Assa’s Eggs

Chapter 5

No worries, he said. You don’t have to bow down to me or anything. I hate that. Don’t know why people think they need to do that.

It’s because we’re all afraid of you, said Assa.

The king laughed uproariously. Assa wasn’t sure if it was a real laugh of if he was trying to appear jolly, one of the people. She had heard that the king liked to think of himself as not really a king. He was just a regular guy who happened to have complete control over all of the people of the land. Assa could hardly believe that adults could believe such a ridiculous thing, much less an adult like the king, who had grown up with his special place in society.

Your daughter is quite humorous, said the king after he had laughed his fill.

Would you like to sit down? asked Assa’s mother.

Certainly, good woman, said the king.

Assa’s father pulled out a chair for the king. He began to wedge himself between the chair and the table. Assa’s father pulled the chair out even more, until there was a wide gap between them. The king finally plopped himself down on the chair. Everyone in the room heard it creak and and splinter, just the tiniest bit. Assa and her parents held their breaths, waiting for the chair to break. The king seemed oblivious to the possibility. His overflowing flesh hung off the edges of the chair like lava flowing out of a volcano and accumulating on the sides. The chair held. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Would you like something to eat? said Assa’s father. We still have some of our breakfast.

I have already eaten, said the king, but, if you insist, I could polish off your leftovers. He smiled broadly at the thought of food.

Assa’s father went to the stove and began piling a plate. The king turned to Assa.

Good child, he said.

Assa felt her mother tense beside her. Assa looked at the king. Yes?

I have heard stories. You have some kind of connection with my step-daughters.

Connection, your majesty?

That’s another thing, said the king. Don’t call me your majesty. That’s just another part of the role that I don’t like. It makes me feel old and feeble.

What should I call you, then?

Try Robert, he said.

Okay, said Assa. What connection do you see between me and your step daughters? Robert.

Assa’s father put down a plate heaped with food in front of Robert. The king rubbed his hands together, tucked a napkin under his chin, and began digging in. He ate with no manners whatsoever. At least, none that Assa could see.

He chewed with his mouth full, shoveling in food like he was feeding a hungry dragon, and generally made a mess of the table around his plate. Assa and her parents watched the proceedings with dumfounded shock. This was the leader of their people? A boorish everyman who plainly could not contain his appetites?

Robert cleaned his plate in less than a minute. Assa’s father took the plate away, leaving an empty circle on the table in front of the king, surrounded as it was by remnants of bits of food.

The connection, said Robert to Assa, as though his ingestion of the meal had never happened, is grief. Do you understand grief?

Assa had heard the word, but never thought too much about what it meant. She understood it was a painful thing that people sometimes got when someone they loved died.

It’s sadness, said Assa.

Robert slapped his hand on the table. Yes! he said. That’s it. Profound sadness. Which you experienced just the other night, did you not?

Assa shifted in her chair. She wasn’t sure that was sadness or grief. It felt more like craziness. Like she didn’t know where she was or what she was doing. I heard your stepdaughters crying, she said. I think.

Oh, yes. They cry. They cry all the time. They are filled with grief. And do you know why?

Assa shook her head.

They miss their homeland.

Really? said Assa.

Robert nodded. Yes. It pains me to say it, but my sweet bride wants to take them away from this land and return them to their island. She says our union has not been good for them because it ripped them from their native land. They don’t know what to do on our soil. They miss the spirits of their soil. Do you understand any of this, Assa?

At the mention of spirits, Assa perked up. The step-daughters knew about spirits? That made her feel like maybe there was a connection. Perhaps she could be friends with them.

I bet, said Assa, that if they had more friends, they would forget about their island.

You are a clever child, said the king. But, alas, it is not so. We bring other girls to the palace all the time. They play together, but it does not assuage their grief. It is causing me all kinds of problems. I am consumed with their happiness. I want them to be happy, but I cannot make them happy. You can, possibly, understand how this makes me, a king, feel. I have taken to eating more than I should. You might not know it by looking at me, but I believe I have put on a few more pounds than I should.

Assa’s mother spoke up next. Perhaps, your majest—er, Robert, you could bring the girls out of the palace and into the greater world. Maybe if they spent time on the soil of this land, they would become used to it.

Now I see where the child gets her smarts, said Robert. You are brilliant, as is your daughter, but, again alas, we have tried this, but the girls cringe from the ground as though it was poison. In truth, I have never seen or heard of such a thing as this. Don’t all children love to play in the dirt? But they simply cannot bring themselves to feel comfortable on this land. My advisors have nothing for me. They speak of spirits that might help the girls, but don’t how to conjure them. They have no experience in this area, you see. But you, Assa, I have heard you know of spirits. Is this not true? I come to you humbly, asking for your help. If the girls cannot be assuaged of their grief, they must return to their island, with their mother, and I will be bereft again, and the land will suffer, as before.

He looked at Assa, unblinkingly. His eyes looked watery, as though he was about to cry.

Assa had no experience with kings and queens and princesses. They were not part of her world and she never expected that they ever would be. And yet, here was the king, at her family’s kitchen table, asking for her help.

She knew what was expected of her. Her parents had taught her well. She was to stand before the king, bow slightly, or even curtsy, if that was her inclination, but in any case, offer some humble gesture toward the king, and then she was to say something like: whatever your majesty needs, I will be glad to provide it. But Assa did not want to do this.

For one thing, she didn’t know exactly what the king wanted. For another, she thought the king was rather disgusting and did not want to spend time with or near him. Certainly no more time than was absolutely necessary. He smelled bad. That was the worst part. Maybe. Or it could have been how his massive body seemed to flow everywhere. Some parts of him looked like they were going to burst out of his clothing. It could also have been the breathing noises he made. They were loud gasping things, and seemed labored, like the air had to fight its way in and out of his body. And Assa did not even want to think about the other noises, the ones that seemed to come from his posterior at regular intervals. Assa thought the land must be in some kind of terrible shape if it depended upon the good graces of a man like Robert, disgusting creature that he was.

Assa did not say anything for a long time. The king had made a request of her and expected an answer. An answer in the affirmative. Assa’s mother leaned close to Assa’s ear. Do you need help with your reply? she asked.

Assa shook her head.

Your majesty, said Assa, I have always been taught that one must be respectful toward you, and I do not want to insult, but I do not want to help you in the way you have asked.

Robert’s face registered surprise and anger. Assa thought, for one fleeting moment, that the king might strike her. His hand twitched at his side and his arm tensed up. He clearly did not know what to do with a subject who disobeyed him so firmly.

Well, he said. He looked up at Assa’s parents, who were white as clouds. Your daughter is as obstinate as mine. Must be something with daughters, eh?

Assa’s parents nodded.

Assa didn’t see any reason to stay in the presence of the king. Robert, she said, I think I’m going to go do some of the chores that my parents would like me to do. It was very nice meeting you. I hope you and your step-daughters have a good life.

Assa got up from her chair and went outside. As soon as she was out of sight of the king, she put her hand over her mouth and ran for all she was worth along the creek. What had gotten into her? She could hardly believe she had said those things to the king. And refused his request! Wasn’t that something she could go to jail for? She was sure of it. The king had the power to lock up anyone he wanted to and why wouldn’t he want to now, after what Assa did?

She didn’t get far with her running, though, before she ran right into a man and a woman, standing on the banks of the creek. Assa found herself flat on her bottom, with her hands behind her, stuck in the dirt. She felt more embarrassed than injured, and she scrambled to get herself up again.

The two adults in front of her were about the age of her parents. They looked quite menacing. Assa had never seen them before and by their fancy clothes, she was sure they were not from her part of the world. The woman looked really mean. Like she would as soon tear Assa in two as look at her.

Child, said the woman, I am your queen. Why do you run so quickly from your house? Did not my husband ask a task of you?

The man beside the queen did not speak. He looked tough and mean. Assa guessed he must be the queen’s protection. She had heard that kings and queens needed to be protected from their people, since a lot of the people, or at least some of them, would like nothing better than to kill their majesties.

Assa did not have any thoughts in that direction, but decided that she could understand those who might.

Nothing to say? said the queen.

Um, said Assa. I—um.

Um, um, said the queen. Yes, and what does that mean, um um?

The king, said Assa.

Yes? said the queen.

He’s—

What, child? What are you trying to say?

He’s kind of gross, said Assa.

The queen’s expression softened. She laughed. He’s in mourning, don’t you see?

Did someone die?

The queen shook her head. Not exactly. It’s more that he is anticipating the loss of me and my step-daughters.

Loss? Assa began to feel more comfortable standing next to the queen, who reached out her hand and placed it on Assa’s shoulder. Assa braced for the unpleasantness that this pressure would have on her, but it did not come. Instead, she felt quite warm toward the queen.

Her bodyguard, on the other hand, she could have done without. He kept staring at Assa, as if she might be an assassin. Did kings and queens go around all day and night afraid that they might get killed?