Berserkly Read online

  The Greedy King

  A short story that competed in de ‘Struggle of Fantastyval’. An enigmatic thriller flavoured by fable and paranormal activity.

  Not so long ago there was a very rich king, who lived in a truly magnificent castle not so very far away from here. He had a charming, very handsome woman and four dear, delightful children. Except at bedtime, or on a hunting party, he never departed far from their side. The three princes were his best comrades, the princess was his favourite daughter and he couldn’t live without his wife. He loved them dearly and a happier family couldn’t be found in the whole country, except in the nearby forest.

  It's as if an iron band pinch my lungs. I long for breath and my legs feel like lead. My chest toils painfully up and down. Anguish over the fate of my dear family gives me primal power. "Come on, run to the castle." Gasping for breath I encourage my wife and children.

  They don’t need my encouragement. Behind us we hear the neighing of horses and the savage barking of the pack of bloodhounds. The three princes keep me in, but my little princess is staying behind, even though she runs as fast as her little legs can carry her. Through the foliage I see the pursuers in their red and white collared uniforms come closer. The sweat beads on my head and I'm desperate. What do they need from us? What have we done wrong?

  A piercing scream cuts through my soul, followed by ferocious barking dogs as they assail their first victim.

  Horrified I see that the three princes don’t follow me deeper into the woods, but in panic deflect into the fields, where they think they can hide. Gunshots sound and I turn my eyes away from their horrible fate. What is the meaning of all this? Why do our pursuers do this?

  With my intense crying wife running behind me, I run as fast as I can. In no way I can cope with the pursuers. They are too big, too strong and with too much. What else can I do, than flee for these barbarians that we even don’t know?

  The riders and their dogs chase us again and I hear the barking coming closer. I can hear booing and cheering and I know that they’ve seen my beloved wife. A shot sounds, my wife screams and suddenly I am alone.

  Just in time I dive into the castle hidden among the bushes. The thorns pull the fur of my ear and blood drips on the ground. Trembling with a strange mixture of terror and unbridled anger I see my wife who, mortally wounded, drags herself forward with her last strength in a last attempt to escape our unscrupulous pursuers.

  Horses come to a standstill. A pursuer in the hated red white uniform dismounts from the saddle. With a loud laughter he walks up to her and his black booted leg swings up.

  I turn my eyes away in disgust. My wife screams in agony and then the ground rumbles. The curse I utter is more than horrible.

  The king awakes and he feels his head pounding. The sun casts its first rays through the bedroom window and they blind his eyes. His bed is wet with sweat.

  What a terrible nightmare, he thinks, it seemed so real.

  Greedy he stares at his hunting trophies on the walls. It is far too less for his liking. It’s incomprehensible that his wife has gone to sleep separately of him, just because she can’t stand the heads of the dead animals. With the pride of a hunter he looks at the mounted birds with coloured feather headdresses, two deer heads with antlers, four small and a large fox, a boar, a –

  There is a knock on the door and a servant enters. "Sire, breakfast is served in a half hour in the main hall. The lords who hunt with you today, have already arrived. "

  He hums a response. "Let the ladies-in-waiting immediately wake up the queen and my children, I'm coming too."

  "Immediately, sire." The door slams into the lock.

  The king looks, still affected by his nightmare, to the fireplace where normally his pack of hounds is sleeping. They‘re all awake to his surprise. They lick their beaks clean as if they have just eaten. The king feels an inexplicable shiver going down his spine and suddenly he sweats again.

  A noise at the window attracts his attention. A fox with a bleeding ear looks inside, his eyes sadly located on the heads of the foxes on the wall. If the fox observes that the king looks at him, he seems almost pityingly shaking his head and then, suddenly, he disappears. The king looks more closely at the window. Did he imagine the fox?

  The sunlight reaches further inward, shining on the white carpet and the king follows with surprised eyes the red footprints from the door to his hunting outfit. On top hang the black cap and red coat, beneath it his white pants. He rubs his eyes. How comes that his pants is mottled?

  He laboriously climbs out of bed, his right foot feels awfully painful when he stands on it. His gaze falls on the heads of the foxes with beneath them his boots. The shock knocks him to the heart when he sees what adheres on his boots. With dismay he follows with his eyes the red drops slide down along the heel. Simultaneously the king hears in the hall how the ladies-in-waiting open the doors of the bedroom of his wife and children. His face has turned pale before the screams of horror - that the ladies-in-waiting heave – are echoing for minutes throughout the hunting lodge.

  The king didn’t live for very long, lonely and unhappy until his death.

  The fox took a new female the next year, had many children and they lived happily ever after.

  Moral: Be content with what you have and do not hunt more after, otherwise it will be on the expense of others, your loved ones and yourself.