The Royal Triplets
Life in the sleepy Bavarian village rarely deviated from its customary course. Aside from the occasional marriage, birth or death, there was little to mark one day from another. Then one warm, sunny summer morning there was not one but two events that would be carefully tucked away in people's memories. The first occurred not long after sunrise. Brunhilda, who was expecting her first child, gave birth to twins. Multiple births were extremely rare. In fact, there had not been one in the village in close to half a century.
"This is cause for celebration!" the young father declared, when the local midwife showed him his two healthy sons.
As the women in the family were preparing a special midday meal to mark the occasion, the church bell suddenly rang.
"I wonder what that's all about. It's not Sunday," Brunhilda's mother observed.
"I don't know," her son-in-law replied. "I'll go find out."
When he returned to his farm after making inquiries in the village, the new father was beaming with joy, and not just because his wife had given birth.
"He's here!" he shouted as he dismounted from his horse. "Old Kristof has come back."
The arrival of the peddler caused a flurry of excitement throughout the community. It meant all the villagers and those who lived on the outlying farms would gather to view his wares and, more importantly, to hear the wondrous tales he told. To the people living in Prussia and Bavaria—whether it be in the Black Forest or the Alps, along the Danube or the Rhine—he was a welcome guest. Word of the Bavarian Bard's arrival spread quickly. Throughout the afternoon people hurriedly finished their chores and then congregated in the center of the village to await the moment when Old Kristof would entertain them with a story.
As was the case in every hamlet and burg he journeyed to, the peddler was treated like visiting royalty. A sumptuous repast was prepared for him, and a room was made ready for his use in one of the finest homes.
"Are you going to tell us a story now?" a young maiden, one of six daughters born to the local baker, asked once Old Kristof finished his supper.
"We must wait for your father," the girl's mother said. "He'll be along shortly."
"While we wait for him, let me ask you a question. What kind of story would you like to hear?" the peddler asked a group of children who were jostling each other for a place to sit at the old man's feet.
"A story about a great battle," one little boy suggested.
"No," an adolescent girl objected. "One about a wise and handsome prince."
Old Kristoff smiled as both young and old called out suggestions for a story.
"My cousin, Brunhilda, gave birth to twins today. Could you tell us a story about twins?" the baker's wife asked.
"Twins? I'll tell you the story of a queen who gave birth not to two children but three."
"At the same time?" the adolescent girl cried.
"One right after the other."
"I never heard of three twins," her father said.
"Twins refers to two babies. When there are three, they are called triplets."
"A story about royal triplets!" the baker's wife exclaimed. "Oh, good! I can't wait to hear it."
"And do they fight in a great battle?" asked the little boy, who still wanted to hear a tale of war and brave exploits.
"Maybe," Old Kristof teased him. "You'll all have to wait and see. I never know what's going to happen in my stories until I tell them."
The baker having finally arrived, a silence fell over the village as its residents eagerly awaited the peddler's tale. After a drink of beer to whet his tongue, he began.
* * *
As was the custom for royalty, Helmut and Elfrida married at an early age. Although the union had been arranged by their parents while they were still children, a deep affection soon developed between the two. Yet despite the happiness of their union, the royal couple had no heir to the throne. After a decade of marriage, they consulted the court physicians, and when their advice failed to produce the desired result, they looked to both the holiest of priests and the wisest of mages for help. Sadly, the royal womb remained barren.
Helmut, with no children to succeed him, was faced with the difficult decision of choosing his successor. His one blood relative was a younger sister. Not only had there never been a woman ruler in the land, but the pious princess had no desire to leave the convent which she had joined and return to the outside world.
"There are several worthy men who I'm sure, if given the crown, would make excellent kings," he confided in his wife. "But I don't know which one to choose."
Helmut was spared having to make the difficult decision when, as she neared her fortieth year, Elfrida learned she was with child. For the next six months, the couple waited impatiently for the blessed event. Since it was probable this would be his wife's one and only opportunity for motherhood, the king decided that regardless of its sex, the baby would rule after his death.
As the queen's delivery date drew near, the entire kingdom prepared for a celebration. The moment Elfrida felt the first labor pains, the court physicians and midwives were summoned. For several hours, they remained at her bedside while the king anxiously paced the floor of the banquet hall, waiting for word of her progress. Suddenly, a young page raced down the hall and burst into the room.
"Your majesty," he announced. "Mistress Ilsa, the midwife, sent me to find you. Queen Elfrida has given birth. It's a boy, your grace."
"Praise God!" the king declared, closing his eyes as he gave a silent prayer for the good health of his wife and son.
Helmut was still praying when a second page followed on the first's footsteps.
"Your majesty," he cried. "I've got a message from Mistress Ilsa."
"You're too late, I've already heard the news from your friend here."
"No, your grace. The queen has had a second child, another boy."
"Two sons?" the king asked, delighted that he had been given an heir and a spare at the same time.
He reached into his pocket for coins with which to reward the two pages when a third boy entered the room.
"Your majesty," he said, like an echo of his peers. "Mistress Ilsa sent me to find you."
"What is it this time?"
"Queen Elfrida has given birth to a third child."
"A boy or girl?"
"A boy, your grace."
Helmut looked down the long hall, half-expecting to see a fourth page running toward him with news of yet another birth. When none appeared, he correctly assumed that his wife's ordeal was over.
"Three sons in one day! That's a miracle!"
What was even more miraculous was that, given the primitive medical knowledge of the time, the mother and all three infants were in good health.
"How do I tell them apart?" Helmut asked one of the nursemaids when he saw his three children for the first time.
"All babies look alike at that age, your majesty. As they get older, you'll spot their differences."
However, the woman had never seen a set of identical twins before, much less triplets. Thus, her prediction proved false. For weeks, the parents kept a close eye on their sons, looking for a birthmark, a slight difference in hair or eye color—anything that would allow them to differentiate one child from his brothers. But the boys were like exact copies of each other. In an attempt to tell them apart, all their wardrobes were color coordinated. Hans wore only blue. All Johannes's clothing was yellow and Ludwig's was red. Thus, the parents and members of the court could tell the boys apart based on what they were wearing rather than their facial features, which remained identical.
Once the initial jubilation of the blessed births passed and the celebrations held throughout the kingdom came to an end, Helmut was faced with a perplexing dilemma.
"Of your three sons, which is the heir apparent?" Gustave, the king's chief minister, inquired.
"According to the law of the land, the first-born male child inherits the throne," the king answered as though he were being quizzed by a teacher.
"And who is that: Hans, Johannes or Ludwig?"
Helmut's normally ruddy complexion paled significantly.
"I don't honestly know," he admitted. "I wasn't present at the actual births. There were physicians, midwives and ladies-in-waiting to attend to the queen, and it was suggested that I would only be in the way. So, I stayed in the banquet hall until after the children were delivered."
"Then we must question those in attendance as to which boy was brought into the world first."
The king immediately called for the two court physicians, who ranked among the wisest men in his kingdom.
"You sent for us, your majesty?" the senior of the two men asked.
"Although the princes are not quite a year old, it is my duty as king to appoint a successor to the throne. In order to do so, I need to know which child was born first."
The physicians looked at each other hopelessly. Neither one knew the answer.
"I was busy tending to the queen, your grace," the younger one explained. "She was in a good deal of pain, as you can well imagine."
"What about you?" the king asked his colleague.
"As I brought each child into the world, I cut the cord and handed him off to the midwives."
"What you're telling me is that neither of you know who the rightful heir is?"
"That's correct, your majesty. I'm afraid you'll have to question the midwives in that regard."
Since the learned physicians were unable to shed light on the matter, Helmut summoned Mistress Ilsa and her three assistants to the council room and put the question to them.
"I regret that I cannot give you a truthful answer, your grace," Ilsa confessed. "There was so much excitement at the time—not one but three births! It was something none of us had ever encountered before. As we received each baby from the physician, he was washed, quickly examined for any birth defects, swaddled and then given to the queen's ladies in waiting to bring to the nursemaid."
When asked to provide their input, neither the nursemaid nor any of Elfrida's ladies could enlighten the king as to which of the boys was the rightful heir.
"Since we don't know which prince was born first," Gustave declared, "it is up to you to decide which of the three will succeed you."
"How am I to do that?" the king asked in exasperation. "I love all three of them equally. I cannot choose one over the other two."
"If you don't name one of them as your heir, it will only cause a fierce rivalry among the princes."
"My sons can't even walk yet. I doubt very much they'll be fighting each other over my crown any time soon."
"Maybe not now, but surely in the not-too-distant future, ambitious men in both foreign lands and right here in your own kingdom will back one of the boys in hopes of furthering their own causes. Mark my words, your majesty, if you do not set the succession in stone, you will wind up destroying both your family and your kingdom."
"I will choose a successor, Gustave, but not yet. Once I see which of my sons is most fit to rule, I will name my heir."
* * *
"It's amazing!" Elfrida exclaimed as the members of court gathered to celebrate her sons' ten birthday. "Even after all these years, I still can't tell them apart. It if weren't for the color of their clothes, I wouldn't know one son from another."
Her husband, however, kept a much closer eye on the boys' behavior and knew that, physical appearance aside, they were each unique in personality.
Hans was the studious one. He excelled in his studies to the point where by the time he was eight his knowledge surpassed that of his tutors. When he was not plying the court physicians, foreign ambassadors, upper echelon of the church and his father's ministers with questions, he buried his nose in books, hoping to learn from the wise men who had penned them. All subjects seemed to interest the boy, from politics to mathematics, to religion; but what appealed to him most was science.
I hope my father doesn't choose me as his heir, he often thought. I would much prefer to devote my life to studying the stars in the sky, the plants that sprout from the ground or the diseases of the human body than to settling land disputes among my subjects or deciding how much to tax them.
Johannes was much more sensitive than his analytical brother. He loved beauty and art in all its forms. From the time he was three, he showed a talent for painting and sculpture; and at five, he was a prodigy in music. Where Hans saw a sunset and wondered why the sky took on certain colors at that time, Johannes wanted only to capture its magnificence on canvas or describe it in a poem.
"I don't need to know what organ causes the blood to flow through a woman's veins," he teased his brother, "or why she is tall while her sister is short of stature. I care only that her eyes are bluer than the water of the Danube and that her hair is the color of rapeseed that covers the fields in the spring."
Like his sibling, Johannes had no desire to rule when their father died. He had no interest in passing or enforcing laws, conducting trade with other kingdoms and entering into agreements with fellow monarchs. He wanted only to create art, enjoy the works of other artists and delight in the company of like-minded individuals.
Of the king's three sons, only Ludwig wanted to rule. He cared not for books or knowledge, nor did he waste his time on foolish endeavors such as reciting poetry, playing the lute or molding a figure from clay. The ten-year-old prince believed education and culture were for fools and women, not men.
"What is the need for books when you can have gold? Or pretty pictures instead of armies?" he asked his brothers.
Clearly, having known nothing but security and abundance in their ten years on earth, his two siblings were ignorant of the harsh realities of life. Although Ludwig had received the same privileged upbringing as his brothers, he was not blind to the suffering and poverty of others. He knew that not all lands were as rich as his father's. Helmut's army and the diplomatic alliances he made with neighboring rulers were necessary to protect the kingdom from those who would storm across the borders, invade the realm and plunder its resources.
I ought to sit on the throne, he believed. I am the only one fit to rule. Surely, my father will realize this soon and name me his heir.
Yet despite having had the opportunity to see the kind of men his sons were becoming, the king still did not choose his successor. Finally, on the eve of the princes' eighteenth birthday, the chief minister confronted his sovereign.
"You must decide upon the order of succession," he warned. "I've seen several men at court aligning with their favorite of your sons."
"I cannot decide. Each of them has good qualities and bad. I don't suppose it's possible to have all three rule the kingdom when I'm gone—a sort of triumvirate."
"I fear that would only lead to disaster, your grace. If they should disagree ...."
"I don't see that as a problem. If a question arises, the majority of two would overrule the one."
"And if all three have different ideas? Who is to have final say? No, the only way to break such a stalemate would be fighting within the family. Men would inevitably take sides. There would be civil war throughout the kingdom."
"You paint a gloomy picture, Gustave."
"I paint a portrait of history, using human nature as a brush and men's weaknesses as pigments."
The king sighed and conceded to his minister's wishes.
"Very well. I shall retire to my chamber to further consider the matter. I will announce my decision when the council meets tomorrow."
Within the hour, word spread throughout the palace that the king was going to name his heir the following day. Hans and Johannes, neither of whom at the age of ten wanted to rule, had since changed their minds. Hans now believed if he could sit on the throne, he would use his kingdom's considerable wealth and natural resources to advance scientific discovery. Then he would gather the finest minds together in the palace. He would surround himself with intelligent, well-educated men rather than courtiers, sycophants and self-serving politicians. Johannes, too, had a vision of what the kingdom would be like under his rule. He would build a new palace, one to showcase the works of the finest artists throughout the land. As king, he would make music, not war; write poetry, not treaties; encourage his subjects to engage in art, not commerce.
Ludwig secretly rejoiced when he was told of the upcoming announcement.
My father is a wise man. He is sure to choose me, he thought confidently.
The following day, due to the large number of attendees, the council meeting was held in the throne room. When the three princes entered, they saw their father's seat was empty.
Dozens of people nervously glanced at the empty throne and asked, "Where is the king?"
It was nearly half an hour later when the trumpets announced his arrival. Gustave was stunned by the monarch's appearance. Never had he seen a man age so much in such a short period of time. Despite not yet having reached the age of sixty, the monarch looked a good deal older. His brown hair had turned white overnight, and wrinkles ravaged his face.
"I have made my decision," he declared without any preamble. "It wasn't an easy one, but it was the only one my conscience allowed. Upon my death, the kingdom will be divided into three regions, and each of my sons will rule over one."
Having made his proclamation, Helmut retired to his bedchamber. Gustave followed him.
"Forgive me, your majesty," he cried once the two men were alone, "but you're making a terrible mistake. You must change your mind before it's too late. I beg you; don't let your feelings as a father interfere with your duty as king."
"I'm not," the ailing monarch insisted, his voice weak with exhaustion. "What I do is for my kingdom."
"But, your grace ...."
The king raised his hand to silence any further objection.
"I must rest now."
When the chief minister left the royal bedchamber, he did not realize it was to be the last time he would see his sovereign alive.
Helmut's sudden and inexplicable death sent the entire kingdom into mourning. An elaborate funeral service was held in the cathedral, officiated by the archbishop—the same man who had once placed the crown on the monarch's head. Subjects, stunned over the loss of their king, were even more dumbfounded when they learned of his instructions concerning the succession. Within a week of the late king's interment, the arrangements for the division of the kingdom were made and the archbishop conducted a triple coronation. Shortly thereafter, Hans and Johannes left the palace and journeyed to their temporary homes until such time as their own palaces could be built.
It was only then, once the excitement of the coronations passed, that Ludwig sat on what had been his father's throne and noticed the empty chair at his side.
"Where is the queen?" he inquired.
It occurred to him that he had not seen his surviving parent since before his father's passing.
Gustave, who despite his initial reservations about the succession now seemed to have accepted it, was quick to answer the new king.
"She is in mourning, sire."
"We're all in mourning," Ludwig declared with suspicion and mistrust creeping into his voice. "My mother hasn't gone to live with one of my brothers, has she?"
"Her majesty has gone to St. Theobold's Cathedral to pray for her husband's soul and to seek solace for her grief."
"How long will she be there?"
"I believe she intends the move to be a permanent one, your grace. After all, it would be unwise if she were seen to favor one son over the others."
Thus, with their father dead and their mother living in seclusion in a convent, the three newly crowned kings began their reigns.
* * *
"It is just as I feared, your majesty," Gustave told Elfrida when he visited her at the convent on the second anniversary of the king's death. "All my efforts to keep peace among your sons have come to naught. Ludwig has doubled the size of his army and is sure to attack first Johannes and then Hans."
"Civil war," the queen said, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "And how long will it be before neighboring kingdoms, once thought to be our friends, will turn on us, hoping for a share of the spoils of war?"
"Not long at all, I'm afraid. There have already been several raids on both our northern and eastern borders. I would imagine before the year is out that Ludwig will have defeated both his brothers and taken control of the entire kingdom—only to lose it to our former friends."
"I remember the day my sons were born," Elfrida cried. "Helmut and I were overjoyed. I had given up hope of ever having a child, and then we were blessed with not one but three boys!"
Despite the sympathy and compassion he felt for the troubled mother, Gustave still saw himself as chief minister, and he had a duty to the late king.
"My dear queen," he said gently, "it is time we carried out your husband's final wishes."
* * *
"I suppose you've come here on behalf of my brother Ludwig to demand my abdication," Hans declared angrily after Gustave requested a private audience with the young king.
"No. He is on his way to St. Theobold's, as is Johannes."
"To see our mother?"
"Yes. She's requested all three of you visit her there."
"Is she foolish enough to think she can put an end to this war? Does she believe Ludwig will listen to anything she says? My brother is drunk with power. He's not content with one-third of our father's kingdom; he wants it all. Well, I'm Helmut's son, too! I want my share of the inheritance."
Gustave found Hans's words eerily similar to those of Johannes. Despite the obvious differences in their personalities, the royal triplets had one thing in common: all three men were unwilling to give up their birthright.
"Your mother is no politician. She wants only to see her beloved sons before she leaves this world."
"She's dying?" Hans asked with disbelief.
The minister lowered his head and solemnly answered, "Surely you can declare a temporary truce to this insane war in order to say goodbye to the woman who gave birth to you."
"If I were you, I'd keep a civil tongue," the young monarch said, taking offense at both the older man's words and his tone of voice. "You're no longer the chief minister talking to a boy anymore. I'm a king, and I can have you executed if it pleases me to do so."
"Forgive me, your majesty. I meant no disrespect."
"You can go now," Hans announced, bringing the audience to an end. "I must prepare for my journey to St. Theobold's."
Although the three kings came from three different regions, travelling different distances, they managed to arrive at St. Theobold's on the same day, within hours of each other. The former chief minister was there to meet them.
"You got here quickly," Hans observed.
"Yes, your grace. Whereas you and your brothers were accompanied by a royal retinue, I travelled alone and made much better time."
"Well, where is she?" Ludwig demanded to know.
Johannes, whose palace, along with his collection of art treasures, had been a casualty of the civil war, sat brooding in a corner, clenching his hands into fists.
"Even someone of your limited intelligence," Hans answered with obvious bitterness, "ought to realize that a dying woman must be confined to her bed."
"No intelligence and no heart either," Johannes mumbled.
When the woman in the billowing nun's habit walked into the room, the squabbling siblings paid little attention to her. It was only when she removed the wimple from her head that the three kings noticed her presence.
"Mother!" Johannes exclaimed, rising to his feet.
His two brothers stared at her in dumb silence. It was not a dying woman they saw but one in perfect health.
"You look ...," he began and suffered a loss for words.
"Like a new woman?" Elfrida suggested.
Johannes nodded, amazed at the transformation. In stark contrast to his father, who had aged beyond his years shortly before his death, his mother looked as though she were at least three decades younger.
"This is all your father's doing," the queen announced.
"I don't understand," Hans confessed, hating to admit that he was lacking in knowledge of any subject.
"The night before he died, he realized that, given three sons of the same age, the kingdom was doomed no matter who he named as heir. With the assistance of a learned mage, he gave me the years that remained on his life."
"How is that even possible?" Hans cried.
"Not being a mage myself, I cannot answer that."
"But to what end?" Johannes asked. "What did Father hope to accomplish by throwing his life away?"
"To protect his kingdom."
"How? By entrusting it to you?" Ludwig scoffed. "Despite your sudden youth, you're still nothing more than a woman. Surely, you don't intend to rule!"
Elfrida turned and took the hand of the chief minister.
"With Gustave's guidance, I will serve as regent until the rightful king is old enough to sit on the throne."
"But we're all grown men," Johannes pointed out. "We have no need of a regent."
"As much as it pains me to say it, not one of you is fit to rule in your own right. But if the three of you were to join ...."
"I will not share the throne with anyone!" Ludwig shouted.
"Nor will I," Hans declared.
For once, Johannes was in agreement with his two brothers.
"There will be no triumvirate," Gustave explained. "There must be one king and one king only."
"And who is that to be?" Ludwig asked, ready to resume the battle if he was not the chosen one.
"Normally, it is the firstborn who inherits the throne," the chief minister explained, "but given the unusual circumstances here, in this case, the youngest will be king."
"You don't know the order in which my brothers and I were born," Hans reminded Gustave. "You don't know who was first or last."
"That's true, but none of you will be the heir. It is the fourth-born son of Helmut and Elfrida who will unite the kingdom that his older brothers tore asunder and restore peace throughout the land."
"Fourth son?" Johannes asked. "What fourth son?"
Elfrida ran her hand down the front of her bulky habit, revealing that beneath the folds of the fabric, she was heavy with child.
"Our father has been dead these past two years," Hans argued. "He can't possibly be ...."
"Again," the queen told them, "it was the mage's doing. I asked the three of you here not to comfort me on my deathbed but to take your part in the birth of the next king."
"Our part? What part do we have in this ... this abomination?" Ludwig cried.
"According to the mage, the accident of your birth can be corrected. The three of you can be reborn as one, as it was originally intended."
"This is madness!" Hans screamed. "You can't ...."
Hans, who was the first of the three to emerge from the queen's womb, was also the first to vanish. He was soon followed by Johannes and then Ludwig. When the last of the royal triplets disappeared, Elfrida's labor pains began.
"Call the physicians and the midwives," the queen instructed. "The king is about to be born."
* * *
The children sitting at Old Kristoff's feet stared up at him with rapt attention.
"Will Brunhilda's two babies be reborn as one?" a curious five-year-old boy asked.
"No," the white-haired peddler laughed. "Such things only happen in fairy tales. Now, it's getting late. I'm sure your parents will want you to go to bed."
"But I want to hear another story," the child argued.
"Maybe tomorrow, but for now you must go to sleep."
When the child woke the following day, however, Old Kristoff was gone. Disappointed, he went into the kitchen where he found his mother making breakfast, using the new pan she had purchased from the wandering peddler the day before.
"When will he come back?" he asked.
"No one knows. It may be next month, next year or even longer. The world is large, and Old Kristoff has many places to visit, many wares to sell and many tales to tell."
It was easy to tell Salem apart from his siblings. He was the one who liked chocolate-covered catnip.
