THE MAID THE KING WANTED
EPISODE 4
Written by: © Gambo Elvis
But his father refused to tell him the truth.
“There are so many statues in the museum,” the king said calmly, “but which one are you talking about?”
“Shiyla’s statue,” the prince replied. “The one made of clay, the one that looks exactly like her, as if she only just turned into a statue.”
“I have never seen it,” the king said without blinking. “Just like I do not personally approve all the statues in the museum. There are people whose duty is to gather fine artworks and place them there. When buyers come and admire them, we reward those people.”
The prince stared at his father, unconvinced, but he said nothing more.
However, there was one person who knew the truth. Her name was Wantoh.
She saw everything. She saw the moment I was transformed into a pillar of clay. She stood there in silence, watching, and that was the day she truly understood how far the king could go to protect his throne and his pride. If he could secretly get rid of his own wife, then what chance did she have—just a common palace maiden?
Wantoh kept quiet. Not only because she was afraid, but also because she loved the prince. Deep down, she was glad I was out of the way.
From that day, she began to do everything possible to please the prince and win his heart.
Every evening, she would knock gently on the prince’s door. When he opened, she would smile and ask politely,
“Do you need any help, my prince?”
“No,” he would reply, “and besides, you are not a maid in the palace. You are a palace maiden.”
“It would be my pride to serve you, my prince,” she would say softly. “Ever since Shiyla went missing, you need someone to replace her. I would gladly be that person.”
But the prince, standing right in front of her, could not see her the way she wanted to be seen.
“Alright,” he said one evening, “but you know you are not a maid.”
“I know,” Wantoh replied, lowering her eyes. “But who would not long to be close to someone as kind as you? I just want to serve you.”
“I have heard you,” the prince said. “But I still hope that one day, very soon, I will see her coming from the horizon, walking back into this palace.”
“I don’t think she will ever come back, my prince,” Wantoh said quietly.
“Why?” he asked sharply.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “But if she were still alive, she would have been seen by now. There are no signs of her anywhere.”
The prince walked slowly toward the statue in his chamber and pointed at it.
“You see this statue?” he said. “I feel attached to it. Sometimes when I enter my room and suddenly see it, it feels like her. I feel as if a part of her is still with me. But it hurts because it does not move or speak. It is just clay. Whoever finds the artist who made this statue will win my heart.”
Wantoh’s heart burned with jealousy, but she could not tell him the truth—that it was me, transformed into clay by the king’s secret wizard.
The statue made her furious.
One day, when the prince left his room open for a maid to tidy it, Wantoh sent the maid away and decided to clean the room herself. When she was alone, she stood in front of me—the clay statue.
“Just because of you,” she whispered angrily, “the prince cannot love me. If he continues to see you as her, I will either destroy you or steal you and sell you to merchants from the west.”
Even as a statue of clay, the prince still loved me. He spoke to me often, pouring out his heart. My soul was always there, listening. Sometimes, he would gently touch my forehead or place a light kiss there, as if hoping I could feel it.
It was cruel of the king to have done this to me. He never knew that his son brought me to the palace because he loved me deeply. He never knew that by trying to protect his throne, he was destroying his own son’s happiness.
A few nights later, Wantoh decided to try her luck again.
She dressed attractively and knocked on the prince’s door.
“Is there a problem?” he asked as he opened it.
“I came to see you,” she said. “May I come in?”
“No problem,” the prince replied.
She walked in and went straight to sit on his bed. The prince frowned slightly and said,
“Why not sit on the chair?”
“The bed is softer,” she replied with a smile.
“Alright,” the prince said, still not suspecting her intentions. “What brings you to my chamber this evening?”
“I came because of you,” she said.
“I am here,” he replied. “What is the problem?”
“Yes,” Wantoh said boldly, “you are the problem, my prince.”
“How?” he asked, surprised.
“You cannot be so attached to a common statue,” she said. “It is just a figurine that looks like her. It is not her.”
She stood up slowly, stepping closer to him.
“She is only clay.”
TBC…
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