The Prince Who Was A Piccolo - Barbara Roman

The Prince Who Was A Piccolo by Barbara Roman

Book excerpt

Once upon a time, the King of Camelittle worried he would be the last King to grace the Royal Throne. So, just before the Queen gave birth to their very first child, the King summoned the Royal Prophet and asked him, “What do you see for my child’s future?”

“I see that your child will be a he.”

The King was pleased. “A Prince! How wonderful.”

“And,” the Prophet added, “he will be a musical instrument.”

“A musical instrument!” the King cried. “I don’t want a musical instrument to inherit my kingdom. I want a real, live son!”

“They will both be one and the same,” the Prophet assured the King.

The Queen, on the other hand, was very happy about this and asked, “What kind of musical instrument will my son be?”

“That will be for him to decide,” the Prophet said, “and for you and the King to accept.”

“A Prince to decide what he will be,” the King huffed. “No, that is not acceptable. “I will decide, for I am the King and what I want the Prince to be, he will be.”

“Then beware,” the Prophet warned, “for your Prince will have a very unhappy life, indeed.”

When the Prince was born, the King and Queen were so happy they forgot about the Prophet’s warning.

The Queen crooned as she cradled the little Prince in her arms. “He’s so beautiful. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a flute, and create gentle, poetic music.”

“No son of mine will be a flute,” the King pooh-poohed the Queen’s notion. “I’d be the laughingstock of the kingdom. Flutes are so…so…“

“Sensitive?” the Queen suggested.

“Sissified is more like it,” the King snorted. “If he is to be a musical instrument of any kind, he will be a trumpet. Yes, that’s it. A Royal trumpet. He will be the focal point of every royal celebration, and herald the news of all my Kingdom’s royal victories.”

“But what if he is unhappy being a trumpet? Remember the Royal Prophet’s warning.”

“He’s a Prince. Princes have no choices. Not until they become Kings.” And on that, the King was firm.

***

Over the years, the Prince grew up to be a very agreeable young man, except when he had to practice being a trumpet. All he did was make a terrible noise. He kept the servants up so late at night with his bleating that they fell asleep during the day.

The Queen worried that the Prince might be straining himself. The King just stuffed his ears with cotton and told the Prince to keep on practicing until he got it right.

But instead of becoming a perfect trumpet, the Prince kept getting worse and worse, which made him very dismayed.

On the advice of the Royal Physician, the Prince took long walks every day by the lake at the edge of the forest. One day, the Prince was sitting on the shore, sulking about his lot in life, when he heard the most beautiful song.

There, across the lake, was a lovely maiden washing her long hair in the water and drying it in the sunshine. Her voice was so soothing that it melted the Prince’s despondency completely away.

“Yours is the loveliest singing I have ever heard, the Prince complimented the maiden. “What kind of musical instrument are you?”

“Today, I am so happy and blissful, I hear angels playing music in my head,” she explained. “I decided to be a golden harp so that everyone who hears my song will feel as peaceful and contented as I.”

“You have certainly succeeded with me,” the Prince told her. “I was most distressed until I heard your music. Do you always feel so wonderful?”

“Heavens, no,” she said with a gentle laugh.

“Tomorrow, I may be as irritable as a blue jay and decide to be a bagpipe. Then I can whine and moan and make everyone as miserable as I. Misery does love company, you know.”

The Prince could hardly believe this. “You mean you can be a different musical instrument tomorrow? Be whatever you decide to be?”

“Why, of course,” the maiden replied as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Can’t you?”

The Prince sighed. “No. My father, the King, said I have to be a Royal Trumpet, and I must obey his command.”

The maiden felt very sorry for the Prince. “Then I can understand why you are so unhappy

“Besides,” the Prince added, “I wouldn’t know how to be any other kind of instrument if I wanted to. Being a trumpet is the only thing I’ve ever tried to be.”

“Are you any good at it?”

“Well, I’ll show you, and I want your honest opinion.” The Prince put forth his best efforts at being a trumpet, wanting very much to impress the maiden. But all she did was hold her ears and wince.

The Prince was very embarrassed. “I’m too loud and brash, aren’t I?”

“And very angry,” the maiden commented. “I can hear it in your music. You are definitely not happy being a trumpet.”

“I know that, and you know that. But how do I convince my father? He refuses to discuss the subject.”

“Perhaps she suggested, “if you demonstrated to the King that you have a knack for being a different musical instrument, he would change his mind.”

“But I don’t know what I have a knack for! I’m just so frustrated.”

“That’s because you’ve never tried. But I have an idea. Every day, I will meet you by the lake and help you practice being whatever kind of musical instrument you choose to be for a whole week. This way, you will discover which instrument you are happiest being.”

The Prince was very excited by the prospect. “That’s a wonderful idea. And Father will never know until I have become very skillful and decide to show him what I can do.”

“And even if you decide one day to be a oyal Trumpet,” the maiden said wisely, “it will be your decision, and not the King’s.”

The following day, the Prince rushed to the lake, eager to begin his first week as a different musical instrument. But which one?

“How do you feel today?” the Maiden prompted

“I feel quite chipper and full of vigor,” the Prince replied, “but I want to please father, too. So, I’d like to be an instrument that expresses confidence and courage. After all, I am a Prince.”

“How about ng a brass cymbal? Cymbals don’t have to play very often, but when they do, they have everyone’s full attention.”

“Wonderful. A brass cymbal I shall be!”

All that week, the Prince clattered and crashed, practicing to be a perfect brass cymbal. But instead of ringing with purity and clarity, he sounded like a suit of old rusty armor being tossed in a rubbish heap.

Everywhere he went, he practiced, and calamity followed. He practiced in the barn, and the dairy cow’s milk curdled. He practiced in the hennery, and the chicks refused to hatch. He even practiced under water, and all the fish in the lake went belly up.

“This is dreadful!” the Prince cried. “I’m a horrible trumpet and an even worse brass cymbal. I’ve just about destroyed the entire kingdom’s food supply!”

“Don’t feel too badly,” the maiden comforted him. “It was only your first try. Come back tomorrow and you can try being a different musical instrument.”

***

When the Prince arrived at the lake the next day, the maiden asked him, “How do you feel today?”

“Rather solemn, I’m afraid,” the Prince said glumly. “I had no luck being the kind of musical instrument that would please the King. Perhaps I should try something a bit gentler to please the Queen. But not a flute. Father would be furious.”

After thinking , the maiden suggested, “How about being a cello? It’s a very refined and regal instrument. When people hear a cello, they are very impressed by its elegance.”

So, all that week, the Prince tried his utmost to be a perfect cello. But instead of producing warm and mellow tones, he wailed and shrieked like a lonely old tom cat without his lady cat.

Everywhere he went, the Prince practiced and calamity followed.

He practiced in the fields, and the flowers wilted and died. He practiced in the trees, and the birds broke down and cried. He even practiced on top of the mountain, but his echo filled the entire valley with such melancholy that the Royal Soldiers could not get out of bed to guard the kingdom. Even the sun hid behind a big cloud and refused to shine.

The Prince was devastated. “This is dreadful. I’m a failure as a trumpet, a disaster as a brass cymbal and a harbinger of gloom as a cello. I just don’t know what kind of musical instrument I could ever be good as. I’m hopeless.”

The Prince was devastated. “This is dreadful. I’m a failure as a trumpet, a disaster as a brass cymbal and a harbinger of gloom as a cello. I just don’t know what kind of musical instrument I could ever be good as. I’m hopeless.”

The King and Queen were very depressed and distressed. Their kingdom was in a state of ruin, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“How could a thing like this happen?” the King railed angrily. “It’s as though a curse has been placed on my kingdom. If I ever find out who is responsible, I’ll have him flogged and thrown in the palace dungeon forever with no food or water —since we don’t have any food or water anyway!”

“Perhaps we should ask the Royal Prophet for his prediction,” the Queen said.

“I don’t see much hope for the kingdom unless the Prince can overcome his unhappiness,” the Prophet predicted with great foresight.

The King was truly puzzled. “The Prince? What has the Prince to do with the Kingdom’s misfortune?”

“The Prince has everything to do with it,” the Prophet answered with great authority. “I warned you the Prince would be very unhappy if you did not let him choose for himself what kind of musical instrument he would be. Instead, you deemed him to be a Royal Trumpet.”

“Why should he be unhappy as a Royal Trumpet?”

the King huffed “If I, myself, were a musical instrument, that’s what I would choose to be.”

“And it is his unhappy music that is causing the ruination of your ingdom.”

“Then tell me, please,” the King pleaded, “what kind of musical instrument would the prince prefer to be?”

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t quite decided,” the Prophet pronounced with great finality.

“And when will he decide?” The King demanded.

The Prophet shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

“I am a prophet Your Majesty, not a mind reader.”

The King and Queen knew they had to help speed up the Prince’s decision if the kingdom and all its people were to be saved. So, they summoned every musician from far and near to play for the Prince, hoping he would hear the musical instrument he would truly desire to be.