The Gate Under the Pear Tree

Green is the color of life. Green cloaks the trees with shawls of leaves, and green hues dance in the sunlight when a ray breaks through the canopy of branches.

We say someone is green when they are new at something, but we also say someone is green when they burn with envy. Green can also indicate sickness. But green is also the color long associated with fairies.

Children swear to seeing dancing pixies when they peek between the petals of a soft iris. Old women warn of the fay stalking in the woods, and men are told legends of beautiful women who look to seduce a lover so they can bear a child a gain a soul because fairies have no soul. Fay, fairy, elf, demon— it all meant the same.

If two went to the forest and one saw the green light flash, only one would leave the forest to tell the tale. People went missing if they entered the forest. Children went missing most.

Latham, a young squire, raved of a caravan of beautiful women and shining men dressed in dazzling white and riding brilliant white horses. They galloped through the forest. One of the women met his eye before her horse’s hoof struck a rock and she vanished with her party. Sir Aldrich, an experienced knight, was forced to hold Latham, his apprentice, back so he would not disappear as many had before. Aldrich was determined to inform his king of the incident at dinner. He pleaded his case that the fairies were getting closer and clearly poising to invade.

However, King Orfeo never believed in fairies. He blamed the bandits hiding in the woods for the missing children. He dismissed sightings of the fair folk to the mushrooms. Nothing about superstitions seemed reasonable, but Aldrich was earnest.

“Please, my King, heed my warning. She’d have Latham if I hadn’t held him back,” Aldrich said. His complexion paled to look as ashen as his graying, red beard.

King Orfeo, or Orie as his wife called him, furrowed his brow. He was new to the throne and new to the land. His mother raised him in her home country because he was bastard born, but his father, the previous king, allowed his queen to raise the ‘true’ heir. That decision ultimately caused Prince Elwin to lose the throne as he was raised to believe in the wrong religion, according to the people. Elwin was exiled with his mother after the king’s death, and Orie was sought out. Orie grew up near a port, where merchants taught him a new kind of shrewd politics. The ocean was his landscape, not a forest. He would spend hours every day playing his harp near his open window, smelling the ocean breeze. Now, he was far from home and what he knew.

“Did you see this white siren?” Orie asked, scrutinizing Aldrich’s face for evidence of being compromised. The dining hall was filled with candles that omitted a soft golden glow that illuminated the deep shades of mahogany in the wooden table and gold-threaded tapestries hanging on the stone walls.

“I thought I saw a flash of white.” Aldrich kept his eyes down.

Orie squinted at the aging knight. Orie was young, barely over twenty-two, and still had his eyesight. The man looked completely sober; he just looked afraid. This secretly unnerved the king.

“Perhaps you saw the setting sun’s last rays catch a drop of dew.”

Then, the sound of armor clinking distracted Orie. The knights outside the dining hall straightened to attention to salute the queen, Queen Heurodis. She was every bit as lovely as Orie’s boyish fantasies. Her hair was long, dark, and braided with strings of pearls and rubies. Her skin was clear, and her large gray eyes made him forget his title. Today, she wore red silks. “Husband,” she said taking her seat.

Orie was silent and only stared.

Heurodis smiled coyly and waited for her dinner of pheasant and bread to be served. She then graced Aldrich with her gaze. “Did I hear something about fairies?”

That snapped Orie back to attention. “His squire went mad this afternoon.” He desperately wanted his queen’s attention. He rarely got it. They had only been wed for a fortnight.

“Were you there, Orie?” Heurodis asked. Her voice was smooth.

“No,” Orie said.

With that response, Heurodis swiveled her neck to stare down Aldrich. “Tell me everything.”

Aldrich swallowed, eyeing King Orfeo. Though Orie was thin and looked young with his blonde curls and bulbous blue eyes, he was still king. And a king could feel jealousy. Aldrich patted at the sweat beading near his temples with the napkin. “I shan’t disappoint you, my lady.” He eyed Orie one last time before explaining how Latham seemed violently struck by Cupid’s arrow and desperate to run into the thickest part of the forest, near the stone the village folks say is cursed. “I heard a rustling, a howl in the wind— and in the corner of mine eye, I thought I saw a flash of light. Latham says the wind was from all the horses. And a lady was beckoning him over.”

Heurodis set her chalice down with a thud. “Bring in Latham.”

Aldrich nervously stroked his beard and cut his eyes over to Orie for permission. “May I?” he asked.

Before the king could say a word, Heurodis raised her voice, “Time is of the upmost importance. I said, bring in Latham.” Her voice echoed through the hall. She could speak loudly and calmly at the same time.

One of the guards rushed away on her command. Heurodis then stared down her husband. “You didn’t grow up here. Our people are in danger.”

Orie nodded. She was beautiful but slightly mad. He could appreciate that, and he didn’t want to make her angry. He endured the young squire’s tale and babbling of white horses and the cursed stone.

That night, he laid in his bed alone, wishing his queen would visit him. Then, like in his dreams, her shadow stretched into the room. She stood in the doorway, still in her red silk gown, but her hair was loose. Orie imagined what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair. It looked soft and clean. She would’ve been a vision if she wasn’t scowling.

“Come in, Love!” Orie said quickly. He sat up and tried to smooth his curls.

Heurodis didn’t budge. “The fairies took my sister years ago. They’re greedy, ever lusting for more power. They say they make servants of people like us.”

Orie nodded, trying to keep his attention on her words and not how nicely the silks flowed over her shape.

“I’ll prove it,” Heurodis said. “They favor pear trees, particularly grafted ones. We have such a tree in the courtyard. I believe our gardener is a changeling. He planted it on purpose to further the fay kingdom.”

“I’ll cut it down! I’ll have it chopped and burned immediately.”

“No,” Heurodis said. “Leave it. I will prove the fairies are real, and I will be the savior for our people.”

Orie wrinkled his nose but tried to look respectful again, regretting his expression. “What do you intend to do?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll be sleeping under it at noon.”

The thought of his queen laying on the ground like a peasant irked the king. “Then we shall bring out pillows and blankets.” Suddenly, his eyes brightened. “And I will play my harp for you! You can bask in my music and sleep peacefully.”

Queen Heurodis waved her hand to dismiss him. “No. You will do no such thing. It will only be I and my two ladies. You wait and watch from your room.”

Orie eyed his prized harp in the corner. “Do you insist?”

“I do,” Heurodis said.

Sure enough, the queen was out in the garden and sleeping by noon. Orie lurked in his castle, watching from his window. The two ladies-in-waiting sat still as statues. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The church bells were ringing as the sun reached its zenith. Then, the queen’s peaceful expression twisted into terror. She writhed on the ground. The ladies stared at each other in panic. One reached towards the queen, but the other slapped her hand down. Heurodis’s body jerked violently to the left before her eyes finally opened. She started screaming. Her screams were long, piercing— desperate as a child without hope. Queen Heurodis never made such cries. She never lost control. Orie nearly leapt from the window in his frenzy to be at her side. Aldrich dragged him back. “The door, my King,” he said.

Orie made no reply. He rushed at the door, hardly aware of his feet. Only his queen’s screams and the rapid beating of his heart could register his frantic mind.

The ladies were pawing at the queen, talking to her in hushed tones. She trembled all over. All composure was gone. Her wild eyes settled on Orie, who dropped to his knees beside her. She reached forward to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him to her face. Her eyes were wild as they bounced to every direction before settling on Orie’s for a moment.

“He asked for me,” she said between ragged breaths.

Orie stared at the horror in Heurodis’s eyes. His own blood went cold. “Who?” He watched his queen. He saw no man.

“Their king,” Heurodis said. Tears glistened down her cheeks. “I saw him— he came into my dream!”

“Darling,” Orie said softly.

“I’ll go though,” she said. Her body shook more. “I’ll be at the pear tree tomorrow as promised. I’ll do it for our kingdom, for her— my sister.”

“Every knight will be present!” Orie said. He felt fear take hold in his chest. “It’ll be fine. You don’t need to fear.” He was afraid of her mind.

“I’ll be no use,” Heurodis said. She swallowed. “But I’ll go.”