B Rover of OZ

Chapter One: Lurline’s Lyre

The Wizard made a quick decision. It’s not fair that I have used my wizardry to visit B’s private dreams. I hope I can explain why I did that; he is such a wonderful new friend.

Oz knocked at B’s door and the now-familiar voice of B Rover said, “Please come in,” Oz opened the door.

“Good morning, B. Are you busy? May I take a little of your time?”

B Rover grinned. “I’m not busy at all. I’ve just washed up and gotten dressed in this outfit I found in my closet. How did the Princess know my exact measurements, or my taste in clothes?” B was dressed in a dark green doublet and scarlet britches which were a perfect complement to the doublet. The collar of the doublet was trimmed with carolites, a beautiful and rare gemstone that added just the right amount of sparkle to B’s outfit.

“Ozma always wants her guests and friends to be comfortable in the royal palace and, I suspect, that as a powerful fairy giving them pleasing garments that fit well is no problem at all.”

B smiled. “I feel so honored to be a guest here. The rooms that the Princess has let me use are so beautiful and comfortable. Come have a seat in this very comfortable sitting area. Oh, and is may I call you Oz”

“Of course! Of course!” the Wizard said at once. My full name would take way too long to say.”

B led the Wizard to a seating area. All of the rooms in the royal palace had a bed chamber, a seating area and, of course, a private bathroom. The Wizard and B took seats on facing sides of a round table made of green marble. There was a pitcher of delicious juice on the table and B, delighted to play host to the famous Wizard of OZ, poured him a goblet of the drink and one for himself.

Oz thanked him, took a sip of his drink and said, “I hope you slept well.”

“That bed is even softer than the bed I had in my parents’ home, but sadly, my sleep is often troubled with dreams of sad events of the past.

Oz rubbed his long chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Ah, yes, your past. Speaking of that, I had a most surprising night,” Oz proceeded to tell B about how he had been awakened by very strong feelings of distress coming from someone in the palace, and how he had crept through the hall to see if he could help whoever was in distress. “I finally came to your door and it as there that I found the source of the disturbances.” Oz hesitated, as B had moved forward in his seat with increasing interest. “I am able to visit the dreams of those who are suffering, and so I tiptoed, so to speak, into your dreams and memories.”

B frowned, “I don’t know whether to feel that my privacy has been violated or grateful for your concern.”

“Oh please,” Oz said waving his arms about in distress “I understand your feeling about privacy, and your right to have that, but what I saw and felt is just between the two of us. And I would like to help you.”

B looked at the Wizard. Besides being a famous wizard, he was such a friendly man, and he had been an excellent part of the battle with the Astonishing Bellairobubble.

“I’m sorry,” B said, “you are highly regarded in OZ, and I do trust you.” B held out his hand and Oz took it at once.

“May I ask a question about your past?”

B picked up his mandolin which had a surprising way of always being close to hand. He stroked the strings and then sang:

I have found many friends in OZ,

And everyone is tried and true.

You are the Wizard and loved by all,

I will share my story with you.”

“Quite amazing!” Oz said. “How do you just come up with those songs extemporaneously?”

“I don’t know,” said B, his cheeks reddening. “They just seem to come to me.”

Oz pulled on the tiny goatee he was cultivating, “Amazing!” he said again, and then he told B Rover all that he had seen in his dreams.

As he finished his narrative, Oz asked, “Did Malmagnus leave peacefully?”

“I wasn’t there when he left,” B said. “My father knew that I was upset by Malmagnus, and he suggested that I take my mandolin and sword and go for a walk. So, that’s what I did. The forest of the Fighting Trees, who no longer fight, is one of my favorite places to go. There are wonderful apples growing there and the trees are happy to share them with me in return for a song or two on my mandolin.” B strummed his mandolin and played a few chords of a very pretty tune. It conjured up images of branches waving in the breeze and tiny rivulets of water flowing around their thirsty roots from an underground spring.

“Even if the trees were still eager for a fight, I have no doubt that your wonderful music would lull them into a state of happy congeniality.”

“I was away from home only an hour or two,” B said, and his face took on a look of great sadness. “But, when I walked home, Coventry was gone. Nothing of our little kingdom remained; there was just a large field with the pressed grass outlines of where our buildings stood.”

The Wizard could easily imagine what must have been B Rover’s shock and sense of loss when he saw all this, and sympathetic tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He got out of his seat and put an arm around B’s shoulders.

“It was Malmagnus,” B said. “I know it. I could feel the traces of his foul magic in the air. I have been wandering through OZ hoping to find where Malmagnus has hidden Coventry, my parents, and our people.” He paused and then added in a low voice, “I wonder if it still exists at all.”

“It’s very hard to completely destroy something here in OZ,” said the Wizard. “I might be wrong, I’ve been wrong in the past, but I have the strongest sense that Coventry, and all its inhabitants are alive and well…” he paused, “…somewhere! Our challenge is going to be to find where that somewhere is.”

B was staring down at the floor and looked lost in thought.. After a moment, he looked up at Oz and said, “I wasn’t completely honest about why I left Coventry the day Malmagnus left and our kingdom disappeared. I wasn’t just going for a walk because I was upset about Malmagnus. I left because I was looking for something.” He paused and then almost whispered to the Wizard, “Have you heard of Lurline’s Lyre?”

The Wizard sank back and almost fell into his seat. “Yes,” he said, “but I’ve never heard anyone except Ozma speak of it before. Do you know the story of Lurline and her importance in OZ history?”

“Yes, my mother and father used to read me stories from an old book that had tales about Lurline and her fairy band,” B said. “One of the stories told how the fairy band were flying over a beautiful country surrounded by a terrible desert, the Deadly Desert,” B added. ”In the story, they said that Lurline thought OZ was so beautiful that she used her magic to enchant it and make it a fairy country.”

“Yes,” said the Wizard. “I heard that story from Ozma herself. Lurline told her that she played a magic lyre and sang a secret song to the land that gifted it with magic and enchantment as you said. This all happened long before my balloon carried me to OZ.”

“OZ history is so interesting and mysterious,” B said. He had gotten up and was walking and thinking. “Another of the stories was about a baby girl that Lurline was protecting. The baby was a fairy and after she enchanted OZ, Lurline gave the baby to someone in OZ and asked him to care for her.”

“Hmm,” said Oz, “I know that story very well. That fairy infant, who was destined to be the ruler of OZ, was given into the care of a man who was currently the ruler of OZ and didn’t want anyone to take that powerful position from him, so he gave the child to a wicked woman named Mombi. Mombi secretly practiced forbidden forms of magic, such as transformation, but let everyone know that she was not a witch. The terrible man begged Mombi to hide the child, so no one would ever be able to find her.”

The Wizard paused, and B thought that the little man had a terrible look of grief on his face. “The Old Woman had her own reasons for taking the baby,” Oz continued, “and agreed to raise the child. She performed the forbidden act of transformation and turned the infant Ozma into a boy who Mombi named Tippetarius. She raised the boy as her servant and was very cruel to him. It was only after the boy was ten years of age, and escaped from Mombi to have exciting adventures with the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow that he discovered the truth of his identity. It was Glinda the Good who forced Mombi to restore the boy to his true form: Ozma of OZ.”

“That’s a remarkable story,” said B, “I don’t know why I never heard the whole tale before. B’s hand dropped to his sword and his face took on a look of great anger. “Who was that terrible man who gave an innocent baby to a vile Wicked Witch? He deserves to be severely punished.”

“Then draw your sword,” said the Wizard. He tore his shirt opened and bared his chest, “and bury your sword here.” He tapped his chest as tears fell from his eyes.

“What?!” B almost dropped his sword in surprise. “You!? You gave Ozma to a Witch. I don’t believe it! You are one of Princess Ozma’s closeat friends and confidents.”

“Even so,” said Oz, drawing his sleeve across his wet cheek. “It was I who did that terrible deed, and all because I had only been in OZ a relatively short time and still believed, as many do in the world outside of OZ, that power is the most important thing to possess.”

What followed was a longer story, in which Oz told of building the Emerald City with its future citizens, and then how he sent Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion into danger when he asked them to kill the Wicked Witch of the West if they wanted him to grant their special requests.

“I had no magic to send Dorothy home to Kansas or to give the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion, the things they wanted most, but I was terribly afraid of the Wicked Witches of OZ. Dorothy’s house had killed the Witch of the East and now there was only the Witch of the West to threaten my power. So you see, I was once a terribly man and a humbug to boot.”

B understood that what the Wizard had done was awful, but he had learned his lesson and changed. Ozma was the ruler of OZ as Lurline intended, and Dorothy and her friends had all gotten their hearts’ desire, so surely the Wizard could be forgiven. He had done so much good since those far away days.

“But what became of Lurline’s Lyre?” B said. “It seems that the story has taken us a long way from that mystery. Why would Lurline choose to hide such a magical devise after using it to create a wonderful fairyland like OZ?”

“I don’t know,” said the Wizard. He buttoned his shirt and then held up one finger, “Perhaps the lyre only had one charm in it and once Lurline had used it to enchant the Land of OZ was of no use to her.”

B nodded his head, but then he looked up and said, “But it was a lyre, and even if it had no more magic it was still a useful musical instrument.” His hand traveled to his own precious mandolin. “Perhaps Lurline had another reason for leaving the lyre here in OZ.”

“Perhaps you’re right, friend Brandy…”

“Please,” B said, putting his hand on the Wizard’s arm. “I have always preferred to be just B.”

“B is a neat and unique name. I will only call you that. Friend B, what do you say to our going down to breakfast while we consider your next move. Ozma will be there and we can get her council as well as Dorothy and the others.” The Wizard suddenly took off his top hat and hit himself on top of his head. “What is the matter with me,” he said. ‘You can ask Ozma to look into her magic picture and ask it to show her where Coventry is.”

“What a wonderful idea!” B said joyfully and, taking the Wizard’s arm, he said, “you must never refer to yourself, or think of yourself, as a terrible man. You are a wonderful man and a wonderful wizard.”

The Wizard smiled and whispered, “It isn’t pleasant, but I think it’s helpful to remember the things we did that we are ashamed of. It keeps us from doing them again.”

This was so wise, that all B could do was smile and nod. And so, the two headed down to have breakfast with the hope that the Magic Picture would show B Coventry’s location.