The Captain’s Tale

“What say you, Captain?  Have you a tale to raise our spirits through this long and bleak night?  Or to haunt our sleeps later?”   Franklin urged.  “I will keep your mug full with Mule’s Kick all night, if you will favor us with a story from your adventures.”

“Ah, lad, your offer is too generous to pass, but why settle for some meager exploit of mine when I could give you the truth behind the legend of Lord Balamore the Dragon Slayer?” the Captain replied with a conspiratorial smile.

“Oh, yes.  That would be fine.  Norford, please, a tankard for the Captain to get him started.”

“I am here near the tap.  Let me serve the Captain, Norford,” Tina offered and moved without waiting for his reply to fill a mug and deliver it as the Captain rose to stand at the hearth.  Norford smiled resignedly.  It pleases the lass and does me no disrespect, he thought.  She carries no pity for me, only the love she could not give her father.

“Ah, well, you all know the legendary Balamore and his acclaim as an itinerant slayer of dragons.  Some say he dispatched as many as seventeen, while I heard him more modestly claimed only eight were really grown beasts worthy of counting.  Oh, yes, I knew him.  In my youth, I served him as squire in his late years.  All but one of his famous combats were decades in the past by then.  He had retired to his ancestral estates, so long neglected and, if we are dealing in truth, always so meagerly impoverished even before his time.  It was his upbringing in noble poverty that sent him into the world seeking fame and fortune, even though he was his father’s only child.  And that diligently learned thrift of his early years returned him home with so little care to expend more of that fortune than he minimally needed to maintain his household.  He kept no list of soldiers about him.  His fame defended him well enough, he would say, that all he required was a squire to tend to his personal needs, a cook for his family, a smith and a groom to see to his horses and trappings, and a caretaker to oversee the needs of the estate’s peasants and the stocking of the manor’s larder.

“He was not greedy – never was.  Having acquired his ample wealth through his exploits, he allowed the peasants to keep whatever they could scratch out of the stony and dry lands.  He paid them for any excess they could provide to the manor or purchased his supplies elsewhere.  Their gratitude and loyalty to him was perhaps the greatest shield for him and his privacy in those declining years.

“Ah, but it is not those declining years which interest you – I see that in your faces.  In his modesty, I long thought, Balamore would lightly let pass any discussion of his adventures and conquests.  So many others told the tales that he had no need to sing his own praises.  He smiled with scant comment to confirm nor deny what the legends recounted.  So, I must tell you of the only venture on which I accompanied him.  You may see his legend in a different light afterwards, as did I, but I know with certainty only how the old Balamore dealt with his last reptilian foe.

“I was just short of my eighteenth year when the messenger arrived beseeching Lord Balamore for help.  His lordship was at least in his late fifties, maybe even over sixty years of age.  My service in his household was going to soon end, as Balamore insisted that my training was so nearly complete and I must provide my services and perfect my skills in the world where they were better valued and more needed.  Perhaps if I still had been more green or had already left, Lord Balamore would not have listened to that messenger and would have sent him away with only a warm meal and a night’s rest.  But my lord was overcome with the fancy that this quest could be my final lesson and qualifying examination.

“'You are hardly my little Wiggles any longer,’ Balamore said to me, recalling the childhood name he had given me when he first saw me.  ‘You know all that I have to teach you and a few tricks you created on your own.  All but one last secret of mine.  I cannot pass this legacy to my daughters and, alas, I shall not sire a son nor see him grown if I do.  I had thought to die with this untold.  For telling it is something I cannot do – I must show you and for that we shall need a dragon.’

“My youthful curiosity so easily overwhelmed my caution in those years.  If this old man was ready to confront another dragon, how could I refuse to stand at his side?  Over the next few days as I prepared the provisions, weapons, and four horses for our journey and the smith polished his armor, Lord Balamore seemed to be engaged in the most difficult battle of his lifetime – reassuring his wife and three daughters that there was nothing about which to worry.  He would be back in a fortnight or sooner, he told them, none the worse for the exercise.  The messenger called upon all his diplomacy to balance the urgency of the need for Lord Balamore’s extraordinary knowledge and prowess and the limited ferocity of the beast which was surely not the largest the hero had ever defeated.  At last, the Lady conceded that she could not stop the old fool and she and her daughters set to cleaning, altering, and mending his campaigning tabard, cape, and such garments as befit the champion.

“When we rode forth, there were only the three of us – the bedazzlingly refurbished Lord Balamore, the messenger, and myself.  Of course, as you know, part of his legend was that he always fought the dragons single-handedly, carrying the fight deep into their secluded lairs.  If he failed, his soul could rest easier knowing he had not allowed any but himself and his squire to face the deathly jeopardy.  During the three day ride to the region where the dragon had been marauding, I heard him rehearsing his old speech in low mutters as he rode.”  The Captain paused to wave his empty tankard at Franklin.  Tina quickly came to fetch, refill, and return it.  The Captain kissed the back of her hand as he took the mug back and then threw back a large gulp of ale.

“When we crossed into the final valley, the peasants stopped their toil in the fields to line the road and cheer the hero’s arrival.  The Duke and the Duchess rode out with a grand entourage to meet us as we neared their keep.  With practiced grace, Lord Balamore accepted their adoration and confidence in the surety of his putting an end to their problems.  Despite the recent ravishing of their territory, the Duchy hosted a splendid banquet to welcome us.  On cue, when asked what he needed from them to complete his mission, Balamore gave his speech.  In all the years of living in his home, I had never heard him speak with such eloquence (nor at such length).  One might have been tempted to believe he was capable of persuading the terrors he had dispatched over the years into simply packing up and leaving.  Ah, that old man was reborn that night in the glories of his younger years.  I am certain that a fee and directions to the dragon’s den were discussed in a very business-like manner, but I shall always remember the grandeur of Lord Balamore’s assurance that they should consider the deed as good as done.

“We arose in late morning.  Only Balamore, I, and the four horses were going to travel on from the keep to the dragon’s cave.  We were sent off with great ceremony that afternoon and rode for a few hours before Balamore chose a spot for us to camp for the night.  In the morning, he said, we would go the rest of the way to reach the cave mouth by noontime.

“At the mouth of the cave, Balamore told me to cut down a tall sapling. 'Remember your pole vaulting exercises, Wiggles,' he said.  'The right balance of strength and flexibility.  Judging by the spacing of these footprints, three paces length should serve our purpose.'

“'Yes, milord.  I assume we do not need the hoop to jump through,' I joked.  I was recalling the many years of gymnastic, running, and jumping exercises that were as much a part of my training as the use of weapons.  The pole vault through a hoop suspended from the massive oak in the training yard was one of my favorites.

“'No,' Balamore almost chuckled, 'Our dragon will provide that.  He will have the ring prize also.'  He referred to the small sack which hung near the top of the hoop.  As I became proficient at passing through the hoop, Balamore had added the ring prize to the sport.  As I went through, if I could retrieve the parcel, it was mine to keep.  In the beginning, it was tied with a loose knot that came free with a tug.  At first, it held a pastry or some such treat.  But as the training progressed, the bag needed to be cut loose.  And the prizes increased in value from the snacks I could have easily grabbed in a pass through the kitchen to more useful items.  This belt buckle I wear today was one of those prizes.

“'Stand back, lad, as we approach the dragon.  And stay ready with that pole.  I will signal the moment when we need it and when I do, we can have no hesitation.'  Balamore told me to strip all the gear off one horse and bring it along with us into the cave.  After a quick check of his armor, his shield, and his sword, he lead the way.

“The passage into an active dragon's lair is fairly easy, for the beast needs a wide berth to come and go.  One planning for his dormancy will collapse the tunnels leading to his sanctum, but he will clear a path when the hunger awakens him.  A sleeping dragon retreats deep into his inner chamber, but one on a rampage moves to an upper hunting den nearer the surface.  We had not far to go to find the dragon.  He was awaiting us, for there was no hiding the sounds of our coming from his keen hearing.

“'Sir Knight, you travel rather lightly; the last party to visit me here had twelve of your kind.  I expected at least twice that number this time.'”  The Captain's voice was a mocking thunder as he filled the role of the dragon.  He drained his tankard, waving it casually towards Tina, as he continued the dialogue in the calm tone of Balamore. 

“'Sir Dragon, such men are expensive, even when they fail to return.  I am a different sort of emissary.  As my gray hair and wrinkles do testify.'  As Balamore spoke, he removed his helm.

“'Indeed you are.  Your puny sword would not penetrate my scales even if you still had the strength to lift it.  I suspect your meat has grown tough and stringy also.  You are not much of an offering, even if I should be so inclined to settle for such an arrangement.'  The dragon seemed amused, probably with his own cleverness and control of the situation.

“'To speak honestly with you, Sir Dragon,” Balamore stated, “I do not think the residents in the lands hereabout have much interest in an agreement of that sort either.  I was hired to slay you if I could not otherwise convince you to end your scourge upon their homes and resources.'

“'And what arguments do you have prepared to persuade me so?'”

“'You have feasted here for three months.  Their herds are a quarter  less already.  Are you not nearly sated anyway?'

“'You are not very well informed, Sir Knight, in the habits of dragons, I see.  It will take twenty years to satisfy my hunger.  And during that time and long after, in the moments that my carnal yearnings are abated, I have a curiosity about the beauties and mysteries which have been created or uncovered since I last roamed the world a century ago.  No, I will not soon be ready for my next nap.'

“'Ah, are you hungry now?  I would not wish to negotiate with you in a weakened state.  While I am not much of a morsel, this horse might help take the edge off for you.'

“'Graciously offered, Sir Knight, although I would have had it once our talks were done.'

“'Then, with my compliments, please.'

“Balamore waved for me to urge the horse forward.  The dragon bent forward, seized the poor animal, and crushed it with a single snap of his massive jaws.  The dragon tilted his head back to swallow, opening his jaws widely to wash the carcass down in one gulp.

“'Now, lad, there is the hoop.  And the prize.'

“With a quick run, plant, and vault, I leaped into that gaping maw.  As I passed over his teeth and tongue, I swept my dagger into my right hand and spotted the gland in the back of his throat.  I wrapped my left arm around it and hacked at its base.  The dragon wildly swung his head from side to side, but I clung on.  My feet dangled unable to gain any purchase, but I stayed to my task sawing off my 'prize'.

“When the combined efforts of my blade's cutting and my weight's tugging soon caused the gland to detach, I found myself plunging down that terrible gullet.  It was a singular moment of epiphany for me.  The importance of an education came into clear focus, for we seldom appreciate how we might use some bit of knowledge until the moment when we need it.  As I bumped and slid down that narrowing tunnel, the dull hours of studying metabolism and anatomy of animals, both common and weird, that I had theretofore thought to be interruptions to my martial training, developed sudden relevance.

“I do not know how many of you have ever visited the inner working of a dragon.  In all my years, I suspect I only knew one other and he never showed any interest in discussing it.  Well, not directly.  But Balamore had spend hours explaining to me how a dragon produced its flaming breath.  The digestion of its meal produces copious quantities of flammable gases.  It is true of all animals, but for most, they dispel these fumes in flatulent emissions from their hither regions.  Whatever be-demoned mind created dragons thought of a different plumbing scheme.  Those explosive byproducts of digestion in a dragon are shunted off into an internal air bladder that circles back to the gullet with a flap just above the stomach.  When the dragon wishes to produce his awesome weapon, he compresses this bladder and belches the gases up.

“Now, by itself, that exhalation would be fearsomely odorous and perhaps overwhelming, but the dragon adds the ability to ignite those gases as they enter the mouth.  And, now, what do you suppose I had locked under my arm as I descended deeper into that beast?  Yes, the sac that produced that spark.  The gruesome drawings of dissected dragons  that I had studied since I was a child came into my mind  – a virtual map to guide me even in my dark tumble to the beast's gut.  I drove my dagger into the wall to slow my drop and prayed that I was sliding down the correct side.  When I felt the edge of the bladder's flap, I shoved the fire gland through and continued on my way.

“There is a good reason that a dragon does not ignite these gases until they reach his mouth.  While tougher than you and I perhaps, the insides of a dragon have none of the protective qualities of his exterior scales.  The explosion behind me blew a enormous hole in the dragon's side and it died quickly thereafter.  Once the skin was breached, Balamore had little trouble carving me out.  A quick wash in a stream on our way back to the keep, a jubilant feast for the modest Lord Balamore, and we were soon heading home with the last bounty of his career.  The rest is legend.”  The Captain smiled slyly.  He raised his tankard above his head, lowered it to drain its last contents, and swept it wide with a flourishing blow.  The audience cheered and laughed.

“Oh, that was a marvelous story,  Captain,” Franklin said.  “but did not Lord Balamore live four centuries ago?”

“That is a different story, lad, and you only bought one from me this night,” the Captain replied as he waved to Tina for a refill and returned to his seat.

As Tina handed the Captain his refilled mug, the Captain said, "Now do not forget the gratuity for service as part of the fee for the tale, lad."
 
"I agreed to pay for stories," Franklin replied, fingering his purse. "Perhaps a copper?"
 
"I am a guest here the same as you," Tina said.  "My help I give freely.  But if you would buy a spice cake for us all to share, I will give a story my mother often told me as a child."
 
"Yes, let us have the cake.  And your tale," Franklin agreed.   
 

Tina's Fable: The Lost Fairy

"When I was a little girl, my mother would tell me stories while I worked besides her in the kitchen or garden. One of my favorites that often I requested was the fable of Desimina, the Lost Fairy, a poem I still repeat to myself in bed at night when I think of my now departed mother.
 
"This is how it goes:

 
Alas, Desimina, so far from home 
To a strange land by a fearsome storm blown. 
Poor lost fairy now so very alone, 
No other fairies, not even a gnome. 
 
Each day she searched until thoroughly worn, 
But found neither kin nor way to return. 
Oh, each night she laid on her bed of fern 
And more deeply sank to a state forlorn. 
 
One morning from her unhappy sleep risen, 
She heard flapping as she paused to listen. 
Wings, not flying, in sunshine did glisten 
In web above, someone was in prison. 
 
Desimina's fear awoke at the sight, 
But soon anger caused her terror to fade. 
She looked for a leaf to serve as her blade, 
Then flew to the rescue, ready to fight. 
 
She brandished her weapon like a hero 
And faced the spider who had come to eat. 
Waving her frond so, she made him retreat 
And, on silken thread, drop to branch below. 
 
Desimina went to free her found friend, 
But saw not a fairy held so snug. 
It was a butterfly, only some old bug, 
For all the efforts that she did expend. 
 
She did break him loose, for that was the plan, 
And he fluttered free, hovering nearby. 
Her heartbreak was clear to that butterfly -- 
She despaired ne'er again to see her clan.
 
"I thank you for my freedom from the cord, 
Although you thought to save another instead. 
Without your help, by now I would be dead, 
So I wish to offer you some reward." 
 
"Can you show me how to get my home back? 
Can you bring my friends with whom I can play? 
That terrible wind has blown my life away 
And left me with only ruinous wrack." 
 
"I was a caterpillar in my past, 
But I shall not be so ever again. 
Life is not meant to stay where you have been, 
But to go where you are sent, 'though unasked. 
 
"Wherever you are is your home for now, 
And whomever you meet can be your friends. 
Follow your life through all its twists and bends, 
And enjoy here all that life will allow." 
 
Desimina opened her eyes for the first 
To see her new home all around her there. 
Our happy past should not cause us despair 
When in our next venture we are immersed." 
 

   

As Tina timidly bowed to the applause for her poem, Norford wheeled himself to the kitchen to fetch the spice cake.  He brought it to the table where Franklin sat and presented it with a small flourish, holding it just short of actual delivery.  Franklin took the hint and dug into his purse for the payment required to complete the transaction.  Norford set the cake down, sliced it into six pieces (glancing at the mysterious stranger and deciding to include him), and then picked up the coins.
 
"Franklin, what does your brother think of your coming here?" Norford asked gently.  "Does he object to you spending the farm's profits on my few customers who amuse you?"
 
"It is my money.  He got the farm when Da died and I got my share of the animals.  Without the armies to feed, we do not have so much market as we did before, so I sold most of mine."  Franklin protectively cupped his purse.  "I will not be staying here forever," he said.
 
"Well, now, you do still have some beasts left in your holdings, right?" Norford queried.  Franklin nodded.  "So then, I was thinking that it has been a long and dull winter for all of us in Havenport.  If I had a fattened pig, I could fire up the roasting pit outside and put on a feast like The Thirsty Mule used to serve for all who care  to revel for the day and night.  We could use the relief.  I have not the money to buy the pig at the moment, but if you might 'loan' me one, I could pay you from my receipts from the feast.  In exchange for my story tonight, that is."
 
"You would pay full price for the hog?" Franklin asked, considering.
 
"The folks here about will be eager for the chance to party a bit.  With a bit of work to spread the word, I feel certain the feast will bring in enough to cover its full price.  Do we have a deal?"
 
"Alright, we have a deal. What is your story?"
 

Fool's Errand

   
Minstrel traveled far and wide, for he was consumed with wanderlust.  Sometimes he visited the homes of the great and, more often, the not so great.  Few ever troubled him when they saw his small stature and motley fool's clothes, for they knew he would do them no physical harm and may instead bring them a few laughs and news of the world in exchange for their welcome.
 
One day as he crossed into a land he had not visited before, Minstrel met a man dragging a bridle.  "What ho, gentle sir?  I may be a fool, but even I do not lead behind me an invisible horse."
 
The unhappy Farmer explained he was heading home from a visit to his Lord's keep.  He had ridden there that morning to protest the ill-timed taxes the Lord was exacting on his serfs.  But instead of being granted relief, Farmer's horse was confiscated.  "You best turn about druther than look for welcome there," Farmer advised him.  "The Lord be the stingiest man ever born.  Alas, what will I tell my wife and child?  And how will I plow the fields?"
 
Minstrel opened his sack and asked Farmer to sit with him a while.  As they nibbled on some of Minstrel's final pinches of bread and finished his water, they talked about the unhappy affairs in this land.  At last, Minstrel offered Farmer the rest of his supplies for his family (although it was but a small cheese, two carrots, and a few bites of bread).  "I regret that my pockets and my pouch are too empty to give you much comfort at this time," Minstrel said, "but if you have a dog and can come back to the castle along this road at cock's crow two mornings hence, leading your dog in this bridle, and I will see what I can do to help."
 
Puzzled but grateful, Farmer said he did have a dog and promised to do it.  Farmer bade Minstrel farewell.  Minstrel continued to the small village outside the keep's walls.  He explored the marketplace and chatted with the merchants.  He stopped at the stall of a green grocer and asked if he might rest on a barrel in return for a song.  Grocer cordially invited him to sit.  Minstrel brought forth his lute and he started to sing.
 
 

Oh, do not ask the fool   
Whether you should fiddle   
Or better you faddle.   
For he knows both are true;   
Either to future weave   
Or else all unravel.   
 
Why should you pay the fool   
Who sings of everything   
And all nothing as well?   
For he hides where all see;   
Both his bravest terror   
And his weakest assail.   
 
Oh, do not ask the fool   
For advice in your joy   
Or caution in your folly.   
For he says both are false;   
Neither the only course   
Nor sure 'til you sally.   
 
I once asked of the fool   
Where my future did lay   
And which path to follow.   
But he said, spin around;   
Both to see where I came   
And to where I will go.   
 
Now I am that same fool,   
Dizzy in the new world   
That awakes each morning.   
I see too many ways;   
So choose to go or stay --   
From me, heed no warning.   
 

 
As Minstrel sang, a crowd gathered at Grocer's stall.  While there, some people examined his wares and made purchases.  Grocer was pleased with the increase in his business.  "Thank you kindly for your song, Minstrel," Grocer said.  "Do you indeed foresee the future but not tell anyone what it will be?  It seems poor business to make no use of such a gift."
 
"No, it is not the future I see, but two futures that compete for reality.  Many seem quite silly, but they may happen as truly as their twins.  What would it profit you to hear of a future you do not choose?  And why pay me for the one you will choose on your own?"
 
"But maybe I would choose differently if I knew both."  Grocer looked at Minstrel imploringly.  "Could you give me a small hint?"
 
"I see today you brought one bushel of turnips and sold only a few.  Tomorrow, if you wear your cap upside-down and your shirt inside-out and fill your cart with turnips, you will sell them all," Minstrel said, "but most will be at half the price you ask today.  But if you bring none, you will sell none and wish you had brought many.  A day later may be too late.  Well, that is the advice of a fool and you have been warned of its value.  I am rested now and I thank you."
 
"Again, thank you, Minstrel.  Here, please take an apple for your song.  And your advice," Grocer said.
 
"For the song.  The advice is free."  Minstrel strolled away, eating the apple leisurely as he explored further.  Others in the marketplace who had heard his song or of the rumors of his future sight approached him to ask what he foresaw for them.  To each he repeated his warning of the worthlessness of his advice, but he gave in to their eagerness and made his two-sided predictions.  To some, he gave similar choices of tomorrow's inverted clothing and many half-priced sales versus meager sales if they did not oversupply their stalls that day.  To others, he suggested that a reversed cap or apron or skirt would catch good luck tomorrow, but dressing the same as today would do them no better than it had done today.  When they offered him something for his advice, he refused unless he provided a song, the only trade item he had of real value, he claimed.  Many accepted the bargain with thoughts that they were twice rewarded for the same price.  Thus he collected some coins and food to refill his purse and sack.
 
Later that afternoon, an officer and two soldiers from the castle stopped Minstrel in the marketplace.  Minstrel said fearfully, "Oh, I have taken nothing but in exchange for a song.  I am only a traveling minstrel.  I have done no harm."
 
The officer answered, "Fear not, Minstrel.  We have been sent by the Lord to invite you to entertain him tonight.  He heard of your presence in his shire and wishes to receive your news.  And other services."
 
Minstrel was escorted into the keep and offered a bed of straw in the servants' quarters.  While he waited for dinnertime, he sat in the kitchen, swapping jokes and news with the staff.  The story of his gift for prophesy had reached them, but he denied his confused visions had any value.  In conversation with the head cook, he said, "I notice that the keep's larders are understocked."
 
"Aye, the Lord will pinch a coin as long as he can before he will buy supplies," Cook explained.  "We spend more time looking for the fixing for a meal often than with its cooking."
 
"It is just a fool's folly, I assure you, but I learned when fools abound, food is easily found," Minstrel told her.
 
"What do you mean?  Do you have a vision of the future where fools abound?  Please tell us."
 
"It may not happen at all.  I never know.  But I see a marketplace full of merchants gone mad.  They bring more than they could possibly sell in a day.  If a shrewd buyer shows up on that day, tomorrow I foresee, he could stock his holds for months to come by buying all they have and only need to offer half the price.  But if the madness does not come tomorrow, it may not come at all," Minstrel concluded.
 
"Perhaps Seneschal and I should check out the market tomorrow," Cook said as she left to find the man entrusted with the Lord's purse.
 
Shortly later, Minstrel was called into the great hall to entertain for the Lord's dinner.  It was not a lavish meal served to Lord, his family, and his retinue.  They ate scarcely better than Minstrel's serving of bread and vegetable stew which he gulped in a few bites between songs.
 
After the meal was consumed, Lord dismissed everyone except Minstrel whom he beckoned to his table.  "Minstrel," he asked suspiciously, "Why did you come to my domain?  You are a talented lad, but we have had no visits from such as you in a long time."
 
"I did not come, milord, 'though I be here true enough," Minstrel replied.  "For between then and there, I must be some here now.  I do not know what next is to be nor how last became no more."
 
"But I heard that you do see the future," Lord probed.
 
"Oh, no, milord.  It is not so simple as that -- only I am such a simpleton.  It is true that my head is often confused with two images of tomorrow.  But I cannot be sure which will happen for both seem as likely and as unlikely to me.  It is not a vision worth trusting, so I do not try to choose."
 
"You must choose, Minstrel, for you go forth each day to live one of the two visions you have."
 
"You are more clever than I, milord, but perhaps I can explain this better.  Could you give a copper to demonstrate?" Minstrel asked.
 
Lord considered this request, but reluctantly reached into his pouch to retrieve the requested coin.  "And how will this copper help you explain?" he asked as he handed it to Minstrel.
 
Minstrel turned over two drinking cups on the table in front of the Lord.  "Now, suppose these are two futures that fought in your brain for you to believe they were what tomorrow will bring.  I place your coin under one cup.  Which do you choose?" Minstrel asked.
 
"This one with my coin." Lord picked up the cup to reveal the penny.
 
"Now, suppose that your brain is easily befuddled like mine," Minstrel continued, placing the cup down on the coin again and starting to shuffle the cups back and forth.  Lord watched intently, but soon Minstrel had increased the speed beyond his ability to track.  "And which do you wish to choose now?"
 
"I still want my coin back."  Lord was mildly annoyed.  "But you have indeed confused me.  I will choose this one."  Lord lifted the cup and smiled when he saw the penny.
 
"Ah, you got what you wanted, milord.  Very good," Minstrel said, "But let's look under the other cup."  Minstrel picked up the second cup, and there were two copper coins under it. "I think I would rather have had this cup," he shrugged.
 
"I thought the other cup had nothing," Lord pouted.
 
"Yes, I sometimes find that the empty cup hides more despite what my limited wits can see.  It did not seem possible, silly even, to believe it so, but although I might choose one path for its straightforward familiarity and logic, it is the unlikely one that might prosper me more."  Minstrel scooped up the two coins and returned them to his pouch (from which they had come unseen by Lord).
 
"And is there some other meaning to this revelation?"
 
"Has Seneschal asked you for more market money than usual?" Minstrel asked.
 
"Yes, quite a lot more."
 
"And you chose to keep your penny, right?"
 
"Yes," Lord replied, wondering why he should not be thrifty as always.
 
"Then, tomorrow you shall have your penny.  But you will not have the two pennies worth of market goods that a fool's vision thought possible.  It is an easy choice for you, but I lack the wits to decide or know what will happen."
 
"Here, keep this penny, Minstrel, for your advice," Lord said dismissively, pushing the coin across the table to him.
 
"No, milord, only for the songs.  Thank you for the dinner and bed tonight.  A peaceful rest to you," Minstrel said as he left.
 
Lord thought about what Minstrel had said.  Twice as much for the same price.  He called Seneschal and told him to go to the market tomorrow to find bargains if any exist.  "Buy what you can, but do not offer more than half for anything," Lord demanded.
 
The next morning, although a few merchants had decided to conduct their business as normal, many elected instead to dress in disarray and load all they could on their carts for sale that day.  The atmosphere in the market became very festive as they saw others so humorously dressed.  Shoppers joined in the gaiety and soon found the merchants eager to bargain large purchases for low prices.  Items long buried in their inventories at last found buyers.  And the Seneschal did indeed have a very successful shopping spree. Minstrel roamed through the market, performing his songs and receiving the generous thanks from all in his foresight of such a special day.
 
Minstrel was again invited to the Lord's castle to perform that night.  The joy of the marketplace had spread into the castle where more than one could be seen oddly appareled.  The cook and her staff were giddy with the profusion of supplies and eager to prepare their finest dishes for that night's meal.  "A feast, whether the Lord ordered it or not," they proclaimed.
 
And indeed, all in the great hall that evening, even Lord, reveled in the improvement of their diet.  Minstrel sang and others joined in.  The assembly lasted many times longer than the previous night, but finally the Lord and Minstrel were again alone at the head table.
 
"I took your advice, Minstrel," Lord said gratefully.
 
"I did not give it," Minstrel replied, "but I am happy that you benefited by it."
 
"Do you see something for tomorrow?" Lord asked, dismissing Minstrel's denial.
 
"Yes, as surely as the sun rises, I am always plagued with this bickering couple debating their ridiculous possibilities.  Do not trust a fool to advise you, milord," Minstrel beseeched him.
 
"I have a pair of visions, too, Minstrel," Lord joked. "I see that if I pay you well for 'your songs' tonight, you will tell me what tomorrow may bring.  But if I pay you a penny as I did yesterday, I will get nothing.  Do you think one of my visions might be true?"
 
"I think both might be true.  And both might be false.  Are you able to choose which you want tonight?" Minstrel asked.
 
"It is quite against my nature to waste my money," Lord stated.
 
"Then, you should keep it, milord.  As you did with the cups last night.  You chose the more logical as your nature saw it.  What happened today may not happen again tomorrow."
 
"I have not seen my people behave like today ever before.  Has my nature misled me and them?  Here, Minstrel, a purse rather than a penny.  Will you tell me what you foresee?"
 
"Very well.  If you rise at dawn and look to the west, you will see a farmer who hopes to train his dog to plow his fields.  His horse is in your stable, eating your grain, and he does not have the normal means to produce a crop this year.  But if you rise at noon and look to the east, you will see nothing that you did not see there today."  Minstrel made a small bow and swept the Lord's purse from the table to his belt.  "Do you know when you will awake tomorrow?"
 
"Is this Farmer who came to complain yesterday?" asked Lord.  "He said he could not pay his levies until summer."
 
"Dogs may do wondrous things when we do not wonder whether they do anything at all.  Perhaps you will yet receive Farmer's taxes.  Or perhaps not.  I think this silly nonsense, but you might be wiser."
 
"I shall meet Farmer along the road and exchange his horse for his wondrous dog," said Lord.  "Tomorrow's eastern view does not offer me anything, but there is profit to the west."  Lord was pleased with his decision.
 
And thus, Farmer did get his horse back that next morning.  Lord even decided to let him keep (and feed) the dog.  Lord and Farmer agreed to an extension on when the payments were due.
 
As Lord returned to his castle from his morning errand, he met Minstrel at the gate, ready to continue his wandering.
 
"Minstrel, you must stay.  I need your visions to help guide me," Lord implored.
 
"No, I must go.  You must stay.  But not necessarily as you were.  As you told me last night, you have twin visions, too," Minstrel jested.  "Spin around, milord, and see more of what surrounds you.  When you choose, you may find paths you never traveled before take you to the best places you have never been before."  With that, Minstrel twirled around several times, stopped, and staggered off in the direction his nose was pointing.