Tears of Adamas: A New Old-Fashion Fairy Tale Short Story

Tears of Adamas

By Su Williams

              Diamonds are the most celebrated, most coveted gem in history. It was once believed that gemstones were caused by fermentation in the stars. In ancient Greek, the word for diamond is adamas, (pronounced ad-am-us), which means unbreakable or unalterable. Tears of Adamas is the story of a treasure found in the tears of a beautiful girl.

              Once upon a time in the land of Kalos Province, lived a kind and generous king. This king had but one son, whose heart could not have been more different from his father’s…

              Jagged branches and vines of thorns raked his face as he plunged through the outer forest in search of the doe that fell prey to his arrow. Crashing through slashing vines, the king’s only son, Poneros, discovered a lovely maiden, battered and bruised, seated amongst a mound of glittering diamonds. His eyes widened to take in the splendor of the gems.

             
“How is it that a peasant such as yourself has come to this fortune?” he sneered at her. But she only gazed back up at him, broken and forlorn. His hands groped her arms and shook her like one of his broken toys. “I asked you a question, wench! Answer me not and I shall run you through.”

             
The lovely face beamed up into his, her crystalline gaze, tears refracting in her clear blue eyes. “I have run away from my master. His cane grew too heavy for my back,” she confessed.

             
“And the diamonds?”  Poneros growled.

             
The maid only shrugged and held her tongue, for she was bound by an oath to her murdered father to never reveal the treasure’s source.

             
“In the name of the King I claim this fortune,” said the prince and not knowing they were her tears, he gathered them up and filled his pockets to bulging. “For the King,” he proclaimed with a pat to the pocket on his left. “And for myself,” he murmured to himself as his fingers caressed the pocket on his right.              

             
“And what of me, Your Highness?” the girl sighed when he turned away.

             
Scanning her angelic face and the maidenly curves of her body, the prince glared down at her with deliberation. She may yet reveal the source of this wealth, he thought to himself. His countenance softened in feigned sincerity and he cooed, “Of course, my dear. You must accompany me to my home.” He extended a hard, rough hand to her. She cringed as her fingers skimmed his and she divined the same hardness in his heart.

*          *          *

              “Your majesty,” the girl curtsied before the king at that evening’s sup. The prince had charged the scullery maid with the task of giving the child a hot bath and a change of clothes, a coarse cotton dress borrowed from the laundress’ daughter.

             
“Well, well, well! What is this urchin you’ve brought into our walls, my son?” the King asked with a smile as bright and warm as the sun.

             
The prince waved his hand dismissively at the girl. “She is of little consequence, Father. But, she dowsed a treasure for your coffers.” With that, Poneros withdrew a bulging leather purse from within the folds of his cloak, and dumped the gems into a gleaming pile on the King’s plate.

             
“How came you to this treasure?” the King implored her. But again, her tongue remained still, bound by her promise. The King’s brow crunched in consternation. “Are you a thief, then, child?” he asked her.

             
“No, Your Majesty. The gems are my own,” she replied, soft and quiet as a breeze.

             
The King gazed upon her beauty. The girl was fair, more beautiful than freshest Spring dawn. Her eyes sparked with fire as sunrays upon dew drops. Her heart as pure as a Christmas snow. “What is your name, child?” Having sired only a son, and the Queen and his only daughter lost in childbirth, the good king’s heart softened to her loveliness.

             
“My master called me but one name—Girl!”

             
“Come,” beckoned the King with entreating hands. “Come stand before me.”

             
The maiden glided on silent feet to stand before the King. With bowed head she said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

             
He turned her this way and that, perused her face, caressed the hardness of her work-calloused hands. “Now, there’ll be none of that. You will call me Father.”

             
Again, she curtsied and bowed her head. “Yes, Your…Father.” But behind her, Poneros fumed.

             
“What!? What is this? You would adopt a waif—a runaway waif, as your own? Father, are you mad, that I might call this—peasant, my sister?”

             
But the charms of the girl had snagged the old man’s heart and he waved away the prince’s protestations. “Sister? Hardly,” he said. “The child must have a name.” The King scratched the beard on his chin and searched the girl’s face for a name. “Tell me, Poneros, what was the first thing you saw when you beheld this girl?”

             
Diamonds, thought Poneros. He snorted. “I don’t recall, Father.”

             
“And the source of this treasure remains a secret,” the King ruminated out loud. “I see the facets and fire of diamonds in your eyes,” he spoke as though only he and the girl were present. “You will be called Adamas.”

             
The brilliance in her eyes already blazed, but at the King’s words, her entire countenance lit with resplendence, refracting the joy within her. “Yes, Your…Father,” she stammered again, and curtsied on wobbling knees.

             
But if the King and the girl’s hearts swelled with joy, then the Prince’s heart hardened to graphite doublefold.

*          *         *

              With the same measure the King poured his doting affections upon Adamas, Poneros rained down the same measure of wrath. In her new father’s presence, she was all smiles and giddiness. Yet she cowered under the son’s glare. Each night in her luxurious bed chamber, she withdrew a crystal phial from the folds of her skirts, pressed it to her eye and deposited her tears for safe keeping. Each time the phial filled, she stood upon the highest balcony of the highest parapet, and flung the tiny jewels into the wind. She watched as the sparkling stones scattered far and wide, and plummeted into the chasm on the north ramparts of the castle.

             
One brisk, blustery evening as autumn spilled into winter, and Adamas gathered her grief in the crystalline phial. Stepping out onto the balcony of her bedchamber, she spilled the collection of tears into her palm. But Poneros kept watch from the shadows. He beheld her empty the phial into her hand, watched as she stirred up the tiny sparkles of light. But darkness only stirred inside his heart. He’d heard of women, and even some men, among the commoners that collected their tears in a bottle during their time of mourning over the loss of a child or lover. Once the bottle was full, their mourning came to an end. And the King’s son realized that, through some form of witchcraft or wizardry, the girl’s tears transformed into diamonds. Greed seized his heart. He pledged to himself, one way or another, he’d have the girl as his own.

*          *          *

              Poneros feigned a softened heart, and wooed and courted Adamas. The prince transformed into the most charming and chivalrous suitor in the land. At first, she feared his former rage, but over weeks and months he slowly won her affections. And the need to empty her phial grew farther and farther apart, until she almost forgot what it was to cry.

             
On the night Adamas and Poneros became engaged, she cried tears of joy, pink-tinged jewels she secreted away in the cuff of her gown. But her joy was short-lived, for when they went to the King to seek his blessing, his response was unforeseen.

             
“Father,” Poneros said with a beguiling smile. “I wish to make Adamas my wife, and we wish your blessing.”

             
The King roared with mirth. “What, Poneros? You would marry your sister? No. No. It is unseemly.”

             
“But Father,” Poneros objected. “She is not kin through blood. Surely you remember this.”

             
“No. No. What would the commoners think if I allowed siblings to wed?” And the King waved them away with a jovial chuckle—a secret jest for his heart only.

             
Adamas fled to her bedchamber and flung herself upon her downy quilt. Poneros climbed to the highest balustrade and peered down into the inky chasm at the reflections of light that bounded from Adamas discarded tears.

             
“I will have her as my own, old man. With or without your blessing,” he swore to the night.

             
Poneros planned and schemed, searched out a way to convince the old King and make the girl his own. But with every petition, he was waved away like a troublesome fly. The seed of his greed grew and abounded, a twining canker that weaved its way into the deepest, darkest part of his soul. His greed festered until not only did he crave the wealth of Adamas’ tears, but he craved the throne as well.

             
One evening, a fortnight after the King’s refusal to grant his blessing on their union, Adamas placed a cup of wine at the King’s right hand. Only scarce moments after the dark, rich juice passed his lips, the King’s eyes grew wide, and his breaths choked to a silence. The prince and Adamas rushed to his side, but it was already too late. The poison in the cup had hit its mark. The King was dead.

             
“Poisoned!” shouted Poneros. “The King has been poisoned.” He lifted his father’s cup to his nose and sniffed. “The poison is in his goblet. Who brought him his cup?”

             
Adamas’ face blanched white and her delicate hands trembled.

             
“She…” whimpered the scullery maid. “She, adopted daughter to the King, killed him.”

             
“No. No. I didn’t, Poneros. I swear to you upon my life. I loved him. I could not do this thing.”

             
“Who gave you the cup?” demanded the prince.

             
“It was the King’s steward, beloved. He gave the drink and bade I give it only to the King,” the maiden explained in a tremulous voice.

             
Guards brought their swords to bear on the trembling steward. “No! I did nothing. I filled the Kings cup as always, Sire. I put nothing in his drink.”

             
“Guards!” commanded Poneros. “Take this man to the guillotine. He shall pay for the King’s life with his own.” The guards scrambled to obey their new King. “And this one,” he continued with a wave at Adamas, “take her to the dungeons for her hand in the demise of our beloved Father and King.”

             
Amidst screams and protestations, Adamas and the steward were dragged from the dining hall. “So mote it be,” mumbled the new King with secreted smile.

*          *          *

              Despite the gloom in the maiden’s cell, what small light from her single sallow candle cambered from her tears that mounted each day. And each day, King Poneros came to her, gathered the gems, and went away. The clang of her iron cage echoed deep inside her heart. No matter how she pleaded with Poneros, his ears remained deaf to her cries, his only thoughts for the fruit of her heartache.

             
The snow moon had come and gone, along with two others, and was phasing into the planting moon. Long ago, Adamas’ tears had dried up. Her heart was dry and withered and she hadn’t shed a single tear in many weeks. Her arid heart enraged King Poneros, for besides his incessant greed, he believed if he bound the diamonds about his arm they would ward off evil, and they would give him victory over any enemy for all his days of his life.

             
As the King prospered from Adamas’ grief, the people grew angrier. The King kept the best portions of meat for himself and squandered much. His dogs became more well-fed than the common folk of his domain. The people began revolting, and prayed for the return of their ‘good’ king. Poneros heaped greater and greater torments upon the maiden like coals on the fire. Guards were commanded to place a crown of thorns upon her head, and for 33 longsuffering days, she shed but a single, solitary tear of grief. Poneros held the jewel up to the light of his lanthorn, only to find it mottled with the inclusions of a darkening heart. But the prince didn’t understand the pollution of his cruelty, that only kindness and love would yield the brilliance he yearned for. In a fit of rage, he took away her only light, the single sallow candle, and pitched her into darkness. For 25 days, she was fed only water and stale bread, and her only light each day was the lanthorn held by the guard as he brought her some swill and searched the cell for diamonds for his sovereign.

             
Finally, when the harvest moon was waning, guards dragged her, filthy and broken, to the confinement of her bedchamber. After a hot bath, and an oil rub, Adamas donned the gown of the laundress’ daughter and sat in waiting for her betrothed.