The Paroles Of JK

There are three suitors, waiting. One looks with disdain upon the others, and his livery is red and fine silk. Another dresses plainly but with no less disdain views his neighbours; his pious nature in combat with his proud nose. The last looks neither at his neighbours nor at the casks before them; instead his eyes are fixed to the object of his beauty.

The lady asks the first to choose a cask. He steps at once to the cask liveried in gold. Gold, argues he, has value, and what is inside must have value greater still - for those who dress in silk are those whose worth is great, whilst those all clothed in rags have none. Therefore, says he, the cask of gold is where her heart shall be found. The key is given. the cask is flung eagerly open.

Inside there is no love but a dark and ugly skull, whose naked grin mocks the apparelled noble. Through its empty socket is thrust a paper. “Look you beyond the garments, and there shall you find greater worth.”

He turns, disgusted.

The second steps forward; examines he the silver and the leaden chest. He turns, now, to the silver chest, and clasping piously his hands declaims that silver is the metal from which the chalice and the tabernacle are built. Within these are kept the holies of holies, the body and blood of the risen Lord. Silver, then, is where one will find the most holy - most perfect - of beauty.

The key is proffered and taken. A prayer is whispered, but his thoughts are fixed on no thing higher than his navel. The chest is opened. Within is but a cross, laid upon a missive. It is taken with quavering hands. “Within silver keeps one death; my love is given only to the living.”

He turns disgusted. All eyes are then to the last suitor turned. Her love must then unto him default; there is no question. The final key is offered to him, but no hand makes he to take it.

Rather stands he tall, but speaks small, and every ear is close-bent to hear.

I would not have my love by default, as a loan. I am by my work a cleric, and know I well that steel fares better in defense than soft gold or cold silver. I think that my love has value above such petty things. I think this all a trick and a charade. I refuse the key. My love - and here spoke he so soft than none but she could hear - was given unto thee at first sight, and without riddle or puzzle. If thou my love do return, then step we from this place and be married. Elsewise shall I go, and ne’er be returned.

She placed then her lips upon his ear, and spake so: My love was given ere you begged askance of it. I had only to hear thy arguments to be sure of thy love’s truth.

And upon that moment they left, and were married.

And to my knowledge - which is not so boundless as the sea but is great indeed - that steel casket sits there still.

Remember, reader dear, that a heart hath many keys, but them that are presented you will never bring you love. Strive by words to unlock them, and find then thy words unlocked.

J