Scared Hands: part 1

The grass was gray. Trimmed to perfection, it was still the color of a thundercloud. Other that the grass, though the scene was perfect. A crystal clear river flowed slowly past and the sky was sapphire blue.

In the center of the river a small wooden boat rocked gently. Inside sat a girl and a boy. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve but there was no denying that she was beautiful. Dark curls framed creamy skin and perfect lips. And there were her eyes. Her eyes were large and as green as the grass should have been. Those eyes had gotten her in trouble before. Green is not a healthy they said. The boy’s bright blue eyes seemed less an offence.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” said the girl whose name happened to be Angela.

“I’m not complaining” Jack, the boy, was grinning.

The side of the boat hid Angela’s kick. “Just give it to me.”

“What if I don’t give it to you so we can stay out longer?” Jack, still grinning, suggested.

“Then I’d row back to shore.” Said Angela through a manufactured smile.

“No you wouldn’t,” said Jack his grin still in place. “Your parents are counting on us. Oh, and tell Jordan I’ll have his book back by next week.”

Angela’s smile slipped. “Jordan’s gone.”

“What? How? When?”

“The SIF took him out of school yesterday.” Said Angela her fake smile wiped clean.

Jack just stared at her.

“Smile, if we don’t get this information to my parents they won’t be able to do anything.”

Jack smiled again but this time his grin, too, was fake. Silently he passed her a wrapped package and she hugged him for the benefit of any one watching. Jack rowed to the west bank and Angela got out. They made a show of hugging goodbye. As his head passed her ear he whispered.

“I’m Sorry.”

Angela watched Jack row to the other side. Then turned toward the gate holding the package Jack had slipped her. She didn’t need to worry about him; he wasn’t carrying anything. He had nothing to fear from the gate on his side.

“You guna open that?” sneered a guard who’s face, Angela felt, was one of those which really should qualify him for duty in a dungeon somewhere.

Angela looked at him innocently. “Not ‘til I get home.”

“Interesting, and what will be inside I wonder?”

“What?” Angela’s perfect brows knit in apparent consternation.

“I want to see it.”

Angela had long ago learned to call tears at will she did so now. “What did I do?” She sobbed.

The guard, however lacking in intelligence, had full measure of steadfastness. He snatched the package. Angela winced as the bright paper ripped. Then the guard stood holding a wooden bear.  He sneered again, obviously disappointed and knocked on the side to see if it was hollow. It wasn’t. He threw the bear at her. She sighed inwardly as he gave her a dismissive wave. It was hard not to run but that was a sure way to attract attention. .

She walked calmly through the gray circular houses. They varied in size but not much else. Beside her men walked with their eyes straight ahead and women walked with their eyes on the ground. The men wore black and the women wore gray. No one looked around no-one really saw anything. They had made sure there was nothing to see. Her house was the same as the others, at least on the outside.

She pulled open the door and closed her green eyes. Her mother and father were sitting on the black couch. Across from them, furiously scribbling on a note pad was a reporter.

“We had no idea.” Said Angela’s mother, her brown eyes filling with tears.

“I mean we knew he was with the wrong crowd. But Anarchy?” Her father’s arm was protectively around his wife’s shoulders.

The reporter heard the door and turned. “And you must be the sister. Do you have anything to say about your brother’s conviction?”

Angela froze. “Conviction?” She had known this was coming from the moment the grey-haired men stopped in front of his classroom she had known that Jordan’s recklessness had finally caught up with him, had known that the thing all of them had feared every waking hour had come upon them. But still to hear the word in all its finality was a blow.

“Your brother was convicted of treason this morning.” Said Angela’s father gently pulling her towards him.

The reporter did not give up. “What is your initial reaction to this news?”

This time her tears were real. “I wish he had thought before he did some thing that stupid.”

“Thanks I can use that.” He winked at her his oily black mustache bobbing.

“Goodbye,” said her father firmly. His jaw muscles were tense.

“Goodbye and thank you.” The door closed before the thank you got out.

Her parents waited until he was gone and then spun to face her.

“Did you get it?” they both asked.

She handed them the bear. Her mother sighed with relief and grabbed the bear. They followed her into the dining room. Behind the table was a stuffed bookcase. Her father pushed his hand into a crevice and pushed the mechanism. The bookcase slid apart revealing a long stairway and a door at the bottom. Her father led them down and pushed open the door. Angela pulled the door closed.

The basement was the best room in the house. It was elegantly decorated with green and red; books, banned books, lined the shelves. Perhaps the most defiant feature was the open fireplace. They hated fire.

Her father took the bear and twisted the right ear five times to the left three to the right then the left foot three to the left. Finally the right ear, once, right. A minute compartment with a tiny scroll inside popped out. Her mother handed him a magnifying glass. The note was written in code but he could read it almost as readily as normal letters.

“Dragon claw.” Isaac’s features were set

Her mother’s gasp was barely audible. “This cannot be right. It must have been intercepted and changed. This can’t be what it meant to say.”

“Everything is correct. This is the message.”

“So we are just going to abandon Jordan? No help will be sent and instead they send you on this suicide mission?”

“Perhaps help for Jordan is coming from a different quarter. Would we not be the first to be suspected if he escaped?”

“And if it does where will you be?”

Isaac closed his eyes. “We choose this Ama; we swore our oaths long ago.”

“Oaths? I was not a mother then.”

“But you were a wife. This mission will not change anything for Jordan, only for me.”

“What about Angela? How will we live?”

“If I die it will look like a suicide, not treason. You will not be suspected. There are jobs you can do.”

Angela could not take the sound of their voices anymore and slipped quietly from the room.

Sins of the Fathers: Chapter 2

The train was traveling through Quazypoor at the usual time with the usual criminals, drunks and dealers riding, but it was different somehow. There were four new passengers beside the usual rough crew of ex-convicts, murderers, and warlocks. The weirdest thing was that three of them were children, twin girls, who looked about four, with blond, curly hair and scared blue eyes, and boy who looked younger with black hair and big brown eyes. The last was a cloaked figures no one saw his face; it was covered in shadow.

It was only a matter of time; someone would make a move on the children. Sure enough a drunken man with clothes that spoke of disrepair and misuse walked toward them, but as his hand shot out toward one of the girls. He found a dagger at his throat and another one tickling his back.

“They’re with me,” a husky voice came out of the cloak.

The man laughed nervously, “I was only Joking.”

“Good,” said the cloaked figure pushing the drunk away from him.

About a half hour later another man walked toward the children. This man wasn’t in the drunken stupor even if he looked just as disheveled. His name was Gus and he had some respect as a fighter among the others. The cloaked figure stood up, placing himself between Gus and the three children. Gus pulled a knife and tried to stab it in the chest of the cloaked figure, but the knife stabbed air. Gus found a dagger aimed at his throat, but he was quick. Gus ducked and tried to ram the cloaked figure. He whirled and slashed blindly at the charging man. Gus stopped running at the pain in his shoulder and clammed a hand on to stop the blood. That gave the cloaked figure the second he needed and a dagger was at Gus’s throat. Gus dropped his knife but as the dagger lowered Gus ripped the hood off. Long dark ringlets of hair fell to frame a beautiful face and large brown eyes. Every head on the train turned and soon men, taunting, laughing, had surrounded her.

Nathan had watched the whole thing, silently rooting for the cloaked figure. He was the king of the train. He had gained respect and power by being the toughest, fastest, and strongest and because he didn’t show weakness by leaving those who challenged him alive. But there were few who challenged him now; people were scared. There were many dark rumors about his past. Some said wolves raised him and others said he had come from the lands across the sea. Nathan laughed at these stories. The only people who knew his true past were long dead. Some thought it odd that he never took up with harlots, of which there were a multitude in Quazypoor, but none dared ask him why.

He watched as the men crowded around the girl. He knew too well what was next, rape and murder for the girl, worse for the children. This girl made him remember his own daughter, Kendra. But she was long dead. She had tried to save the akbo children. Akbo children were usually a product of an affair or abandoned by their parents who didn’t want the trouble. The children were left near a small volcano to starve or be burned up by the mini eruptions. Kendra had been able to get one girl out of the country but she had chosen the wrong child. The girl she saved was a daughter of the king but not of the Queen. She had been taken because she had been seen with the child. Kendra wouldn’t tell where the girl was so she was executed the next day.

Suddenly Nathan knew where the children in the train came from. He suddenly knew that this strangely calm girl in the middle of a horde of angry men was doing the same thing that his daughter had given her life for. He couldn’t let this happen, not again. He suddenly knew what he had to do. Nathan jumped in the circle of men.

“They’re with me.” He said with quiet command.

The men hesitated for a second, torn between their dark passion and the fear for their lives. Finally they all turned and went back to their seats.

“Thank you,” said the girl quietly.

“What’s your name?” asked Nathan.

“Kendra,” she said in a soft voice.

Kendra saw his eye fill with surprise and…was it pain?

“Those are akbo children.” He said.

It was a statement not a question. Kendra nodded.

“Never do this again!”

Kendra was surprised at the vehemence in his voice, but she said firmly. “As long as I am alive and there are children dying I will not stop.”

“You could die,”

“If I do it will be but a small sacrifice for the lives of so many children.” Said Kendra.

“How can you say that?” Asked Nathan, shocked at her disregard of her safety.

“The Maker is strong enough to protect me if he wishes.”

Nathan snorted, “The maker is a fairy-tale, don’t put your trust in nothingness. My daughter did and now she’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kendra softly. “But I have to do this. I was an akbo child. Condemned to die even though I had done nothing wrong. A girl saved me she got me over the border but when she went back she was killed.”

“ What was her name?” Nathan’s voice was horse. He wondered if it could be or if it was too crazy.

“I was name after her,” said Kendra wondering why he seemed so agitated.

Nathan sighed shakily, “I’ve wondered for eighteen years what I would do if I ever met you.”

“What do you mean?” asked Kendra very confused.

“Kendra was my daughter,” said Nathan bitterly. “At first I planned to kill you. I held you responsible for her death. Now? Now I think it would be a shame to make her death worthless.”

“I’m sorry, but she knew where she was going.” Kendra said softly.

That brought a flash of anger, “You wanna give me pointless platitudes? People hope; they never know.” There was hopelessness in Nathan’s voice. “It was your father that…”

“You know who my parents are?” though she knew her parents had abandoned her she had a hard time keeping the eagerness out of her voice.

“You don’t want to know,” said Nathan.

Kendra desperately did wanted to know but she had seen the looks of fear on the rough faces of the men on the train and did not question him further. The train rushed through the desolate scenery, towards safety for the fugitives. Slowly the other passengers on the train got off at different dilapidated station platform on their own devious business. Finally they reached the border of Lafini; they got off at the first station over the border.

            As Kendra began leading the children off the platform she looked back a Nathan’s troubled face.

            “Thank you,” She said quietly and then turned and walked down the steps.

*          *          *

            Katharine stared at the rain-splattered window she was washing; it was another gray day. But then every day was gray in Quazypoor’s dismal and imposing castle. Her trained eyes searched the room for something that needed cleaning. There was the rich carpet. She use to shudder at the design; it was a black dragon on a green black ground with a silver serpent for a crown. This was the crest of Quazypoor and was engraved on every shield, every banner, and it seemed every other place that could be found.  Not only was it was painted on the ceiling of this room and there was a tapestry that featured it on the wall and it was even woven into the bedspread.

Katharine finally saw something that needed cleaning; the green curtains with silver snakes were very dusty and probably hadn’t been cleaned in a month. She started to take down the rods. Half way through the first one she heard footsteps in the corridor and she tried to go at it faster. Not fast enough; Prince Edles walked into his private chamber. Katherine’s only thought was to get out before he could make a move on her. She yanked the curtains down and started for the door. To late, his hand closed vice like over her wrist.

“Now which one is this?” He asked as he started to pull her veil off.

She dropped the curtains and grabbed the veil and tried to keep it on. His strength won out and the veil fell to the floor.

“You’re one I’ve never seen.” He mused.

She had seen him plenty of times but then she had never come close enough for him to take her veil.

“I’ve been needing a distraction. Let’s test your stuff.”

“Please no,” she pleaded her green eyes full of fear.

Edles’s brow furrowed “Any other maid would think it an honor to entertain me.”

Katharine closed her eyes. Would he rape her?

His dark eyes searched her for a moment. “I’ve never raped a woman, but then again I’ve never been refused.”

Katharine kept her eyes down hoping that he would let go of her wrist. He didn’t; using his free hand he lifted up her chin and looked into her eyes. She noticed, almost against her will, that his face was handsome framed with dark hair.

“Why won’t you entertain me?” He asked.

“I’ll keep my honor.” She answered as firmly as she could.

He uttered a cold laugh. “Honor, I can’t think of one person in this whole castle who has even a shred of honor left.” He looked at her again. “Go! Go before I change my mind.”

She picked up the curtains and started out of the room. At the door she paused and turned.

“My Lord.”

Edles looked at her his dark eyes narrowing.

“You have a some,”

“Some what?”

“Honor,” and she was gone.

Edles moodily through himself onto the bed.

“My lord?” said a gruff voice.

Edles jumped and looked at his bodyguard. He had forgotten that Shadrik would show up eventually.

“She refused me.” Said Edles half to himself.

“My Lord?” asked Shadrak, confused.

“She was nothing more than a maid and she still refused me.”

“You can have any woman you want, my lord.”

“hmmmmm,” said Edles.

“I could tell your sister and the maid would be dead by morning.” Suggested Shadrik.

“No!” said Edles sitting up quickly, “No,” he said more quietly as he lay back down.

“I could call for another maid.” Suggested Shadrik helpfully.

“No,” said Edles quietly. “Leave me. I want to sleep”

Shadrik did leave, but Edles did not sleep. He spent a long time staring at the black dragon on the ceiling.

*          *          *

By the time Katharine got to the washroom she was sobbing. She kept crying as she scrubbed the curtains. Soon she heard footsteps at the door and spun around. It was Cera.

“Child what’s da matda?” she asked. Suddenly understanding filled her face. “Oh Child were ya?”

She left the sentence unfinished, but thy both knew what she meant. “No, but it was close, so close.”

Cera look very relived and she let Katharine cry for a few minutes before speaking. “Ya know wha I di.” She said simply.

Katharine’s eyes flicked up to Cera face; the left half was badly scared. The Iron that she had held to her face had done its work well.

“We live in a den o lions; a woman mus choose betwin her beauty an her honor.”

“I wish I had your courage.” Said Katharine twisting a lock of long light brown hair.

“Ya will find yar courage.”

*          *          *

Cassie looked wildly around as the doorknob turned; at the last moment she dived under the bed. The space was very dusty but otherwise empty. Cassie heard footsteps coming in and saw four sets of feet come through the door.

“You weren’t in there for very long. How did it go?” Came Lady Gonda’s shrill voice.

“As well as can be expected. The queen, of, course poses a significant threat to our plans but I am confident that she can be over come.” The duke was speaking, contempt in his voice.

“I want something made clear,” Sir Rogus’ blustering voice said. “Who exactly is paying us for this? You told me we would be well paid but by who.”

“By the queen of Quazypoor.” It was Sir Belgun.

The effect of the words was immediate. Lady Gonda gasped and dropped her glass, Duke Gonda’s feet that had been resting on a stool crashed to the floor, and Lord Rogus spit out his wine.

“How could you have contact with her?” Asked Gonda in a small voice.

“I never had contact with the current queen but with her mother.” Said Sir Belgun with cold disregard for the nerve his words had struck. “She spoke with me on several occasions, but the last time was different. She said that a time was coming, coming very soon that the crown of all three nations would be up for grabs and that the only country with an obvious heir was Lafni. She told me that she would leave instructions to her daughter, who would claim the queenship and if Cassandra married Fredrick then I would be well rewarded.”

“She knew?” said Lady Gonda, shocked.

“Has it occurred to you that she only wanted Fredrick king so it would be easier for her daughter to conquer Goianda. Is it not possible that she has left no such instructions to her daughter or that Sapphira will not honor them.” Asked the duke astutely, at least for him it was astute.

“Of course I have, but with Fredrick on the throne and the lady Cassandra tied up controlling his more vile behaviors, the channel will be open for us to assume control.” Said Belgun coldly.

Cassie wanted to cry. She realized that her father had sheltered her from the malicious intents of his nobles. Her father had always been in complete control but with him gone there was an open line of fire and she was the bull’s eye. Cassie realized that if she wanted to keep her freedom she had to get out of this castle. There were only three people in the castle she was sure she could trust. When she left her mother needed to be able to truthfully say that she did not know where Cassie was, and her old nurse was almost deaf and couldn’t walk farther than a few meters. The only person to go to was Zeth.

The first thing to do was to get out of this room. Cassie looked desperately around. Suddenly she almost laughed out loud; this was the room her old tutor had lived in for the short time he had taught her. He had been incredibly superstitious, not to mention boring. She had convinced that the palace was haunted and at night crawled into the secret passage under his bed to make bumping noises. Cassie’s fingers felt the woodwork for the latch. There! She unlocked it as quietly as she could and slowly lifted the trap door.

“Dear, do you hear anything?” asked Lady Gonda.

“Mice probably.” Said the Duke, sounding discussed.

Cassie inched into the tunnel. She slowly closed the door and crawled, leaving the talk of mice far behind.

*          *          *

Sam’s headache was back. After more than a few hours of debates, speeches, and a lot of fists banging on the table Sam had realized that many of his nobles very little about war. His most valuable lords were the ones who care enough about their individual regions to actually do the hands on ruling, and that meant that they did not live in his castle. The meeting had finally ended.

“What do you want written?”

“What?” Sam turned irritable toward the servant at his elbow.

“On your father’s tomb, what do you want written?”

“Like what?”

“Beloved husband and father?” suggested the servant rather timidly.

“Write: He was a great King.”

“What about…”

Sam cut him off, “Just do it!”

“Yes sir.” The servant walked away quickly.

Sam needed to talk to his father’s general; Henry had fought for Sam’s grandfather and Sam wanted his advice. After some searching Sam saw him heading out of the room. Sam quickly followed him and had soon caught him up.

“Henry, I wanted to talk to you.” Said Sam as soon as they were astride.

“Oh, Sam, I’m sorry but I need to see if Kendra is back.” Said Henry glancing worriedly at Sam.

“Back? Don’t tell me she went to Quazypoor again.” Said Sam.

Henry nodded. “She was going to get back before the funeral.”

The pain in Sam’s head seemed to double.

“Walk with me. Well we have a bout a hundred men garrisoned here and we could have twice that number in three days.” Henry said distractedly.

“Too few,” Sam said half to himself.

“We could have another hundred in two weeks, but we don’t have that long.” Henry replied.

“She has twice those numbers.”

“Yes but we have these walls. We must hold her back and out last her.”

They finally reached Henry’s Apartments. As they walked in Henry sigh deeply.

“What?” Asked Sam confused.

Henry pointed at a dark cloak hanging on the silver stand. Sam understood; it was Kendra’s cloak. She was home. They walked into the sitting room. There was Kendra, talking animatedly with her shocked looking adoptive mother. As soon as she saw them she jumped up and hugged her Father.

“She took the train.” Said Henry’s wife in a weak voice.

Henry and Sam gave discussed sighs and Sam rested his aching head in his hand.

“The coach from Goianda didn’t come. So what else could I do?” Said Kendra defensively.

“Walk!” Said Sam.

“Wait for the coach, even if it takes weeks!” Said Henry.

“I’ll be sure to do that tomorrow.” Said Kendra, smiling.

“Tomorrow?” Asked Henry and Sam together.

“I’m going back.” Kendra replied.

Sam looked like he wanted to say something but he simple shook he head and mumbled something about it being late as he began to walk out. Kendra followed him to the hall.

“Sam?”

Sam turned around “I have so much to worry about, why do you have to add to it?”

“Sam, ple…”

“If war breaks out while you ‘re there what then? Have you though about that? I can do nothing if you are caught after the diplomats are pulled out. What do y…”

“Sam, I go there and I see little people being killed. They’re bodies might be a little smaller than ours, their brains a little less developed, but does that make them any less human? They’re people, Sam. They’re people and they’re dying every day.”

“Kendra.” Sam looked hard at her.

“Sam, remember what happened when your great grand father was king? Remember how the king of Quazypoor was killing all the people that came from Atual? Remember how your great grandfather stopped it, and how the people cheered “never again”? But it always happens again. It’s happening now, under a different veil, under a different name, but it’s happening. Well,” Kendra sighed. “You need sleep, it’s been a long day.”  She half turned. “Oh, and Sam, I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning.”

Sam slowly rubbed his neck as he walked towards his room. Kendra was leaving the next day and he, king of an entire country, could do nothing to keep her safe. But that was Kendra, hard headed, Idealistic, always going on about some injustice, and beautiful, so beautiful. He wanted to put his fist through a wall. Finally he reached the room he had used for his entire life. This would be his last night there. Noises came from inside his room. Idly he wondered if a maid was cleaning. He opened the door; there was Ana. On the bed were three children, probably children of servants. Ana was always playing with their babies.

“Ana, Kendra went to Qazypoor.” Said Sam.

Ana just nodded.

“You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?” his eyes swept the blonde twins and dark haired boy. The realization of who they were stuck him forcefully.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Hey!” Said Sam. The little boy had started banging two model boats together. “Those are expensive!”

Ana smiled. “You broke enough when you were his age, and father had them all fixed.”

There was a slight catch in her face when she said father and in a second she was in tears as memories flooded back. In a few strides Sam was there, holding her, giving her strength.

“Anny, wha’s wong?” Said a little blonde girl, her eyes wide.

“I have to go.” Said Ana looking at Sam. She picked up the little girl and beckoning to the others.

When she was gone Sam blew out the candles. He lay down, one last time, on his bed, and gave in to the tears that he had held back that whole horrible day.

The next day Kendra was really gone. Sam’s day was filled with more war meetings and was only marked by the moving of his things to his parent’s old room and the departure of the Quazypoor diplomats. Sam hated to do it with Kendra still gone but concern for their safety led him to bring back his own diplomats from Quazypoor.

That morning Ana woke up and wondered how she would be strong enough to care for the children. But as she helped the kids who had lost their parents too, she found she could smile and even laugh again. And though they could not take her pain away, when she was with them it seemed less, and slowly, slowly she began to heal.

Sin of the Fathers: Chapter 1

It had been four days since the bomb, set by an anarchist, had killed her father and the other kings and their wives. Now she sat by her mother’s bed and waited for her to wake again. Her mother had a concussion, several broken ribs, and a broken arm and leg. At first she had been too shocked and upset, but now she began to think about what would happen to the kingdom. She was the king’s only child. Would she be Queen? Her father had taught her a lot about ruling, but was she ready? Who else was there? She soon came to the cold realization that there was no one else. Only her cousin Fred, but he had a drinking problem and he was known for his violent character. No, she had to rule, for her father, for everything he had believed in. She had to be strong for her mother and for the people, no, for her people.

Her mother began to stir and she called for the doctor. “Mom, Mom.” She said hoping that her mother would finally wake.

“Cassie?” her mother sighed. “Where is your father? No, I know he was in the explosion.”

“He’s not coming back,” Her mother signed at this. Cassandra wondered what she was thinking. They were starting a new life, life without the king, life without her father. She didn’t know which was more frightening.

“She is finally awake.” Said the doctor walking to the white hospital room.

During the medical exams Cassandra wondered how she could bring up the subject of ruling. Finally after the doctor was done, she asked her mother simply, “Will I be Queen now?”

“Yes,” her mother said quickly. “We must do this. To save the country you must have the crown.”

*          *          *

Tears stung Anastasia’s eyes as she stood by her parents’ fresh graves. The service was over but she didn’t want to leave. She pulled her black cloak around her more tightly as her brother put his arm around her. So many eyes, the guards, the passer-bys come to see their king buried; she couldn’t even cry in private. She didn’t want to cry in front of her people, but the tears slid down her face and wet her long, blond braids. Her brother, now the king, led her slowly back towards the palace. Her black silk dress rustled as she walked, and she looked back at the grave covered with flowers. The massive seas of flowers stretched five yards from where her parents were buried and more had been littered in front of the castle. She stopped suddenly unable to keep going.

“Come on Ana,” whispered Sam, her brother. “We can’t stay here.”

She knew he was right and kept going even though with every step she left her childhood farther behind. Sam gently escorted her to her chambers. She lay on her bed sobbing for a while until she finally fell asleep.

Sam left his crying sister and began to prepare for another funeral. His head ached, he was exhausted and emotionally drained from his parents’ funeral but he knew that whoever was ruling Quazypoor must not be offended. He donned a black robe, a silver crown and a steel sword with a silver hilt.

As soon as he walked back out to the royal burial ground, sitting right on the border of the two lands, he saw the stark contrast between the two fresh graves. His father’s was littered with flowers, people still standing in line to pay respects. Only a few feet away was the grave of another king, a cruel king, the kind of man who would use women, who would spend the people’s money on himself. He looked at the grave totally devoid of flowers; no subjects mourned this death.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the royal procession and her. Even after all this time her beauty still went to his head, but he would never be made her slave again. She stopped and looked at him. Long, long ago he had learned how to hide his inner turmoil behind a mask, and he was glad for this now. She stopped and her litter was let down. Everyone in her procession bowed. Seeing his guards did not he snapped his fingers. Obviously loathed to do so yet unbendingly loyal to their king they all went down on one knee. He made a cold bow and the procession moved on.

The service for the king moved quickly. There were very few people who cared for his death. The queen’s service went on a little longer, there were still those who remembered her as she had been before her husband broke her heart and changed her to a cold, cruel, and rigid person. In fact it seemed that the only one truly grieving for the king was his son. Sam looked him over. The prince was about five ten, muscular, with black hair and brown eyes. You could see the pain on his face. Not everything Sam had heard about him was good though. He was a reckless chariot driver, and his servants didn’t have very easy lives.

Alarm bells went off in his head as he saw her walking toward him. “Samuel, the king. Well you look handsome. Have you thought about us?”

“The only us there ever was ended two years ago.” He said fighting to remain cool.

“You will regret that. We would have had all the power.” her voice was like a dagger of ice. “But now I will have it all. After I win the war that is.”

“War?” Sam asked shocked.

“Yes, this could have been so easy.” She sneered, “Now men will have to die and I will have both kingdoms anyway. I am already the Queen of Quazypoor.”

“What about your brother? Shouldn’t he be king?” Sam asked. Grasping at straws while covering his shock under the mask he had become so skilled at creating.

“Edles? That spineless excuse for a prince? Sammy, you know me better than that. Can you honestly believe that I will be challenged by Him?” Her words were spiteful.

Suddenly Sam realized that being king would be more difficult than he, or even his father had ever thought. Sam left; he needed to think it over and make preparations. Sam and his guards walked through the first gate. looking up he recognized the wall guard as William, one of the few friends he and Ana had had as children. He waved.

“Hey Sam,” Will yelled down. “How did it go?”

Sam shook his head. Will immediately understood. It hadn’t gone well and Sam couldn’t talk about it now. Will knew that when his shift was over he would have to go ask Sam about it. He had to support his friend no matter how uncomfortable he felt around Ana.

Sam walked past the beautiful gardens and orchards, hardly seeing them. The giant gates of the second wall opened slowly and the portcullis was lifted. Sam walked through the limestone arch dismissed his guard to their barracks behind the castle. Seeing a boy walking past he sent him off to tell the lords and generals to come to a council in two hours.

Sam walked into the room that he had been his since he was a little boy. He ran his fingers over the model boats on the stuffed bookcases. He stepped on the familiar blue carpet as his eye passed over the oak dresser, the closet, and the desk. He had expected to live in this room for maybe thirty more years. Tomorrow he would move to the room of the king, the room that his parents had lived in. At nineteen he would take on the responsibility of running a nation and, even more daunting, the responsibility of a nation at war.

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed and held his aching head in his hands. He didn’t hear the door open or his sister’s steps as she came in. He looked up quickly as she put her hand on his shoulder. Ana’s eyes were red from crying, and her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed but the hopelessness that had been in her eyes had been replaced by a determination, so strong it could overcome mountains.

“You should have told me where you were going. I would have come too.” She said softly.

He smiled at her, “Why do you think I kept it from you? I didn’t want to put you through that.” His smile quickly faded as he remembered Sapphira’s threats. “Ana, I think we maybe on the verge of war. Sapphira said if I don’t marry her,” he left the sentence unfinished and saw in Ana’s eyes that she was hurting for him. “This is all my fault if I hadn’t…”

“No,” Ana interrupted firmly. “What you did was wrong but it did not cause this. Sapphira is obsessed with power. She would want both kingdoms even if things had been different two years ago.”

Sam sighed, “I just don’t know.”

“Well I do know something. You need rest! You look horrible.” Ana said quickly.

“Oh, well, I have a council in an hour and a half.” Sam massaged his temples and wished his head would stop aching.

“I’ll wake you up. Now try to sleep.” Said Ana as she closed the wooden blinds around the room.

“I guess… but you have to wake me up.” Sighed Sam.

“Relax,” laughed Ana as she snuffed out the blue candles. “Can they start without the king?”

Ana decided to make sure Sam got enough sleep so she sat on the red silk couch and tried to read a book taken out of one of the many mahogany books that lined the hallway. After about twenty minutes Ana heard a step in the hallway. She looked up expecting to see a chambermaid but it was William.

Will gasped; his heart was going at a hundred miles an hour. It was Ana. Even though her hair was unbrushed and she was only wearing unadorned white linen she seemed more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen before. He wanted to run up to her and tell her he loved her. But he didn’t; he would never do that. Guards and princesses didn’t get together. He wished things could be simple like when they were children. He saw her red eyes and knew she had been crying. He wanted to comfort her, but then he would forget all the reasons that they could never be together.

“I…I came to see Sam.” Will stuttered.

“He wasn’t feeling well so I told him to sleep.” Said Ana quickly.

“Oh, I’ll…come back later.” Said Will as he began to walk away.

“Will,” said Ana running up beside him. “It just seems like I never see you any more.”

“Oh, yeah, um, I’ve been really busy,” Stuttered Will.

“Oh,” said Ana sadly. “Well bye then.”

“Bye,” Said Will.

All Ana could see was his swaying red hair and his worn brown boots quickly walking down the hall. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was avoiding her. Ana sighed and sat down to resume reading.

*          *          *

“What do you mean she can’t be queen?” Said Sabrina as she pounded her good fist emphatically on the marble table.

“My lady it is simple that while your daughter does have her supporters most of the people believe that our country needs a strong man to rule. Many now support her cousin.” Said the lord Rogus.

“You know why Fredrick can’t rule.” She said angrily.

“Which is why we came to the conclusion that the Lady Cassandra should, well…” Sir Belgun’s voice was apologetic.

“Marry the lord Fredrick.” Duke Gonda finished the sentence uncomfotablely.

“What,” said Sabrina. “She’s only sixteen! And Fredrick?”

“We simply believe that this would be the most… well that this would be best for the country.” Said Sir Belgun.

“Just think about it, supporters of Fredrick of your daughter united.” Said Lord Rogus his foot tapping nervously on the green tiled floor.

“All I can see in my daughter and Fredrick united.” And its not pretty Sabrina thought as soon as the words left her lips.

“We understand your desire to protect your daughter.” Said Duke Gonda trying to sound sympathetic.

“But we must think of the entire nation.”  Sir Belgun Finished fearfully.

“They’re cousins!” Said Sabrina upset now. “Our laws forbid this Union.”

“Well,” said Duke Gonda uncomfortably.

“We did a little research,” said Lord Rogus timidly as if unwilling to face the full wrath of his queen.

“And we found that they are not really first cousins.” Sir Belgun finished Quickly.

“But they share a Grandfather,” protested Sabrina.

“You’re right, but they don’t share a Grandmother. King Katon’s first wife died so he married again.” Said the Duke.

“Therefore they have the same genetic relation to each other as second cousins do.” Said Lord Rogus looking pleased with him self.

“The marriage of second cousins is discouraged but not totally outlawed.” Finished Sir Belgun proudly.

“My husband never would have wanted this for her,” said Sabrina wondering if she had any choice, any power to protect her child. Her unspoken question was immediately answered.

“We have discussed this at great length.” Lord Rogus’s usually blustering voice had a hard edge to it.

“This is what is best,” said Duke Gonda coldly.

“You do not have the power to stand in the way of the nation.” Sir Belgun’s voice was filled with ice and danger.

The meeting was over. There was nothing else to say. There were no choices. A sixteen-year-old girl would be sacrificed.

Cassie had heard every word. She was looking for an earring she had lost and saw it on the floor right next to the room where the discussion was going on. As she knelt to pick it up she heard her mother’s voice raised in anger, something she hardly ever heard. Tears sprung to her eyes as she slowly realized what they were discussing her. As she heard the meeting adjourn she ran into a small chamber on the left. She heard her mother pass and looked around. At first it looked like any unoccupied room, the mahogany furniture, the plush green rug, the rich forest green curtains. But it took only moments to realize where she was, the Duke’s personal apartments. Just as she was about to leave she heard a footstep at the door and heard the duke’s unmistakable voice.

Sins of the Fathers: Prologue

In a land far away there stood two castles facing each other, opposing each other. Each was the home of a king and each was the boundary of where one king’s land ended and the other’s country began. At the beginning, both countries had been moral, and upright, but soon the kings of one country had become corrupt and begun to rule poorly. Each king taught his son to care for no one but themselves and soon the country was filled with dark creatures and those who practice black magic. To travel through that land you needed a sharpened knife and a quick hand. Meanwhile the other country’s kings were still moral and upright. The laws were strictly enforced and practicing the magic arts was outlawed and the dark creatures were expelled. Though some remained in the wilds of that land very few remained. The evil land they called Quazypoor and the good country was called Lafeni. Across Quazypoor from Lafeni there was another much smaller land called Goianda.

A train ran through all three lands. The conductor was not bad, but he never had contact with the passengers. Given his own car he triple locked the one door from his compartment for his own safety while traveling through Quazypoor. It was not unusual for murders to happen on this train and few honest people rode it.

*          *          *

            “Get down there, half face.” Sneered a guard kicking the veiled woman into the dank dungeon.

            She carried a heavy water bucket and a basket of dry and moldy bread. The wall was lined with cages with men and women in various sages of dehydration and malnutrition. They sipped hungrily from the gourd she held to their parched lips and gnawed on the rock hard bread. In the last and deepest cage there was a rail thin man who looked like he had been there longer than any of the others. He let out a low moan as he tried to pull himself to the bars and the woman gasped as she saw the open wounds on his already scarred back.

            “De’re…again?”

            He nodded weakly. “Listen, you know what this means. They asked me about the castle, how to get in. Please, warn them.”

The women nodded mutely.

He gasped for air and continued, “You know how to get there. I don’t know if I’ll survive another beating.”

“Don’t die, please.”

He smiled sadly. “I don’t want to die, not now when I have so much to live for.”

Their fingers interlaced through the bars.

“But everyone must go to surrender to the maker.” His bony fingers tightened on hers, “Go, now!” and released.

*          *          *

“We need the coal!” Marcus of Goianda almost shouted. “And we can’t have it robbed off the train when it goes through Quazypoor. What about that is not clear?”

“What exactly do you propose I do about it?” King Omri’s eyes were black pools of contempt.

“Set guards, insure it!”

“Post your own guards.” The voice was slick and nonchalant.

“I tried, they were killed.”

“Then my guards will be no more effective,” he seemed sarcastic.

“They will respect their own people.”

“I highly doubt that, Marcus.” Oren of Lafeni entered then discussion.

Sabrina was tired. She had been listening to her husband, Marcus, debate with the kings of Quazypoor and Lafeni all day. It was as if they didn’t respect him; he ruled the smaller country. Sabrina looked into the cold black eyes of Corma, Queen of Quazypoor. She saw the hate in the fathomless dark eyes, but somehow she didn’t blame Corma. There was hurt beneath the hate. Corma had come to the Quazypoor palace young bright eyed and deeply in love with her new husband, Omri. Sabrina had heard as everyone had about the king’s many mistresses. There were even rumors of an illegitimate child. Suddenly she felt so close to Marcus; they had been faithful to each other even through those heart-breaking years when they thought they couldn’t have children. Then Cassandra came. Cassie was her miracle child.

She felt rather than saw the immense space between Corma and her husband. Suddenly the room felt oppressive. She whispered to Marcus that she would be back soon and left the royal blue room. Her feet sunk into the plush carpet as she walked down the richly ornamented red hallway towards the mahogany door with carved flowers nailed to it. BOOOOM! Her whole world exploded.

Slowly her eyes flitted open. All she could see was a white ceiling. She heard someone sobbing and tried to turn her head. Pain shot through her side, leg and arm and everything went black. When she woke up again, everything was quiet. “Marcus? Cassandra?”

“Mother?” She heard her daughter’s beautiful voice.

“Cassie?” Sabrina questioned.

She heard her daughter yell “Nurse! Get the doctor, she’s awake!”

She saw a few blurred faces looking down on her as she sunk in to darkness.

Purpleland: Chapter 2

Alena was about two years younger than us, the daughter of one of about five lords who paid tribute to Lord Stephan. She had a sister who was a year older named Shay and a much older brother who we rarely saw. Her family came to visit Lord Stephan’s castle often as her father and Lord Stephan often hunted together. She was beautiful even then. Her hair was golden and her eyes were a shade of grey I have only every seen in her sister. The thing I remember most about her, however is her laugher. Lord Stephan’s home was a good place for me, the unmanageable son of a distant father, but in that cold castle on the mountain there was never any laugher. Lord Stephan and his son were both, as I said cold. I had good years there but both of them rarely smiled and never laughed. Alena was always laughing.

There was something of an understanding between Lord Stephan and Alena’s father that Shay was intended for his son. While nothing was ever put in writing it meant that they were being constantly steered toward each other and hinted at, which ended up having the opposite of the intended affect as they began to avoid each other. As a result Shay spent most of her time there with the adults and us boys spent our time with Alena. She would take part in our games and we barely noticed that she was a girl, at least not then. 

               One of my clearest memories is of a day at that castle. We, the men of the house were escorting the women visiting to the carriage that would take them away. Lord Stephan had just helped Alena’s mother into the carriage and Marcus was carefully making polite conversation with Shay, on his arm. Alena and I were walking behind them and she leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Does it make men nervous to have a beautiful woman on their arm.”

She was twelve, still a child, I was fourteen, and saw myself as a man. “It depends on the man and on the woman. I f she is to his taste then yes.”

“So is my mother is not to Lord Stephan’s taste? And Shay is to Marcus’s taste?”

I had to think about that. “No… Lord Stephan enjoys your mother’s company and Marcus dislikes Shay’s.”

She looked up at me. “So why is Marcus nervous and Lord Stephan is so obviously not?”

That stopped me. “That’s something you’ll understand when you’re older. “ I said in mock severity.

She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. I remember Shay turned around and looked at us with those eyes that were like her sister’s but lack something vital. I also remember Marcus’s face, it was the face of someone who has felt a sudden pain and does not know where it came from.

*             *             *

John stood stiffly next to his aunt as she stood on the balcony overlooking the large square. Her hair was black and piled on top of her head. She wore the black of mourning, a full length dress with white flowers embroidered on the neckline and cuffs.  She was not what men call beautiful but she was striking and there was something about her that both pulled and repelled you at the same time. Certainly she had her fair share of men at her feet though that might have something to do with the power she had as queen and now apparently as sole sovereign of the land. When her husband died she had appeared before the consul and they had voted, with only two abstentions, to give her the throne. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She controlled the army, not to mention the foreign troops that flooded into the capital now. Apparently an honor guard for the upcoming visit of the King of that land but full occupation by Blackland was spoken of as a forgone conclusion by many of the people. The king had been sick for a long time before he died. In fact he had spent most of his fouteen-year rule growing slowly more and more ill and giving over more and more of his responsibilities over to his all too capable wife.

John wondered if in the end he had realized he was being poisoned. John’s father had known. He had tried sending letters to the king but an old quarrel had caused the king to burn every letter his former friend was able to get through the queen’s spies. John remembered the night his father heard that every letter he sent was either burned or intercepted. He had pounded a fist into the table and shouted. “Well let the fool die slowly then! He will get no more help from me!” It was more emotion than his father had ever spared for him.

A month ago his father, who had barely bothered himself to arrange for John’s schooling and had not even reacted to john’s week long disappearance when he had joined the arm, had begun carefully planning his son’s trip to the capital. The day before John was to leave his father had called him into his chamber.

“Boy,” he had said, he never called John anything but that, “When you go to the capital they will let you see your uncle, the king. At this point there will be no saving him but you might ease his passing. I want you to find out what happened to the child.”

“The child?”

“The king was married before he took you aunt, though I could count on my fingers the people who know of it. And he had a child. I have to know what became of that child. If we do not find it then the country will be given over to your darling aunt.” His father turned to him sharply. “Remember this, boy, they were sisters but your mother is nothing like the spider.”

John nodded. “yes sir.”

“Eat as little as you can, she will likely try to poison you. She likes to keep those around her suitably weak. But I don’t think she would have any reason to actually kill you unless you offend her or she somehow thinks it would hurt me.” He seemed lost in thought.

John had stood stiffly waiting for his father.

And His father had looked up sharply. “What are you still doing here, boy? Go and pack your bags.”

That was weeks ago and now he was standing next to his aunt as she declared herself Intermit Queen.  Supposedly until the sickly twins, the kings cousins, came of age. But it seemed more and more likely that they would die before either of them reached eighteen. John had seen them, they were pitiful things, with hardly any of the energy their counterparts were so full of. He wanted to help them somehow but at this point he was as helpless as they.  

The crowd quieted as the queen held up her hand.

“My people, as you have already heard my dear husband has died.” She stopped for a moment apparently overcome with emotion. “As you also know your king had no son nor had he brothers or even uncles to carry on the line. This puts the entire country in a very difficult position. I have spoken to the consul to ensure that we do not fall into a state of civil war or anarchy. They voted almost unanimously to give the throne to me on a temporary basis.”

John had been at that meeting, about half the consul had been paid off before hand and the rest of them were too scared of the spider queen to oppose her. It was not a total victory though, two members had abstained. John , temporarily holding his father’s spot, had to keep up an appearance, at least, of loyalty to his aunt but he could not in good conscience vote for someone he knew could only hurt his country. When it became clear that she would be confirmed he had abstained citing that he did not want it said that family ties had clouded his Judgment. The queen had looked at him with her cold eyes and had said nothing. Not Surprisingly Lord Petra Westra also abstained. Lord Petra was the one man powerful enough to not need the crown’s support. He had his own army and his Nephew was the king of Blueland. Still he fled the capital the next day and there were rumors that he and three of his sons left the country. John’s mind quickly snapped back to the present as his aunt continued her speech.

“To protect you, my people, from civil unrest and violence, which so often comes with the transfer of power, I have doubled the city watch. This does not come without a cost but for your safety I am willing to pay it. I am also beginning a curfew for any one not carrying a letter signed by the captain of the guard.”

At that point someone in the crowd cried out. “DOWN With the Spider.”

She did not so much as blink as her new night watch came out of the crowd and brutally clubbed the man who had cried out. “As you see violence will be dealt with swiftly.”

Several boys near the front began throwing rocks and singing a song, possibly of their own invention about the spider. She signaled again. A man positioned below the balcony fired a crossbow. The first shaft hit the foremost boy in the throat, John tried hard not to flinch and the child fell to the ground, gurgling. The other boys ran but you cannot out run crossbows. When all the boys were dead the queen smiled. “As Queen I will do my best to protect you.”

People began to murmur, and John saw now that she had them. They were, down to the last man, terrified of their queen. Yes they would still call her the spider, they would likely hate her, but they would not fight her, maybe not ever.

She turned with a rustle of black silk and returned to the castle. John grabbed the ledge of the balcony to steady himself then followed her. He had not eaten since the vote and the fast was draining him almost as much as poison would have. However, he did not know if she was angry enough to actually kill him at this point so he did not eat and watched for a knife in his back.

The man who she had follow him everywhere met him in the door way and accompanied him to his room, staying at the doorway. John barely cared at that point. He threw himself on the bed and tried not to replay the scene in the square. He had always done his duty but now he had no idea what his duty was. He could safely forget any duty to his aunt at this point but was he playing along with her so he could stand up to her sometime when there was real hope of winning or because he wanted to save his own worthless skin? He could not have saved those boys in the square but maybe he should have tried. But even if he could have killed his mother’s sister would that really help? As much as her rule would hurt the country anarchy would be worse.  He just hoped that Kenneth would do something but his mind was too fuzzy from lack of sleep and food to think of what that would be.

John wondered if his friend would even believe what Roland was probably even now telling him. He could hardly credit what had come out of the dying king’s mouth, that his friend, Kenneth, the second son of Lord Jamis who none could call a particularly powerful lord, was actually the King’s only living offspring. It was almost as fantastic as Ylva’s story, though not quite.

But thinking of Kenneth forced John to think of Judy, her dark blue eyes, her unassuming smile, her long golden hair that made waves down her back. She was never far from his mind but the assault of memories caused him almost physical pain. He had loved her these five years; of course it had taken him a year to realize it, fool that he was. And it had been more than a year since he had seen her. He remembered that meeting. He had been half dead from cold and exhaustion and she had come to him. That was what he held on to. She had come to him and helped him to his room and lit a fire in his room like a common servant would. She had been gone by the time he had awakened, there had been no good bye this time but that didn’t stop him from dreaming about her. He had made his feelings clear before of course and she, with tears in her eyes, had said she was confused about a lot of things and she could not answer then. She had still not answered. He had written to her once saying that he loved her still and that all that he had was hers. But he had almost given up on her answering. It had been two months. He would continue to love her and it would continue to hurt but he wished she would tell him it was over. It wouldn’t be over but he could feel only the pain of loving her not the pain of suspense.

With a force of will he pulled his thoughts away from the only woman he had ever loved. His aunt was weaving her web tight. She had chosen to rule by fear and that choice would not be taken back. But fear could be broken, could be broken much more easily than love.

John sat up in bed and the dizziness almost overcame him. On his desk lay a sheet of paper on which he hurriedly began writing.

Purpleland: Chapter 1

My Son,

I write this because my time here is limited and I wanted you to know something about your father beyond the stories you will hear after I am dead. I wanted you to know the truth about your birth. But before I tell you this story I want you to know one thing. I love you. I have always loved you. I do not know much about love and can count on one hand the people I have loved but you are irrevocable one of them. I know that you were not loved where you grew up and for that I am truly sorry but you were fed, clothed, and kept safe so I felt the best thing to do was to leave you there. You may come to forgive me once you have read this or perhaps you will be very angry at me. I will be dead so you may heap whatever abuse you desire on my body. I won’t feel it. But at least read this and give me a chance to justify myself.

               This story is about me so I suppose it begins when I was a child. My mother died when I was two and I do not remember her. My father buried himself in his work and it was likely five years before he even noticed that he had a son. By then I was eight and had made enemies of all my nurse maids not to mention my early tutors. He realized that I was becoming unmanageable so he sent me away to be fostered by a great friend of him, Lord Stephan who ruled over several Northern provinces.

               Lord Stephan was a cold as the mountains that he ruled over but he gave me the discipline I needed. He was the only man I have met who was not afraid to strike a king’s son when he needed it and I think he may have cared for me after a fashion. Lord Stephan had a son who was my age and though he was as cold as his father we became friends. Two boys of eight will either be come friends or enemies when they are forced to be much together. His name was Marcus and ,though he was curiously devoid of any sense of humor, we had good times exploring the mountain together. That was where we first met Alena.

*             *             *

               Kenneth was in his room attempting to write another letter to Judy. She had asked him to wait a year before he pressed her again and it had been a year, a horrible sleepless lonely year but an entire year. He could talk easily but when it came to putting words down on paper, that was hard. He thought of John’s easy flowing script. Maybe he was writing to her now too. That thought made Kenneth all the more determined to finish this letter. It was not long, it simply stated that the feelings he had expressed to her remained unchanged and that he knew she must have other offers he wished her to know that what he could offer her was, while meager compared to what she was used to, certainly enough to keep her in relative comfort for many years to come. He wanted to say that he dreamed about her almost every night and woke up wishing he had seen her if she did not appear in his dreams. But he was afraid she would think that improper. He wanted to tell her that it was almost cruel of her to make him wait a year but he felt that might not help his suite. His thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s shrill voice.

               “Kenneth, get down here immediately!”

               “Yes mother.” One thing he had learned this year was how not to antagonize the mistress of his home.

               Before he reached the bottom of the stairs she had commenced her flood of words. “Oh Kenneth if only Geoff were home we could finally get some peace. I know you try darling but nothing you do is likely to match up to Geoff and therefore I am forced to attend to everything. And now this horrid man comes and demands to see you. As if anyone would want to see you, no offence dear but when you think of the disparity between the situation and talents of yourself and of say Geoff you wonder what on earth he could need to see you, and out of breath like he had been riding all day and all night. I asked him if surely he had not come to see Geoff but he insisted that the letter was for you.”

               When he was a child this tirade would have cut Kenneth to the quick but now he barely heard it. He had cut his mother out of his heart slowly and painfully but now she could touch only the tiniest sliver of him and therefore nothing she could say really hurt him anymore. He did not know why she hated him. It had been a long time since he realized that she did not even believe all the things she said about Geoff, behind the terms of endearment her words where there for one reason, and one reason only, to hurt him. With the exception of Geoff she loved none of her children but she reserved the deep rooted hatred only for him. He was Just glad that Susa was not there, his younger sister felt strongly about all injustice and her fights with their mother were legendary.

               He continued in to the Dining room where their visitor was seated. He was an older soldier wearing the medals of his various campaigns. He stood when Kurt entered.

               “Here he is my second son. You can say what you came for now surely.” His mother had followed him almost overflowing with curiosity.

               “My words are for the boy and the boy only.” The soldier’s face was grim and set.

               “But surely anything you have to say to my dearest son you can say to me. My children have no secrets from each other you see.” She put her arms around Kenneth’s shoulders protectively.

               “My Lady I do not deal in idle words. I must speak to the boy alone.”

               Kenneth took his mother’s arm. “Ma, we can talk about it afterward why don’t you just wait outside.”

               “Oh if only Geoff were here he would stand up to the man for me but dear I don’t mean to say anything bad about you but you have never had half the back bone of your brother.” But she let him lead her out.

               When she was gone Kenneth addressed the soldier. “So now that that’s over what do you have to say to me and just me.”

               “It is best that this be said somewhere with fewer ears.”

               Kenneth raised his eyebrows. “Then lead on good man.”

               The soldier left the room in the opposite direction Kenneth’s mother had gone and Kenneth followed him out of the manor house and to the stables. It was the time of day when all the stable hands were either getting something to eat or out with the horses so they were alone.

               The soldier then fell to his knees and held his sword out, hilt first, to Kenneth. “My lord and King I give you my sword, my service and my life to do with as you will.”

              Kenneth recoiled. “I think that you have the wrong man. You see I don’t even know your name. Isn’t it a bit early for the pledging your life to me thing?”

               “My name is Roland and I do not have the wrong man. I was the one who brought you here as an infant and I am the one who will serve you while there is breath in my body. Now take my sword or dishonor me forever.”

               Kenneth stared for a full minute but finally he realized that Roland would not move until his offer was met. Kenneth took the sword. In the days before the Founders knights whose offers of service were rejected were expected to kill themselves and Roland seemed the type to take traditions seriously. “Roland I accept your service and beg you to keep your sword inasmuch as you can serve me better.” He took the sword by the hand guards, setting the tip against his breast and the hilt pointed toward Roland. It was a simple gesture signifying absolute trust. Roland’s eyes widened as he took the sword Kenneth’s gesture was not the typical manner of accepting allegiance.

               “So what is all this about bringing me here as an infant?”

               “When you were born your father could not keep you with him because of certain issues pertaining to his father. He had you sent here to be raised.”

               “And who was my father?” Said Kenneth skeptically.

               “I know that it will take some time for you to believe me but this is all true. Your father was the king.”

               “Was?”

               “He died three days ago.”

               “We have had no news of that.”

               “The criers will likely be sent out soon.”

               “Alright so the king is my father. Is the Spider my mother? Or am I a bastard?”

               “Neither. Your father was married briefly to the sister of the man you call your father. The marriage only lasted ten months until she died bearing you. He married the queen two years later and his father died shortly afterwards making him the king.”

“And of course by the time his father was dead he still had to hide me from the Spider. All very plausible. But honestly I just met you and I even look like my siblings. This whole prince stories sounds like something you read in a children’s book.”

“My lord, you have a friend I believe? He is a nephew of the Queen?”

“Yeah, the Spider is John’s aunt but their families haven’t spoken for years.”

“Do you trust him?”

“With my life.”

“He wrote this to you.”

Kenneth took the paper proffered and read what was written there.

Ken,

I have spent the last week with my uncle who has just died. He said again and again that you were his son and that is all I know. He wrote you a letter and had me send it with Roland, his bodyguard. I’ll try to come to you but I think my dear aunt has other ideas.

As always,

John

Ken stared at the paper it was John’s perfect, flowing script. He had not lied he trusted John, trusted him more that anyone else even if they were in love with the same girl. He looked up and saw tears in Roland’s eyes.

“That boy may have signed his death warrant in that note.”

“Surely even the Spider would not kill her sister’s child?”

“You know nothing about what the queen would and would not do. Do you wonder why she has no children?”

“I always assumed she was barren.”

“It is so easy to end live that fragile.”

Kenneth felt vaguely sick partly because the lives they were discussing would apparently have been his half siblings. “So what is this letter he talked about?”

Roland handed him the thick envelope. “I will be outside when you are ready.”

Kenneth took out the first sheet. It was simple but it came closer to shattering his world than anything Roland had said so far.

I Kail the Ninth of Purpleland do declare and recognize Kenneth who is known to the world as the son of Lord Jamis of Southdell as my oldest and only legitimate son and legal heir.

He had never been particularly well treated by either of his parents but he had never doubted that they were in fact his parents and he had never thought of himself as anything but the second son of a fairly minor lord. He pulled out other papers and there was a certificate of marriage and a paper signed by several witnesses verifying that he had indeed been born eighteen years ago but not to Lord Jamis. Finally there was a letter from his father. He did not read it, not yet.

Kenneth stood he was convinced and now the only question was what he would do now. Roland was outside as he said he would be.

“Roland, why have you come to tell me this.”

“The king is dead. You are the king.”

“And only you recognize me as such.”

“It does not change the fact that you are the rightful king.”

“I don’t even want to be king. No one knows about me so no one will support me. It’s likely best not to get involved. I don’t want a civil war.”
               “You would leave your country to the queen?”

“Surely she wouldn’t get the throne. She is woman and not even of royal blood.”

“There is a reason you call her the spider. She has woven her web well. Your father, as you know was an only child and he, because of her, had no children besides you. Your grandfather had a sister but all that is left of that line is twin five year olds whose parents tragically died of a mysterious illness. I was there. She will not be contested.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“She has been treating for years with the Blacklanders. Even before her husband died she began bringing their troops into the capital. She will make this land a province. She will sell your people into slavery for power and security. And if you sit there and let it happen you will be as responsible as she.”

“What do you want me to do? Start a war? Challenge her to single combat? What? I am barely out of school no one will follow me.”

 “You have several options. You can go to her court now and make bold your claim. Perhaps some of the nobles will support you. That is the option with the least risk of bloodshed. However if you go there, a boy, virtually friendless, with no army it is unlikely that you will succeed.”

Kenneth nodded.

“You can go to another country, perhaps Mixupland and convince their king to support your bid for kingship and then come back with troops.”

“No,” Kenneth was certain for once. “If I do that I am as bad as she. I will take my country with the army of another country. If my people want me for king then I will be king. I will not subject them to the tyranny of another country.”

“Alright,” there was a flash of something like respect in Roland’s eye. “Your third option is to go around the countryside and speak to the nobles in order to get their support. Once you have gathered an army you will be in a position to bargain with her.”

“Or, fourthly, I can stay right where I am and do nothing.”

“And watch her sell the country to foreigners.”

“And not get myself killed or my people killed.”

Roland simply bowed.

“I will give you my answer in the morning. “

Roland bowed again and followed him like a shadow back to the house.

Kenneth turned right before they reached the door. “Wait, you said John is in danger?”

Roland shrugged. “John was with the king until the end. His aunt had him followed and he thought he might be being poisoned but he was alive and technically free when I left.”

Kenneth nodded then braced himself for the next meeting with his mother or it seemed his aunt.