A small injured sparrow

-Juniper! Juniper! Come with me- a childish, young, snappy voice took him into the immense and fantastic nocturnal world of dreams.

He opened his eyes and he was no longer in the North, he was no longer there, not even in his body, he was illuminated, with strength and power by the rays of the warm sun, and he noticed how his presence was truly incorporeal.

He was not the protagonist of that story.

Also because this time to steal the role of single representative of his life was the young himself, a little boy, aged between six and eight years, a child with blond and curly hair, whose face bathed in the sun was rosy and cheerful.

The Baron smiled, for that innocent version of himself, because that child still didn't know what in life was going to happen, none of the wounds were yet carved into his heart and none of his experiences were yet complete.

This meant that his mother was still alive, that maybe he could see her another time.

In any case, the garden where he stood, or rather, both of its versions was large, full of greenery, trees, plants and was flooded by the strong and hot summer sun.

Juniper was on a wide gravel path, which was used for the passage of the carriages and from that detail, precisely, he understood that the scene, the memory that he was experiencing took place in the royal garden of the castle, in Warwick.

He smiled, then the little one laughed, playing, running, chasing, hugging a young Isabelle, smaller than him.

That little girl, they had grown up together, had spent their childhood together and although now there was a war between the two, he could not omit that in a distant time the two had loved each other.

In any case, Isabelle was always beautiful, she had always been, since she was a child, of an uncommon beauty, ever since they were little, he had always been lost in the great deep blue eyes of the princess.

Isabelle ran along that cobblestone avenue, but she ran with a certain education, as if to say that every member of the royal family, at least female, had to walk and pose, even in childhood with majestic and polite gestures.

While the little Juniper also followed her with confidence, he followed her to a point where the trees became thicker and thicker and with green and swaying foliage moved by the wind.

In the air around them there was a strong scent of flowers, roses in general, of white jasmine and juniper, which had always been his favourite scent as a child, like his own name: Juniper was the Latin derivation of that plant "Juniperus".

His name, it was his mother who decided it, the Baron meant or at least thought, which was quite rare, since at the time it was mostly fathers who chose what name their children should be given.

But his mother was not the kind of person to let someone else choose for her, so she decided to name her own son with the Latin name of that plant, from the sweet resin and fruits of a dark blue colour, like the eyes of the boy.

His present him followed the two of them, until he heard his cousin, or at least the childish version of her stop and call him.

Little Isabelle bent down on her legs, observed something beneath one of the large and hidden trees, she watched it, as her long, wavy blond hair fell on her back, almost risking to get dirty on the ground.

-A little bird, Juniper, look, a wounded little bird, it can't fly...-.

It was true, he remembered that day in his childhood, that fateful and painful day that he simply wished it would never had happened.

The lord remembered that dying sparrow at the side of the road, how it chirped desperately, that old sparrow with a broken wing, he knew it would never fly again.

That was not a dream, but a memory, a single dramatic nightmare.

Juniper looked at his own expression as a child, she was not happy with that, of course, because that poor animal was suffering, he could see it, he could hear it from its chirping, slower and more desperate.

-If we killed it now, cousin, it would feel no pain...- little Isabelle ventured arousing a state of discomfort and bewilderment.

-Have you perhaps lost your mind cousin? We could never do this, kill...this poor creature-.

He was shocked then, as shocked as he could be, because at that time, when they were still children, his cousin's madness was not clear enough to him.

The little girl smiled, shook her head, why was it so easy for her? How come she felt no emotion or empathy for a poor beast in distress.

Yes that sparrow was only a sparrow but still a living being.

-As if you had never done such a thing...- the princess laughed, taking with both hands a large white and heavy stone on one side of the road -do you not kill the bugs or flies when they sting you? If you have the power and strength, why are you so reluctant?-.

Young Juniper shook his head quickly and forcefully, thus shaking his many blond curls.

He had closed his eyes, as well as his fists, he had entered on the defensive.

-I can't kill it, I could never...- he denied that, shaking his pale face vigorously -and then my mother always says it's not right to kill...-.

Why was he so weak and innocent as a child? Why was he forced to relive the weight of such a great and painful childhood memory that night?

What was it? The stress? Anger? The constant fear of war? He did not know, he could not and he wanted to know, the only desire he had at that moment was to run away, wake up, go back to his body and get out of his past.

-Juniper, if you don't, I will spread the voice at court that you dared to beat me and then you will be punished...- threatened little Isabelle.

Why was so angry with that poor creature that chirped on the ground, moving its wings and legs, it cried to the sky its last songs with its beak.

The Baron knew it would never fly again, that its life would be empty, but...

Those little frightened eyes that looked at him, those little drops of dew, which bathed his feathers in terror.

He knew it would die anyway, eaten by a cat maybe or starve, but that was brutal, just...

-What are you waiting for? - his young cousin urged him as she saw the big stone raised in the other's hands swinging with uncertainty.

The princess saw the little Baron's eyes fill with tears, but she didn't care, on the contrary, it seemed almost pleasing to see how difficult her cousin had in making his decisions.

Juniper knew if he didn't do it he would be punished, if he was accused it wouldn't matter that he was the king's nephew, just as beating a member of the royal family would be a public humiliation for the crown.

So little himself sighed, he decided for the lesser evil, for him, because he wasn't the sparrow, because he was selfish, because he didn't know what a simple act could count for a simple life.

So the boy hit the back of the sparrow's neck with the stone, letting it die on the side of the road, leaving now that the broken wing was no longer the main problem of that poor creature.

But something came out, wet little Juniper's eyes, his cheeks, what was it? Why did he suddenly start to feel so bad, why did it hurt so much to cry this time?

An applause broke the silence of the sobs of his past, Isabelle smiled, she was happy and satisfied.

Damn! How could a child with such an angelic appearance hide such great demons in her soul.

-Good job! Cousin-.

What happened ...

Why was everything around him, his sight began to cloud and blur, why dis everything around his eyes began to turn black? It seemed that he was losing his balance, why was it so difficult for him to act now.

It was just a sparrow wasn't it?

Juniper opened his eyes again, it was over...he was in his bed.

He hadn't cried, he had never cried, his cheeks, his eyes were dry.

The many golden curls on his head tickled his face, gave a feeling of almost security, flooded his nostrils with a scent of fragrant musk and juniper, his favorite perfumes.

A ray of light flooded the room from beyond the clouds, illuminated his pale face, his eyes, it widened his pupils and almost bothered his gaze.

The Baron was in his own bed, in his fortress in the north, in his barony.

What had led him to such a strong and significant regressive memory?

Stress perhaps, it was possible, the fear of no longer having anyone by his side, the fear of dying.

The Baron shrugged at the heavy carved wooden headboard of his bed.

He thought, perhaps, those emotions had also been felt by that poor little bird, before the hour of judgment on that fateful summer day many years ago.

Perhaps the fear he felt at that moment, perhaps even that poor creature had felt it that day.

That pain, even Juniper on the one hand was like a bird with a broken wing, he could not escape his fate, even if it could have destined him to death.

The shutters of his window were half open, the precious curtains of his bedroom moved, swayed slowly with the wind.

Rudolph and Dorothea, he hadn't seen them for weeks.

Did his future wife still love him? His son, did he hate him after all he had done to him, after all the weight he had put on his small, young shoulders?

Did he repudiate that child so much because in reality he reflected what he had always tried to be and never succeeded?

Because while Rudolph was able to freely express his gentle and sensitive soul, Juniper had always hidden it to please others? His father, his uncle, his cousin.

Battalions out there were ready to fight for him, thousands of people would be ready to die, to defend their lord.

And he would fight, he would lead those battalions, to death, because now that he finally had a family, a new family, he knew he didn't have to die for them.

Juniper too possessed royal blood, on his mother's side and he knew, he believed the throne was rightfully his, he believed it a bit like all the other competitors in that unbridled race for power.

He would win, he would make everything right, how true it could be that his name was Juniper Whiteblossom.