Week Four Storytelling: The Silent Song

She’s brought into the room gently, but against her will nonetheless. When King Taran had first heard that there was a beautiful traveling songstress, he had sent many letters of invitation, all of which went unanswered. Finally, his soldiers brought the famed Nightingale to the castle after she was attacked by thieves.

“I’ve heard you are the finest songstress in all of the lands.” King Taran looked down from his throne kindly, but the woman didn’t move. “Nightingale, sing for me.”

“My voice is hoarse from screaming, your majesty.” Her brown eyes looked sharply onto his. “Give me a night’s rest. I shall perform for you tomorrow.”

She swept into a fanciful bow before following her escorts out of the hall.

In the place of her colorful sweeping skirts, there were small splashes of blood on the floor.

The king’s eyebrows furrowed, and he sent the castle’s physician to look after her injuries.

*

A sharp rap on his door woke the king far too early in the morning.

“Yes?” he murmured groggily before his aide came in.

“Your Highness, Lady Nightingale tried to escape.”

He snorted, leaning up on his elbows. “And? How did she do?”

“The guard at the end of the hall caught her before she could make it very far,” the aide explained slowly, surprised at the mirth on the king’s face.

“She is far more interesting than I thought.” The king chuckled again before catching a few more minutes of sleep.

*

Lady Nightingale was summoned again to the king’s throne room after she had refused dinner.

“I wish to go home, your majesty.” Her words sounded like they should be a plea, but her tone was hardened.

“And where is that? Madam, you are not well. The physician was quite clear that you need to rest.”

Her brown eyes flashed angrily, but she didn’t put up any more of a fight.

“Will you sing for me tonight?” he asked quietly, betraying his own desire to hear her voice.

“If only you will be the one hearing my song.” She glanced around at the various guards stationed around the room.

“I shall grant your request.”

They moved to a special spot in the garden where her voice wouldn’t carry, but the guards could still watch the king.

“I shall begin now.” She positioned herself carefully behind a large oak as she began her song.

As the beautiful lilting notes rose from her mouth, the king’s heart seemed to grow to fit her into it. He listened to her song quietly as he rubbed the exhaustion out of his tired eyes.

But as she continued to sing, her gentle voice lulled him to sleep.

The next thing he knew, he awoke to guards scrambling past him.

“Catch her!” the captain cried.

The king laughed joyfully as he walked back into the castle.

*

This cycle continued for some time. The songstress kept inventing new, clever ways to evade guards and attempt to escape the castle.

On the fourth night, the king asked for her real name, and she freely gave it.

On the ninth night, the king himself caught Kamara as she fell trying to scale down the castle wall.

On the fifteenth night, the physician declared her free to travel, but King Taran neglected to mention it in front of Kamara. I simply cannot give up her songs and risk she is killed by bandits. That is why I keep her around, the king lied to himself.

On the twenty-first night, her attempt to flee resulted in a huge gash down her arm. When the king heard the news, he immediately ran to the physician’s chambers.

“Kamara!” He rushed to her side, pushing a lock of black hair out of the way so that he could see her eyes. “Are you alright?”

She looked more startled at his affection than worried about the wound.

“She shall heal fine, my king, if she actually chooses to stay put.” The physician finished wrapping her arm before he bowed, disappearing into one of the back rooms.

“Why do you run, Kamara? I have given you everything. Food, shelter, anything you could ask for. I have seen you amongst the people of the castle. Everyone who meets you loves you.” He took her hand gently, and she didn’t resist. “What do you desire outside of these walls?”

Her dark eyes were quiet and sad. “There once was a king who took possession of me, demanding I sing for him every day. Whenever I would refuse, he would lock me in the tower with no food or drink until I begged to be allowed to sing again.”

“Kamara…” the king whispered, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“I got away one day, and I’ve been traveling ever since. I swore to myself that I would never become another’s possession as long as I lived.”

King Taran looked away. “Then go in a fortnight. I will not stop you once your arm has healed.” He stood sadly before glancing back at her surprise. “But know there shall always be a place for you by my side, if you want it.”

He committed her image to memory as best as he could, before turning away and leaving the room, his heavy footsteps a mirror of his heart.

*

On the thirty-fifth night, as Kamara’s lithe frame snuck across the castle grounds, King Taran watched from his balcony. She froze just as a guard came around the corner before hanging her head and presenting her wrists.

But the guard followed his orders and simply dropped to one knee in front of her, head lowered.

Even from his lofty position, the king could see her shock. She moved unsteadily away, but each guard she passed only dropped into a formal bow instead of capturing her.

As she made it through the gates at last, the king could almost swore he heard her shout:

“I will return!”

And he hoped she would.

Author's Note: To be honest, I'm not entirely certain how I got here from the tale of Scheherazade. In the original story, the Sultan has been betrayed by his queen, so he seeks a new one each night but has her beheaded by morning. Scheherazade volunteers to be his wife and tells him such an enchanting tale that her life is spared so that he may hear the end.

I knew I wanted to make her into a singer instead of a storyteller because they are sort of similar. Then I wanted a similar night by night it changes slightly kind of feeling. But I'm not 100% sure how this became the fine result. Regardless, I once again picked names that seemed to represent the characters. According to some possibly sketchy online sources, Kamara means "little bird" and "free" is a possibly meaning of Taran. I wanted Kamara to find her freedom in being with the king. But that's my ending to this, and it doesn't have to be yours.

Bibliography: "Arabian Nights" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: "Sky Flying Animals" by Unsplash. I chose this picture because I wanted the classic imagery of birds to represent Kamara, and these two together looked beautiful.