I’ve not been updating this wreck of a blog as much as I’d like due to me being off colour. But as a consolation, here’s a story of mythological times I’ve written and I call it;
MISTAKEN BELIEF
The hunt was in full swing; At the head of the hunt was the king himself, because today was a special day; the prey for today was to be a unicorn.
The men on their horses were merry as they trotted through the greenwood, under a canopy of rich foliage. Soon, they would catch the first unicorn caught in the kingdom. Of course, they knew that catching a unicorn wasn’t easy, they were quick and agile, more mist than animal, and their hooves and horns were deadly. Unless the right bait was lay down they were impossible to catch. They had that bait, in the form of a beautiful virgin. The story went that a unicorn was lulled into a helpless state and came and lay down and lay his head in the lap of a virgin. Which would give the hunters enough chance to attack.
Tonight, they would have their first unicorn! The golden horn would be made into a drinking cup for the royal beverage and the pure white hide into a rug for the royal feet of his majesty. The tail would become a magnificent ceremonial tool fit for a king’s receiving the most powerful guests from across the world.
They came to the place they had prepared. A natural clearing with a large tree almost in the centre. The virgin let her hair down and sat with her back against the tree. The hunters themselves dismounted, tied their horses a little way into the woods out of the way, and hid with their swords and spears and knives and large net.
They didn’t have to wait long. The air itself was alive with silver white mist and forming from it was a golden horn, a pair of almost human-intelligent eyes, a long slender snout, a smooth snow white body ending in a golden coloured tail. The unicorn sniffed the air and pounded his hooves on the ground, cloven hooves, because he wasn’t a horse, he was a unicorn. Then he approached the virgin carefully, every inch of him on edge, quivering, expecting danger.
Then the unicorn visibly relaxed. He came closer to the virgin, closer, and sniffed her hair.
The hunters looked at one another, breathing soft excited smile-breaths. Any second now!
The unicorn came around and bent his front legs lay his weight on them and placed himself so his head was almost on the lap of the virgin. His big eyes misted over.
The hunters came carefully out of the woods. He was helpless! The unicorn was theirs! Etiquette made them stand back and allow the king to strike the killing blow.
The unicorn shifted his head and pushed it gently forward and then with all his strength he used his horn to spear and penetrate the throat of the virgin, causing her to choke, spraying blood all over his fur.
He pulled his horn clear, dripping red, and turned to the hunters who were standing in horror unable to run as the virgin gagged and sighed and died in a lake of her own blood. Using his horn and hooves he set about the men who seconds before were sure he was to die.
The first to die was the king, the horn through his head lifting him off the ground and with a shake of the majestic head he spiralled away with blood whirling after him. The others were trampled and speared by the revenge of the angry unicorn. The slaughter went on for several minutes.
Then, satisfied, shaking his head and letting out a whinnying sound the unicorn turned and trotted back into the words, becoming part of the trees and mist again, gone from sight, leaving the dead and dying and wounded and shocked behind.
The single hunter still standing, splashed with the blood from his fallen comrades, stared in horror at what had happened. Groans and sobs and muffled cries came from the carnage at his feet. He couldn’t believe it. They had done what they had believed was right! They had taken a virgin to lure the unicorn. Now this had happened.
Although he was shocked, he realised that he had learned a lesson that day, as had the other survivors.
There is such a thing as a wrong, a mistaken, belief, and no matter how correct something seems, no matter how often you’ve heard it, it isn’t always so.
THE END
