Luke
A Fairy Tale for Stony Moons
Robert James Tootell
©2012 Robert James Tootell
All rights reserved
Published in 2012 by Robert James Tootell
From the book: Krakow Stories
Luke
a fairy tale for stony moons
i
Over the Forest
A boy was born to the village. The forest, on hearing the news, gathered in its skirts with a scurrying, rustling action, and ran to greet the child. But the boy did not hear the whispers from the undergrowth or the hoots of delight from the open window, nor did he take any notice of the mice curtsying and bowing around the wooden bed. For his attention was fully taken up by a wondrous, smiling light in the night sky. Bright eyed, waving his arms, he chatted to the light until his eyes grew tired, and as morning rose up over the mists of the forest, the child was named Luke. On hearing his name, the boy let out a princely smile and fell asleep. He slept a long time, wrapped in cloths, oblivious to the tired, joyous faces of those around him, but content in himself, curled up like a kitten, satisfied with the knowledge that he had made his first friend.
From an early age it was clear to all that the child had a mind. He liked to inspect every object, and even tried to count the cat's whiskers. He loved playing games. Luke was four when his father Peter gave him his first chess set, a battered old thing with pieces he had himself once carved out of the forest. He taught Luke that pawns were the quietest, and therefore the strongest pieces on the board. What could you do with gallant knights, rustling bishops or even a fearsome queen, his father would say with beaming eyes, if there were no shields to protect them? No! The most timid of all the pieces were the sturdiest of them all - they were the ones to watch!
Luke soon discovered that this game 'chess' was really funny, horses could jump over anything and were not called horses but knights, castles moved by themselves and the queen, who could go where she liked, was more powerful than the king, who couldn't! He learned so swiftly that within a short time he had become the champion of the village. By the age of eight Luke was playing so well that more often than not his father found himself stranded and helpless in the corner, surrounded by gangs of little pieces, insolently holding their ground.
'Well, yes,' he would mumble, throwing a puzzled glance at the board and scratching his beard, 'you might have something there.' Luke, quick to rejoin his defeated opponent, would lean his head against a resigned shoulder and whisper, 'sorry father!'
On the eve of his ninth birthday, Luke was startled by a rather strange dream. He found himself in a bright room, surrounded by balloons and involved in a game of chess. His opponent, he was astounded to see, was an larger, uglier version of himself! And this older Luke, serious and too adult by far, was clearly put out by the events on the board - he was losing! He started to complain to the organisers, whereupon Luke boldly admonished the upstart, something he would never do in real life.
'Look, this is a serious game! Please concentrate!'
The Luke-alike, red in the cheeks, started gobbling up all Luke's pieces. Enraged by the rapid disappearance of all his prize pawns, Luke demanded the presence of the judges, whereupon a row of young men in tight silver suits appeared. But on gathering round to see what was going on, they merely shook themselves, burst into laughter, and pointed at the board, crying, 'Look! There goes the bishop!' In the end, a baffled Luke turned for assistance to his father, who was standing nearby holding his beard, and then to his mother who was looking in though a window, holding a wooden spoon and mopping her brow. Not knowing what to do, he jumped down from his seat, almost in tears, and crouched beneath the table with his hands over his face.
Luke twisted and turned in his sleep, unable to shake himself free from this puzzling nightmare. At last his old friend the moon came to his rescue and spoke to him:
'Luke, not games of hide and seek - music!
Luke suddenly heard the hollow piping of a flute.
'Luke! not winners and losers, it was never about that. It's only about how you feel you played. Only that!' And as if the flute were a wand, casting away all night-demons, the image of his older, uglier self disappeared, together with the men in grey suits and the entire, chaotic dream-scene. His friend's voice also floated away. Luke turned over, tried to thank him, but tiny mice had begun to dance under his eyelids. Everything had become very bright.
He opened his eyes. A blackbird flew into his room through the open window, carrying in its mouth a small red berry. A pool of sunlight lay beside his head on the pillow, a pool filled with diamonds and sparkling colours. He rubbed his eyes, rose from his bed and bumbled down to the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table, blowing on a piece of wood he had whittled into the shape of a small recorder, three delicate holes for the fingers; his mother sat beside him, stirring a cup of something hot. When Luke tried to tell them about his dream he found he couldn't capture the words, and even before he'd finished yawning, the strange scene which had been so vivid just a moment ago vanished completely into the morning. He trotted over to the table and rested his head on the warm wood, smiling in a horizontal fashion at his parents. But even from that awkward position he noticed something unusual in their eyes - twinkling like mad! He raised himself and followed the direction of their glances. And there... his eyes fell upon a set of the most beautifully carved chess figures standing proudly on a fancy new board! Amazed, delighted, Luke approached the window, breathing in the scent of apples and poppies from the garden. Taking hold of one of the pieces, he turned in joy and gave his parents a smile as broad as daylight, then turned back and patted the heads of all the pawns waiting quietly to meet him.