The King’s Thief

This story is based on “The Story of the Seven Simons”, a Hungarian tale from the Blue Fairy Book in the Andrew Lang Collection. It has been given an entirely fictional remake with only five brothers each with a different name to prevent confusion, but their trades are more or less the same. Like wise, the basis of the story is the same, at least at the start, before it heads off into the realms of fantasy and my own twisted imagination.

I make no profit from using this traditional idea, I hope you enjoy me own take on the tale.

Chapter 1- The Plan

The Council Chamber was awash with raised voices.

“Taresia is a strong country, your Majesty,” Duke Gerheart said, “It would be folly to enter into conflict with them.”

“We are already in conflict with them,” Count Morain said, banging his fist on the long table that took up the bulk of the Chamber, “A trade war. They are taking our trading partners, the countries with which we have had solid trade agreements with for the last 200 years. If they continue to steal our partners we will be faced with ruin. Daridion’s prosperity has always been based on trade, without it we shall become little more than an agronomic country, and frankly we don’t have enough arable land to support our population in the style they are accustomed to.”

“But is it necessary to enter into armed conflict with them?” Gerheart countered.

“We have tried diplomacy, my Lord,” Morain said, “We have tried negotiation, but every time that we sent envoys they were laughed at, and that in itself is an insult to us and our country. Are we to let these Imperialists insult us as well as impoverish us?”

“Yes, they have insulted us, but Taresia is ten times the size of Daridion, it would take but one invasion fleet, less than a third of their total naval strength, to bring us to our knees,” Gerheart shot back, “Are you willing to bow to Taresia?”

“Gentlemen,” King Steven smoothly interjected, “You both have relevant points. It is true that in an armed conflict it is likely that our precious Daridion would come out second best, which, in the long run, would cause more damage than losing our trading partners. But, as Count Morain has pointed out, without the trade agreements which have been the on going source of our country’s wealth, we can look forward to a solid decline in Daridion’s prospects.”

“What we need is a treaty with Taresia,” the Lord Chamberlain, an elderly gentleman to whom every one listened. “A treaty where strict guidelines can be established so that the wealth of both countries is ensured.”

Count Morain shook his head, “They would never agree to a treaty that would limit their wealth, and why should they? If the situations were reversed, we would not. Another point you seem to be over looking is Taresia’s generations long desire to expand her boarders. Over the last 150 years they have conquered many of their small, less developed border nations, either through trade or direct conflict. How long would it be before they turned their gaze to us? Ours is a rich enough nation, when you consider our mineral wealth, and would make a nice jewel in the Emperor’s crown. They could defeat us with ease, their armed forces outnumber ours by at least 15 to 1. Then our people would become subservient to them and our mineral wealth would be taken out of our hands and our pockets.”

“You are only interested in the prosperity your mines and quarries bring you,” Gerheart said scornfully, “You care nothing for the people who work your lands.”

“Without the wealth that my mines and quarries bring,” Morain shot back, “I would not be able to care for my people. As hard as life can be for them now, imagine what it would be like under Taresia’s thumb, where would they get their clothes, their food and their homes from then?”

“Then we need a lever, something to make them establish a treaty, for our own protection, both from the trade war and from the potential for invasion,” the Chamberlain said, interrupting the growing argument between the two antagonists, before Gerheart could say something that would enflame a feud between them.

“I get the feeling, Nicholas, that you already have a particular ‘lever’ in mind,” the King said, smiling warmly at his oldest friend.

“Indeed I do,” he said, “The Emperor of Taresia’s daughter, Aloria.”

Cries of outrage rose from the Council of Lords. The King held up his hand, silencing them.

“What exactly is your proposition, my Lord?” he asked. “My son is too young to yet think about a treaty by marriage.”

“That we kidnap the Princess. In a normal ship it takes nearly two months to reach Taresia, Daniel Fisher’s boat could do it in just under three days,” Nicholas said.

The babble of voices rose again, and eventually Count Morain’s words rose from the din. “An interesting suggestion, my Lord, but there are many factors to consider. I have mentioned before the great fleet guards Taresia, and its palace is on one of the most inaccessible of headlands. Even if Daniel’s boat were able to make it to shore in one piece, how would one of our men be able to even reach the Princess, let alone bring her back here.”

“And have you considered, my Lord,” Gerheart said, “That as soon as she is discovered missing they will launch an attack on us.”

“You forget the speed of Daniel’s boat,” the Chamberlain said, “We could have her here well before they could assemble the fleet, and once she is on our shore the power is in our hands.”

“And there is still the issue of getting to her,” Morain said. He liked the idea, but could see the obvious hole in the plan. “Even the best of our spies is likely to be caught and executed before they even get into the palace.”

“A most relevant point, my Lord,” King Steven said. “My Lord Chamberlain, have you a suggestion?”

“No, your Majesty. I believe that Daniel’s boat would make it, but getting the Princess out is another problem entirely.”

There was a raucous laugh from behind the throne and out stepped the court Fool. “Oh dear, oh dear,” the Fool said, “All you clever people sitting around in puzzlement when the answer is as clear as day.”

“Then be clear about it, Fool,” the king snapped.

“The answer is simplicity in itself. Daniel builds the boat, Matthew watches it from on top of Aidan’s great tower, and Simon steals the Princess,” the Fool said, giggling with barely contained mirth.

“Simon?” the King asked.

“Simon Fisher,” the Chamberlain answered, “The youngest of the brothers, the one you had imprisoned, the Thief.”

“Yes,” the King mused, “Simon the Thief, I had forgotten about him.”

Somewhat over a year ago he had heard of five brothers in the small town of Porthaven who had the most amazing abilities. Each brother possessed a particular skill possessed by no other living man. Since Porthaven was close to the Capital, it was easy for the King to visit them.

The eldest was called Andrew; he was a bow maker and fletcher who could make and shoot a cross bow whose arrow would hit anything he set his eye to, no matter how far the target was. It was said that he could also look through another’s eyes, if they were willing, and hit a target that they could see.

The second was Aidan, a builder. He could build a tower so tall and slender it looked like a needle. From the top of that tower, the third brother, Matthew, who possessed phenomenal eyesight could see what was happening in any part of the world.

The fourth brother, Daniel, followed more closely in their father’s footsteps, he was a boat builder, but his boats were such that they could cross in a day what would take nearly a month in an ordinary ship.

The King had recognised the amazing abilities of the young men and how much of an asset they would be to him and had invited them to the palace to serve him, and they had agreed. Then the king had seen the youngest of the brothers lurking in the shadows and with him his generosity had abruptly run out. Simon, the fifth brother, was a thief, or at least possessed the skills of a thief. He had been reluctant to tell the King what his talent was, as he knew the harsh punishment that was meted out to thieves. It had not been until he had convinced the King not to have him put to death that he hesitatingly told that he could steal anything, get into and out of a place without being seen, find anything, no matter how well hidden.

The King had flown into a rage when he heard of Simon’s skills, and was about to have him hung on the spot when his brothers protested. They had said that although Simon possessed the skills of the thief he had never stolen anything and had not the King given his word not to harm him? Thus reminded of his pledge, the King ordered his soldiers not to hang the 18-year-old boy, instead the King had him taken to the city in chains and thrown into the dungeons beneath the palace.

That had been more than a year ago now.

“Captain Renshaw,” the King said.

The smartly uniformed and efficient looking Captain of the Guard, marched up and saluted the King. “Your Majesty!”

“I want you to go down to the dungeons at once and bring me Simon the thief.”

“At once, your Majesty,” the Captain said and left with a couple of his men in tow.