Robin

Once there was a cruel king in a cold land. Summer was too small to visit there, and Spring too limping to reach its borders. The wings of winter stretched east and west and white feathers fell deep and fast and always. Always on the rooftops, always on the pathways, always on King Eldgar’s castle. But King Eldgar didn’t shiver. King Eldgar didn’t freeze. Warmth was his treasure. How it gilded his halls.

Coal and candle belonged to the king. Any firewood gathered was theft from the crown. And so the folk chilled and cowered. Even the frost was sorry to paint their windows. Even the wind felt guilt as it blew on their backs. Even the long night lamented the dark hours. The only flowers were the maidens. And the king gathered every one. Not by sword, nor by threat, no they went willingly for warmth. Warmth for their meagre homes, for their grandmother’s sore bones, for their siblings huddled in sour sleep.

King Elgar’s castle was as warm as his heart was cold. A meadow of maidens danced in his halls. One night, there was a knock on the door. A bent figure begged to see the king. The men brought her to him. Her hands were gnarled, her face hidden in her hood, her voice creaking as old wood. I have no hearth, I have no home, let me stay till dawn or I shall die alone. But the king saw she was ugly and old. Throw her back into the night. Have you no pity. The king laughed. Take her cloak. Death will be swift.

She drew back her hood, she threw off her cloak. She was beautiful and shining as the summer that never came. King Elgar cowered and pleaded. But she shook her golden head. Now he would never be warm, she said. The great fire beside his throne turned into little birds and off they flew. He scrambled to the next fire and it changed into a flock. He stumbled through the castle and the torches, candles and fires became wings, feathers and beaks. Coldness came to him and stayed with him. For if he stepped near a flame it became a bird. A little round bird that looked like warmth with a belly as orange as the friendliest hearth. He left the castle. He searched for fires. And he’s still on his cold path now.