Gladius the Great


Everyone has a story to tell… I included. Although I am like everyone else in that way, the story of my life has “certain details” that others might not possess. For starters, not many people are ravishingly handsome battalion commanders with extravagant wealth and sensational charisma skills. Very few people also hold the title of the King’s right-hand-man and, actually, are more beloved by the peasants of the kingdom than the King himself. I, as a matter of fact, was riding through the market place just the other day and many kind village folk tossed flowers to me and a few even swooned at the sight of my allurement. Although I found both “gestures” quite flattering, I stopped to help the fallen villagers to their feet. They cry, “Oh thank you Gladius! Thank you!” Yes I am not like most people in many ways.
A question I often find asking myself is “How could life possibly get any better?” The only reasonable answer I have found to my rhetorical question is: in absolutely no way possible. When life, however, can get better in absolutely no way, there is a very broad selection for ways that it can get worse…



There is nothing that I enjoy more than taking an evening nap after a long afternoon party in the ballroom. After escaping the large crowd of people in the dining hall, I drag my half sober body up the seemingly never-ending stairs. When I reach the top I shove myself up against the front door of my suite and flop down onto the carpet. I stay there for a few minutes because I am too tired to get up and go to my bed. Once I realize how absurd I must look to anyone who might pass by my open door, I crawl over to my mattress and burrow into the multiple layers of sheets and comforters. After a good twenty seconds I’m well asleep. I start to hear a shouting person from the street below my penthouse. Through the cushion covering my head and my unfathomably deep slumber, I make manage to make out what the person is shouting: “Invaders! Everyone lock your doors! There are invaders approaching the kingdom!” I shove the pillow deeper into my ear to block out the terrified hollering of the townspeople as soldiers from the next kingdom over ransack through houses and bakeries and inns in search of anything valuable.

By the time the pillagers has marched out of the village I realize that, I the general of the entire kingdom’s military force, should have been protecting the community. Reluctantly, but still hastily, I yank all of my heavy armor on in case the enemy still occupies the town. Half armored I stumble out of the apartment towards the stairs. My lopsided helmet covers my eyes and prevents me from seeing a towering pillar in my path. As I tug my holster belt tighter around my waist, I trip over my leather tunic and tumble down the stairs in a catastrophic mess of clanking metal. When I reach the bottom, I lay in a heap in front of a misshapen figure that appears to have several extra limbs and heads. As my vision becomes clear once again I realize that I lay before the king.

By the horrible crimson color of his face and the enraged expression he wears, I can tell that he is not pleased with my absence. “You sorry excuse for a general! Practically the entire kingdom’s currency has been lost all because of your failure to protect it!” he booms. “Not only will you be exempt of your duties as head of the kingdom’s army, but you will also be forced to pay for all that the villagers have lost!”

At this I become even more alarmed. I know that I have lots of money, but I could never pay back that much money.

I now realize that everything that I have ever lived for has been completely obliterated. None of the villagers will gasp in awe of my presence, I wont have any riches left, and what will my complexion get me when I have absolutely nothing else?

I suddenly realize how angry I am and shove the King onto the floor. I sprint over to the treasury, which has been mostly emptied by the raiders from earlier, but still contains some wealth. I scoop op an armful of gold and then I am off.

I thrust myself at the massive wooden doors that protect the palace. Many of the people out on the street are startled by the unforeseen appearance of their once most beloved idol carrying what is left of what they have. I begin running toward the kingdom gate, which is left agape for a farmer and his oxen-cart. Merchandise in hand, I leap over the cart and land in a somersault.
The extensive forest that surrounds the kingdom is very hard to travel through. As I run deeper and deeper into the woodland, I find it harder to dash through the massive roots that thrust toward the surface of the earth and still harder to dodge through the dense thicket of shrubs and hedges. I slow down a bit until I hear the faint noise of galloping horses. I realize then that the king has sent out guards to search for me.
Frantically, I hunt for a place to hide. I try to climb one of the colossal sycamores but realize that the soldiers would corner me and that they could simply cut the tree down or worse: burn it. As the clomping of the fleet of horses becomes louder, I notice a hint of light peaking through an arrangement of curtain-like ivy. I pull back the lovely drapery of vines and discover a small grotto. I walk toward the speck of light at the back of the alcove. It becomes larger and larger every step closer that I take. In almost no time at all it is large enough to be considered a threshold. I take a step through it and am amazed at what I see.
A vast pasture of short grass and randomly placed flower clusters is shown before me. On all sides of the meadow are monumental bluffs that seem to grow taller every second’s pass. No trees are visible except for the quiet groves that seem to be examining me from the top of the mountains. The gorgeous scenery is so beautiful that the treasure that I have been cradling in my arms for the past hour pour out onto the fragrant grass. Upon realizing the solitude that this gorge provides to me, I develop a plan to stay here for a while…

Five Years Later

I have lived by myself for a while. After selling all of the king’s possessions that I stole, I built a small red-roofed cottage. I planted lots of lovely wild flowers around it and covered the outside walls and gables with honey suckle and ivy. I painted the cathedral ceiling on the interior to look like the beautiful mountains that surround the small cabin. On each wall, I framed a window and built swinging shutters to put on each of them. I love my cottage dearly but miss the joys of hearing another person’s voice. A social butterfly like me should never go so long without speaking. Sometimes I speak to the animals when I feed them breadcrumbs, but they never seem to respond. I do ever so long for a friend.
I’m the gorge this morning to go get some firewood so that I can bake some bread in the stove tonight. Upon wandering around, searching for a suitable tree, I come across a small crowd of seemingly lost people. Astounded at the fact that I am in the presence of other human beings all that can manage to escape my mouth is, “Ahh… Ahhah… Hello.”
One of the people in the crowd steps forward and asks a question to me: “Did you leave the kingdom also?”
“Umm… Yes I am Gladius and I used to live in the palace with the king but I became angry with him, so I stole from the royal treasury and ran away. I live in a cottage in the meadow behind that grotto,” I say, pointing to the cavern.
Another one of the villager steps forward. “We were also unhappy with the King so we left the village to come make our own village.”
I feel somewhat uncomfortable talking about my hiding place with people who come from the kingdom, but once they reveal that they agree with me I invite them to build their village in the pasture where it is safe. They all seem relieved and thank me many times.

After a few weeks, the small village is complete with five additional cottages, a small well, and a stable for some young goats that were found wandering near the base of one of the cliffs. One of the villagers has discovered a very fertile plot of land in the back corner of the meadow, and is planning a very successful harvest in the autumn.
Word of the thriving village escapes into the kingdom where many people are upset with the King’s rule. Much of the kingdom’s population comes to live in my pasture, and soon, there are dozens of cottages. The people of the new town build a large manor just for myself. As the King’s village shrinks and mine grows, I realize how great it is to be beloved again.

Some time after my town has finished its expansion, I find myself lying in my palace reading a book. One of the attendants of the castle knocks softly on my door and slides a small beige envelope through the crevice beneath the door. I open it and read it silently in my head.

Dear Gladius,

I, the King, have become upset with my horrible luck in ruling my kingdom. You seem to have very firm control over yours and that is why I would like to not only make peace with you, but grant you custody of my kingdom as well. I will become a loyal citizen of either district over which you rule and wish you the best of luck in caring for my kingdom.





Sincerely, The King

At this, cannot help but smile. Not only is the tension between the King and I gone, but he has also given up his occupation for me. I am now back to the only life I want to live.

Epilogue

The King has moved out of the palace and into a small shop on the large canal that splits the town in half. He is now a goodhearted bakery owner and passes out his cakes and pies for no charge at all accept for a smile. Many of the village folk have moved back into the old kingdom, but still some stay at the meadow where they harvest tart berries, fresh cereal, and ripe apples that the King makes into exquisite pastries. I now lead a life full of countless people who visit me in my castle, and I am almost never lonesome. I could not fathom living a better life than the one I am living right now.