Guardians of the Throne; Part I

by Rose-Merry Unan

William

  They were horrible workers….the both of them. I hated the task that I had been given, but I was eager to please the King. I remember at the time that I liked Catherine better; she was the less resistant of the two girls. Although, they looked almost exactly alike, it was easy to tell them apart.

  Catherine had sweetness to her that Isabel didn’t, and she didn’t carry herself like a royal. If she hadn’t dressed like one, she could easily have fit in with the commoners, especially when she changed into the workers clothes.

  Isabel on the other hand, I had my doubts that she could pass for one of us. She had been the heir to the throne to long, she knew nothing about what it was like to be a commoner, nor did she behave anything like a common girl of her age would. She was willful, insolent, and lazy.

  As they both stumbled out of the changing rooms that day, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them both. Both of them had no idea how much danger they could be in.

  “We look like boys,” Catherine stated seeming half amused.

  I smiled at her. I wasn’t sure why, but it was easy to like Catherine. “Yes, you do,” It was an observation that later would serve me well.

  “I hate it,” Isabel complained.” These clothes are oversized, they’re hot, and they itch. Isn’t there anything else that we could wear?”

  “I’m afraid this is the best that we can do,” I apologized. I wonder what her father had told her about why she was here. I wondered if he had told her anything at all.

  “Well I hate them,” she said in a bratty tone that I would become all too familiar with.

  As that first afternoon dragged on, I assigned them the same tasks that any other palace servant would have to perform in the stables. I started with the horse stables. I knew they were both fond of the horses, so I thought maybe I could ease them into it.

  They were excited when they saw the horses, and I let them brush them. At the moment, they almost seemed like any of the other little girls that I knew, but after that, the day got progressively worse. Neither one of them was happy when I told them we had to clean the stables out.

  Catherine was submissive however. She did all things without complaint. Most of the nobility girls were raised to be submissive. As a matter of fact Isabel was the only girl that I had ever known not to be.

  I figured it probably had to do with the fact that she was heir to the throne. I hated her. I hated everything about Isabel. As far as I was concerned she was a spoiled brat, who had no respect for anyone other than her parents.

  One day I was working in the stables when the King walked in. Both of the girls immediately ran to him as he scooped them both up, just like I had often seen my own father do with them. He tickled both of them as they giggled. He put them both down, and informed them that he had actually come to see me.

  “What is it Uncle?” I asked.

  “Let’s take a walk William,” he said

  I was nervous. The last time that he had wanted to take a walk with me, he had changed my whole sense of safety. What would he want to tell me now? He told the girls to continue with their work, and when we got outside, he told another servant to supervise the Princesses for the rest of the day. My stomach grew tight in knots; something told me the king had bad news for me. He called for his horse, and we rode back to the palace.

  When we got to the palace I expected the king to tell me what he had said. He had told me he wanted to take a walk, but we had ridden to the palace instead. I wondered what he had to say, but my curiosity would have to wait to be satisfied. He led me into the castle by hand, as curious onlookers stared. I heard one of them whisper, “poor lad.” I wondered if I was in some kind of trouble.

  The King finally led me into his private chambers. I had never been in his private chambers before, and I was astonished. I had never seen anything so elaborate. Everything was made of gold, and the wall was littered with art. Finally we reached the bedroom, where the Queen was standing looking out a window.

  She came over to me, and I knelt. “There is no need for that now,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. I looked up at the King, and realized there were tears in his eyes too. He shook his head, and walked over to where the Queen was. His eyes looked distant.

  I grew more and more nervous. Had I done something wrong? I didn’t understand what it could possibly be. The King and Queen had never required such a private audience with me in the past.

  “I can’t bring myself to say it,” he finally said looking at the Queen as if to give her permission.

  She sat back onto a couch and told me to come sit by her. I walked over to the couch nervously.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She swallowed hard. I had never seen the Queen not composed, but I could tell whatever it was, disturbed her. “It’s your father,” she said almost in a whisper.

  “What about him?” I asked. “Has he been hurt?”

  She put her hand over mine. “You’re father went on a hunting trip with the king today,” she explained.

  “Yes, I know” I said. “He told me this morning that he was going hunting with the King.”

  “I’m afraid there was an ambush,” she said again almost in a whisper.

  “What kind of ambush?” I asked. “Where is my father? Is he ok?”

  The Queen

  My heart broke many times that day. It broke the hardest, when I had to tell the poor boy, that his father had been killed protecting the King from an attack by an oar demon. That was all that I told him. The details were too horrific for any child to know.

  As I looked at the tears streaming down the face of the screaming child, I could barely compose myself. I too, had loved the boy’s father. Without him, my husband would never be the same again.

  “I want to see him,” William cried.

  “I’m afraid that you can’t,” I explained.

  “Why not?” He asked sobbing.

  I looked to my husband. “I’m afraid that the oar demon took your father…” he let his voice trail, and finally threw his arms around William, and they both stood there sobbing together.

  I didn’t realize it then, but through the loss of his best friend, my husband had finally gained the thing he had always wanted most…a son.

  That night, we did the best we could to comfort the dear lad, but there is no comfort for a child in such times.

  “What is to happen to me now?” He asked.

  “Don’t worry,” I tried to sooth him. “We’ll make sure that you’re taken care of,” I assured him. I stroked his hair for what felt like the longest time, until he finally fell asleep in my arms. I stared down at him, and felt pity for the boy. His father had been a good man, and my husband’s best friend. His father, and his father, before that had both served our family faithfully and lost their lives for it. It was then that I realized that William was now our responsibility. He was our responsibility, the way that so many orphans were before him. It was always our responsibility to take care of the child of a slain warrior. But William was different because of his relation to the King. When I was sure that he was in a deep sleep, I got up, and went to comfort my husband.

  He was drunk half out of his mind by the time that I got to him. I put my hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say. “Leave me be,” he said.

  I went and sat down on the couch. He always told me to leave him when he was upset, but he never meant it. I sat and quietly waited for sorrow that I knew would poor out of him.

  “We have to take care of William,” he said getting up.

  “I know,” I replied.

  “No, I mean we really have to take care of him,” he said. “His grandfather died protecting my father, and now his father has died protecting me. He has no mother, he has no one left but us,” the King said.

  “I know,” I replied again.

  “I won’t let William die,” he said. “His father will be the last of his line to die protecting the crown.”

  “What d
o you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, I can’t let William be a knight anymore,” he said.

  “But that’s his dream,” I replied. I knew how much being a knight meant to the boy.

  “I won’t have it,” he said.

  “Then what is to become of the boy?” I asked.

  “We’ll raise him,” he replied. “We will raise him as if he was our own son. He will be educated as a prince, and when he’s old enough I’ll make him a duke. Maybe I’ll even marry him off to one of the princesses.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” I asked.

  “I’m sure,” he said. “It’s what my father did for his father when he was orphaned defending the crown. This time, though he won’t become a knight. I’ll see to it, that boy lives a long and healthy life.”

  I heard William in the next room crying. I wondered if he had heard us. I rushed into comfort him.

  Sir Owen

  My early days as a knight were happy days. Being a knight came naturally to me. My father had been a knight. I felt badly when I heard about the boy. I knew how hard it was to lose a father protecting the kingdom. I wanted to seek him out, but knew that it was inappropriate. Rumor had it he was to become a prince. Part of me envied that, and part of me didn’t.

  I envied it, because I had been like William. The son of a knight. My father had been killed when I was young, and the King had taken me in, but never as his own. I was raised alongside the children of nobles, and other orphans of the King’s knights.

  The King felt obligated to