Once upon a time, there was a princess. She was young, kind of pretty, and something of an Amazon. She loved music, all types of music, and spent hours upon hours delighting in the sounds of the minstrels who traveled through her kingdom.
One day, as she traveled through the streets of her city, disguised as a common, busty serving wench, she happened upon a post nailed to the door of the local tavern:
One Night Only
The Singing Heds
Tonight!
The princess was intrigued. The Singing Heds, she thought to herself. I've never heard of these musicians. She was especially entranced by the drawing of a man, his mouth open in song and his brow furrowed in deep emotion. He looked almost angry, but there was something magnetic about his eyes. And his close-cropped hair, almost like it was shaved, made the butterflies in her stomach do a little dance. Carefully peeking around to be sure she was unnoticed, the princess carefully tore the poster from the tavern door and darted back to the castle.
Princess called her handmaids to her quarters. "Draw me a bath! I need to be fresh and beautiful!"
The servants went straight to work, preparing a hot, fragrant bath for the princess and helping her wash her flowing, strawberry blonde locks. The princess chose her favorite gown of shimmering purple and wove matching silk ribbons through her hair. She donned her very favorite pair of black velvet calf boots with fancy buttons, and she left the castle for the tavern.
The drinking establishment was crowded already, filled with boisterous rebel rousers who were already filled to their brims with mead and ale. The tavern was dark and warm, and it took a moment for Princess's deep green eyes to adjust to the dim of the torch-lit room. But there!, just walking onto the stage, was the band of traveling minstrels, the Singing Heds.
The princess slid into a shadow along the back wall of the room, trying her best to remain unnoticed. She darted her eyes to and fro, trying to determine which of the handsome, young minstrels was the man from the post she'd secreted from the tavern door that very afternoon. She had, in fact, rolled the parchment into a small tube and tucked it away into her skirts. She hoped the young man would be educated enough to write his own name, to scribe his signature on the drawing, as a memento of the evening.
First to the stage came a cute man--Why he's barely a boy! They all are!--with a tambor affixed to his hip. Next were two more comely men, each with well-trimmed beards and dark locks. It was hard at first to distinguish between them, except that one situated himself on a low stool with a gamba between his legs, while the other sat nearby with his lute poised on his lap.
And then, there he was! The handsome young man from the post! His freshly-shaven head gleamed in the torchlight. The princess giggled to herself as she noticed the dark unibrow above his brooding eyes. She knew from her studies that such a trait was a sure sign of virility in the eastern areas of the Continent. Perhaps this man could make a great mate for even a princess!
"Hullo," the young man said, addressing the crowd. "Thank you for welcoming us to your great city! Here's a little ditty we wrote just for you!"
The Singing Heds played their beautiful music, and the Princess was swept away by the dulcet tones. All four men were obviously gifted musicians, but she couldn't tear her eyes and ears away from the singer. He was handsome and magnetic. His voice rose to the rafters of the tiny tavern and took her heart with it. She was in love.
They played to the applause--claps and whistles of appreciation were intermingled with the tinkling of small coins tossed to the foot of the stage. After the music was quieted, some of the patrons left for their own homes, humming and singing with each other as they traveled the cobblestone streets in the dark. Others stayed in hopes of meeting and talking with the minstrels. Some admirers bought tankards of ale for the musicians, and a tawdry female would occasionally lift her skirts a little too high, trying to garner their attention.
The Princess watched all of this unfold, from her shadowy perch near the end of the bar. She watched as the young singer laughed and chatted with the men while his mates packed up their instruments. The singer smiled pleasantly at the forward young women but gave them very little notice. Finally, Princess stepped out of the shadow and toward the stage.
The barkeep had not noticed the princess all evening and gasped when he saw her. The straggling drinkers stepped back and bowed as the princess walked toward the minstrels near the stage. The singer looked the princess squarely in the eye and smiled, though certainly he had to have known she was of some import, dressed in such fine garments.
The princess extended her hand to the singer. "Thank you for sharing your music with us this evening. Your tunes were quite fine, and I very much enjoyed watching your performance."
The singer grasped the princess's fingertips and bowed deeply, kissing her hand. "Thank you, milady. I am Edmund. These are my companions, Chadwick, Chadwick, and Patric."
"Two Chadwicks?" Princess laughed. "How confusing that must be! But I am pleased to make your acquaintances. I am Princess. This is my city, though my husband thinks me far too flighty to be out in such a manner, for no other reason than to see and hear the sights of the commoners. Alas, good music is of utmost importance to my soul!"
Edmund laughed. "Indeed, Princess. Tell me more of your husband. The prince, is it?"
The princess and the singer talked for a length of time, discussing music and politics (though the singer seemed to know very little of workings outside his home realm) and religion (of which the singer initially seemed to believe one thing, then another, then another). Princess, however, was so infatuated by Edmund's voice and eyes and perfect smile that she completely ignored the shortcomings of his personality.
She knew the hour was growing ever later, and she had to return to the castle before her husband became ill with worry. She slipped the rolled parchment from her skirts and handed it to the singer.
"Would you be so kind as to sign this for me? As a souvenir of the evening?"
Edmund smiled and nodded, retrieving a quill and inkwell from the barkeep. In huge letters he scrawled his nickname "Ed'D" and drew a stick figure of a little man.
The princess clapped her hands and squealed with delight. "How wonderful! I would also like to have the Chadwicks and Patric sign their own names!"
Edmund's smile froze, but his expression turned suddenly dark. "Oh, Princess, there's no need for that. They're just traveling musicians who contribute very little to the sound of the Singing Heds--well, only what I tell them to contribute anyway."
Princess was puzzled. "But they seem to be such talented instrumentalists!"
Edmund nodded in agreement. "Without a doubt, they are wonderfully adept players. Alas, they are only players. They do not write the music we play. I, Your Highness, compose all of our tunes."
Chadwick, Chadwick, and Patric were standing to the side of the stage, listening intently to the conversation. The princess glanced toward the three young men, and Chadwick the Lute Player took that as a sign to speak his mind.
"That's not entirely true, Princess," he said firmly. "I helped write the third and fifth and eighth songs we played tonight."
"And I helped with the second and seventh," added Patric.
"I also helped with the seventh and the twelfth," interjected Chadwick the Tambor Player.
The princess turned again to Edmund, her expressing pressing him for an explanation.
"Well," he stammered, "I wrote all of the lyrics. They do help write some of the music, sometimes." He lowered his voice dramatically. "But their input is really very limited. That's why I receive added monetary compensation when we perform."
"You are paid more than your colleagues?"
The Chadwicks and Patric nodded in unison, stepping closer to the princess and the singer. "He receives a singer bonus," they said. "Aren't all singers paid a little more?"
The princess cut her eyes toward the three musicians and shook her head. "No," she said, "they aren't." She regarded Edmund thoughtfully for a long moment. Purposefully, she turned her back toward him and walked to join the other musicians. "Gracious Gentlemen," she began, "I believe I would like to hear you play your music, without the assistance of vain Edmund."
The three musicians gasped. "Princess, he's our friend! We could not carry on without him!"
The princess laughed. "No, your friend would never put himself so high above you. He is what I like to call 'a megalomaniacal asshat of a douche bag'."
And so the princess invited Chadwick the Lute Player, Chadwick the Tambor Player, and Patric the Gamba Player to stay at the castle. She gave the autographed parchment to Edmund the Egomaniac and had him escorted from the city immediately, inviting him never to return. Princess knew there would be another singer soon enough, and perhaps additional musicians who would like to collaborate with these talented young men.
Edmund went on to other kingdoms and other cities, singing the songs he'd written with his so-called friends while telling everyone of the joys of being a solo musician. There were fools and village idiots, certainly, who believed his tales of grandeur. But there were also true fans of music who could see through his fucktardness and knew the real reason why his eyes were brown.
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