The Peasant's Choice

By Charis Bell

The Peasant's Choice

 

One small choice can forever change a life.

 

Wilber is a quiet but loyal orphan with physical and emotional scars. He has chosen to be silent.

Frederick is a naïve but kind prince. He has chosen never to wear his crown.

One shared, tragic past explains both their choices.

 

Caught in the middle of all their secrets, Amber, a playful adventurer, must make a choice of her own: she must battle social status, questions of conviction and identity, and love to determine who she really is and what she really wants.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Epic Ordinary
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393706175

Book preview

The Peasant’s Choice

Chapter One: Pinned by the Prince

EVERY GREAT ADVENTURE begins with a small one. And one small choice can forever change a life. Amber could not have known that her actions would lead to new friends, dangerous encounters, death, and love. Had she known that, she might not have challenged her friend, Wilber, to pass into the king’s woodland. Wilber was a peasant of the great kingdom of Maplecherideth. He and his friend were roaming the forest for adventure while, unbeknownst to them, Prince Fredrick was hunting.

Come, Will, show me your bravery! She ignored his exaggerated eye roll. No? Well then, I’ll show you! and before Wilber could stop her, Amber slipped her small, poverty-leaned body over the fence, and mockingly called to her friend, "Oh Wilber, you should smell the air here – it’s richer. And the trees – they’re adorned with such fine gold. And even the grass knows how to dance. She ran her fingers through the emerald blades. Oh, come, Wilber, she said rising up and twirling around quickly, her arms high in the air, let us show these wealthy beings that peasants, though poor, are endowed with as much dignity and honour as any human."

Could we show them from over here? asked Wilber in a sarcastic monotone. Wilber was an orphan that Amber’s parents had given provisions to. He was a tall young man with brown locks. While his smile was genuine and handsome enough, he was otherwise plain and ordinary; but he had one visible oddity: the burn scars on his hands.

Oh Will, have you no humour in you? Come! I dare say I’m so sun-scorched and lean that the prince would mistake me for a deer and shoot me!

You’re much too pretty for a deer. In fact, if you weren’t a peasant, I’d wager the prince would take you into his palace of a home to be his bride. Amber’s dark brown hair shimmered in the sun as she spun around, dancing to the music of her own imagination.

Well, she stopped to catch her breath, I suppose I must thank God that I’m a peasant, then, Amber laughed.

The quick dash of a deer and the rustling of some leaves alerted Wilber that they were not alone. Hurry Amber, come back! I think I see a king’s horse. Quick, or you’ll be taken for a trespasser!

Amber began to make her way toward the fence when she was suddenly arrested by an arrow through her arm. When Wilber jumped over the fence and hurried over to his distraught friend, the shocked prince appeared. A man who could be identified not only by his nicely framed face, his velvet black hair, and his rugged yet ruddy countenance, but by the golden latchets on his fine-leather boots, the scarlet cape-like cloak hanging about his neck, and the sword sleeping in the royal purple sheath tied around his waist. He wore the king’s ring, but he did not wear his own crown.

Are you all right? both the peasant and the prince called out. Amber was sobbing too much to reply. Wilber pulled out the arrow from her sleeve, which pinned her to the tree behind. She was only slightly scratched. The prince, relieved to see he had not pierced the girl’s flesh, asked, rather confused, Why ever then are you crying, seeing I have done you no harm?

No harm! she exclaimed, wide-eyed. I’m grateful you have bad aim – or else I would be dead! she blurted emphatically between sobs, but you might as well have hit me. The amusement in Wilber’s grin was imperceptible; he watched the prince’s brows cross while he struggled to find words. The weeping girl did not give the unskilled hunter a chance to speak. You’ve ruined my dress! What shall I say to my mother? We are poor! and thus she returned to her sobbing.

Don’t worry, Wilber comforted, the dress can be mended.  Then he added with a whisper, Let’s just go now. Wilber feared lest the prince would be angry that two youths had trespassed onto his father’s domain; but was not everything his father’s domain?

Nonsense, the prince’s rugged face gave way to an amiable smile. It’s my fault. I will get you a new dress – the finest in all my father’s kingdom. Amber silenced at the realization that she was speaking with the king’s son.

Wilber grabbed Amber and they pathetically tried to make it to the fence, wishing that perhaps the prince would simply let them go; after all, they were just peasants.

Halt! Your prince commands you!

Both halted at such a royal decree, and at the recollection that the wealthy man who summoned them was not skilled with the bow and arrow which he gripped.

The two peasants humbly turned to face the prince, as criminals before their judge, as servants before their master.

What’s this? Why does this young lady tremble? I mean you no harm. I am a youth – as you are. If I was going to hurt you, I’d have shot by now.

You are a youth indeed – but not as we are. You are a prince, we are peasants, was Wilber’s cold reply.

Prince Fredrick paid no attention to this last remark. With an air of authority, he simply, but courteously, asked, What is your age, sir?

Nineteen – youthful? Wilber asked, raising his brow.

Yes, the prince observed with some uncertainty. He had a further question: Is the fair lady your wife? Up until this point, Amber had been standing silently by Wilber’s side, but this last question caused her to erupt into laughter.

Amber, two years younger than Wilber, took her turn to speak: Wife! No! She held onto her side which began to hurt from laughing so much. Did you hear that? she asked Wilber as if the question had not been addressed to him. But you’d take me for a wife – wouldn’t you, Will?

Yes – yes, I would!  Wilber responded quickly and assuredly.

In her playfulness, Amber didn’t even register the reply. No, I am not his wife, your royalty. He is my dearest friend, Wilber—

Wilber? the prince interrupted, grabbing his heart in shock. Both men looked at each other. Wilber eyed him suspiciously. Sorry, what were you going to say? In vain, Fredrick tried to shake off his confusion, for even though he spoke to Amber, he struggled to focus on her; with fidgeting fingers, he kept stealing troubled glances at Wilber. Sweat droplets materialized on his brow, he nervously bit his lower lip, and he secretly hoped no one could hear his pounding heart. He wondered if he looked as ill as he felt.

Wilber, Amber hesitated, noticing both men lost in thought, Wilber is my Secret Guardian. We’ve known each other for five years.

Raising his eyebrows and nodding his head, Fredrick remarked, Five years. That is a long friendship. The prince took this opportunity to mount off his horse and approach the two peasants. Holding Amber’s hand, he bowed ever so slightly, and formally introduced himself: I am Prince Fredrick, Prince of Maplecherideth, pleased to make your acquaintance. 

To this introduction, Amber curtsied and stated her name through a beaming smile: Amber Linore.

Then the prince turned to greet Wilber. He hesitated for a moment, so Wilber spoke: Wilber, he identified himself, extending an arm to shake the prince’s hand, son of the late Arthur and Cynthia Peterson.

Fredrick quickly released his hold of the peasant. Instinctively, he pressed down on his chest to restrain his fast-beating heart. His face turned pale and filled with sincere concern. He glanced down at Wilber’s burned hands; he hadn’t noticed them before. His mouth was so dry he had to force a swallow. At last, he lifted his gaze from the scarred hands to the peasant’s eyes. "I am truly sorry."

Wilber heard the genuineness in his voice. Thank you. Now, may you never speak of them ever again to anyone. Fredrick, fully aware that the anyone referred to Amber, gave a sombre smile and nodded in agreement.

The wind whistled through the rustling leaves as the three stood there silently for a moment. Then the prince spoke again: I called you back because I have a rather strong, easily-guilted conscience and it now compels me to invite you inside the palace. One of my servants will find you a new dress. And then, unless you have an objection, you two will dine with me, and my carriage will take you home before the sun and moon rotate.

Wilber had an objection, he had a few objections, but upon seeing Amber’s excitement, he said nothing. Instead, Amber asked, Will the king approve?

Of course! Fredrick rushed to say, yet he could not stop a nervous laugh from escaping. But the king is not even here – so don’t worry.

Well? Amber said, looking to Will for approval.

I suppose, Wilber said, looking from Amber to the prince. Turning to her, he added, But won’t your parents worry?

It’s settled then, the prince said, interrupting. Amber can ride my horse, and I’ll send a servant to get two more for Wilber and myself.

Oh, that will not be necessary, your royalty— Amber said before she was interrupted by the prince.

Fredrick. Please, call me Fredrick. I don’t want to be your superior; I want to be your friend.

Amber chuckled, All right, but you go on ahead. We’ll walk.

How do I know you won’t desert?

Amber attempted an excuse: This might be our only opportunity to tour the palace grounds.

Oh, shall I accompany you then? he asked.

No, that’s quite all right, Wilber answered a bit too quickly.

Very well. I’ll meet you at the palace. As he remounted his horse, he added, Not to worry, you shall have many opportunities to tour the grounds. You have my word. You are now the prince’s friend. Wilber alone noticed the singularity in the word friend. With this long-lasting invitation, Prince Fredrick rode away into the leafy distance.

When he was gone, Amber, keeping in step with Wilber, stated, Will, as much as I love a good stroll in a beautiful garden, you must know I have a horribly demanding curiosity.

Yes, I think I know that, Wilber replied matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead as he continued walking. He stopped only for a moment to tie a handkerchief around Amber’s exposed, but only slightly scratched, arm. Then he resumed his fixed journey. 

Oh, Will, stop beating about the bush! Amber exclaimed after skipping along to his side again.   

I’m not; I’m walking on what seems to be a path. The hint of a smile etched its way onto his otherwise serious face.

You know what I mean, she laughed.

Whatever would you like to know, Amber? The sarcasm did not leave his voice, but it did not replace the warmth in his tone either.

What just happened, Will?

Wilber teasingly replied, Well, Amber, to quote a good friend of mine, we went on an adventure. And we encountered a wealthy being; and we showed him that, although we are poor peasants, we are endowed with as much dignity and honour as he is.

Amber laughed heartily. "Oh, Will! You are a very serious man, and yet you are the only one who goes on child-like adventures with me, and you are the only one who can make me laugh."

The prince made you laugh, Will stated. The silence that followed was short.

"No! That was you – husband!"

Excuse me, madam, Wilber raised his eyebrows in extreme exaggeration, what is so funny about being married to me? Huh? Explain yourself.

Nothing! I am absolutely certain that you would make a wonderful husband. It’s funny because it’s so unlikely.

"Oh? So unlikely. And why is that?"

Amber thought about it for a moment.

Is it because you view me as a brother? he asked.

No. It’s because I’m a peasant.

A peasant? Wilber stated monotonously. And what am I?

A prince! Amber declared positively.

A prince? he repeated.

Yes, a prince. Just nobody knows it yet.

A mixture of disbelief and suspicion made Wilber ask, So, you’ll never marry a prince?

Never, Amber affirmed with a dramatic shake of her head. What? Don’t look at me like you don’t believe me! There are many reasons I wouldn’t marry a prince. Perhaps I’ll tell you someday. But you are trying to distract me. Why did the prince—

Wilber mockingly interrupted, Fredrick.

"Why did Fredrick’s manner change when you identified your parents?"

Simply, his father knew my father – nothing more. Perhaps he was surprised to see me – or that the world is small and life is short. Amber got the hint and didn’t ask another question; she was familiar with Will’s evasive answers. Wilber did not trust anyone – not even Amber, his best friend; and this deep distrust of humanity made him very secretive.

To shatter the silence, Wilber introduced the topic that always caused Amber to talk on tirelessly: Describe to me again, in detail, how you imagine your cottage-dream home to be like. Amber brushed off the awkwardness of the last moment and commenced her memorized description of her dream home surrounded by willow trees, with a small porch, and flowers in the front, and lace curtains in every window... And thus she went on, Wilber listening intently, until they reached the palace door.

Chapter Two: Palace Pleasures

THE TWO PEASANTS TIMIDLY approached the threshold of wealth. When they lifted their eyes to knock, the splendour stole their breath: the marble, the ivory, the wood-craftsmanship, the gold! Never had their eyes beheld such wealth—beauty, yes, in nature and people; Wilber would say that Amber was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld, or perhaps he would not say it; it was not in his character to speak such things—but wealth, no, wealth in any simpler form had not been seen – wealth that made Wilber think only of a village full of hungry peasants; wealth that drew his mind to recollect Amber’s dream home: simple, but beautiful; wealth that made him remember, with a sting of regret, his father. Wilber wondered why the thought of wealth, a supposed means of happiness, brought so much worry and sorrow.

Amber was obviously captivated: she stood motionless, mouth and eyes wide open in wonder, forgetting her purpose.

Wilber said, matter-of-factly, as he knocked on the giant door again, A fancy door is still just a door, Amber.

When the door finally opened, Amber was sure she was in a different world. No wonder the rich are so dull, she whispered to her companion, they’ve seen it all, no surprises. She shyly followed the servant inside and interrupted her wide-eyed, jaw dropped admiration of the palace to look down on her dress, as if in comparison – until Wilber reproved her:

Amber, are you ashamed of what your parents’ care and toil have wrought?

No! Will, don’t think so of me – oh, Will – no – I – I’m sorry, you’re right. Forgive me. In embarrassment, she lifted her hands to her face to hide her tears.

Come now, there’s no need to cry. He put his arm around her shoulder and added in a soft whisper, Never forget who you are.

As Amber regained her normal composure, the prince appeared somewhere from the vastness of the palace, just in time to see Wilber remove his arm from around the lovely peasant, revealing the torn sleeve with a handkerchief tied around it.

Ah, friends, come, come!

The two followed the prince into a royal parlour, the sofa of which was probably worth more than all they owned. The curtains were silk, embroidered with gold. The fireplace was of fine stone and marble; the carpet was soft and of vibrant colours. Each candle was placed in a jewel-embedded candlestick. The walls captivated Amber with their glittery artwork and fine tapestry. Every vase was filled with fresh flowers. A room like this – a home like this – was only found by a peasant in a peasant’s dreams.

Linda, the prince summoned, would you please take this lovely lady to the queen’s spare chamber, and help her find a dress that suits her. Anything she wants – withhold nothing.

The queen’s chamber! Oh, I could not, Amber insisted.

You cannot stay in a torn gown. Just wear one for now until the new fabric comes. I’ve already sent for it.

With a slight curtsy, Amber gave a grateful smile, then turned to follow Linda up a grand staircase. Once in the chamber, Linda opened a gigantic wardrobe revealing a score of the most splendid dresses Amber had ever seen – or, rather, imagined. Amber knew from the start that she would wear the simplest one, but she saw no harm in trying on a few of them.

Meanwhile, while Amber enjoyed gazing upon her splendour-arrayed-self in the mirror, the two men sat in the parlour, waiting in a silence that only Fredrick found uncomfortable. Eventually, he attempted a conversation. So, tell me about yourself. What is your trade? he asked warmly.

Wilber, whose character forbade him to trust anyone, hesitated for a moment before saying, I’m a carpenter – I suppose you could say. Wilber often spoke as if he could not trust himself either. I met Amber’s family when I was fourteen and lived in her father’s barn. When I finished my apprenticeship, I bought a small cabin between Amber’s home and my workplace.

She calls you her Secret Guardian. Why is that? Fredrick continued his friendly interrogation.

It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, Wilber replied flatly, not intending to be witty.

Fredrick laughed heartily, You are very clever, Wilber. After a moment’s pause, he proceeded, though slowly, Do you love her?

Such an abrupt question caused Wilber to raise his brow. He didn’t answer right away. That depends, what is love?

Fredrick was impressed; he was not expecting a question for an answer, and he hadn’t really given the idea much thought before. He was unable to answer.

If love is a choice, Wilber began, "then yes, I suppose, I love her; for God commands us to love everyone. If love means sacrificing everything you have and are – both your happiness and even your life for her, to make her happy and live, then, Wilber paused for a split second of deep reflection, then, yes, I suppose I do love her. The prince remained dumbfounded, and Wilber continued, But if love is simply a feeling of admiration for a beautiful creature, then I’d rather not love her, for beauty is vain. And if beauty is vain, then, surely, is not the love of beauty vain also?"

Fredrick, considering the wisdom of Wilber’s argument, answered, Indeed! Love is, he stopped to think, unconditional.

Wilber nodded, Yes, perhaps. If I love Amber then I’d love her even if she were ugly. If I love Amber, then I love her despite poverty or wealth. I would love her forever and no matter what. But if love is only the romance of fairy tales, then I do not love her.

You have not answered my question. Do you love her? Fredrick asked, still fascinated by Wilber’s words, and not seeing the answer that lay in them.

You have not defined love. I cannot answer your question if you do not define what you mean by love.

Fredrick was going to speak when Linda emerged through the door and said in the custom of wealthy people who introduce their visitors, The Lady Amber. What a title! As Linda bowed, raising her hand to the door, Amber appeared. At this magnificent sight, both the peasant and the prince spontaneously rose to their feet. Will, though it was ever-so-slight, smiled – as a secret guardian would. Fredrick’s admiration was not so well hidden.

Amber approached slowly and shyly. She was clothed in a long, burgundy gown, embroidered along the edges with golden threads to make an intricate print on the fringes, sleeves, and neckline. Linda had gathered half of her locks of ocean waves and tied them to the back with a dark ribbon, leaving the rest to flow softly to their full length. In the front, her bangs were curved straight across, where on either side of her face they gave way to bigger, bouncier, curvier curls. She looked at them with sparkling eyes and a warm smile.

The prince broke the silence. You look beautiful! he said breathlessly. Amber raised her eyebrows to see what Wilber’s opinion was.

As beautiful as ever, he stated.

Well, come, the meal is set, Fredrick said while he shook himself as out of a dream. The prince led his two guests into the banquet hall. He rolled the large wooden doors, revealing a long, rectangular room. The walls were lined with candles and portraits; there