Upon
entering the palace, Ignatius instantly found himself surrounded by all his old
friends, comrades, and admirers, who covered him in embraces and kisses and
lamented over his condition. They questioned him on where he had been, why he
was dressed in a ruined potato sack, why he now walked with a limp, and what
had happened to him to make him so dirty and so cut and bruised as he was. His
answer to all of their questions was, “I am a pitiful knight, and I am to be
executed,” and everyone was shocked at the very idea of the execution of their
dear Sir Ignatius. He could not be executed, they said. Why, he was the most
beloved and revered knight in Fair Alora! He was their hero! Surely, he must be
mistaken. He could not have deserted. Someone or something must have stolen him
away in the night, or perhaps he was bewitched, or he certainly had a good
reason for taking off either way. Ignatius protested all of their claims, until
he realized there was just no use and they just didn’t understand. He sighed mournfully
as he was led to the washrooms, and the footservant questioned him about the
starry white flower tied to his sack.
“It is a hero’s medal I was given
during my time away, for aiding a creek whose waters were in distress,”
Ignatius told him.
“Ah, Ignatius!” said the
footservant. “Even when you are called away from Fair Alora, still you continue
your heroic deeds!”
“It was not a heroic deed,” Ignatius
said, “and I was not called away. I took off without leave.”
“You have earned a hero’s medal for
it,” said the servant, “so clearly, it was a heroic deed!”
Ignatius was bathed thoroughly, so
that his pearl-pink complexion returned and his hair shone as gold as any
sunbeam. He was given one of his satin and brocade outfits, and his hair was
combed and tied back with golden tassels. The sack, reduced to only a
lapel-piece containing the creek’s hero’s medal, was placed with all his many
honors and medals for heroism and valiance. Ignatius looked at them as he was
led down the hall to the king’s chamber, and he felt a sudden sense of delight
and contentment, the way he had felt when he was first given the hero’s medal.
But the feeling left him as he remembered what he had done, and the punishment
that awaited him.
Standing at the doorway of the
king’s chamber were Ignatius’ nine comrades from the king’s guard: Elgon,
Arwinn, Rothgar, Cecil, Ivan, Riven, Leron, and Elric. They were all smiling at
him, even Elric, the only one whose envy and resentment ever turned to dislike.
Ignatius did not smile back; he instead kept his eyes averted and fixed on the
doorway in front of him.
When Ignatius was led into the
king’s chamber, he was surprised to see the red squirrel, sitting on the arm of
the king’s sofa and talking quickly and ceaselessly into the king’s ear: “And
so, your highness, I simply will not hear of you executing Sir Ignatius, not
after the service he has done for myself, my family, and my children who are
yet to come. He is a hero, through and through. And if he really must be
punished, surely you can show him the kindness and mercy to give him a much
lighter sentence than execution.”
But the king shook his head as if to
dismiss nonsense, and said, “Why, who ever gave you the idea that I would
execute Sir Ignatius? I could never dream of doing such a thing, no matter how
heavy a crime he may have committed. And so far, you have spoken to me only of
acts of heroism, not of crime.”
Ignatius finally spoke up: “Sir?”
“Ignatius!” The joy in the king’s
face at this moment was like none he had ever displayed before. He embraced his
knight and heir, holding him as if he never would let go. Ignatius sighed, but
this one was a sigh of love and contentment.
“Sir,” Ignatius began, his head
resting on the king’s shoulder, “I have...”
“I already know of your adventures
of the past three days, Ignatius,” the king interrupted. “Your red-furred
friend from the forest has told me everything. And I don’t think I could ever
be more proud of you than I am right now, but I know you will find a way!”
“But I have committed one of the
worst acts a knight can commit,” Ignatius said. “The act of…”
“A good knight,” the king
interrupted again, “displays bravery and heroism even outside the limits of his
kingdom. Like with any other man, there will be times when a knight will fall
into trouble and disgrace. It is the way he handles himself and the way he
displays himself to others during these times that makes him good. Bravery,
valiance, strength, chivalry, determination, and heroism, in times of good and
bad, within the walls of the kingdom and out in the wide world—these are what
make a good man a good knight.”
Ignatius knew he was forgiven for
everything. Not only forgiven, but revered for the way he had continued to
display the qualities of a knight even when outside the watchful eyes of his
kingdom. Ignatius had been a knight in an old potato sack in the same way he
had been a knight in armor and finery—something that none of the other knights
of Fair Alora could lay claim to. Ignatius never deserted again, and though there
were times when he felt that he had done wrong, these were few and far between
and he never again considered himself the worst knight. The squirrel and his
wife, mother, and children were moved into the palace and made his close
companions. He lived in happiness and with the ceaseless admiration of his
peers, and accepted his eventual ascension to the throne with the grace
expected of a great king. And the remains of the old potato sack, with the
white starry flower still tied to the lapel, forever remained in the hall
amongst all of Ignatius’ other medals and honors.
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