The Mare or The Manticore
The Mare or The Manticore
A long time ago, there lived a semi-barbaric pegasus king, whose ideas, though somewhat influenced by the growing unicorn culture, were still brutal and unforgiving, because of the side of him that was barbaric. He was a pony of extravagance and so much authority that, whenever he wanted, he could turn any idea of his into a law. He never consulted with others and, when he make up his mind on anything, that thing was done. When everything went his way, he was calm and kind; but, whenever there was a little problem, and something didn't go his way, he was still joyful, but for a different reason. Nothing pleased the pegasus King more than to hand out punishments to others.
Among the things that made the King only half barbaric was that of the public arena, where, by showings of courage, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.
But even in the arena, the barbaric side of the King showed itself. The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity to see the pegasi races or two pony gladiators fighting to the death, but for reasons much better at entertaining people. This vast amphitheater, with its thousands of seats, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was a court room of sorts, in which crime was punished, or innocence rewarded, by an incorruptible 50-50 chance.
When anypony was accused of a crime of enough importance to make the king take notice, everypony else was told that on a given day the fate of the accused pony would be decided in the king's arena, a place which well deserved its name, for, despite the fact its architecture and layout were borrowed from the unicorns, its purpose came solely from the brain of the pegasus King, who, being the half barbaric king he was, could not think of anything that tickled his fancy more, and let him indulge his barbaric side.
When all the ponies in the king's kingdom had assembled in the arena's seats, and the king, surrounded by his gaurds, sat high up on his throne on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused pony stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite him, on the other side of the enclosed space, were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and the privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased; he was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the previously mentioned impartial and incorruptible 50-50 chance. If he opened one of the doors, out of it came a hungry manticore, the fiercest and most violent that could be procured, which immediately jumped upon him and tore him to pieces as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the manticore attacked the pony being accused, dull iron bells were clanged; great, loud wails went up from the hired mourners set up on the outer rim of the arena and the vast audience, with bowed heads and depressed hearts, slowly made their way homeward, mourning greatly that anypony young and full of life, or so old and respected, should have died in such a violent, grusome and painful way.
On the other hoof, if the accused pony opened the other door, out of the said door came a mare, the most suitable to the stallion's age and social status that his majesty could select among his fair subjects, and to this mare he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It didn't matter at all that the accused pony might already have a loving wife and family, or that he might have his eye on another mare of his own choosing; the king allowed no such less important arrangement to interfere with his master plan of retribution and reward. The wedding ceremony, as in the other case with the manticore, took place immediately, and in the arena. The door opened beneath the king opened again, and a priest, followed by a choir of the most talented ponies in the land and dancing mares blowing joyous tunes on golden horns, advanced to where the pair stood, side by side, and the wedding was promptly and cheerily carried out. Then the happy sounding brass bells rang, the ponies in the seats all around the arena shouted cheers, and the innocent man, preceded by fillys strewing flowers on his path, led his bride to his home.
This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect seemed obvious to anypony who attended the judgements. The accused could not know out of which door would come the mare; he opened either he pleased, without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be eaten or married. On some occasions the manticore came out of the door on the left, and on some out of the door on the right. The decisions of this "trial" were not only fair, they were positively absolute: the accused pony was instantly punished if he found himself guilty, and, if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena.
The display was a very popular one with the pegasus king's subjects. When the ponies gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a happy wedding. This element of uncertainty is what brought interest to the occasion which it could not have gotten any other way. So, the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan, for did not the accused pony have the whole matter in his own hands?
Now, this semi-barbaric king had a daughter as beautiful as anypony's wildest fancies, and with a soul as stedfast and semi-barbaric as the king's. As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by him above all his subjects and material possessions. Among the princess' courtiers was a young earth pony of hard working of blood and lowness of status common to the conventional heroes of romance who love princesses in fairy tales. This royal maiden was very happy with her earth pony lover, for he was handsome and maybe the bravest in all the kingdom, and she loved him so much, that the love had enough of barbaric side in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong. This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate or waver in his belief that the earth pony should be punished for daring to court the princess. The young pony was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and the pegasus king, as well as all the ponies, were greatly interested in the workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared to love the daughter of the king. In after years such things became commonplace enough, but then they were extremely rare and startling.
The manticores of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selected for the arena; and the ranks of the most beautiful mares throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges in order that the young man might have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, or any one else, thought of denying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the trial, in which he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess.
The appointed day arrived. From far and near the ponies gathered, and took their seats in the great galleries of the arena, and crowds, unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. The king and his guards were in their places, opposite the twin doors, those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity. With the king, this time, sat the princess also.
Everything was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, handsome, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand a pony had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be there!
As the young earth pony advanced into the arena he turned, as the custom was, to bow to the king, but he did not think at all of paying his respects to the king. His eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of her father. Had it not been for the bit of barbarism in her nature it is most likely that the princess would not have been there, but her intense and malicous soul would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the moment that the decree had been issued that her lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various ponies connected with it. Having of more power, influence, and sheer force of will than any pony who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other pony had done - she had figured out the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the manticore, with its jaws open ready to attack, and in which waited the mare. Through these thick doors, heavily covered with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the pony who should approach to raise the latch of one of them. But gold, and the power of a mare's will, had brought the secret to the princess.
And not only did she know in which room stood the mare ready to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she knew who the mare was. It was one of the loveliest and most beautiful of the fillies of the court who had been selected as the reward of the accused earth pony, should he be proved innocent of the crime of loving somepony so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had the princess seen, or thought that she had seen, this fair creature throwing glances of admiration upon her lover, and sometimes she thought these glances were received, and even returned. Now and then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could she know that? The filly was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.
When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxious faces around the arena, he saw, by that power of quick understanding which is given to those whose are truly in love, that she knew behind which door crouched the manticore, and behind which stood the mare. He had expected her to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assured that she would never rest until she had made plain to herself what door concealed what, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The only hope for the young earth pony in which there was any element of certainty was based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery; and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in his soul he knew she would succeed.
Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question: "Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash; it must be answered in another.
Her right arm lay on the cushioned arm of her chair. She raised her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena.
He turned, and with a firm and rapid trot he galloped across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed immovably upon that stallion. Without the slightest hesitation, he went to the door on the right, and opened it.
Now, the point of the story is this: Did the manticore come out of that door, or did the mare?
The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should have him?
How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she stared in wild horror, and covered her face with her hands as she thought of her lover opening the door which held back the cruel fangs of the manticore!
But how much had she envisioned him at the other door! How in her jealous anger had she gritted her teeth, and tore her hair, when she imagined the earth pony's look of delight as he opened the door of the mare! How her soul had burned in agony when she had imagined him rushing to meet that mare, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when the princess thought about her lover leading the other mare home, his whole body filled with the joy of recovered life; when the pegasus king's daughter had thought she heard the glad shouts from the crowd, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when she imagined the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the couple, and make them bound in matrimony before her very eyes; and when she had imagined them walking away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the cheering crowd, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned!
Would it not be better for the princess' lover to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed afterlife?
And yet, that awful manticore, the shrieks of pain, that blood!
Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of serious thought. The princess had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right.
The question is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you readers out there: Which came out of the opened door - the mare, or the manticore?