The Story of Clever Edward

Once, long ago, there were two neighbours with a high green hedge between their lands. It came to pass one day that one neighbour stole the other man's lamb and the thief, with his small family, quickly devoured all sign of it. When the honest owner of the lamb discovered the theft, he was as outraged as he was impotent for he was an old man and the thief was young and healthy. This unfortunate lamb's owner however had a young and healthy son who was named Edward. He was named Edward on a whim of his mother's that would be regretted until near the very end of her days, but that is another story.

"Son," said the father, "I am old and able to get neither justice nor revenge so I will turn to you. Will you do your duty?"

Now, Edward was not a strong man and so he feared to fight with the thief. He had never before even climbed the high green hedge that separated them. "But father," said Edward, "I have never even climbed the high green hedge."

The Old Man loved Edward as a good many fathers seem to but he despaired for his son's courage.

"I am too weak to climb it but you can stand on my broken back."

Of course, the young man immediately seized upon all possible failings of this plan but he did not say as he wished to; 'But how could I get back across the high green hedge afterwards?' and this made him think even more about the afterwards even though the afterwards had already been greatly upon his mind. Instead, Edward tried another argument, saying "Our neighbour would kill me and then you'd have no lamb and no son and no justice."

"Maybe that would be justice," moaned the old man. He began to suspect that he had already lost his son.

Edward looked down at his thin, unworked hands. He too was wondering if he was already lost and now the afterwards seemed less alarming than the present. Cleverly, perhaps, for Edward imagined himself to be a clever young man, he imagined a new plan.

"Father," said the son, "You are old and you do things in the old ways. Let me go to the King. I will tell him how the neighbour has stolen our lamb and he will give us justice."

The Old Man shook his head with aged sagacity. "You are just looking for another way to get out of doing your duty."

"No! It is a long way to The Castle and it will require much toil and courage." When his father continued to appear suspicious, he offered to his father that "There may be murderous bandits. This is the new way," continued the son. "It sometimes takes more courage to have faith in the rule of law than it does to fight for justice."

"No it doesn't."

Edward rubbed the far end of his nose.

"Go," said his father then. "But if you do not bring justice home with you, I shall stand upon your mother's broken back and climb the high green hedge."

Edward slept through the night with a smile, for he dreamed of journeys to kings and castles, and of getting golden medals for being so clever.

After being awoken the next morning, Edward ate a hearty good breakfast. He knew that he had a long hike ahead of him. With forethought, he put a nice juicy apple into each of his two trouser pockets. One would be for the journey there and the other for the return. Edward then embraced his mother and set off on the long dirt road. The Old Man turned back to his work.

Throughout the long morning, as Edward walked the length of the road, he would find himself trying to stuff his hands into his pockets and they would bump into those apples. This would immediately put the idea of apples and food into the forefront of his mind. So Edward spent a good portion of his time finding different places to put his hands. For awhile, they might be behind his back but then later atop his head. He tried to walk with arms crossed over his chest but that seemed to take too much work and he thought he would fall over. Even swinging them at his sides felt awkward. If he was going to stop thinking about the apples, he would need to find a walking stick. But as yet, he had no stick.

If he ate both of his apples today he would most certainly be hungry tomorrow. But he was hungry, a little bit hungry, now. Why else, thought Clever Edward, was he thinking about eating an apple if he was not hungry? This was a tricky problem, he thought, but Edward then had another good idea.

"An apple that is eaten keeps the hunger away. An apple in the pocket does nothing. It makes no sense to me, " thought he, " to be hungry now when I have apples to eat. To keep apples in my pocket for fear that I will be hungry tomorrow when I am hungry today seems foolish. Besides, who knows what may befall me before I return home. Wolves might attack or I may find an orchard field filled end to end with fallen apples. Besides, if I stand before the King with apples in my pocket, he will surely think me well enough off and give my father less justice."

Round about noon, Edward spied a grove of trees not far from the road. It was a small wood with some nice thick tree trunks that supported a lush canopy of green. Edward resolved to hesitate at this place and find a stick and have his lunch. The rest would do him good. If Edward had been as clever as he thought he was, he might have considered how this was exactly the type of wooded area where wolves and bandits and worse make their lairs. But as the young man settled his back up against the trunk of a great Oak tree, resolving to look for a stick after he had rested (there would be plenty of time later), and just as he nearly finished the first of his apples, Edward decided that he deserved a short sleep. And so Edward went to sleep with a smile upon his face, congratulating himself on the undertaking of so grand an adventure.

"Give me your pennies," demanded the Bandit Chief. The thin man loomed over Edward and leaned his weight against a staff while holding the collar of his large war dog, Titan with his other hand. He was dressed all in forest greens and blacks with a pointed hood that hid most of his wicked face. His black shoes had pointy toes that curled up well.

"Give me your pennies," insisted the Bandit Chief. He was annoyed at having to repeat himself but Edward didn't ever wake very quickly (and this was particularly true when he napped) and he was too startled yet to answer the brigand. There was only one answer he could give.

"I have no pennies," answered Edward. He was still lying on the ground with his back against the tree so running away would never work. That large war dog Titan would chase him down and bite him, at least. The Bandit Chief towered over him so Edward would need to be clever.

"I have an apple that I could give you," said Edward.

Now, none of the trees in that little grove that was the bandit lair were apple trees so the Bandit Chief was never going to say no to this. His large war dog Titan was already crunching on the discarded core of Edward's first apple.

So Edward took his last apple out of his second pocket and gave it to the Bandit Chief, who put it into his bag for later.

"Where are you going?" asked the Bandit Chief, pleasantly enough.

"I'm going to the castle to get justice from the King," said Edward.

The Bandit Chief turned to look back over his shoulder down the long road and toward the horizon, beyond which it was said that the castle lay. He thought for a moment about castles and kings and justice and young men and apples and roads and journeys.

"Very well," said the Bandit Chief while he rubbed behind Titan's large war dog ears and leaned his weight against his staff.

"I have a clever idea," said Edward. "You could come with me to the Castle. You could get justice also."

"Why would I want justice?" asked the Bandit Chief

"Have you never been wronged?"

"I have been wronged, but justice would not change that. Besides, I have an apple now. Why would I want justice when I could have an apple instead?" said the Bandit Chief.

Edward rubbed the far end of his nose, the Bandit Chief leaned against his staff, and tail of the large war dog Titan flopped back and forth.

"My father has a great many apples," said Edward when he had a clever idea. "If you come home with me and help me to get justice, I will give you many apples."

The Bandit Chief turned to look over Edward's shoulder down the long road and toward the horizon, beyond which it seemed the young boy lived. He thought for a moment about castles and kings and justice and young men and apples and roads and journeys.

"Very well," said the Bandit Chief while he rubbed behind Titan's large war dog ears and leaned his weight against his staff. "Does your father have a great many pennies?"

"Not a great many, no."

So Edward rose up, brushed himself off, and beckoned for the Bandit Chief to follow him. When he did, the two men and the large war dog set off up the road that Edward had come down that morning. Edward was quite happy now that he could put his hands into his pockets while he walked and thought himself quite clever.

By the time that they had reached the high green hedge, the Bandit Chief had been told the story of the lamb and the neighbour and the Old Man and the mother with the broken back and justice.

"Does your neighbour have soldiers or a large family of strong young men?" asked the Bandit Chief, to which Edward replied, "No. It is only the neighbour, his wife, and their daughter, who is my age."

"You should have your justice in no time at all then," declared the Bandit Chief and before Edward could have second thought, the Bandit Chief was scampering up the high green hedge nimbledy quick. Edward and Titan waited until the Bandit Chief had climbed up the high green hedge and the last of his pointy toed shoes had vanished from sight before Edward lobbed the wooden staff over the hedge, careful that it did not lodge itself somewhere in the foliage, out of reach. Edward then nervously waited where he was, anxious to see justice achieved so cleverly. The large war dog Titan waited at the base of the high green hedge and his tail did not flop back and forth.

"This is going well," Edward said. Titan did not answer, disadvantaged as he was by being a large war dog.

After an extended silence, Edward rubbed the tip of his nose.

A man bellowed and then there was a bang or a bonk, Edward couldn't tell which, but it didn't sound good.

And in an instant, fear and remorse took hold of Edward like a hangman's noose about his neck.

A woman cried out and then there was a crash or a crunch, Edward couldn't tell which, but it didn't sound good.

"What have I done?"

Titan, the large war dog, did not answer. So Edward quickly thought to himself about lambs and neighbours and apples and pennies and justice, and he thought about the wooden staff that the Bandit Chief carried.

A girl screamed and then there was a scrape or a skull cracking. Edward couldn't tell which, but it didn't sound good.

"This is not justice. Somebody must stop this!"

So Edward quickly thought about justice and kings and castles and soldiers and he thought about his father and he thought about himself. He remembered what his father had asked him only the day before, "Will you do your duty?"

It was neither nimbledy nor was it quick, but Edward cleverly clambered up and onto the high green hedge. From thereon, among twig tips, there was revealed a terrible scene. The Bandit Chief, outside of a humble home, was swinging his staff around his head, doing his very best to smash in the brains of Edward's neighbour, that neighbour's wife, and their daughter, who was Edward's age. The Bandit Chief had not yet succeeded. With a long handled spade, the neighbour countered and parried the practised attacks of the Bandit Chief. The neighbour's wife was knocking aside vicious staff attacks with a frying pan. With a straw broom, the neighbour's daughter was trying to poke the trespasser but could find no way past the swirling defences of the Bandit Chief.

"Oh my," thought Edward, "this is going to take some clever thinking. I might spring among them with protestations of peace, or hide to the side and make noises like some great beast come to devour them each. Maybe I could sound trumpets so pretend to be onrushing soldiery. I could begin to laugh aloud, making merry of their fight until all enjoy the joke and set aside violent ways."

As Edward schemed, the branches and leaves of the high green hedge gave way, one by one, beneath the slight weight of the youth, and he slid, dropped, and crashed to the ground beside the battle. Everyone looked at the dishevelled young man who, with mouth agape and bits of hedge clinging to his rumpled clothing, looked in that instant entirely unclever.

"Edward, help!" cried the neighbour's daughter, the neighbour's wife, the neighbour and the Bandit Chief in discordant, eager unison. "Do something!"

And so Edward thought about ...

Edward hurled himself at the belly of the Bandit Chief and howled and then there was an ouch or an oof, Edward couldn't tell which, but it didn't sound good. Down went the two men all atumble. Within moments, by broom, and pan, and spade, the Bandit Chief was finally slain. The four killers sat around the bloody ruin and panted to regain their breath.

"Thank you, Edward," said the neighbour, "It was lucky that you arrived when you did."

Edward rubbed the tip of his nose and thought about apples and journeys and pennies and war dogs and Bandit Chiefs. "Yes," he answered.

"As a reward, I will give you my daughter to wed," the neighbour said.

"Father!" protested the daughter and the neighbour scratched the top of his head.

"Well, you can have her if you can persuade her…"

"Father!"

"Well, you can have her if you court her."

Edward grinned at the neighbour, smiled shyly at the neighbour's daughter, and then looked away quickly from the penetrating glare of the neighbour's wife.

"I need no reward," said Edward as he rose to his feet to depart, "We will put it down to fortune."

The neighbour got to work with his spade and waved Edward away. "Be well, neighbour." The neighbour's daughter shyly waved and the neighbour's wife crossed her arms over her breast and continued with her penetrating gaze. Edward walked out through the bright yellow gate, through the high green hedge, and then rounded the hedge until he came to where Titan, the large war dog sat waiting for his master.

"Come, Titan," said Edward, with a beckoning gesture. "I'll take care of you now." Titan, the large war dog, did not understand but followed after in hopes of a hand out. When Edward reached the threshold of his home, he was hugged by his mother and received a penetrating gaze from his father.

"You are home early and appear to have gained a war dog and a staff. Did you get justice?"

Edward rubbed the tip of his nose and thought about justice and journeys, Bandits and Kings, Neighbours and Neighbour's daughters who were his age, apples and pennies, and blood.

"Yes," said Edward, cleverly.