The Princess Bride

Chapter Eleven: Aster Part III

It was not match, of course. Aster was disarmed in less than a minute. But for the first fifteen seconds or so, the noble was uneasy. During those fifteen seconds, strange thoughts crossed his mind. For even at the age of what he was m, Aster genius was there.

Disarmed, Aster stood very straight. He said not a word, begging nothing.

"I'm not going to kill you," the nobleman said. "Because you have talent and you're brave. But you're also lacking manners, and that's going to get you into trouble if you're not careful. So I shall help you as you go through life, by leaving you a reminder that bad manners are to be avoided." And with that he's blade flashed. Two times.

And Aster's face began to bleed. Two rivers of blood poured from his forehead to his chin, one crossing his cheek. everyone watching knew it then; the man was scarred for life.

Aster would not fall. The world went white behind his eyes but he would not go to ground. The blood continued to pour. The nobleman replaced his sword, remounted, rode on. It was only then that Aster allowed the darkness to claim him.

He woke to Sandy's face.

"I was beaten," Aster whispered. "I have failed her."

Sandy could only say, " Sleep."

Aster slept. The bleeding stopped after a day and the pain stopped after a week. They buried Tooth, and for the first and last time Aster left Arabella. His face bandaged, he rode in Sand's carriage to Madrid, where he lived in Sandy's house. After a month, the bandages were removed, but the scars were still deep red. Eventually, they softened some, but they always remained the chief features of Asters face: the giant parallel scars running one on each side, from temple to chin. For to years he stayed with Sandy.

Then one morning, Aster was gone. In his place were three words: "I must learn" on a note pinned to his pillow.

Learn? Learn what? what existed beyond Madrid that the he had to commit to memory? sandy shrugged and sighed. It was beyond him. There was no understanding that man. Everything was changing to fast and everyone became different. Beyond him, beyond him, life was beyond him, the world was beyond him, you name it, it was beyond him. He was a fat, kind man who made swords. That much he knew.

So he made more swords and he grew fatter and the years went by. As his figure spread, so did his fame. From all across the world they came, begging him for weapons, so he doubled his prices because he didn't want to work too hard any more, he was getting old, but when he doubled his prices, when the news spread to duke to prince to king, they only wanted him more desperately. Now the wait was two years for a sword and a line-up of royalty was unending and sandy was growing tired, so he doubled his prices again, and when that didn't stop them, he decided to triple his already doubled and redoubled prices and besides that, all work had to be paid for in jewels in advance and the wait was up to three years, but nothing would stop them. They had to have swords by sandy or nothing, and even though the work on the finest was nowhere what it once was (Aster, after all, no longer could save him) the silly rich men didn't notice. All they wanted was his weapons and they fell over each other with jewels for him.

  Sandy grew very rich.

And very heavy.

Every part of his body sagged. He had the only fat thumbs in Madrid. Dressing took and hour, breakfast the same, everything was slowly.

But he could still make swords. And people still craved them. "I'm sorry," he said to the young Australian who entered his shop one particular morning. "The wait is up to four years and even I am embarrassed to mention the price. Have your weapon made by another."