Goldest and the Kingdom of Thorns Page 15

  The Cries for Help – The Warnings

  The three ladybugs, Roul, Mespit, Rolade, who had overheard the conversation of the Monks, flew into their Domain of the Ladybugs. Rolade was not feeling very well, and his coat had taken on a greenish hue tinged with gray. His eyelids weighed heavily on him and he was ready to fall over. The flight back home had taken what little strength he had left in him – so ill was he from the wine. Mespit and Roul chuckled at Rolade.

  “You got what you deserved, drinking all that wine!” Roul told him.

  Mespit laughed at Roul’s remark. They approached the Hall of Colors, where their King and Queen were sitting royally on their leaf thrones with tiny crowns upon their heads. Many other colorful ladybugs were in the hall, visiting and making conversation amongst themselves. The scene was a content and happy scene. Mespit and Roul approached their King and Queen, while Rolade dragged himself in. The hall grew quiet as they watched the confrontation between Roul, Mespit and Rolade. All knew they were on a flight mission for the King and Queen, and all were curious about it. They noticed that Rolade did not look at all well. The congregation of ladybugs felt Rolade’s coloring was probably due to his poor morals.

  One purple ladybug with splashes of red polka dots whispered to another regarding Rolade’s condition, “I’m not the least bit surprised… what with his ladies and wine.”

  “Disgusting!” the other ladybug replied.

  Another ladybug, overhearing their conversation, could not help but add, “Rolade should be stripped of his superior social position with the King and Queen.”

  “Are you kidding? The Queen is quite smitten with him and his escapades. She just loves to gossip about him with her Court,” the purple ladybug with red polka dots responded.

  “Makes you wonder what really does go on in her Court!” a yellow and golden ladybug remarked from behind the trio. At those words, the three of them turned around and recognized the yellow and golden ladybug as Dame Orgot, who belonged to the Queen’s Court. The yellow and golden ladybug smiled pleasantly at the trio’s discomfort as they turned a flushed pink in their embarrassment, cleared their throats and turned back around. They were instantly silent again, and continued to remain so – not wanting themselves to be gossiped about inside the Queen’s Court. The trio took comfort in knowing that Dame Orgot usually kept her secrets to herself.

  “Welcome back, Roul, Mespit, Rolade,” the King greeted them. He leaned forward and took a closer look at Rolade. “You don’t look so hot, Rolade.”

  “I-I-I’ve developed motion sickness while flying, sir,” Roland responded in a weak voice.

  The all-knowing King raised an eyebrow at Rolade. “Motion sickness, Rolade? Come, you can do better than that!”

  The Queen just shook her head in disgust, knowing full well that Rolade was curious about everything concerning ladies and wine, and loved to tamper whenever possible, with wine being his biggest temptation. Roul took command. “We approach you with news of our flight, sir.”

  “Very well, Roul, speak,” the King ordered him.

  “We took refuge one night around a campfire made by the ancient Monks from the Kingdom of Thorns. With them, they had a strange assortment of sticks and thorns,” Roul informed the King and Queen.

  “Quite nasty looking,” Mespit added.

  Roul looked surprised at Mespit’s comment.

  “When you flew over to investigate, I was not far from behind you and only took a peek at the edge of the field. They scared me so. I immediately flew back and left you to further your own investigation of those strange, frightening creatures,” Mespit informed Roul.

  The King and Queen leaned forward, intrigued by what they were hearing. Anything to do with those ancient Monks was interesting and fascinating.

  “Sounds to me like trouble brewing,” the King remarked with concern.

  Mespit took over and continued on, “The Thorn Warriors, sir – that seemed to be the gossip that the winds carry these days. The thorns seem to be their newest harvested army.”

  “They were quite spooky looking and horrifying, if you ask me!” Rolade blurted out, trying to be a part of the flight.

  “Your condition is quite scary looking – but not strange, if you ask me,” the Queen remarked dryly to Rolade.

  Rolade cleared his throat and sank back, looking even more ghastly than before.

  The King and Queen looked at one another with dread, knowing the worst was yet to come.

  “And what kingdom are they going after?” the King finally asked, as he faced reality.

  “The Kingdom of the Ladybugs!” Roul exclaimed as a matter of fact.

  The Queen gasped, while the King farted unpleasantly in surprise.

  “Not our Domain here, sir, but our ancestral kingdom,” Mespit informed them.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” the King said grimly. “The Princess Goldest has restored her kingdom to what it once was. Our army of spies has been sent out there to investigate.”

  “You mean the Queen, dear,” the Queen corrected the King, as she went on to explain, “Goldest is now the Queen of the ladybugs’ kingdom. All of her ancestors were killed by the great-grandfather and the grandfather of that deceased wizard, Leo.”

  The Queen sighed in thought. She adopted a more relaxed conversational tone with her husband, the King, and started to refer to him by his name. “She wants us all to come back home, Spungus.”

  The King also took on a more relaxed tone with his wife, the Queen, and started to refer to her by her name. “Liplina, I heard how much she considers us ladybugs her gourmet dessert,” he remarked dryly.

  “Oh, come now, Spungus, it was not her fault that she was transformed into a frog so that she could discreetly escape the ravishment of her kingdom!” the Queen remarked with irritation.

  “Her grandfather had blank spaces filled with air in that brain of his! Of everything he could have transformed her into…”

  The Queen cut her husband off as she reminded him, “He made a boo-boo, Spungus. He meant to transform her into a ladybug –just like us!”

  “Her grandfather made many boo-boos!” the King exclaimed. “It was a shame, since he was born into a family of distinguished wizardry.”

  The Queen pouted. “I want to go home, Spungus!”

  “We are home, dearest,” the King told her bluntly.

  The agitated Queen jumped down from her throne and took command. She looked deeply into the King’s eyes.

  “Now look, Liplina, don’t go giving me any of that lip of yours, or I’ll—”

  The Queen would give her husband no chance of manipulating her in front of her Court filled with guests, and immediately cut him off by saying, “Or you’ll do what, Spungus? My character happens to be just as strong as yours. That is why I am the Queen!”

  “I’m warning you, Liplina…”

  “Shut up, Spungus!” the Queen shouted at the King. She had now developed an air of haughtiness about her.

  The Court and guests in the hall drew back, fearing that the King would vent his wrath on them.

  Mespit and Roul were amused at the ardent Queen. Rolade’s condition made him care less about anything except feeling better. He was not a well ladybug.

  The forceful Queen took command of the situation and shouted out to the other ladybugs who had gathered in the hall, “Pass the word, ladybugs. We take flight at first light tomorrow to fly back to our ancestral Kingdom of the Ladybugs!”

  Clusters of whispers could be heard throughout the hall. The King sat on his throne, his mouth agape, speechless at his wife’s usual strong-mindedness.

  The Queen turned to Roul. “You are firm and courageous in character, Roul. So, I appoint you Captain Roul of the Ladybug Warriors. Gather them and prepare them for battle against the Thorn Warriors!”

  She turned to Mespit. “Mespit, you are to take flight immediately to the Kingdom of the Gypsies. Find Captain Frangelico and tell him of our plight. The Willow Warriors will need the agility of t
he Gypsy Warriors.”

  She turned to Rolade, ignoring his sickly condition. “And you, Rolade, must warn the King of the Willow Warriors. His Queen and the little Princess Augean are residing in the Ladybug Castle at this present time.”

  Rolade moaned in despair, not feeling well enough to handle the Queen’s command.

  “And don’t give me those moans, Rolade! It is time you were taught a lesson to accept your own responsibility for your misdeeds!”

  The Court and guests in the hall gasped at the Queen’s harsh behavior towards Rolade. They were perplexed and drew back. They had all thought he was a pet of the Court. He had now lost favor with the Queen.

  “Too bad for Rolade,” Dame Orgot remarked to the other Court members present around her. “The females of the Queen’s Court will not be so interested in him anymore.”

  The haughty Queen turned her attention back to the King. “Well, don’t just sit there on your pompous ass, Spungus! Take command!”

  The thunderstruck King jumped up from his throne and shouted to the congregation, “You heard the Queen, ladybugs – start fluttering and prepare! We go back home, tomorrow!”

  The excited ladybugs in the hall buzzed as they took their leave and went to inform their friends and neighbors who were not there with them. They would all prepare for the long flight home at first light tomorrow.

  As jittery as Rolade was, he obediently flew directly into the Kingdom of the Willows, searching to make contact with the King of the Willows. By pure luck, he found him out riding with an entourage from his Court. He settled in comfort as best he could, wretched as he was, on a branch in the direction they were riding in, and waited for the King to come to him. In the meantime, Rolade vomited up the insects that he had eaten that morning. Oh, I am s-o-o-o-o sick, he thought to himself, as his head twirled around him.

  A Willow Warrior was painting large black numbers on the red bark of the sweet cherry trees. The King rode up to him with his entourage and other prestigious male and female riders of the Court. The females, flamboyantly dressed, were riding sidesaddle.

  “Why is that warrior painting those ugly black numbers on your beautiful cherry trees?” a striking female of the Court asked the King.

  “Because someone dug up and stole one of my cherry trees, that’s why! I think those ugly black numbers will keep the thief away,” the King responded smartly.

  “Mmm. Clever, very clever, my King. He would be too obvious a prey if he stole one of your trees now.”

  Some of the riders giggled at the cleverness of the King. A few of the men of the Court gave the King strange looks, not understanding why someone would still want to deface such delicate trees. The entourage, tired of the encounter, spurred their horses onwards into a trot. The King let them all ride ahead in front of him. He turned his horse around to take another look at his exquisite cherry trees. Those large black numbers do look ugly and ridiculous, he thought to himself. He didn’t give the matter another thought since the deed was done. He was spurring his horse on to join his Court when he heard someone call out to him.

  “Pssst, King!” Rolade called out to him from a tree branch above.

  The King looked around to see who had spoken to him, but could not find anyone around.

  “Hey, King, up here!” the meek voice cried out, again.

  The King was now agitated and cried out, “Who speaks to me? Come show yourself!”

  “I’m right above you – you idiot!” Rolade cried out, again.

  The King looked above him in a squint-eyed manner. He spied a sickly looking green ladybug looking down from a tree branch up above him.

  “How dare you call the King an idiot! Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “Your pardon, King. I am Rolade. There is something you need to know.”

  “What do I need to know from a poorly looking pestilence like yourself who calls the King an idiot!”

  “You dare to call me names? You best shut up. I have something in which to inform you of that is of the highest importance!” Rolade bluntly told the King.

  “And what might that be, since I already know all!” the agitated King replied back. “I should have you roasted on a spit!”

  “Take heed, King. Your Queen and granddaughter are in grave danger.”

  The King gasped, and almost fell off his horse. “You insect! What mean you?” he asked hysterically.

  “The Ladybug Castle within the Kingdom of the Ladybugs is being attacked by the ancient Monks and their Thorn Warriors at this present time. They may have laid siege to it right now as we speak.”

  The King was startled. “Thorn Warriors? How do you know of this?”

  “Let’s just say I heard it amongst the flames, whilst the shadows of the thorns lay in the fields next to me.”

  The impatient King was greatly incensed at what he had just heard. “No telling what’s going on over there with that frog as Queen!”

  As unwell as Rolade was, he could not help but to chuckle at the King’s statement about that frog, Goldest.

  The King never took another look at Rolade and ended the conversation. Time was being wasted holding a conversation with a bug. He spurred his horse into a gallop to collect his entourage and ride back to his castle. He knew he had to act immediately to spare whatever fate was being held for his Queen and granddaughter. No kingdom should be ruled by a frog or an insect, he thought to himself.

  A short time later, the King rode into his courtyard. Several guards were stationed there with a couple of the Willow Warriors socializing with the guards. A guard came up and took the King’s lathered horse, who was foaming at the mouth from the fast, hard ride back.

  “Gather the Willow Warriors! We leave at once. An attack has been made against the Ladybug Castle. We go to save and bring back the Queen and my granddaughter,” the King said to the Willow Warriors present as he dismounted from his horse.

  “But what about Queen Goldest?” the Willow Warrior asked.

  “My Queen and my Queen alone! Who cares about a frog!” The King looked incredulously at the two Willow Warriors who had come forth and just stood there dumbfounded. “Well, get a move on it! Gather the warriors with their horses and weapons, and tell them to take whatever food they can stash on themselves to feed their gut! Go! We have very little time!”

  While the Willow Warriors were preparing their journey to the Kingdom of the Ladybugs, the sultry Mespit, with her flaming appearance, flew into the Kingdom of the Gypsies looking for a tall, handsome Gypsy Captain. She set herself on a yellow rose bush beside Captain Frangelico, who was polishing a pair of his riding boots outside next to the sensuous smell of the yellow roses.

  “Pssst, handsome!” Mespit cried out.

  Frangelico looked around and didn’t see anybody. He continued to polish, thinking he had just heard a faraway voice.

  “Pssst!”

  Now Frangelico knew someone was trying to attract his attention. He looked curiously around and spied the gorgeous ladybug on the yellow rose bush. Her red coloring against her gold made her really stand out noticeably. Her gold had a tinge of yellow splashed upon it due to the rays shining on the yellow roses, which glimmered on the ladybug’s lustrous coat.

  “Is that you, little one?” he asked the ladybug.

  “Captain Frangelico?” Mespit asked him, making sure of his identity.

  “What can I do for someone so beautiful as you?”

  Mespit fluttered her exotic red lashes and eyes at him. She sighed at his handsomeness. Then she pulled herself together and got down to the purpose of her flight. “The ancient Monks have grown and harvested a Thorn Army,” she quietly told him.

  “I’m not the least bit surprised. They can grow and cultivate whatever they want. It was time they grew an army for themselves.”

  “But the thorns are attacking the Ladybug Castle! The Queen of the Willows and her granddaughter are there.” Then she thought about Ushi, knowing that the talk was that he was there, also. “Any great w
arrior is defenseless against an army like that!” she told him, referring to Ushi.

  Frangelico thought for a moment. He knew that Ushi was there helping his friend, Goldest, rebuild her castle and kingdom. “I know of whom you speak. We shall go and help. If we do not, it might be us the next time! Do not fear, little one, we will leave immediately.”

  Mespit fluttered her long red lashes at the handsome Frangelico, wanting to appeal to such a fine Captain as he was.

  Frangelico rose to gather his men and make haste. He knew time was not on their side at present, knowing it would take a little time to round them all up. His men loved both wine and women, and he had given them time off to enjoy themselves for a while. He turned to take another look at the striking ladybug and smiled down at her. “Take care, little one.” Then he walked away.

  “What a magnificent gypsy! I wonder if he is already taken?” Mespit asked herself, totally mesmerized by this muscular Captain.

  At this point, back at the Kingdom of the Ladybugs the Willow Warriors, and the other male villagers in training to be the Ladybug Warriors, were back from their exercises in the fields. They all banded together with their swords and other fighting utensils.

  They all gathered around Ushi and listened to him with open ears and hearts. “We go out to fight our opponents. If you have hatchets, bring them. My advice to you all is to try to hack them into the sticks that they truly are.” Then he turned to his most trusted Willow Warriors and told them, “We cannot be defeated. The Queen of the Willows and the Princess Augean are inside this castle with the Queen of the Ladybugs. We must win this fight, or die trying!”

  A determined Ushi went over to Niciu and mounted him. The other Willow Warriors followed suit and mounted their horses. They rode out of the open gates with the male villagers following with their weapons and fighting utensils. Some of the males were painters and artists and were not fighters. But, wanting to defend their kingdom, they followed behind with pots and pans to smack the sticks, hoping to smash them down into piles of useless rubble. They did not know the power that they were up against, and hoped for the best. Unfortunately for them, they were thinking with their hearts, not having had any military training. It is common knowledge that all artists and artistic, creative people think with their hearts, not with their minds. They are dreamers and tend to lean towards their dreams, making unreality become reality.