The King who loved riddles (with audio recording)
Cast: Tryana, who loves to separate a head from its neck, the court's storyteller, jester and sage, a lady by the lake, two doves, oh--and a random duck.
The King who loved riddles AUDIO RECORDING
The King who loved Riddles: full-version audio-recording
The King who loved riddles is the first story in a series of three tales on “Science is all about asking the right questions”: a traditional tale with Scottish roots.
Text excerpt below
Pre-released for the July 1 posting: I am fulfilling a prior engagement on that day— literally—can you hear the bells? Happy days, but it means this first post had to be sent out a little early. Also, a few subscribers asked for the audio so here it is! Included at the top of this post.
Enjoy the read below or listen to the audio.
All comments are very welcome. I am always glad for feedback and do let me know of your experience here.
Illustrations by Freya Porritt Wessman
The King who loved Riddles (excerpt)
Once upon a time there was a King who was known for three things: his ruthlessness, his vanity and his love of riddles.
His ruthlessness showed in the guard he kept in the left corner behind his throne. Tryana was a tall wisp of a thing with a long face and curly ginger hair, kept short. She guarded the throne, clad in plate armour from top to bottom. None had seen her without. Even the two doves perched on either shoulder wore tiny plate armoured hoods. Her steel gloves clasped a dagger, ever at the ready. Only her placid face with its thin pressed lips remained bare.
Her frozen expression made it clear she took life very seriously. Indeed, she took each life very seriously—at the edge of her dagger.
The king’s subjects were terrified of her, for when his majesty’s fingers snapped, Tryana stepped from her corner, her doves squawked once each and took off. In their wake, Tryana’s sword flew and claimed another neck. The birds circled back and landed, one on her right shoulder, the other perched on her left elbow, concluding the affair faster than a cat's nail gutted a mouse.
The king’s vanity stemmed from his long golden hair. It draped down the sides of his body in two broad strands, making him appear cloaked in gold. His servants combed the strands each morning, then oiled them with the finest mixture of jojoba oil, bergamot and pine, permeating the throne room with a delicate scent. He would be King of Hipsters if alive today.
His love of riddles was known to all. Each Tuesday morning the king summoned his subjects to court to set him riddles—the harder the better. He had practiced riddles since he was a small princeling. His library shelves sagged under tomes of solved puzzles, enigmas and mind teasers. He excelled at riddles so, that he shouted most answers before his subjects had finished. This was a rude thing to do, but as he was king and Tryana lurked in her corner, none dare object.
One by one his subjects gave up setting riddles—for he knew them all and spoiled their fun—until one Tuesday no one showed. The king paced from throne to entrance and back, again and again, furious, until his quick mind found a way. He proclaimed that whoever could set him a riddle that he could not solve, would be appointed riddle-whiz extraordinaire at his court, complete with lodging, meals, pay, dental and pension—the works!
To weed out time-wasters, the king added one clause: anyone setting a riddle that he could solve would forfeit their neck to Tryana. This pleased her no end. The corners of her thin lips pulled up just a tat.
The next day, the king’s heralds raced to the four corners of the kingdom. They nailed his proclamation to trees, barrels and gates. They stuck it down chimneys, roped it to gutters, strapped it to passing carts. They shoved it under doors, slipped it through windows and stuffed it down the back of his subjects’ trousers as they passed. They even tied it to the neck of a lone duck and released it on the river.
The next day, no one showed. The day after, still none showed and the king’s mood darkened. By that time the lone duck had travelled far downriver, deep into the woods and onto the silent lake, by the far shore of which a hermit woman discovered it.
She read the proclamation, read it once more, packed, combed her flaming red hair and walked upriver towards the castle. All the way, she clutched a wicker basket to her chest as if cradling a child. Upon reaching the king’s fortress, she strode to the guards whose crossed spears blocked the drawbridge, and requested the King’s ear.
The guards glared at the woman’s bewildering patchwork of rags and tags, then glanced away from her confident stare. The determined lift to her pointy chin made them grip their crossed spears, but his majesty’s foul mood had grown by the day and he could snap his fingers at anyone. Eager for it not to be them, the guards rushed the woman to the throne room and shoved her through the entrance, leaving her to face the king.
Want to know what comes next? Listen to the full audio recording at the top of this page.
Coming up after this tale in the series “Science is all about asking the right questions”:
“Pigeons on the roof” a personal tale about asking the right questions to solve a problem Text version launches July 1, 2023 (audio recording supplied at later date)
“Can desert ants count to over a hundred?” Scientists claimed desert ants could "count" and proved it by going all Dali! Text version launches: August 1, 2023 (audio recording supplied at later date.)
From Wikimedia Commons.
Space Elephant Statue by Salvador Dali, London
Next audio recording and first story in the series: “Competing scientific theories, opposing views, and duality in stories”:
“Dune story” Possibly my all-time favourite story. Text excerpt. Full audio version: paid subscribers only. Launches: September 1, 2023