Sapiens

This right here is a comparison between the very first retrievable version of the first chapter in my novel At the Gates of Alstroemeria and the latest draft of the same chapter ten years later. That could be the hundredth redraft or something!

On the left is the first draft I remember. I was 15 at the time. On the right is the latest rewrite. That was carried out three years ago. This is about the seventh redraft of it since 2017.

If you actually read them both, I certainly do hope that you notice a huge difference between the two versions! You will even see that the numbering of the chapters itself is different. In general, my novel was childish and even naive in its plot the first time I wrote it. In 2017, I rewrote the whole thing from scratch, so now I have two very, very different versions. I'm hoping that the plot this time is better, because this book had never been intended to be for children, even when I was a child myself. It's for new adults, that transitional phase that is given less weight than adolescence.

The whole point of this article, just like the point of the entire blog, is to see how far one can come and to know for certain that it's okay not to get something right from the first time, the second time, or even the seventeenth.

Chapter Two Sapiens A new day came, and a new morning broke in. The sun was up, warming all of Alstroemeria, the capital of the beautiful lands of Agatha. Everything was still, except for two birds, flying towards their nest. Their happiness of going home was suddenly broken by a sharp clash of swords against the tree upon which their nest hung, however. Sapiens was the first to draw his sword out of the tree bark. Sapiens was a slender, seventeen-year-old young man of medium height. His skin was shiny as the droplets of sweat that covered his creamy skin reflected the slight rays of sunlight that reached him from amongst the trees. His skin colour contrasted with his wavy, chestnut brown hair and fair brown eyes. As soon as he freed his sword from the giant bark, he spun around until he was behind his opponent, Fabian, and, without hesitating, hit him with the pommel on his back. Fabian was a fair sixteen-year-old young man, with a pair of deep green eyes, and untidy fair hair. He toppled and nearly fell when Sapiens caught him by the arm. “What did you do that for?” Fabian asked, feeling his back where Sapiens had hit him. “Sorry,” he answered rapidly, “but you’re the one who said that it would be better if it were real.” “Not that real, Sapiens. You almost bruised me!” Sapiens looked at him with smiling eyes that hid his guilt even though he knew such a thing would never be as serious as it seemed. He apologized once more, and was soon told to forget about it, for Fabian had another thing on mind. He soon amusedly asked him how he thought he was doing, to which Sapiens soon answered him, “You’re better than last time, which I admit; however, I still feel you’re not doing your best.” The smile that had appeared on Fabian’s face vanished. “Sapiens, when exactly will you believe that I am doing my best?” “When you do your best. Honestly, friend, you fight like a woman…” If it were someone else, other than Sapiens, he may not have been able to block the sharp blow that was directed at him on time: A loud cry was heard from Fabian as he blew at Sapiens with all his might. “What did you do that for?” Sapiens asked as he straightened up. “Why, you said I fought like a woman. Now I’d like you to show me a woman who gives blows like…” Fabian stopped suddenly, his hands on his waste. “Tell me you didn’t do that on purpose!” “I didn’t do that on purpose.” “Sapiens! You did do it on purpose!” A laugh escaped Sapiens; a laugh that he had been trying to hold, yet was quite pointless to be held, for his eyes had given him away already. He started running towards the Palace. “It’s good you started running!” He soon heard his friend say, and he could not stop laughing. Fabian desperately reached out his arm, trying to catch his friend who was faster than he was. Sapiens was looking behind him when he felt someone spin him around, stopping him from running any further. It was Harold, the old butler. “What are you running from, Your Highness?” Harold did not wait long to know the answer, for it appeared right before his eyes. “May I demand to know what the two of you were doing, running like that?” He kindly asked when he had exchanged the morning greetings with Fabian. They looked at each other and smiled. “I see,” said Harold with a broad smile covering his white face. “The two of you have been sparring again, haven’t you?” Old Harold did not need an answer to know he was right. “What did he say this time, Fabian?” “He said I fought like a woman.” “Well, it works, doesn’t it?” Sapiens asked laughingly. Fabian did not want to submit, so he tried to act as if he missed the question, then he became aware of Sapiens looking at him. “Yes, it does,” he finally said. Harold looked at the two young men with pride, the way he would look at his sons, had he any. He soon smiled, “You two wouldn’t stop it, would you?” “No!” They laughingly responded at the same time. Their laughter was shared by the kind butler, who soon told Sapiens that His Majesty had been looking for him when he had woken up earlier that morning. Sapiens said he would see him in a minute, and asked him to stop when he had turned around. He spoke to Fabian first, though. He asked him if he was busy that afternoon, and asked him if he would like to accompany him to the Gates when the reply was negative. “Of course I would,” Fabian answered with excitement. “Very well, then. See you at around four.” “Sure,” Fabian said happily. With that they parted, each to his work. Fabian headed to the workshop – where he worked as an assistant to Kendrick, the carpenter – and Sapiens entered the Palace, his home, to start performing his everyday-duties as a Prince. “You wanted me over something, Your Highness?” Harold asked, accompanying Sapiens inside. “Harold, we’re alone now. Drop the formalities,” he smiled. “Do you happen to have any clothes that match my size?” “Clothes, young Prince?” “I mean like an ordinary shirt, an ordinary vest, an ordinary coat, and, say… ordinary trousers.” Harold looked at him with puzzled, curious eyes. “I can fetch them for you. However, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you need them for?” “I’m going to the Gates today with Fabian, to see how things are going there. I thought that if I dress up normally like everyone else, no one will notice me, so I will be able to watch the gates in peace, and so the guards wouldn’t act different from their usual.” “Good thinking, although I find it hard for this handsome face to go unnoticed!” “Harold!” The kind butler laughed heartily, for he often loved to watch his young master exclaim at similar comments every now and then. He said he could fetch them for him, receiving a grateful smile – one that he adored, for it made him feel how Sapiens never saw him but a great father and friend. Sapiens soon excused himself, and just when he was about to ascend the staircase, he remembered that his uncle had been looking for him. He stopped and asked the old butler where he could find his uncle at that time. “His Majesty is in the library, Your Highness, yet he is in such a bad mood! If I were you, I wouldn’t go near him right now,” he whispered when he was standing beside him. “Very well, I’ll see him later, then,” Sapiens laughingly said. “Will you please send me a note when he has finished? I’ll be in my room.” “Of course, Your Highness.” “Harold, will you stop calling me ‘Your Highness’? This is I, Sapiens, the kid you held in your arms when he was just a baby. I don’t know what happened to you today.” “Very well, Sapiens; I’ll put the clothes in your room when they arrive, and I’ll send you a note when His Majesty is out.” Sapiens smiled to him and walked on to his room. As he ascended the staircase, he found his tutor, Professor Quimby, descending it. Professor Quimby was a plump man in his late fifties. He had white hair, short, white beard and moustache, and a pair of brown eyes. He was carrying so many books and scrolls in his hands that he could not see where he was stepping. “Here, let me carry some, Professor,” Sapiens hurried to help him. “Oh, thank you, Sapiens. You just saved an old man from breaking his neck onto this long, long staircase.” “It’s nothing, Professor. Shall I put them in the studying room?” Sapiens descended the steps carefully when he had received a positive answer from his tutor. He found it harder than usual to carry those books, however, and so he soon spoke again to his Professor, “Excuse me for intruding, Professor, but I’ve never seen you take so many books from the library before.” “Ah! I was afraid your uncle might remove them, by accident of course, and that I wouldn’t be able to find them when I needed them.” “Why would my uncle remove them?” “I see you haven’t heard of your uncle’s deeds yet.” Sapiens remained silent and hid a smile, for he knew how often such little, laughter-bringing arguments erupted between the two old men. “His Majesty,” started Professor Quimby, sounding discontented, “was searching for a book, the name of which he had forgotten, so he kept taking books off the shelves, opening them, finding out they were the wrong ones, and putting them elsewhere. Moreover, when I came to take these books from the library, he asked me not to disorder the place!” “I’m sure he didn’t mean to, Professor,” Sapiens chuckled. He was used to situations like that ever since his uncle had met Professor Quimby. They hardly spoke again until they reached the studying room, where Sapiens usually took his daily lessons, except for some days when he had them in the library or in the garden. Sapiens placed the books and scrolls on the Professor’s desk and then made room for the Professor to place the ones he carried himself.   He asked his Professor if he needed anything else from him, and was on his out when he was stopped, for his tutor seemingly remembered something. “Oh, Sapiens, there is one more thing that I need your help with. I need an assistant. I need someone who can help me arrange the books and scrolls, and who knows which books to search for when I need them; someone who can read and write. See, I am getting old, son, and that staircase is getting more like a mountain by the day! Do you know someone who can help?” “I’m not certain, Professor,” he answered after having thought the matter through for some time. “Well, if you meet someone who you see fit for the job, please inform me.” Sapiens nodded, took leave, and exited the studying room when the Professor told him he was free to go. Just as he opened the door to his room, Harold showed up, telling him that the clothes he had asked for were ready and placed in his room. Sapiens thanked him a lot and tried them on right away, although it was not long before Harold was called for again. “Come take a look, Harold,” Sapiens said when the old butler was standing before him in the room. “What do you think?” “I think you look quite presentable, sir. Could you take off your jacket? Umm… great. Now spin around… Alright, I think it fits you very well. However, the shirt is a little… tight. Let me change it for you.” Sapiens thanked the old butler, feeling all the more thankful for having him to help him with everything. The smile on his face soon vanished, though, for Harold once more addressed him formally, and that – of all things – drove him mad. “Harold! Stop bowing down to me, and stop addressing me ‘Your Highness’. You’ve always said I was like a son to you. Have you changed your mind?” “No, I haven’t. What’s wrong this morning? It’s not like you to shout.” “Harold, please call me ‘Sapiens’. Even if you do that in front of others; I don’t care. It is far enough that I’m surrounded by formalities all the time, and you know how much I detest them. I don’t want you too addressing me ‘Your Highness’.” “As your father, like I’ve always felt, I believe something else is wrong.” “I dreamt of my parents again, Harold,” Sapiens submitted with a sigh when a few moments of consideration had passed. “I’ve been having strange dreams for over a week now, and I don’t know why. Forgive me. I’m just a bit tense.” “Try thinking of something happy before you go to sleep next time,” Harold winked. “Well, I believe I’ll give it a practical approach now, as I couldn’t sleep at all last night. Will you please wake me up a little before lunch?” Harold assured him that he would. He bowed slightly to him and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sapiens changed, lay in bed, and allowed sleep to engulf him. A few minutes after he closed his eyes, he started tossing and turning in bed. He was dreaming of an old woman, all garbed in white, reaching out for him. Her long, white hair slithered gently in all directions, as if she was under water. She said nothing – all she did was reaching out for him. She seemed to be floating, for there was no earth and no heaven. Everything was dark beyond her shiny figure beaming out bright, white light. She started to move her lips. “Sapiens,” she kept saying. He then saw another two shiny figures: a man and a woman. They were holding each other’s hands and walking happily together. They stopped before the old woman’s figure, bowed to her, and faced Sapiens. Sweat slid down Sapiens’s forehead as he saw his parents, and his heart beat faster and faster. They smiled to him and continued on their own way. “Wait!” Sapiens said as he watched them leave. They turned back to him, smiled again, and walked away. “Please, wait!” He cried out, but this time, no one answered. His parents’ figures went on shrinking until they disappeared. Then, once again, all he could see was the old woman garbed in white, the same woman he had been dreaming of for days. He saw a lonely tear run down her cheek as she called out to him for the last time. Sapiens’s heart beat even faster as he watched her leave. Sweat and heat escaped him as he turned over in bed several times. “Who are you?” He desperately shouted, reaching out for her. He was trying to stop her, but to no avail. Her figure went on walking, until darkness filled her place. First draft: Sometime in 2009

Chapter One Sapiens Sapiens spun around his opponent, using the chance that he was trying to get his sword out of the tree trunk it was stuck in to get out of his range. He was about to hit him with the pommel on his back and hopefully drop him to the ground when his opponent let go of his stuck sword and lowered himself to the ground before Sapiens could touch him. Not bad, Sapiens thought as he made it for the lonely sword. This is a quick way to end a fight: disarm your opponent and make sure they can’t get to their weapon again. That was when Fabian, Sapiens’s opponent, surprised him with his speed and agility: he put one hand on his sword’s pommel, declaring it was now his again, and with his other hand, he pointed a dagger at Sapiens. “You brought a real dagger to a wooden swords’ fight?” Sapiens exclaimed. “That’s low.” “Sorry,” Fabian sheathed his dagger and tried to catch his breath. “I got carried away. But it wasn’t even anywhere near you, Sapiens; don’t make a big deal out of it.” “I’m not the one who’d make a big deal out of it,” Sapiens laughed. “If anyone saw you holding a weapon in the royal palace, you’d be dragged away, friend or not.” “We’re in the garden.” “Of the royal palace,” Sapiens insisted. “There’s little I can do for you if you threaten me with a weapon. Anyway, if this were a real fight, that would make a good winning gesture, I suppose. Good work.” Fabian seemed to take pride in Sapiens’s praise, and it made Sapiens feel good, especially that it hadn’t even been a compliment. Two years of training him to spar and he’s finally getting good at it. “I’ll get going now,” Fabian interrupted his thoughts. “I want to spend some time with Nat before the trip to the Gates tonight. What made you think it up all of a sudden, by the way?” “Well, I thought to watch how things are going there, you know,” Sapiens shrugged, but that was not the whole truth. He did it to annoy his uncle. King Robert, his uncle and the trustee of the throne until Sapiens was twenty-one, had had an anger fit while searching for a book the day before and started throwing book after book on the floor of the library. Sapiens never learned about it until later when he was passing by the library and saw the servants lost, trying to put each book back in place. Some of the books had bent or torn pages. Some looked distorted. It was almost like there had been a battle in the library. Sapiens stepped in and helped the unfortunate servants, and that was when he found out what had happened. “Any book you want me to bring you?” he asked Fabian to distract himself from thinking about the infuriating incident. “Any book is fine,” Fabian casually said, but Sapiens could see his eyes glint. Books were their favorite thing in the world, he and Fabian. “I’ll get Dalton from the stables. Meet you at the Crossroads at five?” “No, I’ll just pass by. It’s been ages since I last saw Aunt Margaret and Natalie. I’ll be wearing public clothes. It’s going to be the perfect chance.” “She’ll be delighted!” Fabian grinned, though he couldn’t help but laugh as he imagined his mother running around the house, tidying up this and that, baking her finest pastries, dressing Natalie up in her best. Even if Sapiens was the most humble man in the world, he remained the Royal Prince of Agatha. She would have to act that way even if Sapiens only sought to spend some time with her and Natalie after almost two years had passed since he last saw them. With a nod, they parted. It was almost noon, and they each had plans to realize before five. Sapiens walked toward the palace somewhat slowly, his limbs heavy. He met Harold, the butler, on the way. “Oh, Harold, great! I was coming for you.” “Your Highness,” Harold smiled and bowed. “What can I do for you?” “I need some clothes. Public clothes,” he quickly added in response to Harold’s quizzical look. He took a quick look around him and, seeing no one was anywhere near, bent down and whispered, “I’m going out.” “I see,” Harold nodded and moved his hand across his lips to show how tight they would remain shut if anyone asked where the prince was, causing Sapiens to grin. “What would I do without you?” he patted the old man on the shoulder and moved on to go inside the palace. He was on his way to his room on the second floor to shower when he saw Professor Quimby, his tutor, struggling with the mountain of books and scrolls he was holding. He rushed to help. “Oh, Sapiens, thank you, my boy,” he was panting. “You just saved me from breaking my neck on this long, long staircase!” “Anytime, Professor. But why did you take so many books out of the library?” Sapiens was struggling with their weight himself. “Are you doing research?” “I took them to save them from a dreadful fate!” Professor Quimby said with a loud, vexed voice, aiming his sight purposefully at the library, where the king was probably seated right then. “I took them so no one can ever throw them on the floor! By accident, of course!” His voice was getting louder. Sapiens saw a passerby servant stifle a laugh and did the same. Professor Quimby was a hero to the servants because he was the only one in the palace who stood up to the king when he was at fault. Sapiens made it up to the servants by other means, but Professor Quimby stood and fought for the servants’ rights and that they be well treated and did his best to have their backs whenever the king had an anger fit—which weren’t scarce. He listened to their needs and complaints and delivered them to the king. And the best thing was that not a single bad word came out of his mouth. He was infuriatingly polite and provocative when he wanted to be, and always correct. Sapiens followed the hero to the study and shut the door, catching his breath and stretching his arms after getting rid of such weight. “You seem tired,” Professor Quimby’s voice startled him. Sapiens was a little taken aback. He thought no one would notice since he was quite active that day. “Still can’t get any sleep?” the professor went on. “No,” Sapiens shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “This is, what, the third, fourth night in a row?” “Fifth.” “I see,” the professor said and seemed to lose himself in a thought for a few moments. “Have you written your assignment?” he finally said. “Yes. It’s in my room.” “Fine,” he nodded and headed for one of the two huge chairs before the fireplace. “Go get it and get some sleep. We can discuss it tomorrow.” Sapiens stood there with a frown for a moment. If the professor let him miss a lesson voluntarily, then Sapiens must look more exhausted than he thought. He wanted to joke about it but was too stressed. He went to his room and got the assignment from his desk. On his way out, however, he was nailed in place. He thought he heard a voice, a woman’s. He stood still. “I’m almost there, Sapiens,” it echoed. “I’m coming.” It sounded in his head. Sapiens couldn’t move until the voice had gone silent. He shook his head, suddenly feeling weighed down. Again? He wanted to hit the walls with his fists in frustration. What is that voice? He noticed the clothes he’d asked for lying folded on his bed. He mentally thanked Harold, trying to distract himself from the queer voice that spoke into his head for the fourth time in three days now, and handed the assignment to his professor. When did I come to the study? he frowned. The voice had him completely disoriented. He wanted to tell his tutor about it, but then he saw the look of dissatisfaction on his face—probably because the assignment was too short—and decided against it. Tiredly, Sapiens took a long shower now that he had the time, hoping that the hot water would wash away the worries he’d had for a week now, but even that failed. He kept anticipating the woman’s voice to startle him any moment. People sometimes imagined things that were not real when they were tired, he kept telling himself. Perhaps the professor could see right through this mess, he sighed, still unable to believe that his tutor simply gave him a day off. When Sapiens finished and got out, he thought he would feel ready to rest a little. Instead, he found himself looking at his bed with some dread. He was terrified by the possibility of having another strange dream he couldn’t decipher and waking up more tired than he’d been before going to sleep. He was tired of waking up with cold sweat every single time he went to sleep now. He tried reading a little instead, but the truth was, he hadn’t slept properly for days, and he was exhausted. Only a few minutes later, all his defenses fell. Perhaps I’ll have no dreams this time, he thought to himself and tried to relax before closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep. It didn’t work. Sapiens dreamt about the same woman he’d been seeing in his dreams every time he closed his eyes and slept. Instead of a fair, gorgeous youth, this time she was an eighty-year-old woman. Her hair was now silver instead of brown, but he still recognized the shape and length of it. Her warm brown eyes did not change either. She was riding a mare, a white mare, the most graceful mare he had ever witnessed. It was probably the same mare he had seen in a dream earlier that week. The woman was wearing blue trousers this time, much to Sapiens’s shock, and a pink jacket. The shirt—although it wasn’t a shirt, exactly, as it didn’t have a collar—that she wore underneath her jacket flowed with the wind as she rode, embracing a body that seemed beautiful and strong for her age, like a drawn bow. She rode for a few more minutes until she reached … were those the Gates of Alstroemeria? The sentinels opened the door on seeing her approach and stopped her to ask who she was and what business she had in the capital. She said one word and then collapsed. “Sapiens.” That was the first time she ever spoke in any of his dreams. Her voice as she called out his name snapped him out of the dream, sweaty and panting. It was the same voice he’d been hearing in his head for days. Latest draft: November, 2018