Telling Tales
an excerpt

Many of you believe that Greeley is a mythical place, a place invented to scare children into behaving. I assure you that Greeley is very real. I have been there, and I have survived. In my time there, I learned the history behind this misbegotten kingdom. It was not always the blighted land that it is today. Once, yes, once, many, many years ago, it was a thriving and happy kingdom.

Imagine a land where the very wells drew sweet red wine. Trees kept their leaves year round, and when they fruited, the fruits were crisper and sweeter and juicier than the fruit in any other land. Imagine a land where white marble lay in abundance, a land filled with talented sculptors who created the most fabulous statues, busts, and sculptures of all types. A land rich with gold and emeralds. A land of intellect and art. If you can imagine this, you will glimpse the tiniest part of what Greeley once was.

What happened to turn it from one of the most beloved kingdoms in the land, to one left behind, alone, better forgotten? To one where travelers wanted so little to do with it that they carved out new roads and new trade routes so as to avoid entering the cursed land? That, my friends, is the tale I have for you today.

The royal family had been in Greeley since time immemorial, and had kept the land prosperous and free. They were considered wise and compassionate, strong and beloved rulers. It was common for royal families from other kingdoms to send their get to be fostered in Greeley.

One of these beloved rulers was Monfort, Prince of Greeley. Under his rule, Greeley prospered more than ever, trade and art flourished, crops were good and plentiful. Life was good. Except that Monfort had a son, Monfort the Second.

Monfort the Second had little interest in learning the secrets behind Greeley’s prosperity, and his father and mother indulged him most dreadfully. He grew up without knowing what it took to be a good ruler, a strong leader. He grew up without truly recognizing how god-touched Greeley was.

And, as must happen, eventually Monfort, Prince of Greeley, died. The people of Greeley did not know that Monfort the Second was ill-prepared to lead them. They rejoiced him, and celebrated his coronation. Monfort the Second sat on his throne, a fabulous fur cape draped around his shoulders and trailing to the floor, a golden crown atop his head, and a golden scepter in his hand. Such were the trappings of his office. He sat there and smiled out at the people, his people. But behind his smile, was nothing.

Time passed. Months, and then years. And there were no problems. The kingdom of Greeley had been prosperous for so long, that it did not need Monfort the Second, Prince of Greeley to keep it so. The trade delegations met with the merchants, as they had for many years. The artists organized festivals, as they had for many years. Nothing seemed changed, and the good folks of Greeley still did not realize that a fool sat upon the throne. But they also did not notice themselves falling into the Prince’s behavioral patterns. They stopped being quite as nice and quite as good. They stopped recognizing the strength of other kingdoms. And they stopped seeing the gods’ work in their flourishing kingdom.

Of course, with the prosperity they had known for so long, and the strong and good relations they had with each of the surrounding kingdoms, their slight changes in attitude didn’t seem to really matter. In fact, it went largely unnoticed. That changed when a wizened and bent old woman came to the kingdom.

The old woman wore a cloak of rough spun wool and leaned heavily on a walking stick made of polished oak. Her gait was uneven. With labored breath, she made her way to one of the many apple trees, and sat beneath it.

A wagon passed her, and she waved. The driver stopped.

“Where are you going, old Grandmother?”

“These old bones be draggin’ theyselves to they final restin’ place, I thinks. And never havin’ seen Greeley, and knowin’ as it’s been touched by the very gods theyselves, I knowed I must do so whilst I still could.”

“I can carry you into town, Grandmother, if you would like a ride. But I must tell you, we do not tend to credit the gods with Greeley’s prosperity. You aren’t likely to make friends, so saying.”

“That be so? Then who be deservin’ the credit for,” she swept her hand to encompass the entire kingdom, “this. Your land be so rich, even a poor, old, half-blind woman can see it.”

The man helped her into his wagon and started driving again. “I don’t dispute that Greeley is a rich land. It is. But it was not simply handed us by the gods. We built this paradise.”

The old woman chuckled softly. “Did ye, now? And how be it that, in all the time Greeley be prosperous, no other kingdom be able to do the same?”

This time the wagon driver laughed. “That one is simple, old woman. People of Greeley are naturally more intelligent, artistic, and beautiful than the people of other kingdoms.”

“Be there no one who believes that all this be the work of the gods?”

“Of course not, Grandmother. Why, the Prince of Greeley himself, Monfort the Second, declared that the citizens of Greeley are better than all others by dint of natural endowment. You have come to Greeley because of the wonder that she holds to all who have not grown up here.

“Perhaps you have seen our art, tasted our wine and fruit, worn our jewels and gold. Perhaps you have read our learned treatises, and our sparkling literature. If you have, then you must know that the prince’s declaration is true.”

The old woman was quiet for a moment. “It may be as you say. I be just an old woman who be not able to decipher the symbols of writing. And what know I of statues and painting? If it be pretty, I likes it.” She shrugged.

The driver barked in laughter. “Precisely! That is the truth of most people in kingdoms outside of Greeley. But in Greeley, each one of us can read and write and understand. We know what makes a sculpture or a painting worthwhile. We are the jewels of the world.”

They drove on, in time reaching the town center. The driver let the old woman out and suggested an inn she might like. He tipped his hat, and drove on. The old woman checked into the inn. She spent her afternoon speaking with patrons, many of whom were Greeleyites stopped in for a drink or a bite. To a one, they all believed as the wagon driver had. The people of Greeley were simply better than those elsewhere. The gods had nothing to do with it. In fact, she learned, very few Greeleyites still believed in the old gods, and those few that did were often ridiculed. Reason was the new religion, and it had no room for gods.

The following day she found her way to the palace and sought audience with Monfort the Second, Prince of Greeley. She was turned away, told that he was out riding. He would be granting audiences in two days. She could seek an interview with him then. She left the palace and sought out the church.

The church was large and beautiful, a structure typical of Greeley. Its walls were white marble, its windows of beautifully wrought stained glass. The large wooden doors were intricately carved and gilded. She pulled on one of the doors. And then she pulled harder.

It was locked. She knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked louder, and waited nearly a minute. She raised her hand to knock again, and the heavy door eased open. A priest stood in the threshold.

“Yes, child?”

“Hem netjer,” she said, bowing. “I be wishin’ to pray.”

“Come back on the day of observance, child.”

“I be in town for just these few days, Hem netjer.”

“I am sorry, child, but our temple is only open to worshippers on the days of observance.”

The old woman rose from her bow and looked at the holy man. Her ancient eyes held his. Her humble words belied the strength in her stare. “I be sorry, Hem netjer. I be just an old woman, not understandin’ your ways. Why be I not allowed to pray?”

“Temples are to be used for divine purposes, only. If you would like to leave an offering, I will pray for you, and the gods will hear me. You must wait until the day of observance to enter. Then you may recite prayers with everyone else.”

The old woman slowly shook her head, her milky eyes saddened. When she spoke, her voice edged with steel. “That be not right, Hem netjer. This be a holy place for any wanting it. This be wrong.”

For the briefest moment, the Hem netjer paled. Then his eyes narrowed to arrow points. “The servants of the gods know what is right, child. Do not question our wisdom.” He looked dismissively at her tiny frame. “What offering will you leave so I might pray for you?”

She leaned heavily on her walking stick. “I be leavin’ no offerin’, Hem netjer.” As she turned, she offered the standard farewell between believers. “May the gods of our fathers hold you safe, Hem netjer, and may you be deserving of their mercy.” She hobbled down the street, away from the temple.

She returned to the palace after two days. This time she was shown into the waiting chamber with the others who sought audience with the prince.

After nearly an hour, she was led into the audience chamber. When she saw the prince, she bowed as low as her bent body would allow. “Your Highness.”

Prince Monfort the Second beckoned her rise, and she did so.

“What question have you brought before Us, Grandmother?” The prince’s voice, loud, affected, and deep, echoed through the chamber.

“I be a traveler, your Highness. Just a poor old woman who seen much in her life, but who never seen such as Greeley, your Highness. I never think to see such as Greeley in all my days, your Highness.” She bowed slightly each time she said, “your highness.”

The Prince of Greeley smiled his vacuous smile at the old woman, and thanked her for her kind words.

“They be not kind words, your Highness. They be the truth. I never think to see a land so turned aside that the gods themselfs be sad.”

Prince Monfort laughed. “You are new here, Grandmother. Look around and you will see that the gods are not sad with our kingdom. They must love Us. They have no need to bestir themselves on Greeley’s behalf. We are perfect without their interference.”

The old woman straightened, standing taller than any in the audience chamber had expected, her oaken staff looking more like a scepter than a walking stick. Her voice rang clear, echoing throughout the chamber.

“Monfort the Second, Crown Prince of Greeley, you be taking credit for what the gods be givin’ you. The gods, they be not happy. From this day, till the blackness falls over all the earth, Greeley be no longer in the gods’ favor, and your family be held to blame.”

The smile dropped from Prince Monfort’s face. His eyes hardened. “We will not tolerate these outbursts. Guards, take her and have her escorted out of Greeley.”

Guards started moving forward. The old woman lifted her staff and pointed it at them. “I be sent by the very gods theyselfs. It be unwise to interfere.” Her eyes shone with power, and the guards halted. She turned back to the prince. “From this day till the end times, no more be you ruler of a blessed people, now you be ruler of cattle. No more be Greeley known for beauty and culture. Now it be known for stink and decay. People be avoiding this kingdom because it stink of offal and dung. No more be Greeley known for artists and thinkers, now you be known as illiterate. This be Greeley, now.”

Through all this, her staff had been leveled at the guards. Now she turned, pointing her staff at each person in the audience chamber, finally leveling it at Prince Monfort the Second. She then turned it, and stamped it onto the marble floor three times. On the third time, the marble under her staff cracked. The cracks radiated outward, veining toward the walls, widening, crumbling, until the entire floor was dirt and dust. Then the walls began to crumble, the paint and gilding fading and cracking, joining the loess of the room. Soon, all that was left of the palace were the people. They, too, had changed. No longer in courtly dress, they wore the coarse cloth of peasants and workers. No longer perfumed and bathed, they were covered in the decay of the palace.

All around the kingdom, the same thing had happened. The once proud Greeleyites stood, brought low by the gods they had insulted. Where the temple had been was now a large area covered in rough grasses. In the grasses stood what was left of the too-proud priests; cattle, the only thing over which the former prince still held dominion.

The gods curse also held that at least one descendant of each cursed citizen would live in the new Greeley until time ended. Today, all you will find in Greeley are cows and dispirited people. And, of course, an awful, horrible, terrible stench.