“He Wears My Scars”
By Tikvah Houtz

            Once upon a time in a land far away, there lived a king with his twin sons, Joshua and James. Now both of them were given the same education and the same clothes. They even had two horses that looked similar. Joshua and James looked exactly alike; the only difference in them was in their attitudes. The eldest, Joshua, was a cheerful hard working young man, kind to every one and everything, but the younger twin was more on the lazy side and rather insolent, therefore he often got into some sort of trouble.

            Now this king did not believe in having servants do every little thing for his sons, instead the princes were encouraged to work in the king’s field right along with the hired men. They also were expected to take responsibility over their animals.

            One thing they both enjoyed immensely was carving. As long as James did not consider something “work”, he fell to it with great enthusiasm. Often a quiet place or time together was the recipe for many wooden animals and toys. The head of a deer or the shape of a child would often come alive under their skillful hands.

            Also, the two princes often went on hunting trips together, which required them to make their own meals and haul their own water. Joshua did all of those things in good spirits, but more often than not James would slack and have his older twin do his share. This caused an occasional conflict between the two.   Nevertheless these two brothers loved each other immensely.

            Now it happened one day that the king heard of trouble in a distant land.  “I must go away on a journey to help a friend, but you must stay here with your uncle,” he told his sons. Since the young men were not old enough to be thought of as rulers, their father’s brother was put in charge. However, the uncle was not as strict as the king had been, and he let the boys run where they pleased.  

 Now one day the youngest twin decided to take advantage of his new freedom. “Brother,” he said with mischief in his dark eyes, “let’s put on our plain clothes and go into the town. I’m wanting to see something exciting and Uncle won’t care a wit.”

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               Joshua looked skeptical. “I’m not sure Father would approve of us going out there simply for pleasure. You know how rowdy the town is.”

            “Aw, come on,” James pleaded. “I want to do something independent. We could set up a booth in the market and sell those little wooden trinkets we’ve been making. Come on, no one will ever know we are the king’s sons. The only people who have seen us in work clothes are father’s workers. Just take off your ring and no one will be the wiser.” Thus he pleaded and cajoled until Joshua consented.

            Upon getting their booth set up, James promptly disappeared in the swarm of people, leaving his older brother to the work. Joshua sold quite a few little toys and no one ever knew they had bartered with a prince. However, it was not long before he noticed yelling and shouting down the street. Scooping the remaining toys into the bag with the money, he set off toward the mob. The people were gathered at the front of a building which Joshua knew to be a Whipping House. In the center of the crowd two men stood facing each other, arms folded. One man wore the uniform of a jailer; the other had on dirty buckskins and muddy boots. A fancy-looking carving knife swung from his belt.

            “I tell you,” the dirty one growled, “I want him whipped now. He stole my carving knife from me, the sly brat, and I wanna see him get his due!”

            “Listen,” the other man pleaded, “Just slow down. You got your knife back from the boy, and I’ll make sure he gets his due. The constable is on his way.”

            “Naw, I’m half a mind to whip him m’self!” The dirty one shouted,  making his jowls quiver.

            Joshua decided to investigate. He slipped around to the back of the dirty, decrepit building away from the noisy crowd.  High up on the wall was a small window, just big enough for a grown man to slip through.  He wondered how many criminals had escaped through that hole. Why didn’t some one close it up? Maybe the ‘boy’ had already escaped? Looking around in the rubble for something to stand on, he found a box that looked sturdy enough. Standing on top he peeked into the dim,
dirty room . . .

            Joshua gasped. Sitting on the floor was his own brother. “You did that? James, WHY!?”

            James looked up. “Oh, Joshua, what is Father gonna say? They don’t know I’m a prince, but they’re sure to find out. How could I have been so stupid! I can’t shame my own name!”

            “You just might, with the way you’re acting!” Joshua climbed onto the window sill and dropped into the room. “How did this all happen?”

            James rolled his eyes. “I lost a bet against that stinking wagoneer for his ole knife and then he had to insult me. So, I relieved him of it.” His shoulders sagged. “And this is where it got me.”

            Joshua sighed. “Trade coats with me, take my bag and climb out.”

            “Why?” James queried, exchanging the items.

            “Just shut-up, tell you later. I’ll give you a boost. Now jump! Run home.”

            James ran. With each step toward home his questions mounted. What was Joshua planning? Why did they exchange coats? “I’ve been a stupid idiot,” he told himself. “All my life I’ve let my brother do my chores, get me out of trouble. Figures I would need him to get me out of this.”

            By the time he was near the palace he was so winded he could barely stand. He thought surely Joshua should be close behind him somewhere.  Anxiously he sat down by the road to wait for his twin; but the shadows stretched farther and farther and the sun dipped lower behind the mountains.  Guilty feelings arose like the mist that was beginning to spread across the valleys.

            Finally, he decided to go back and look for his brother. After washing his face and putting on different clothes, he pulled on a hood to shadow his face and set out. By the time he got into town, the streets were empty and the shops had been locked up for the night.

            But; in front of the Whipping House stood a solitary figure tied to a post. He stood tall and proud, as if the crimson running down his bare back was a blessing instead of blood.

            James stopped, stunned. His brother had not tried to escape. Instead he stayed and took the whipping.

            Years later, when the king finally returned he found both sons hard at work in the fields. “I must confess,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I can no longer tell you two apart. I used to always know who you were, because Joshua was the one working and James was the one whining. Now I find you both working.  Which is which?”

            The brothers smiled at each other. “Joshua, turn around,” James said quietly.

            “My brother taught me a lesson, Father,” said James humbly. “I don’t deserve to have such a wonderful man as my brother.” James reached out and touched one of the many scars that stretched like white ribbons across Joshua’s back. “This is how you can tell us apart, Father. He wears my scars.”