Jaclyn Chasarik

Ms. Morgan

Honors English 3 period 2

August 24, 2007

The Silent Prince

As a young child, the Prince was kidnapped. As his bravery overcame his fear, he tried to escape through the bars of his cage. He was caught, and in the struggle his tongue was wrenched from his body. As he started to choke on his own blood, the guards from the palace came to his rescue. The lights in his mind vanished and he slipped out of consciousness…

Henry’s final test to become a man was to come about soon. His seventeenth birthday was fast-approaching and his father, the King, was sending Henry off to war. He would lead his own group into battle, and if he were successful, he would become the next king. If he were to die, or to lead poorly, his younger brother would rule before him. Since he couldn’t speak, he would have to find some other way to lead his men.

His horse was saddled and ready, his armor on, his sword sheathed. He rode out of the castle gates and into the kingdom. There were cheers and flowers given by the people as Henry and his father rode side-by-side. Henry’s mind was away from the crowd, though. He was thinking about his communication problem and how he was going to resolve that. So far, he hadn’t thought of anything.

The journey to the battlefield was long and cold. The company huddled far into their coats to escape the biting wind and fierce frost. Although it was freezing, the men put on brave faces and rode into battle with cool armor and their heads held high.

The battle ground was empty of living people. All of the King’s men that had come before had been slaughtered. Blood covered the snowy ground that laid at their feet. Although the men that had been killed weren’t as skilled as the warriors behind the Prince and King, they had not expected the enemy to be this formidable.

The company moved around the bloody field, trying to track their enemies. The prints from the opposing army led west, toward the closest village. The company headed that way, their men’s feet sore and the army grumbling as they made their way though the snow.

The Prince could see the village from miles away. Smoke rose from the flaming buildings as the men marched onward. The party split in two, half following the King, the others letting the Prince lead them. Henry’s party marched around the southern side of the village. Screams no longer filled the air as they must have done a couple hours before. There were no signs of the enemy still lurking around the village on the Prince’s side as they made their way around.

The King and his men weren’t waiting on the western side of the village. The Prince couldn’t see them coming, even with his rang of vision. Faint yells and clangs of metal were coming from the north side of the village, sounding like a battle. The Prince waved his men frantically onward, goading his horse into a trot. The army ran behind him confused, not yet being able to hear the yells from the King’s party. The Prince rode faster, urging his men forward.

The sounds from the battle were clear to all ears now as the men rounded the buildings and saw both their allies and their enemies. Some of the Prince’s army faulted as they saw the gory battle taking place. The Prince rushed into the battle, sword drawn and sharp. Soon, Henry had made his way to his bleeding father, slicing through skin left and right. Together, they fought their way through the enemy, killing all of their enemies that got in their way.

The fight was over within an hour, all of the enemy dead, but not without compensation. They had lost most of the army in the battle, and the King was in a critical condition. The Prince sent one of the well men back to the kingdom with the King and the Prince’s surviving horse. Henry gathered the remaining men, some barely able to walk being carried, and led them back to the kingdom. It took the same amount of time going back as it had coming to the village, even though the way back was more direct.

As the Prince came home, the village seemed sad and melancholy. The Prince rushed to the castle, not noticing his wounds.

The King was very ill. His wounds had been infected on the journey home, which had only taken three days. He was hanging on to life by a thread, only waiting for his first-born, his mute son, to come home.

Henry ran into the room, frantic to see his dying father. His eyes looked upon the form of the King, seemingly frail as his body was encased by the white linen. His wizened eyes looked upon his mute son, and at that moment there was nothing in the world as brave and noble. Tears fell down the old King’s lined cheeks and onto the quilts.

“My… son,” the King said in a tired voice. “Henry… I want all in this room… to know.” All the nurses looked up at his words, wondering if these would be his final breaths. “You… have shown great… leadership… and you have proven yourself… worthy.” The people in the room hung onto his every word, all thinking the same thing: ‘Is this the end?’ “Let my word be true, and let it be followed.” His voice grew strong and the years seemed to fade from his face. “You, my son, are now King if this empire!” He drew his last breath and he was gone.

There was much mourning throughout the kingdom for the next week. It would have been the opportune time for an enemy to invade the kingdom, but none attacked. Perhaps none of the surrounding kingdoms had heard of the death yet.

The song of death was sung as the King was laid in the tomb of old. The ceremony was long and sad. There was nary a dry eye in the entire kingdom. But the mourning of the passed King had to come to an end, and the silent Prince needed to take the throne.

His reign was long and prosperous. The kingdom grew mightier than ever before under his rule. He had many sons, each as brave as his father, who grew to be the kingdom’s finest warriors. When his time came to an end, he appointed his most loyal son, Dimitri, as the new King, and he passed with the grace of his own father.

Silent Prince, though thou speaks not,

Thy Bravery is grand,

Thou ears are sharp and thou sees all,

Thy sight reaches all land,

And when Distress thou hears on wind,

Thy comes on metal’d shoes,

And sword is drawn, and armor on,

Thy keeps all thou virtues,

And when sorrow throughout the land

Thy raises head on high,

Even crowned King and on thy thrown

A tear falls from thou eye.

And now, when thou is dead and gone,

Thy blood is still alive,

And ‘till the sun dies in the sky,

Thou decedents will thrive.