The Gardner: Another Tall Tale

"Once, many cycles and seasons past, the first in our beloved King Barlow's line, reigned over a few goats, a small heard of cows, an unruly flock of chickens, four crowded hutches of lop-eared rabbits and oh, yes...a garden without equal anywhere in the known fiefdoms.

This Barlow never did any of the goat herding, or the milking of the cows and he'd never go searching out eggs in the coop of the ill tempered layers, he sneezed uncontrollably when near the rabbits, but the garden, the garden was his alone to master!

You see, the first of the Barlow clan had but a small holding, having neither castle to peer down on many subjects, nor storerooms full of treasure, nor an army of servants and guards.  The first Barlow had only himself and a young son, bereft of his mother at birth.  There was one half-wit to help with the assortment of farm animals, assisted by the little boy.  When the two took their four-footed charges into the hills surrounding the meager croft, Barlow would tend his garden.

Now, Barlow was something of a secretive fellow, keeping his own council in most circumstances, and never discussing his business with little son or servant.  One day, whilst on his knees uprooting any invasive weed from around his lovely vegetables, a voice called out from the nearby woods.

"Very pretty vegetables for your table my lord." it said.

Well, Barlow didn't get many visitors to his farm and wasn't likely to invite any.  This interruption was out of the ordinary and not welcome into his routine.

"Whoever you are, take yourself off, for as you can see, I am busy with important matters and have no time for chatter."

His reply was curt and unfriendly, but the visitor lurking in the shadows of the thick woods took no heed.

"I can help you with those puny tubers and cabbages and all of your vegetables.  They can grow large enough to feed the king's own court!"

Now this took Barlow's imagination and he rose to his feet staring into the gloom of the trees.

"Who speaks to me of such a marvelous thing?" 

"I am what you and your kind have named "witch."  

Stepping into the full light came a beautiful woman robbed in the dark greens and earthy browns of the forest.  She was tall and slender and swayed under her gown like a willow tree as she moved toward the dumbfounded crofter.  Her dark green cloak emphasized the creamy look of her bare arms.  As she neared the garden, fenced within large rocks and fallen timbers, she stopped.

Barlow gazed into the green eyes of the most beautiful woman his aging eyes had ever seen. The oval shape of her face was framed in waves of glossy black hair falling past her knees.

"I can change this garden into a cornucopia for you, Master Barlow and it would cost you little in return."

"How do you know my name, witch?" he asked, shaken out of his reverie, staring at her beauty.

"Your garden came to my attention when I heard the old king sought out a new gardener for the Keep.  I find your own plot of vegetables and herbs,more than adequate, but not enough to capture that honor. Therefore, I have decided to give you my help to secure the title of Master Gardener to the King."

"I seek no such honors my Lady!" he said with true humility masking an undertone of delight at such a thought. 

"My ways are simple.  I don't need..."

"Ah, you don't need this, but what of your son?  What have you secured on his behalf?  Is he to be a small croft holder like you, or will you endeavor to leave him a greater legacy and title?"

It can be said in all honesty, the first Barlow much loved his only child.  He clung to the notion that one day, the boy would rise above the station he occupied now, with a grander estate than the thatched roof hut and crude out buildings scattered on a muddy patch of land.

The witch had poked at a sore spot in Barlow's ego and got what she came for. 

After much haggling over a few minor details, it was decided that the garden would be transformed with huge offerings for the King's table.  All she asked in return was the farmer's boy to become her lover forever.

The father had little fear of this ever happening. His son hadn't yet reached his majority and stood only as tall as a shrub.  Though he was already showing a comely face and pleasing mop of yellow hair above his sky blue eyes.

"There is only a single stipulation, Barlow.  No one may enter this garden whilst it is under my magic.  Not a weed may be pulled, not a slug off a bud, all must remain until I deal with it."

Good to her word, the vegetables grew at an alarming rate, with melons and cabbages the size of boulders and carrots as heavy and large as sea trunks.  The pumpkins and turnips crushed the earth in deep depressions under their weight, whilst the air was filled with the heady aroma of onions that shone like moons at midnight.

Barlow was elated.  The witch told him to take the wheelbarrow she had filled with a sampling of the first crop and bring it to the old king as a gift.

"He'll be delighted when you offer much of the same each month until the harvesting ends.  You will then tell him your herbs are drying and will be ready for his kitchens in a fortnight.  He will surely give you the title as Master Gardner after all of this comes to pass."

All went exactly as planned and Barlow now wore the king's medal, with the plow and shovel cast in gold, from his creased neck.

This went on for a few seasons and like the magic garden, Barlow's young son was growing fit and strong.  When he reached his sixteenth year, the witch paid a visit to the much enhanced croft.  

She glided like a moon shadow over several new acres, recently bestowed by the king on his Master Gardner.  She gracefully skirted the pools of sweet water, dug to wet the fertile earth in the now sprawling garden.

The small hut was long gone, replaced with a sturdy log and stone manse suitable for the king's special servant.  After all, the Master Gardener helped to feed all of the castle proper and much of the small army protecting it.

The witch was now standing just inside the garden's strong iron gate when she called.

"Young Barlow, come to the garden and meet your lover."

Inside the house, the young man halted as he was lifting a mug of ale to his full lips. His friends had gathered for his birthing day celebration of his sixteenth year.  They looked at him as he set down his tanker of drink, walking out the front door without a word.

He arrived at the massive garden, with its out sized fruits and vegetables rising out of the earth, leafy vines curling and jutting from their stems, and thick stalks like creatures from the dark. 

The witch was standing near the middle of the unnatural scene and the young man watched as she began to remove her black cloak, letting it cover a nearby head of cabbage.  She called over to the young man.  

"I have brought you a gift as you cross into manhood, young Barlow.  Won't you join me here so I may give it to you?"

Her long, graceful fingers held out a chain of heavy gold woven into an intricate ivy pattern.  It gleamed like no other gold the young man had ever beheld and he moved like a man mesmerized when he opened the gate and entered.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and because she only came to the gardens in darkness, he'd never set eyes on her lush form, or marveled at the way her hair glowed blueish-black under the setting sun.  His eyes drifted down her body to the swell of her breasts, the outline of her firm thighs under her silk gown and back again, to her green cat eyes.

The witch raised her arm, placing the chain over the young Barlow's tawny head.  He felt a jolt hit his body like a lightning strike.  He looked down to see if the earth was scorched around his feet, only to discover those two appendages had pushed out of the soft leather of his boots and now were four sizes larger.

Startled and speechless, he launched into a quick survey of his other body parts, finding them equally enormous in size.  His chest was broad as an oxen's, while the muscles in his huge arms bulged and rippled like boulders under water.

He gingerly reach a hand with the span of an unstrung bow, and touched his mop of flaxen hair. Rather than encountering the silky locks of a young boy only crossing into manhood, he found the coarse, thick hair of a billy goat. 

His fear had completely paralyzed him when the witch took hold of one of his tree-hard upper arms.

"It is time for you to take the crown from the old king's balding pate and begin your own line of Royals.  With me as your wife, there will be many of your name to wear the crown.  Now, you will walk over the hill-lands to the castle doors.  There, you will destroy the Keep, stone by stone and crush the walls to dust, until the old king fleas his throne and these lands."

"But what of the poor folk within?" he moaned with  remorse already seeping into his heart.

"They will either serve, or perish under the soles of your shoes. You are the only voice of law they shall hear  All else shall be called false to beguile their minds.  

I shall ride upon your strong shoulder like a bird of prey to see this unfold."

Without another word, the beautiful witch sprang from the ground onto that muscular slope.  As soon as her skin touched the flesh of the young man's arm, she let out a screech that set his hairs on end.

The elder Barlow came running out of his manse at the eerie sound.  He came to a sudden halt upon seeing this giant of a son, standing amid the corn and cauliflower heads, with the witch perched upon his shoulder like a black pox boil.  

Together, the young man and the witch smashed through the iron gate on their way to found the long line of kings named Barlow.  She was calling out strange words and flocks of crows began to descend, along with a black cloud of flying insects. These blights swept in and began to devour every living plant and vegetable.  All they left untouched and standing was the farmer, his medal of office as Royal Gardner to the king, muted in its glow by the incoming shadows.