One balmy summer long,
long ago, there lived a princess named Mideu.
She was the fairest lady in all the land and princes came from far and
near to claim her. But the King was a just
king and wanted only the best prince for his daughter so he decreed that the
man who brought Mideu the most wonderful gift would be allowed to become her
husband.
Some princes (most actually) brought gold and some
brought diamonds. The King would look in
his own treasury and see its abundance of riches and say, “If you loved her, you
would bring something special; something she does not already have. You would bring a gift of the earth to show
your true affection.”
Now in this time, warriors and
rulers were not the only nobles looked fondly upon. Those who tended to the fine, white rose
bushes were seen as the most courageous of the land. The thorns on the bushes were so sharp and dangerous
that special techniques had to be practiced to prune and tend the flowering
plants. Many years of training and a
clever mind were needed for this important job.
There was a rose-bush gardener who served the king and he
loved Princess Mideu, more perhaps than all the other princes who offered her
their hallow gifts. He would watch her
glide down to the lakeside for her morning walk on her angel-like feet. She would dance amongst the cattails and
rushes and would whisper to the frogs and dragon flies that frolicked around
and over the water. Her flowing hair
reminded the Gardener of the smooth honey from the distant lands of
Clitheroe. Her speech was so eloquent
and enchanting that the frogs to whom she spoke would often grow to be the most
beautiful creatures in the land.
The Gardener witnessed yet another prince leave the
castle and the company of the King and Princess, still with his gold and jewels,
having not gained the King’s favour.
Overwhelmed with love for the Princess the Gardener wondered if such a
noble woman would accept a gardener as a partner. His position was highly esteemed, and he was
known for his valorous approach to the spinous charges so he decided to make a
very bold move.
The summer and been warm and humid and now, in Caesar
Augustus’ month, the Gardener knew his white roses would be most
presentable. Their virgin, white glow
represented Mideu’s beauty and grace.
The delicate fragrance that had been so carefully cultivated in the
roses could only be matched to the fair maiden’s sweet elegance. Soft petals reminded the Gardener of her
sublime skin and, most of all, her pure heart.
The Gardener was sure to win the King over, but one issue
remained. The thorns of a bush would
protest any reason for picking them other than for a marriage procession or a
virgin’s death. The love-sick man knew
that a curse would lie upon whoever cut a precious flower off the bush on any
occasion other than the two special times. Regardless, he was willing to risk
the severe consequences and reasoned that if his plan was successful, the rose
would be for marriage.
With a watchful eye, the Gardener selected the most full,
delicate and perfumed rose of all the bushes.
He warily noted that thorns on the branch of this particular flower were
even more menacing than any he’d seen but he could not fathom the thought of
gifting to Mideu anything but the best.
Without a second thought, the Gardener
methodically reached in towards the stem to sever it smoothly and swiftly. The thorns cried out for they knew the
precious rose was taken not for marriage or death but for young love. The thorns dug themselves into the gardener’s
skin as he extracted the flower. Blood
poured out from his torn hand and arm as he held the delicate beauty away from
the contaminating red fluid. His blood
covered all of the roses that remained on the bushes, the redness of his love
staining the once flawless petals. In
panic, the gardener ran to the castle, bleeding and distressed, and found the
king in his chambers. Princess Mideu was
playing harpoline for her father when the Gardener burst in. Holding the perfect rose high, he fell to the
floor because his blood was – by a mysterious, magical curse – still draining
into the last of the white roses.
Before the royalties’ eyes, the flower in his remaining clean hand turned
red to the very tip.
“Mideu, I bring you a token of my
love. I desire your hand in marriage so
I’ve brought you the only thing in the kingdom comparable to your beauty.” The
Gardener did not realize he was dying.
He struggled to smile and look up at the troubled
woman. As he took his final breath, she
approached the dry body to take hold of the rose. It was now a deep, ruby red. The Princess wept for she had loved the Gardener. Her tears fell upon the rose, washing away
the blood and returning it to its prior purity.
Only her tears could destroy the awful stain that unquenched love left
on the roses. The King crossed the room to
comfort his daughter and they ventured out to the garden to find how the dear
worker had met his death. With wide eyes
and yet more tears, they beheld the vast acres of red roses, no longer pure and
white.
The Gardener was laid to rest in the lordly burial
grounds. As a symbol of the Princess’
love, she replanted the very last white rose, the one for whom her gardener
died. It grew and grew and this new bush
blossomed white roses for the rest of Princess Mideu’s life. Their pure colour stood as a testament of her
virginity, for she never did marry. She
died alone and in old age, never to receive a red rose which had become the
symbol of marriage and love. When the
Princess’ last day came, the kingdom mourned and the very last white roses
withered away. But still, every year, in
Augustus’ month, a small white rose blooms between Mideu and the gardener’s gravestones
for they are buried beside each other.
You now know why the roses bloom red.
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