A Suitor for the Princess - Chapter 7

          He rushed out, refreshed to tackle the rest of his ‘task’. He walked around the base of the hill to the southern steps, where another guard stood his vigil. He smartly saluted him and started climbing.  He soon realized that climbing this particular flight of stairs would require more efforts as it was even more vertical and the height of each step was 2 feet! His calves soon started protesting at the added labor and he sat down, huffing and puffing. He had probably climbed 25 steps. He looked at the dark steps, rising imperiously upwards like a forbidding column and noted that he couldn’t see the summit and the shrine at all! He felt very thirsty and to his horror and dismay, saw that he had repeated his earlier blunder. He had forgotten to carry a cask of the elixir-water!

              ‘Serves you right, you dumb oaf! And a dumb person like you wishes for the fair hand of the beautiful Princess Sara! Do you deserve her at all?’ he admonished himself. Then he coaxed himself to cut his depressing and self-chastising thoughts short and concentrate on his endeavor. Surely, by the end of this ordeal, he’d prove himself to be worthy of being her suitor. Buoyed by that inspiring thought, he started ascending the steps again. His eyes were keenly watching the hill-slopes for natural streams or run-offs so that he could slake his increasing thirst. But he was to have no such luck! With great difficulty and feeling faint with the effort, he managed to reach the summit and waved wearily at the guard there.

             Did he detect a faint sneer in the expression of that guard? It seemed as if he was waiting for him to fail and accept defeat! Well, he, Juan, would show all of them that he was made of steel! He sat down for a much needed break as he had been climbing non-stop. His breath came in great rasps. His heart was thudding. He could hear the non-stop chant “Sara, Sara, Sara…..” echoing in his heartbeats. So this was love! He smiled through his heavy breathing. Then he started the equally rigorous descent. His calves strained with the gravitational pull exerted on them, as he struggled to reach down each step. When he reached the foot-hill, the sun was beating down mercilessly on the hill. He was perspiring profusely.

              He had completed 1200 steps (ascent plus descent). Again he rushed back to his hut, his lifeline; and ate and drank to his heart’s content. Then he went back to the southern foothills and resumed his back-breaking endeavour. This time he was fortified with a rucksack filled with food and water. That provided him emotional succor too. Again he climbed up and down, four more times. He had thus successfully completed 2000 steps’ ascent and descent. 3000 more remained to be achieved. It was 12.30 p.m.

He was totally fagged out and longed to stretch his legs and sleep in the shade, but he knew that as time was at a premium for him, he could ill afford that luxury.

             He took a long swig of water from his flask and walked to the western foothill. It took him about half an hour to skirt the hill and reach there. Throughout his trek, he saw the guards keenly watching and commenting on his progress. They wondered whether he’d even be alive at the end of his ordeal! Some wished him good luck, whereas the others jeered at him. He ignored their nasty remarks and reproachful looks. They didn’t bother him as much as the flagging of his own energy levels. He prodded himself in good humor “Atta boy, you’ll win, come what may.” He imagined his resilient mother egging him on towards his goal. He deliberately shut off thoughts about his beloved. He didn’t want to get carried away and lose sight of his goal.

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                Martha was yawning terribly as she wrote about her hero’s adventure. She realized that she was very tired too. As much as her hero! She didn’t want to break the link of her thoughts and imagination that was racing away at the speed of sound. She daren’t stop now. What if she was struck by the writer’s block later and forgot everything? She looked through swollen eyes at the clock. It would soon be dawn. For her hero, it was afternoon! She folded her fingers and opened them several times. They were stiff with all that non-stop writing. She hoped that she didn’t burn out before her hero did! She could almost feel her heroine’s accusing eyes on her back. As she tried to continue writing, her fingers gave way, her pen fell down and she rested her head on top of the very pages that she was writing on and closed her burning eyes. Soon she was softly snoring. And dreaming!

                  Lots of eagles were swooping on Juan and attacking him ferociously from all directions. Single-handedly, unarmed, he fought them valiantly, as he grabbed their necks and twisted them, clasped their sharp claws and pushed them away with all his might until a particularly vicious bird pecked one of Juan’s eyes and he started bleeding profusely, collapsing on the stone steps with an anguished cry, rolling down the steps, with the angry birds still hovering above him and pecking away at him. A horrified cry escaped Martha’s lips and she was jolted awake, by the maleficent force of her nightmare. She looked around her fearfully. No sign of either Juan or the angry, huge birds. She was bathed in perspiration and was trembling uncontrollably.

                 She knew that sleep wouldn’t be forthcoming then, hence she decided that she would write some more. But she couldn’t hold the pen any longer. Her small finger joints had swollen and become red and tender, due to her non-stop, marathon writing session. Reluctantly, she gave up the attempt and slowly got up and tiredly walked to her bedroom, changed into her night dress and went off to sleep. It was a troubled sleep, full of nightmares about the dangers that Juan faced while climbing the hill. She tossed and turned and slipped into an uneasy, sleep. When she awoke, it was noon. As soon as she woke up, she was assailed by guilt. She had abandoned her hero and heroine for eight hours. She was anxious about his odyssey. But she was hungry too!

She was totally bereft of provisions. She would have to shower, dress and make a trip to the grocer and the baker. What a bother, she fumed inwardly. Now she was impatient to get on with her story.

To be continued..... 

The copyright of this novel is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

A Suitor for the Princess - Chapter 6

              When Juan reached the hut at the base of the hill on which the shrine was perched majestically, it was dark and cold. He shivered and gathered the edges of the coarse blanket that covered him, closer to his chest. He had worn tough, though battered jeans, gumboots with thick soles and a beret on his curls. There was a spring in his step and fierce determination shone from his dark brown eyes and his chest held a steely resolve. The Princess Sara, the beautiful and charming girl would be his, his wife, exactly thirty days from now!

             He saw a huge retinue of armed guards, dressed in stiff and ornate uniforms, awaiting his arrival at the venue. He slightly smiled as it struck him that he already felt like a king, what with dozens of guards waiting to receive him. Then he saw a carriage driven by four stallions arriving in a huge cloud of dust there. He was astonished to see the King himself. His faithful Minister was by his side. Both of them made no attempt to alight from their mount. The King said, “Good. You’re punctual. You’ve arrived 10 minutes before time. We’ll not take any more of your time. The test will start in 10 minutes. We wish you all the very best and sincerely hope that you emerge as the winner in flying colors. We’ll meet after 30 days or never! Then they were gone in another cloud of dust.

               Juan crossed his heart and took a deep breath of the crisp air blowing from the hillside. The hill would be his home for 30 days. He looked at it fondly and then stuck his neck up to see the shrine. His neck ached with the effort, for the hill was very steep and nearly vertical. In the dark, he could only barely make out the rough stone steps. He’d have to be careful. At the appointed time, two guards struck a gong to announce the start of his odyssey. Little did he know then, that the beautiful Princess was up in her huge, ornate bed covered by richly embroidered, soft quilts; praying fervently for his success! He bowed to his mother mentally and stepped on the first step on the Eastern flight of stairs. It was exactly 4 a.m.

                 He felt cheerful as he leisurely and effortlessly climbed the steps in powerful strides.  He was in the pink of his health and his mother’s rigorous training in physical supremacy throughout all his growing years, would ensure that he’d maintain that pace and never allows his spirits to flag! Besides, the memory of his beloved would also gently prod him towards his goal. Then he realized with a start, that in his over-enthusiasm, he had forgotten to pack food for the day and water too! He cursed himself for this false start. Anyway, he shrugged; he’d remember the next day. He had 29 more days to go! He chuckled and then became crest-fallen as he realized that he had also forgotten to count the number of steps that he was climbing.

 

               When he looked back, he saw that he had come a long way up, but it was futile. He’d have to retrace his steps and start counting and climbing. With a heavy heart and cursing himself for his stupidity, he started climbing down again, then halted and sat down on the step. There was not a single soul around. How would anyone ever know whether he had really climbed 100 steps or not? Unless the King and his wise Minister had already made someone climb a flight of stairs and seen how long it took that person to climb down again! Of course, that would depend on the speed of that person. He made some quick mental calculations based on an assumed average speed and concluded that it could take a person, say about 30 minutes (with breaks for water or to combat fatigue) to climb up and down 100 steps.

             Just as he was taxing his brain with complex arithmetical calculations, he realized that the total number of steps to the monastery on each flight was 100 in number and he didn’t really need to count each step that he climbed! Sheepish, but greatly relieved he decided to continue his upward trek and also resolved to focus on his goal and not think about anyone or anything. No distractions, he promised himself. He was very sorry that he had wasted so much time. Dawn was already breaking and the golden streaks were getting fiery by the minute. He hastened to the summit where a guard was waiting to note his first 100 of the day. Though he had dropped out of the village school, early in life, he knew what it was like to be monitored by a strict and unrelenting teacher. Now that conscientious guard reminded him of one of his particularly strict masters! His expression was the same too. Surly and unsmiling!

         After waving cheerfully to that guard, Juan retraced his steps downwards, softly whistling. This was going to be a breeze, he thought. When he reached the foothill, the guard posted there, wrote 200 in his register. He went up and down, 4 more times. Thus he completed 1000 steps by about 8 a.m. Pleased with his progress, he sat on the first step at the foothill for a breather. He was ravenously hungry. He asked he guard there for some food and the much needed water. The guard ignored him and kept mum. Juan surmised that they had been asked to be silent and forbidden from helping him in any way apart from showing him the step-count! Thank Heavens for that, thought Juan as he involuntarily shuddered at what could happen, were he not even shown that! He’d go mad trying to keep track of the number of steps that he had ascended or descended and probably never complete his odyssey.

          Again cursing himself for his foolishness at not bringing his food and water along, from the well-stocked hut at the base of the hill, he suddenly brightened as it struck him that he could rush to that hut and fortify himself if he so chose, as the rules of the ‘task’ hadn’t mentioned anything about not going to the hut throughout the day. He concluded that as long as he completed the ‘5000 step a day’ routine, he was safe. He ignored the surprised look of the guard and ran inside ‘his’ hut. First, he relieved himself behind the hut, on the shrubs; then attacked the soft bread and meat and fruits with gusto. Then he drank deeply from the pitcher of clear water. After he finished, he belched loudly, feeling ridiculously happy. It was 9 a.m.

To be continued... 

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.