THE CROSSROADS 

        A Goodwife stood by the roadside, and laughed at them as 
they rode up. Her garb was made from the spinning of the loom of 
the Demon Polly Esther, and several zippers were in evidence, but 
even yet she said, "What droll attempts at the garb of our Faery 
Kingdom! Why, I trow even my six-years old child could sew better 
than that! And that excuse for -armour!- Prithee, where did'st 
thou find it? From a galvanized can? Thou really must learn to do 
better research than that! Fie upon it! And thou can'st not even 
hide thy seams with skill! I'll wager tenpenny that surcoat is 
machine sewn, and that so-called leather is plastic!" 
        Prince Justice smiled sadly, and spake to Pilgrim, and 
said, "Hark not to her words, for she has not learned Nobility. 
She speaks from her own insecurity, and must needs make others 
small in order to consider herself great." 
        Goodwife Pick was her name, and as the travelers rode 
past she plucked mud from the roadway and flung it at them, 
railing and belittling, but the mud did not stick, and the four 
riders continued on their way. 
        Onward they rode, past many fair fields and wooded 
copses, until they came to a crossroads, where there was a lady, 
prostrate in the dust. She wore many medallions around her neck, 
and the weight of them pulled her face to the dirt, and there she 
crouched, in the dust of the road, and she fondled the 
medallions, and said to herself, over and over, "Thus I show the 
world that I am great in it!" 
        Prince Justice smiled a sad smile, and said to Pilgrim, 
"Behold, the Princess COVETOUSNESS, who wears many awards, and 
who seeks to gain more, and yet more. She must stay here, where 
her last award was given by Prince Pride, for that award was the 
final weight upon her, and now she cannot walk for their 
heaviness, but she knows nothing but her honors and cares not for 
anything else. Let us pass." 
        And so they did. The crossroads was marked with signs, 
that showed the names of the roads branching from the highway. 
One, a straight and broad road lined with cheering people, was 
marked "Woodenstick Road." 
        Faith said, "This is a road to quick honors, and much 
fame, but yet, at its end, there is nothing, for he that chooses 
only to wield a wooden stick finds he can do naught else within 
the Enchanted Lands when he is supplanted by younger and more 
agile combatants, and fades away to bitter nothingness. This road 
leads to the Forest of Falsehood, and then unto the Forest of 
Despair, not far from where you entered it. Those who ride upon 
it merely ride in circles for a time, and then fade, unless they 
find the Perilous Path." 
        "Then we shall not take this road." Said Pilgrim. 
        Another sign read: "Lickspittle Lane," and it led thru 
fens, and mires, and seemed to turn upon itself, and wind about 
in confusion. 
        Prudence said, "This is the road of the sycophants and 
toadies, that hang about the great and powerful. They have no 
will of their own, and offer naught to the Dream, but must take 
their lives from the lives of others. They are parasites......and 
their end is to swear fealty to Princess Envy, and breed hate and 
joylessness." 
        "I shall not ride that road either." declared Pilgrim. 
        The third road was named "Service," and it was rough, and 
rocky, and led to high mountains in the distance. There were 
storms to be seen in the air about it, and much of it could not 
be viewed thru the dank fogs and mists. 
        Princess Faith pointed over the meadow, to some far 
mountains, on one of which was the ruins of a castle. 
        "There lie the ruins of Doubting Castle, once the home of 
the dread Giant Despair. It was destroyed by another party that 
sought a Dream, many years ago. Some have tried to rebuild it, 
but always a true champion comes, and destroys it again." (3) 
        Prudence rode to Pilgrim's side, and said, "Those 
mountains to our left are the Mountains of Shame, and to the 
right are the Mountains of Peril. Our path leads directly between 
them, and is dangerous and terrible." 
        "This shall be our road." said Pilgrim, and the company 
started down it, at a slow walk. 
        They rode carefully over the broken ground of the road, 
that seemed to sometimes be a road, and sometimes be a highway, 
and sometimes just a simple path. There were storms, and rain 
that wetted them to the skin; a cold rain, mixed with hail. The 
mud thus created slowed them even more, but they stayed to their 
task. 
        Soon, the path seemed to disappear in a bog, and the 
travelers smelled a miasma of evil, and a great stink. 
        "This is the Mire of Politics," said Prudence, "And many 
travelers have met their end here, being sucked into the 
bottomless marsh, or discouraged from going on." 
        "We have tried to reclaim it to good land, but all our 
efforts have come to naught, due to the great quantity of scum 
and filth that is collected here. Some that call themselves 
workers, and that seem to be filling in the Mire, are actually 
depositing more dung and filth therein. It is a dangerous place, 
and we must tread only upon the Path of Service, and no place 
else, and avoid the treacherous places that will swallow us up 
entire." 
        They began to pick their way thru the mire, and many 
times did one or the other of the travelers slip, and must needs 
be pulled therefrom. The stink and foulness near drove them back, 
and they seemed to see the shades of other travelers lying 
beneath the fetid pools, rotting, and moaning as they rotted, but 
they persevered, and anon, tired and weary unto death they won 
thru to the other side, to good ground. 
        They rested a while, and then gazed ahead, and saw the 
highway led to a steep mountain, then dwindled to a thin track, 
that wound about, and turned upon itself, and was covered with 
rocks and sharp stones. 
        Faith turned to Pilgrim, and said, "This is perhaps one 
of the hardest tests thou wilt meet, for we approach the mountain 
called BurnOut, that hath destroyed many, thru its difficulties." 
        They wearily began to climb the mountain, and the rocks 
tore at them, and the horses went lame, and the sun grew hotter 
each moment, until the sweat poured from their bodies. 
        Already exhausted from the Mire of Politics, the Mountain 
called BurnOut tired them beyond endurance, but they continued, 
gasping for breath and thirsty for cooling waters. 
        They had almost reached the peak of the Mountain, when 
they came upon a lady, seated by the wayside. Her garb was in 
much disarray, partaking somewhat of both Mundania and the 
Enchanted Land, and she sat upon a lawn chair. 
        She spoke to the travelers in a tired voice, and said, 
"Why dost thou toil up this Mountain? Know thee not that there is 
nothing at the peak, and less on the other side? Rest here, and 
take no more trouble with thy quest, for it is useless and 
unreal." 
        And they saw the path led to the bottom of a cliff of 
solid rock, that rose many man-heights into the air. There seemed 
to be no way past it. 
        Pilgrim turned to Faith, and said, "I see no way past 
this obstacle, my Lady. What do we now do?" 
        Faith looked at the lady in the lawn chair, and said, 
"Know thou the means of surmounting this cliff?" 
        The lady frowned, and spoke in harsh tones. "Ask me not 
for help! I have served my time, working for this so-called 
Dream, and 'tis time others worked for -me-! I am Princess SLOTH, 
and I tell thee thou hast reached the end of thy travels, for 
there is no way past this. Thou hast reached the End of the 
Dream, and the end of thy quest. There is no Dream. There is no 
quest. Besides, thou canst always do it tomorrow, for has thou 
not heard of 'SCA Time?' There is no hurry ..." 
        And she yawned, and leaned back in her lawn chair, and 
fell fast asleep. 
        There came then, from behind them, a knight, armed cap-a-
pie in glittering mail, and mounted upon a warhorse fair to 
behold. 
        Faith and Prudence smiled, and said, "Welcome, dear 
brother! Well met indeed!" And they ran to him gladly. 
        The stranger was presented to Pilgrim as the most 
puissant Prince Fortitude, the eldest of the seven Children of 
Virtue, and Pilgrim bowed, and gave him courteous greetings. 
        Pilgrim spake, and said, "Can'st thou show us a way past 
this cliff? I fear this may well be the end of our quest indeed, 
for I see no means of passing it." 
        "There is a way," said Fortitude, "But it will take much 
strength and courage to achieve it." 
        "Look thou," he continued, "Here is a path, seemingly no 
wider than a man's hand, that we may ride to the top of the 
cliff." 
        And thus it was.       
        But, as they began to enter upon the path, Sloth awoke, 
and said, "Take up my chair, and carry me with thee up the path! 
I have served the Dream, and deserve to be served, and I am 
tired, and worn, and cannot walk!" The Princess Sloth cried to 
them in imperious, yet lazy tones. 
        The Prince Fortitude turned to her, where she lolled in 
her chair, and said, sternly, "Thou canst achieve the path 
thyself. All must walk the Way of the Dream of themselves, for to 
carry another to it denies them the chance to achieve for 
themselves, and cheapens the effort, for those who do not work 
for their Dream value it not." 
        He waved the company forward. "Ride on!" he said. 
        The path was small, and seemed not to be able to bear 
both horses and riders, but it did, and the further they rode up 
it, the easier it became, until it debouched at the top of the 
mountain. 

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