo caught the scent of garlic, old cabbage, and mud, and smiled to himself. The crone opened her eyes to see Ricardo’s smiling face, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘You are different from others’, she announced. She looked him up and down as though to pick out which feature was out of place, but could find nothing to comment on. He was solid and plain, but there were many of those in towns throughout the realm, she knew. She sniffed the thought away and closed her eyes again. For a long moment there was nothing, then she raised an eyebrow. ‘The future of the few’, was all she said, and this time Ricardo furrowed his brow and clutched at her hands. This stirred her from the future she saw behind her eyelids. Is that bad, wondered Ricardo. How few are we? And then he breathed deeply with excitement, when does this future begin? ‘There is a triptych that hangs in the palace’, she continued. How could she have been in the palace, Ricardo wondered. ‘Three couples, one in each panel, stand arm in arm. It is said three brothers once built a house and found their true loves as they roamed the countryside. One had hair of flame. One had hair of honey. But one stands obscured, the tapestry slashed at by an old king’s rage. This is your fate.’ Ricardo stood wide-eyed as she let his hands go, and without another word hobbled away, a single silver coin richer. But how could I enrage a king, thought Ricardo.
The very next day, as the sun found its zenith, the three men came to a crossroads. At first, each approached with caution, but then recognised in the others the look of adventure and the desire to experience new things. The group stood in the centre of the crossroads, and each took in the others for signs of friendliness. And then they all burst forth with tales of their travels.
‘I am Willem of Berg. I have been walking the road these many days and seek to make my way in the world.’
‘I am Jakob of Fluss. I have been roaming the country these weeks and seek to meet new people to call friend.’
‘I am Ricardo of Kuste. I have been exploring the world for some time and seek to know the future.’
And so with hearty laughter and the patting of backs, the three strangers became friends. That first day, they lunched on rabbit, talked of their journeys, and wondered if they would have to continue on their own. ‘You won’t believe the sights I’ve seen – tame bears that juggle fire’, offered Willem. ‘Ah, I’ve witnessed the king’s guard, in all their finery, sun glinting off their armour’, returned Jakob. ‘Can you imagine fine stone buildings the size of mountains’, replied Ricardo. And they all laughed and toasted their travels with tankards of mead, while Ricardo desperately tried to write down every word of the amazing stories.
As the food ran out and the sun began its descent, Jakob looked at his new friends and wondered aloud, ‘What of us now? I have travelled and had experiences, but now I wish…’
‘…to stay put for a time’, continued Ricardo.
‘…and build a place to live’, suggested Willem.
And thus, the house at the crossroads in the woods was built. Trees were felled, timber was sawn, extra wooden nails were fashioned by whittling off-cuts. And seven days saw the construction of the friends’ new home. And what a home – a roofline that was straight from the high street of Berg; door and window arches that spoke of the riverside homes of Fluss; and chimney pots till now only ever found on the finest villas of Kuste. The plans drawn in Ricardo’s notebook came to life at the hands of the three new friends, and after seven days of toil they allowed themselves their rest.
Life was idyllic in the house at the crossroads. Fences, hunting, the building of a well. Each night they sat in company, eating game and drinking mead, talking of their adventures before and since meeting. And talking of dreams of the future. ‘Someone with hair like fire’, ‘No, curls of gold’, ‘No, hair like rich chocolate and shoulders golden from the sun’. They laughed and re-filled their tankards, and clinked them with a passion. And they went to sleep at night alone.
And then one day, a maiden with hair of flame came upon the house, as Willem worked in the garden. On her arm she carried a basket, and as Willem smiled at her she offered him a pastry. ‘I am visiting family, but I can stay a while.’
‘Perhaps you would like to see our garden. We have berries you could use next time you bake.’
And so she returned each day for a week, and Willem invited her to stay. ‘I too have been searching for my true love’, she said, ‘and in my mind he has been a capable man, good with his hands. This has been my dream.’
And then one day, a beauty with honey coloured curls walked along the road towards the house, as Jakob sat repairing traps in the garden. In her hands she carried wildflowers, and as Jakob smiled at her, she offered him one of the most beautiful. ‘I have been visiting friends, but I can stay a while.’
‘Perhaps you would like to see our garden. We have roses you could use to decorate your home.’
And so she returned each day for a week, and Jakob invited her to stay. ‘I too have been searching for my true love’, she said, ‘and in my mind he has been a capable man, able to provide for his family. This has been my dream.’
Ricardo watched his friends, and the way love blossomed with these kind and gentle women, and he looked forward to the day his one true love would arrive in his life. But as the friends set to building two new houses using what the forest provided and the skills they had learnt, it seemed true love would remain the stuff of dreams for Ricardo.
But then one day, from the depths of the forest, someone new appeared. Their hair was neither of flame nor honey, nor did it curl down and rest on shoulders. Standing in overalls and with axe in hand was a man of height and build such as Ricardo had never seen. Tanned shoulders and close-cropped hair, rich like chocolate, distracted Ricardo from the latest plans that he had been drawing for his friends’ houses. Hung at his belt, the stranger carried rabbit pelts of beautiful creams and greys and browns, and as Ricardo smiled at him, the stranger offered one of the softest. ‘I have been working the woods, building and hunting, but I can stay a while.’
‘Perhaps you would like to see the houses we are constructing for my friends. We could always do with another pair of hands.’
And so Hans returned each day for a week, and Ricardo invited him to stay. ‘I too have been searching for my true love’, Hans said, ‘and in my mind he has been a capable man, but creative too and open to new things. This has been my dream.’
And so the tapestry was complete. Three couples standing arm in arm. Three friends who found their true loves as they roamed the countryside. One had hair of flame. One had hair of honey. And one, no longer obscured, with tanned shoulders and close-cropped hair, rich as chocolate. But what of the slashed panel, Ricardo wondered.
Days later, as each couple settled into their new houses, with Ricardo and Hans staying in the original, a squadron of the king’s guard approached on the road from Kuste. Hearing the noise of jingling footholds and whinnying, the couples came out to see the captain of the guard dismounting. As Hans came out, last of all, the entire squadron bowed low. ‘Highness!’, they all cried, and removed their helmets in respect.
The friends turned to Hans, who was wiping grimy fingers on his overalls. Ricardo’s thoughts turned to the king’s rage.
‘Your highness’, said the captain of the guard, ‘your father, the King, begs your return. He has announced to the court that your choice is yours and he recognises the richness this will bring to the realm. Can we send a messenger to tell him you have found what you have been searching for?’
Hans spoke, looking grander for a moment but maintaining the respect for others the friends had come to know. ‘Captain, you may tell my father that I bring with me Ricardo of Kuste, poet and architect of the first order, to by my prince.’ He turned from the soldiers and looked desperately at Ricardo, standing with the others by the gate. ‘If you will be mine, now that you know the truth of who I am. If I may still be yours.’
Ricardo smiled, despite the tear that rolled down his cheek, and Willem and Jakob stood each with a protective hand on his shoulders. ‘I left my family, curious about the world, and I have seen and written of much. You and I are the few, as the old crone said, and our future has begun. I will be your prince, and you, mine. But I ask only that we visit this hamlet at the crossroads in the woods whenever we can.’ Ricardo turned to his two friends, who were now crying tears of joy and sorrow.
Hans bowed low and took Ricardo’s hand. ‘As you wish’, was all he said.
…end…
