Note/L10N/KDQ/2.03/Books/povssrobertodenariusbook?
povssrobertodenariusbook 
原文
<br>
<DIV align="center">The Tragic Tale of Roberto Denarius</div>
<p>
By Perry Striker
<p>
<DIV align="left">
<font face=3>
Once upon a time when all the towns of Cyrodiil were ruled by Imperials there lived a famous family called Denarius. They were given the county of Cheydinhal and for years were model rulers. All went well until some thirty years before the Dunmer took over, the ruling member of the Denarius family, though married to a beautiful and loving wife, had no issue.
<p>
Had the count been a less than honourable man he might have divorced his wife and tried again but that was not his way. As the countess grew older with not even a phantom pregnancy to raise his hopes, the count began to grow bitter. Then the countess learned of an old woman, a herbalist, who specialised in the manufacture of obscure potions that could help with a multitude of ailments. Almost in desperation, the countess paid her a secret visit.
<p>
The old herbalist agreed that she did possess a philtre that would guarantee the countess conceived but it came at a price and there could be no bargaining. In exchange for the potion, for which there would be no charge, the countess had to agree that when the child came of age it was to be shared with the herbalist. If the child was male, he would marry her, if female she would be a companion. The herbalist was so lined and wrinkled with age the countess had no qualm with agreeing to the bargain. By the time her child was old enough to marry, the old woman would be long dead. She took the potion. In due time Roberto was born.
<p>
The boy was, in many ways, a delightful child and the apple of his mother's eye. His father loved him dearly too but he was more aware that the boy had one flaw in his character. Whilst he was kind, generous, helpful and anything but conceited he did have a temper. Not that this was revealed all that often. The only thing that upset the boy was if anyone tried to take away from him one of his favourite toys. His parents quickly learned that there was no problem if they asked for the toy. Seldom was any request refused. But even an apparent attempt to take it without permission started scenes of such ferocity they would scare visitors away.
<p>
His mother was indulgent and referred to him affectionately as 'my little raging bull'. She did not take the tantrums seriously. He would grow out of them. Unfortunately it was his father's less sanguine view that proved to be correct. That ninety-nine percent of the time the boy was nice as nine pence did not make it easier to bear when the one percent threatened life and limb. Still, as he grew older, people were less inclined to try to take things away from him and as his coming of age celebrations approached one could be forgiven for thinking the tantrums were a thing of the past.
<p>
The countess knew that she must not just assume the old herbalist had died but establish it as a certainty before the day of the bargain arrived. She had by now told her husband so that they could plan alternative strategies in the unlikely event that the woman still lived. The two of them set out to visit the cottage the countess had seen only the once before over eighteen years earlier.
<p>
It was a mistake. In those eighteen years the lands of Cyrodiil had become increasingly lawless and dangerous. Vicious animals, hideous monsters and hordes of bandits roamed the roads and forests. The count and countess had scarcely left the safety of the castle when their retinue was attacked. Not one survived. Roberto was devastated. All planned celebrations were forgotten in the general grief. Roberto buried his parents together in the castle courtyard marking the sites of the graves with a beautiful red rose bush for his mother and a scented white lilac for his father. He would visit each day to shed a tear. His name day came and went unremarked by any in the castle.
<p>
It was not unremarked by the old herbalist who was still very much alive. This woman had known who the countess was on her first visit and although she had never bothered to keep an eye on her or her child she knew where to find them. Some three weeks after the deaths and a week after his coming of age Roberto received a visit from her. The ugly and more than ever decrepit old crone marched up to the boy and told him she was his wife to be.
<p>
Perhaps because it came so unexpectedly, the boy roared with laughter. Had he, or for that matter the countess in the first instance, been aware that they were facing a witch from Glenmoril Wyrd they might have been more circumspect. No one enjoys being thwarted. Yet no matter what she said, whether wheedling, piteous or threatening, the boy continued to laugh at her. And so she cursed him. Within the year he would prick his finger and die!
<p>
In this perhaps the witch could be accused of inadequate research. She knew nothing of the boy's nickname or how he had earned it. And here she was saying she was taking away something he was rather partial to - his life. Before she could ask what day of the week it was she had been dragged away screaming, drowned, decapitated, hanged drawn and sixteenthed, burned at the stake and fed to the lions.
<p>
Belatedly coming to his senses Roberto realised he had despatched the only person who could easily have removed the curse. He tried a different solution. Whatever else he did he had to keep his fingers away from pricks. He became a paranoid aichmophobe, throwing every sharp item out of the castle. The only thing he could not bring himself to destroy was the red rose bush on his mother's grave. And of course inevitably there was an occasion when paying his daily visit to the shrine, he slipped on wet grass. On this occasion he managed to save himself from falling into the rose bush but only by ripping a branch from the lilac tree as he grabbed for support.
<p>
It so happened that this tree was the home of a beautiful fairy. The lilac fairy was less than impressed at the human's oafishness. Knowing what would become of him she pushed him away from her home and into the middle of the prickly shrub. Yet as the boy's life instantly began to ebb away, the fairy had second thoughts. For such a gross and abhorrent piece of behaviour, death was far too easy a punishment. She banished the witch's spell and laid on him an enchantment of her own. He would become a real raging bull forever or until he married a rose bush and was able to get it to bear his children which in her view was the same thing. And that is how he lives now, a monster in a garden surrounded by flowers. His rage at having lost his freedom is beyond belief. Anyone who approaches is killed on sight. And so it will always be until he can marry a rose bush.
<p>
And the moral of this tale is: always choose your parents carefully.
<p>
P.S. The Dunmer counts of Cheydinhal have not forgotten Roberto's terrible fate, though they have rather 'brushed him under the carpet'. The thorn that pricked his finger has become a two-edged totem. On the one hand there is the threat that a member of the Denarius family could still return to Cheydinhal. On the other, their family wouldn't have the influence they have today without it. The present count and his court will never talk of Roberto and refuse to acknowledge his existence. But he's hardly invisible. Just remember that the clue is in the thorn.
<p>
As for marrying a rose bush - ha! There once was a woman in Cyrodiil called Snow White who was friendly with a Rose Red. But that is surely a false trail and in any event Snow White has not been heard of in years. So poor old Roberto will rage away for eternity. Sad, isn't it.
<p>
訳文
<br>
<DIV align="center">The Tragic Tale of Roberto Denarius</div>
<p>
By Perry Striker
<p>
<DIV align="left">
<font face=3>
Once upon a time when all the towns of Cyrodiil were ruled by Imperials there lived a famous family called Denarius. They were given the county of Cheydinhal and for years were model rulers. All went well until some thirty years before the Dunmer took over, the ruling member of the Denarius family, though married to a beautiful and loving wife, had no issue.
<p>
Had the count been a less than honourable man he might have divorced his wife and tried again but that was not his way. As the countess grew older with not even a phantom pregnancy to raise his hopes, the count began to grow bitter. Then the countess learned of an old woman, a herbalist, who specialised in the manufacture of obscure potions that could help with a multitude of ailments. Almost in desperation, the countess paid her a secret visit.
<p>
The old herbalist agreed that she did possess a philtre that would guarantee the countess conceived but it came at a price and there could be no bargaining. In exchange for the potion, for which there would be no charge, the countess had to agree that when the child came of age it was to be shared with the herbalist. If the child was male, he would marry her, if female she would be a companion. The herbalist was so lined and wrinkled with age the countess had no qualm with agreeing to the bargain. By the time her child was old enough to marry, the old woman would be long dead. She took the potion. In due time Roberto was born.
<p>
The boy was, in many ways, a delightful child and the apple of his mother's eye. His father loved him dearly too but he was more aware that the boy had one flaw in his character. Whilst he was kind, generous, helpful and anything but conceited he did have a temper. Not that this was revealed all that often. The only thing that upset the boy was if anyone tried to take away from him one of his favourite toys. His parents quickly learned that there was no problem if they asked for the toy. Seldom was any request refused. But even an apparent attempt to take it without permission started scenes of such ferocity they would scare visitors away.
<p>
His mother was indulgent and referred to him affectionately as 'my little raging bull'. She did not take the tantrums seriously. He would grow out of them. Unfortunately it was his father's less sanguine view that proved to be correct. That ninety-nine percent of the time the boy was nice as nine pence did not make it easier to bear when the one percent threatened life and limb. Still, as he grew older, people were less inclined to try to take things away from him and as his coming of age celebrations approached one could be forgiven for thinking the tantrums were a thing of the past.
<p>
The countess knew that she must not just assume the old herbalist had died but establish it as a certainty before the day of the bargain arrived. She had by now told her husband so that they could plan alternative strategies in the unlikely event that the woman still lived. The two of them set out to visit the cottage the countess had seen only the once before over eighteen years earlier.
<p>
It was a mistake. In those eighteen years the lands of Cyrodiil had become increasingly lawless and dangerous. Vicious animals, hideous monsters and hordes of bandits roamed the roads and forests. The count and countess had scarcely left the safety of the castle when their retinue was attacked. Not one survived. Roberto was devastated. All planned celebrations were forgotten in the general grief. Roberto buried his parents together in the castle courtyard marking the sites of the graves with a beautiful red rose bush for his mother and a scented white lilac for his father. He would visit each day to shed a tear. His name day came and went unremarked by any in the castle.
<p>
It was not unremarked by the old herbalist who was still very much alive. This woman had known who the countess was on her first visit and although she had never bothered to keep an eye on her or her child she knew where to find them. Some three weeks after the deaths and a week after his coming of age Roberto received a visit from her. The ugly and more than ever decrepit old crone marched up to the boy and told him she was his wife to be.
<p>
Perhaps because it came so unexpectedly, the boy roared with laughter. Had he, or for that matter the countess in the first instance, been aware that they were facing a witch from Glenmoril Wyrd they might have been more circumspect. No one enjoys being thwarted. Yet no matter what she said, whether wheedling, piteous or threatening, the boy continued to laugh at her. And so she cursed him. Within the year he would prick his finger and die!
<p>
In this perhaps the witch could be accused of inadequate research. She knew nothing of the boy's nickname or how he had earned it. And here she was saying she was taking away something he was rather partial to - his life. Before she could ask what day of the week it was she had been dragged away screaming, drowned, decapitated, hanged drawn and sixteenthed, burned at the stake and fed to the lions.
<p>
Belatedly coming to his senses Roberto realised he had despatched the only person who could easily have removed the curse. He tried a different solution. Whatever else he did he had to keep his fingers away from pricks. He became a paranoid aichmophobe, throwing every sharp item out of the castle. The only thing he could not bring himself to destroy was the red rose bush on his mother's grave. And of course inevitably there was an occasion when paying his daily visit to the shrine, he slipped on wet grass. On this occasion he managed to save himself from falling into the rose bush but only by ripping a branch from the lilac tree as he grabbed for support.
<p>
It so happened that this tree was the home of a beautiful fairy. The lilac fairy was less than impressed at the human's oafishness. Knowing what would become of him she pushed him away from her home and into the middle of the prickly shrub. Yet as the boy's life instantly began to ebb away, the fairy had second thoughts. For such a gross and abhorrent piece of behaviour, death was far too easy a punishment. She banished the witch's spell and laid on him an enchantment of her own. He would become a real raging bull forever or until he married a rose bush and was able to get it to bear his children which in her view was the same thing. And that is how he lives now, a monster in a garden surrounded by flowers. His rage at having lost his freedom is beyond belief. Anyone who approaches is killed on sight. And so it will always be until he can marry a rose bush.
<p>
And the moral of this tale is: always choose your parents carefully.
<p>
P.S. The Dunmer counts of Cheydinhal have not forgotten Roberto's terrible fate, though they have rather 'brushed him under the carpet'. The thorn that pricked his finger has become a two-edged totem. On the one hand there is the threat that a member of the Denarius family could still return to Cheydinhal. On the other, their family wouldn't have the influence they have today without it. The present count and his court will never talk of Roberto and refuse to acknowledge his existence. But he's hardly invisible. Just remember that the clue is in the thorn.
<p>
As for marrying a rose bush - ha! There once was a woman in Cyrodiil called Snow White who was friendly with a Rose Red. But that is surely a false trail and in any event Snow White has not been heard of in years. So poor old Roberto will rage away for eternity. Sad, isn't it.
<p>
