THE COLOR OF THE ROSE

Most of the tales that the Raven told the Harlequin took place in the middle of the night when court nobles had all retired and the village lights were extinguished. It would slightly past midnight when the inky harbinger would light upon the Harlequin’s sill and study the Harlequin’s mood. Then with an attempt of stately poise he would then light upon the wooden table near the taper and croak something cryptic that would peak the Harlequin’s interest.

Tonight the Harlequin held between his thumb and forefinger a rose in which he studied wistfully. It had been given to him by one of the Ladies of the Court in exchange for favors rendered, favors that the Harlequin was all to eager to perform. He turned the rose about in his fingers studying the depth of its color and symmetry in the candle light.

“Are you aware,” began the Raven, “that the Magi revered the rose as a symbol of perfection?”

“And of course you knew the Magi,” chuckled Harlequin as he passed a glance at the Raven

“Yes, I knew the Magi, great they were and I knew perhaps the greatest Magi of them all”the Raven replied his ego not at all bruised by the Harlequin doubt.

“The greatest of them all,” mocked Harlequin, “and whom might that of been praytell?”

“Titus-Anon,” croaked the Raven’s gravely voice, “He is responsible for how the rose got its color.

” The Harlequin laughed outright and slapped the table inching his face close to the Raven’s ebony beak,”this is a tale no less?”

“Aye,” replied the Raven,”It happened long ago....

. “The world was young then and wonders abounded everywhere. Man had convinced himself that he had seduced the earth and became increasingly brazen and selfish. Soon the natural magic of things began to grow wax or they hid themselves from greedy eyes only revealing themselves to the innocent which grew less and less.

In those days were unicorns..magical beast of purity, but their numbers began to dwindle for they became hunted till there were only a hand full left in the woods. To come across one then was not only rare but taken as a blessing from the natural order. To capture one would give the captor unparalleled power over the schemes of things and it was said that this man could have the ability to write his own destiny.

Titus-Anon was in love with power. He dwelt deep in the wood in a tower of his own construction and surrounded it with a wall of rose hedge. Roses in those days were pale and colorless and gave off a faint glow in the moonlight. Their scent would fill the air at night and it was said that unicorns were attracted to such things. Night after night Titus-Anon watched over his garden until wait he had hope for would come to pass.

A unicorn made itself into his garden lured by the rose blossoms. She was finely built with a noble head that had tender eyes the color of jade. Pure as ivory was her coat and the horn atop her head was guilded like silver. Titus-Anon lusted after her at first sight.

This magi had made a study of things including unicorns and prepared for this evening for many nights. He had read in old books that one could hold a unicorn captive by it seeing its reflection in either water or glass along with the full moon. He had his work smiths build a mirror of his own design and one night of the full moon he had his men place the mirror in the entrance of the garden just as the unicorn entered to pay homage to the roses. He adjusted the angle to which it would catch the full light of the moon and as the unicorn became wary and began to bolt the garden she saw herself and the moon in the glass. She rose on her hindlegs thrashing about but she knew she had been bound by great magic.

Titus-Anon watched the unicorn from his tower with a grim smile. Now the world was his and his power would be something to world would have to kneel to. But one other thing had happened. With the unicorn reflection caught in the glass with the moonlit remained night. For both moon and unicorn were locked in the glass’s embrace.

Soon crops died. The nearby villages began to grow hungry and some children had been born blind from the lack of light. Moaning and laments could be heard in the nocturnal air and they all fell upon the ears of the unicorn. She would scream her rage at the Magi and he would stand there cold with the same grim smile. No about of pleading would sway his heart for he now had all he could ever dream for...power.

The unicorn anguished by the cries for pity in the night began to race about the garden wildly and then throw herself into the thorny rose hedges crying out in pain as trickles of red blood streamed down her ivory coat. Still Titus-Anon was not moved for he saw this as a ploy and would not believe that the unicorn would destroy herself for the sake of others. Yet the unicorn persisted in her self mutilation as she would thrust herself into the hedge and her coat ran red with her blood. She would stagger and then run into the hedge again and again her delicate flesh was torn to shreds by the thorns.

.Soon Titus-Anon realized she would be dead and inside of him his heart cracked and what had been dead reawoke with in him and he fell into a deep remorse at what he had done for now the unicorn lay bleeding in the garden, her sides rising in falling in her last breaths.

He commanded the mirror to be broken and at the sound of the shattering glass the unicorn wearily stumbled to her feet and walked with shaky steps to the entrance where she turned and her green eyes fell upon Titus-Anon In those eyes were a forgiveness that quicken deep down within Titus-Anon’s soul. No other power on earth had he ever wielded from his old books and scrolls came close to the power that now ebbed over him and shook him to his knees.

He wept for the first time in his existence and he wept like a child. When he rose there was no trace of the unicorn or if it had even ever been there save for one thing. The pale roses now had taken on a deep crimson. The color of the unicorns blood. Titus-Anon renounced all things, took to the road, and became a prophet.”

“Interesting,” said the Harlequin as he stifled a yawn, “Now begone bird you bore me.”

He continued with a wave of his hand. The Raven chuckled to himself and flew straight out the window and melted into the night. The Harlequin the began to turn the rose about with his thump and forefinger and winced when he pricked himself with its thorn.