Piers answered. “It is a maiden known as Bianca. She lives in the cold lands far to the North. She speaks in slivers that cut through lies.” And he told them about the storm and how he had met the beautiful, silent girl and discovered her great wisdom.
“This is the one I shall marry,” said the King.
“It would be most improper,” said the councilors together. “She is not noble-born.”
“How does one judge nobility?” asked the king. “How does one measure it?”
The councilors scratched their heads and looked puzzled. “Can you do such a thing?” asked one. “Can you not do such a thing?” said another. “How is it possible?” asked a third. And they continued this way for some time.
At last the king silenced them with his hand. “Enough of this noise. I will make a measure. I will test the wisdom of this Silent Bianca,” he said. And under his breath, he added, “And I will test your wisdom as well.”
Then the king sent his council, with Piers to guide them, off to the cold lands to bring Bianca back to the throne.
Piers and the councilors traveled twenty days and nights until the stars fell like snow behind them and at last they came to the chilly land where Bianca made her home. There they packed up Bianca and her few belongings and immediately started back to the king.
But when they reached the road that ran around the castle, strange to say, they found their way blocked by soldiers.
Campfires blossomed like flowers on the plain. At every turning and every straightaway stood a guard. It seemed there was no place where they could pass.
“This is very odd,” said Piers. “There have never been soldiers here before. Could some unknown enemy have captured the castle while we were away?”
The councilors tried to question the guards, but none would answer. Not even a single question. Unused to silence, the councilors fell to puzzling among themselves. Some said one thing and some said another. They talked until the sun burned out behind them, but they could figure out no way to get beyond the guards and so bring Bianca to the king.
The air grew cold. The dark drew close. The councilors, weary with wondering, slept.
Only Bianca, who had said nothing all this time, remained awake. When she was certain that all the councilors were asleep, and even Piers was snoring gently, Bianca arose. Slowly she walked along the road that circled around the castle. Now and then she opened her mouth as if to scream or speak or sigh. But of course no sounds came out of her mouth at all. Then she would close it again, kneeling humbly when challenged by a silent guard s upraised spear. For the guards still spoke not a word but remained closemouthed at their posts.
And so from path to path, from guard to guard, from campfire to campfire, Bianca walked.
Just at dawn, she returned to the place where the councilors and Piers slept leaning on one another’s shoulders like sticks stacked up ready for a fire.
As the sun flamed into the sky, a sudden strange babble was heard. At first it was like a single woman crying, calling, sobbing. Then, as the sun grew hotter and the morning cookfires were lit, it was as though a thousand women called to their men. wailing and sighing at each campfire and at every turning. It was the slivers of Bianca’s voice which she had so carefully placed during her long night’s walk; the slivers warmed and melted by the rising sun and the burning coals.
But the guards did not know this. And they looked around one way and another. Yet the only woman near them was Bianca, sitting silently, smiling, surrounded by Piers and the puzzled councilors.
And then, from somewhere beyond the guards, a chorus of women cried out. It was a cry like a single clear voice. “Come home, come home,” called the women. “Leave off your soldiering. You need no arms but ours. Leave off your soldiering. No arms ... no arms but ours.”
The guards hesitantly at first, by ones and twos, and then joyfully by twenties and hundreds, threw down their weapons. Then they raced back home to their wives and sweethearts. For they were not really an unknown enemy at all but townsmen hired by the king to try the wisdom of the councilors and of Bianca.
When the councilors realized what Bianca had done, they brought her swiftly to the king. Instead of scratching their heads and looking puzzled, they spoke right out and said. “She is most certainly wise and more than fit for a king to marry.”
The king, when he heard how Bianca had fooled the guards, laughed and laughed for he thought it a grand joke. And when he stopped laughing and considered the meaning of her words, he agreed she was indeed even wiser than old Piers had said.
So the king and Bianca were married.
And if the king had any problems thereafter, and his council could give him only questions instead of answers, he might be found at the royal hearthstone. There he could be seen warming his hands. But he was doing something more besides. He would be listening to the words that came from the fire and from the wise and loving heart of Silent Bianca, his queen.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jane Yolen is known especially for her rare ability to create modern stories in the vein of the great classic folktales. Her poetic prose has won her many awards and honors. Born in New York, she is a graduate of Smith College. She worked for a time as an editor of children s books before she decided to become a fulltime writer. She is married and lives with her husband and their three small children in a lovely old house in Hatfield, Massachusetts. Among her many distinguished books are The Wizard Islands, The Bird of Time, and The Girl Who Loved the Wind.
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
David Palladini was born in Italy, but came to the United States when he was very young and grew up in Highland Park, Illinois. He received his art training at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York. He has illustrated the second edition of The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King. He also did an edition of Beauty: A Retelling of the Story of Beauty and the Beast by Robin McKinley. In addition to illustrating books, Mr. Palladini has received many awards and citations for his work in poster design and the graphic arts. His newest work is his artistic memoir, The Journal of an Artist.
Jane Yolen, The Girl Who Cried Flowers and Other Tales
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