Garden Knight

Garden Knight

Not all heroes carry swords—some carry watering cans

The wagon beneath Arken rattled over the ruts of the old road. But his mind was not on the road; it was up in the clouds with the birds, dreaming of the future.

He saw himself as a knight, riding to battle against dragons. He would be brave, noble, loyal. The princess would fall in love with him, and one day he would be king by her side. His brain wondered for a moment if the princess was beautiful. She had to be. She was a princess.

He prodded his arm, shaped by years of working in his father’s smithy. Knighthood would not happen overnight. Even if he had to start out as a servant to a knight, he would gladly take the chance. Then, when he saved his master from a fiery dragon or a fearsome ambush, he would be whisked off to the throne room and knighted in front of all the lords of the land.

The sharpening incline of the wagon bed indicated they had begun the ascent into the city. Arken sat up to look. His breath caught at the view. Stone spires and towers shot up above the thick walls, stretching up into the blue sky. Bright pennons snapped in the breeze, bearing the royal emblem.

The wagon drew close to the city’s walls and soon the city swallowed it up. Arken gathered up his satchel, hugging it to his chest. He was almost there. Tonight, he could be eating in the royal halls.

But when Arken followed the address in his uncle Kerran’s letter, he did not find himself in the palace. Instead, he was standing on the doorstep of a humble cottage just outside the final set of palace walls. He knocked.

His uncle Kerran opened the door. “Ah, you’ve arrived. Good. Good. We’ll get started straight away. You can leave your things on that cot. Come along.”

Heart beating, Arken followed his uncle through the simple cottage, noting the amount of dried herbs and pots of sprouting plants cluttering every surface. They stopped long enough to dump Arken’s satchel on a cot before heading through the kitchen and out the back door. Into a riot of color. Bright flowers and green leafy plants spilled over every corner of the walled plot. Vines snaked up trellis. Raised, dark soil waited for seeds.

“Now,” Kerran said, shuffling across the garden. “I need these samples of soil labeled by province and stacked neatly so I can assess them. Then those seeds over there will need planting in the nursery beds. I’ll show you how.”

It was a garden. Arken could only stand there in disbelief.

“Well?” His uncle squinted at him. “What are you waiting for?”

“It’s not…what I was expecting to do.”

His uncle folded his arms across his chest. “I am a gardener in need of a helper. What did you expect to do when you came here?”

Arken’s face burned. He realized how foolish his dreams felt. “I thought…maybe a servant in the castle. Or something…”

“There are plenty of those, but few gardeners,” his uncle assured him. “Though tending the life of a garden may be overlooked or even forgotten, it is just as noble as wielding a sword.”

The words hit closer than Arken liked. Had his uncle read his thoughts?

“Now come. I will teach you all I know, though it will take many years.” Kerran chuckled. Then his expression softened. “If it’s not to your liking, lad, then I’ll send you home and you can try something else.”

Anger flashed through Arken as he followed Kerran’s lead. His uncle should have been clearer in his letter. It was not his fault he had dreamed so big.

“This garden is the royal one,” Kerran explained as they scooped dirt into smaller pots for planting. For what, Arken did not know. “We supply vegetables and herbs for the royal kitchen–-only the best. We also supply all the herbs for the royal physician and grow for decorating the halls. If this garden didn’t exist—and few know it does—this city would be in a tight spot.”

Arken’s heart sunk further. How would his skill and valor be discovered if he was hidden away playing with flowers and dirt? He had to keep swallowing the lump in his throat as he worked silently, listening to his uncle’s incessant words, but hearing nothing.

That night, under the cover of darkness, Arken lay in his cot and cried hot tears of disappointment. A gardener. Not a knight. How on earth would he rise from the soil all the way to the throne room? It would be impossible.

Arken’s life slid into a predictable routine. He helped his uncle most days in the garden, occasionally running errands up into the palace to deliver herbs or vegetables to the kitchen or physician. Each excursion, he secretly hoped he would encounter the princess in one of the passages. She was a mysterious figure whom the King had hidden away from the world. Knights fought every joust hoping for a glimpse of the elusive beauty.

Arken sowed the nursery soil with seeds and checked them each day for progress. Though Kerran assured him it took time, each day, he was disappointed by the sight of plain dirt.

On his days off, Arken left the garden, following the winding path to the training grounds where young men practiced with various weaponry. Perched on the low wall, Arken would watch them for hours, his heart aching. If only, just once, one of them would look his way and gesture for him to join them. Then he could prove he was just as good as they. The Captain of the Guard would knock on his uncle’s door one evening as they ate dinner and ask Kerran to lend them Arken to train as a knight. If only. The next day, Arken would sadly bury his dreams in the soil and toil on, pretending to show interest in his uncle’s work.

One morning, Kerran left Arken in charge for the day. “I have an errand in another town. I left a list of chores for you, and then you may have the rest of the day off. Can I trust you?”

“Of course.”

“Good lad.” Kerran clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll find some bread and cheese in the larder for your lunch.”

After checking on his seeds and finding nothing, Arken set about collecting the list of herbs the royal kitchen had ordered. He had his back to the garden gate as he worked, but when it creaked open, he turned in curiosity.

“Hello?”

A young girl in a blue cotton dress froze in the doorway, as if caught in the act of trespassing. A simple, gauzy veil, concealing her face, though he could still see her bright eyes and cherry lips through it.

Arken straightened, painfully aware of the dirt coating his tunic, hands, and even in his blond hair.

“Sorry, I did not know there would be anyone here today,” she said, hovering between the garden and where she had come from. Arken felt as if any sudden move would whisk her away from him, slamming the door back on his solitude.

“It’s just me today.” He smiled. “What is your name?”

“Ruana,” she replied softly. “I sometimes help in the garden. I…I didn’t know Kerran had help. I can leave. Sorry for intruding.”

“No, no. Please stay.” He gestured to the baskets surrounding him. “I can use all the help I can get.”

Her lips turned up in a bright smile, like a rose petal, Arken thought. She moved like a breath of wind across the garden. Arken breathed a sigh of relief.

Gathering her skirts, she settled next to him.

“Kerrran’s my uncle,” Arken explained. “He is out for the day.”

“You’ve moved here to help him?”

“Yes.” Arken could not take his eyes off her slender white fingers as she prodded the dirt. So delicate, like a sapling’s new roots.

“That is good. Kerran will never admit it, but he needs help. I’m glad you have come.”

“Me too.” And Arken realized at that moment he meant it.

Ruana helped him through the list of chores as the sun rose, bathing the garden in a gentle warmth.

“Alright.” Arken stood, brushing off his hands and surveying their work with pride. “All that’s left to do is wait for the kitchen to collect their herbs. And then we will be free to do what we wish.” He gave her a smile, praying she would choose to stay with him after.

Ruana paused. “They are coming here?”

“Yes.”

“I should probably get home, then. I…I work as a maid and would be in trouble if they saw me here.”

Arken frowned. “You could just hide in the garden until after they are gone. Then we could go out exploring the city. You could show me places I have never been.”

She wrung her hands and again Arken felt as though one wrong move would scare her off forever. He held his breath.

“Alright. But not the city. Have you seen the river?”

He shook his head.

“There is a lovely tree there. I will take you.”

When the kitchen servants arrived, Ruana was safely tucked away in the garden.

“Tell Kerran we are grateful,” the servants said as they collected the baskets. “Your garden may be overlooked by most, but we appreciate what he does. You’ve got a good life ahead of you, lad.”

Arken thanked them, ruminating over their words as they left. But he didn’t dwell on it long. Dashing back into the garden, he let Ruana know the coast was clear. Soon they were bounding down the green hill towards the river, sparkling in the sun.

***

“I met a girl named Ruana today,” Arken said at dinner. “She’s worked in the garden before, she said.”

Kerran’s spoon paused over his soup. “Ruana you say?” He frowned a little at the name.

Arken nodded. “Yes. She is very pretty.” Even though he had not seen her face, he knew in his heart it had to be as beautiful as the rest of her.

His uncle frowned. “Do not get too attached to her. She is of higher rank than you. An attachment between you would cause no end of trouble.”

Arken’s face burned, betraying his thoughts even as he argued that he had no such intentions.

“I know I promised you a different future if this was not to your liking. I was thinking a month more and then you make your choice,” Kerran said.

A month. In that time, Arken could still catch the attention of a knight. In that time, his seeds might finally sprout. But after the month? Arken pushed the uncertainty away.

He realized Kerran was watching him. Arken cleared his throat. “That sounds fair.”

The next day, his seeds sprouted. Arken could not look away. They were so little—such a hopeful shade of green. He knew at that moment that he would do anything to protect them and help them grow. Arken ambushed Ruana as soon as she stepped through the garden gate. He hurried her over to the nursery beds to appreciate what he had grown.

“Beautiful,” she said and Arken discovered he was no longer looking at his little plants.

Ruana came around more after that. She helped Arken with his tasks and would join him on his days off. Instead of going to the training fields, they would traipse over the fields, collecting samples for the garden or gathering wildflowers. After a time, Arken found he didn’t even give the knights a thought.

“In winter, we used to sled down this hill as children,” Ruana said. “Maybe we can this winter.”

“I might not stay,” Arken blurted out. “My uncle has given me a month to make up my mind.”

Ruana stopped in her tracks. “You don’t like the garden?”

“I…it wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

Arken plucked at the grass. “I wanted to be a knight,” he admitted. He had never spoken the thought aloud. He glanced nervously over at her, wishing he could read her face.

“A knight is a noble aspiration. But anyone can be a knight. It takes patience and a gentle spirit to be a gardener,” Ruana said. “Why take life when you can coax it out of the ground and feed hundreds?”

Arken did not know how to respond. He did not quite agree, though in the moment, he would not have traded his profession for the world. “What about you? You still haven’t told me what your job in the palace is.”

Ruana shrugged. “I work as…as a simple ladies’ maid. I thought one day I would get married and have a family of my own. But…but my destiny was changed. I don’t know what will happen to me now.” Her voice sounded so sad. Arken wanted to take her hand and comfort her, but didn’t dare, knowing his uncle was watching.

“Have you seen the princess then?” he asked. “She must be beautiful if so many knights would willingly die for her. I used to dream that I might win her hand in a joust.” His face burned as he admitted it, but he no longer cared as much.

Ruana laughed. “But now?”

“I learned that you don’t have to have titles to be beautiful or kind. Or even happy.” He smiled foolishly.

Ruana held a poppy up to her face, hiding her mouth, but her eyes shone above the petals. He wished the veil did not hide her face.

They headed back up the hill towards the garden. Arken’s hand itched to take hers, but he refrained himself. Kerran was waiting for them in the garden. Arken quickly put space between himself and the girl.

“Ruana, I have your herbs for you.” Kerran handed her a small bottle.

Ruana took them, quickly stashing them away in her dress. She thanked him and began watering the nearest plants.

Arken frowned, trying to understand what had just happened. “What are those for?”

Ruana shrugged. “Women things.”

That shut his questions down.

“For what it’s worth,” Ruana said before they parted that evening. “I hope you stay.”

Arken’s heart sang.

The next day, Arken mustered up the courage to ask his burning question. He had admitted his secret desire to her, after all.

“Why do you wear the veil?” Arken asked as they weeded around the vegetables.

Ruana’s hands stilled and her chin dipped. He immediately felt bad for asking.

“I have not shown many people.” She lifted up the edge of her veil, revealing her face.

Arken bit back the gasp. Where there should have been pale smooth skin stretched angry red scars. Her eyes, full of pain and sadness, watched him. She quickly dropped the veil.

“What happened?” Arken whispered.

“Fire,” she said. “My nurse left me unattended for only a few minutes. That’s all it took.”

“I’m sorry.” He fumbled for more words, but none would come. Instead, he reached out and took her hand. It quaked in his grasp. “It makes you no less beautiful.”

Her breath caught. “Do you mean that?”

Arken squeezed her hand. “Yes. Of course. It’s not a face that makes a person beautiful.”

She smiled. “Just as it doesn’t take a knight’s training to make a person noble and brave.”

Arken’s heart beat faster as she slipped her small hand over top of it.

“That’s what Kerran’s herbs are for,” Arken mused.

Ruana nodded. “When I was injured, he traveled to far off villages to gather any herbs that would help me. He planted them here. They saved my life.”

“That’s why you love the garden so much.”

“That…and other reasons…” She gave him a shy smile.

Arken’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. He quickly hid his face in his work.

***

Arken readied for bed, slipping out of his tunic. When his head popped clear, he looked over at his uncle. “I want to stay,” Arken said.

Kerran watched him over the cup of tea. “Does this have anything to do with a certain lady?”

Arken swallowed. “A little. But more than that, I’ve seen how important the garden is. I want to continue working in it. I want to be the next royal gardener.”

Kerran smiled. “I knew you would come around, lad.”

Arken waited by the gate for Ruana to arrive. “I’ve decided to stay,” he said as soon as the door opened.

Ruana threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “That’s great news.”

When they walked down to the river, Arken finally reached out and took her hand. “I’ve realized something.”

Ruana paused expectantly.

“I don’t want to be a knight anymore. I’ve saved lives with herbs. I’ve grown life from small seeds. A kingdom may need knights to defend a kingdom, but it also needs gardeners to grow the kingdom. Just because my role may be smaller does not mean it is any less significant.”

“There’s something else you should realize.” Ruana’s lips twitched in a teasing smile.

Arken gave her a blank look.

“You don’t have to be a knight to get the princess,” Ruana said, nestling closer to him. “Feats of honor and valor are all brave and good, but sometimes all it takes is a gentle gardener to capture her heart.

Arken stepped away from her in disbelief.

“Oh, come, surely you guessed by now?” she laughed.

“You?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly, though his head still reeled, it all made sense to Arken.

“Not all heroes carry swords—some carry watering cans. And this princess prefers those sort of heroes,” Ruana said.

Arken gathered her into his arms and kissed her.