Fire and Thorn

by Mary Vee

  This was the kind of celebration and fun Gilbert preferred. “Listen, Matthias. Isn’t this great? The festivities are underway.” He walked to the nearest production, intending to visit them all. To the left, men and women filled their plates with food then sat on benches to watch a minstrel act. Squire Ben and Squire Charles approached from the side with a silly dance step. They barely balanced plates piled high with meats and fruits. They bowed, holding their food high above their head. Ben smiled whimsically. “Your Majesty, how nice to see you with us lowlifes.” He rose and held out his plate. “Want some venison?”

  Ben may have been disrespectful, but he knew how to make Gilbert laugh. “Yes, thank you.” But, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Matthias’s frown and remembered the grapes. “Sorry, I guess I’ll have to wait for my plate.”

  The minstrels on stage stopped playing suddenly and bowed to the king. The guests turned in their seats. When they saw Gilbert, they jumped to their feet and bowed. Children huddled close to parents. Their voices hushed.

  Gilbert whispered to Matthias, “Why are they fearful?”

  Matthias nodded to the guests. “King Gilbert wishes to join you. Please continue with your merriment.” He signaled the musicians to resume playing then turned to Gilbert. “Sire, remember, the people of Aerlis have not been graced with a royal presence in a long time. As you noticed earlier, they’re experiencing many problems and no longer trust their king.”

  “I have noticed.” Deep, deep sadness for the people overwhelmed him. Standing this close to the villagers, he saw their tattered clothes, thin faces, and the children begging for food. He wanted to end the suffering but didn’t know how.

  A strong music beat revived the citizen’s excitement. The children giggled, twirled, and skipped, all the while clapping to the lively tunes. Moms and dads sprang to their feet, dancing and laughing with their sons and daughters. Gilbert kept time with the music wanting to join them.

  A small boy pointed. “Momma, isn’t that the one you said hates us?”

  The mother cupped her hand over the child’s mouth and turned him back toward the minstrels.

  Those words stole Gilbert’s desire to dance. He waved, wondering if they would ever trust him. When the mother and boy turned back to the show, he walked away.

  Matthias and the guards followed him closely.

  Gilbert couldn’t handle the rejections anymore. He had done his duty with the coronation and ceremony. He even came down to spend time with the villagers. He hobbled until reaching the grand staircase then abruptly faced his protectors. His anger warmed his face. “Leave me. Lord Chancellor Matthias, you deal with the guests.”

  The chancellor softly spoke, “Yes, sire.”

  King Gilbert retreated to the place his father called a portico, a secluded outdoor area within the castle. Technically it was more of an inner court, but one did not criticize the king. He opened the door and shut it hard behind him. Sunrays blanketed the open space where his father and mother often came to spend time alone. Two comfortable chairs faced his mother’s gardens. On the wall across from him hung fifteen large family paintings beneath a protective roof. He walked first to his father’s chair, then his mother’s. He chose to sit on the earth with his knees curled to his chin. He pulled his ceremonial robe over his legs for warmth.

  The painting of his father sitting regally upon a destrier was the last in the line. Brilliant colored rose bushes surrounded the horse, splashing a love for life on his father’s face. Gilbert’s tears blurred the shapes into blobs of red.

  Life wasn’t fair. Already someone had attempted to poison him, the people shouted complaints against him, even the dignitaries mocked him. No one had given him a chance.

  He hugged his legs closer to his chest. “The people will never love me as they did you, Father. No matter what I do they won’t be happy. Where are you? I need you so badly.” Slowly his body slumped over until he lay curled on the ground.

  Alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gilbert sat, pressing his back against the portico wall. His neck cracked when he rolled his head. He stretched and felt a sharp twang in his back. Matthias and the guards had woken him several times during the night, asking him to sleep in his chamber, but he had refused. They brought him blankets then left him as he’d asked. Sleeping all night in the portico on the cold floor wasn’t the best decision.

  His stomach complained. He stood and walked to the door. In his sleepy daze, he nearly bumped into a servant. “Katia?”

  She scrambled to keep the items on her tray balanced then smiled and bowed. “Sire, we assumed you wanted breakfast. The guards told me you were here.”

  “Thank you. Place the tray over there.” He pointed to the seating near his mother’s gardens.

  She bowed. “Yes, sire.” Her long auburn hair swayed with movement. She selected a table between the chairs.

  Gilbert walked slowly, still favoring his sore ankle. “Katia.”

  “Yes, sire?” She set the tray down.

  “Why have you been in my service of late? You never were before.”

  Matthias entered the portico and cleared his throat. “If I may address your question, sire. As you know, Katia has served your mother for many years. Since the queen is not here, she has agreed to help in other areas of the castle. This occasionally involves helping to serve you in your new role as king.”

  Katia bowed. “May I get you anything else, sire?”

  “No, thank you.” Gilbert walked with her to the door.

  The taste tester, who had entered with Katia, sampled the food in Gilbert’s presence. After a few moments, Mathias said, “You may leave.”

  Salty sea air mingled with fresh floral scents from the garden. Gilbert inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Whispers of the waves splashed on the shore in the distance. He opened his eyes and smiled at the two remaining flowers in full bloom planted by his mother.

  Matthias strolled toward the garden. “How can I be of service, sire?”

  Gilbert thought about the times he chose not to listen to his tutor’s lessons and felt bad. He had no clue how to be a king. “Tell me again how Aerlis began. It happened so long ago. Hundreds of years before my birth. The stories must hold the answer to our current problem. I mean, someone brought the roses here and the resulting prosperity.” He grabbed a hunk of bread. “I can’t eat all of this. Please have some.”

  Matthias held up his hand. “Not yet, thank you. Let’s angle the chairs toward the row of family paintings.” They turned their chairs and looked at the display. Matthias pointed to the first canvas of a white-haired man wearing a chainmail coif covering his head with golden links. His high cheekbones showed strength, his beard neatly trimmed, and one bushy eyebrow was raised. “Just before your grandfather died, he split his vast empire. He gave equal portions to each of his three sons.”

  “What was the name of his empire again?”

  Matthias gently shook his head. Disappointment heavy in his eyes. “Missed that history lesson, did we? He called it Cede Deo. His oldest son, Ivan, who had a greedy disposition, became king of the north. Roland, known for his wisdom, became king of the southwest. Cyrus, the youngest son, known for his thoughtful and hospitable ways, became king of the southeast.

  “Residents of the empire frequently invited citizens from other lands to visit their colorful countryside abounding in roses. There was a secret.”

  “I thought so,” said Gilbert.

  “Yes. One that kept the roses in full radiant bloom year-round. As long as those flowers remained healthy, the crops grew vibrant. The people never were in want. Chronicles from the period reported peace and tranquility throughout the empire. Cede Deo citizens had a reputation for their generosity, kindness, helpfulness, and their devotion to maintaining the roses.”

  Matthias reached for a few figs and popped two in his mouth. “Your grandfather, Emperor Stephanas, used funds from the treasury to commission the best craftsmen to build this and King Ro
land’s castle.”

  Gilbert walked to the withered rosebush. “I understand. Uncle Ivan took over Grandfather’s palace then?”

  “And rightly so as the eldest son,” said Matthias. “Emperor Stephanas’s castle occupied land that became King Ivan’s.”

  Gilbert walked to the next canvas. “Is there a painting with Uncle Roland’s castle in it?”

  “No, I don’t see one.” Matthias stood. He joined Gilbert. “I recall hearing that he chose a large “t” shape for the building. Your father wanted a six-pointed design.” He walked back to the painting of Emperor Stephanas’s palace. “After providing homes for each of his sons, the emperor died in peace.”

  Gilbert turned to the painting of the emperor and his three sons. “The empire hasn’t turned out the way he wanted, has it? Why would Uncle Ivan’s kingdom have thistles and dragons instead of roses?”

  “That’s a very good question.” Matthias touched a canvas of wooded land. A brilliant ray of sunlight shone through the various shades of green leaves onto the forest floor, enhancing the perfectly groomed roses. “This painting is of the northern kingdom’s countryside back when it belonged to the empire. Once King Ivan took over, roses throughout his land died in a matter of days. When I asked your father why, he said he didn’t know.”

  “You mean they all just died?”

  “It’s written in the chronicles.”

  Gilbert looked at the colorful shades of greens and reds in the former land where Malum now existed. “Father never let me venture outside the castle grounds. Do we still have fields of roses?”

  “Not of late. Thistles are spreading. To my knowledge, the villagers have done nothing different, definitely nothing to encourage thistles to grow. It is said, when the kingdoms were under Stephanas’s reign, not a single thistle grew in the entire empire.” Matthias drew an invisible circle around all the brilliant red flowers on the canvass. “King Ivan always wondered why roses, a sign of peace and prosperity, grew in his brothers’ kingdoms when thistles grew wild in his. He became jealous of King Roland and your father. Rather than ask for help from his brothers, he secluded himself in his own land as a bitter man.”

  Gilbert grabbed the last fig and popped it into his mouth. “Didn’t you once tell me about a mass exodus in the empire?”

  “It wasn’t really a mass exodus. Emperor Stephanas decreed any citizen could live in the kingdom of their choice. Their decisions had to be made within three months of his death to be fair to his sons. Most of the citizens decided to remain where they had settled. A few moved to a different kingdom or left the empire altogether.

  “As you know, King Ivan named his land Malum. King Roland named his land Vista, and your father, King Cyrus, named his land Aerlis. After three months, gypsies who traveled through Malum claimed all the roses had died, and many citizens had packed their belongings, hoping to still leave.”

  “I’ve never heard of any former residents of Malum moving here.”

  “I’m not sure any actually crossed the border. Knights from Vista and Aerlis found many dissatisfied citizens in the north who wanted to relocate. Both kingdoms opened their borders to welcome any who wanted to come.” Matthias paused. “To my knowledge, no one arrived at either kingdom.”

  Matthias seemed biased against Uncle Ivan. “Just because Uncle Ivan behaved poorly as a child, doesn’t mean his kingdom is a bad place. Maybe the environment couldn’t continue to support roses. Look at all the trees and the shade blocking needed sunlight for the plants in this painting. The citizens might have changed their minds, turned back, and decided it was safe to stay.”

  “Perhaps.” Matthias turned from the paintings to the garden. “Reports have filtered back to us from traveling troupes, saying King Ivan rules in a harsh and cruel way. Within a year after Emperor Stephanas’s death, dragon sightings increased, and droppings littered caves throughout the northern kingdom. Minstrels stopped traveling through there because they couldn’t cheer the people from their miseries. Some think King Ivan trained the dragons to kidnap enemies and hide them in the maze of caves along the wild North River.”

  “Trained dragons. Huh.” Gilbert sprang to his left foot while protecting his injured right ankle and grabbed a broom left by the servants. He tipped the handle and positioned it like a sword in attack position. Dodging long strands of straw falling from the broom, he lunged to thrust and parry an invisible foe.

  Matthias groaned. “Spare me.” He sat near the table. “There are chronicles that report King Ivan hated his daughter Esther who was his first-born child. Her reddish-brown hair and kind temperament reminded him of your father and Roland. He decided that his second child, Kabil, a stocky strong-willed son, should be the rightful heir. Days drifted by as Ivan plotted to ensure his son would inherit the throne upon his death. He knew his people preferred the thoughtful deeds of his daughter and would revolt if his son received the kingdom in her place.

  “Rebels plotted to help her claim the throne. When defeated, a remnant of Stephanas's loyal followers sneaked ancient chronicles and the Sacred book out of the castle hoping to one day revive The Way. Witnesses said King Ivan trained a dragon to take Esther right from her bedroom. Peasants heard her screams for miles. The great lamenting by the people in Malum is said to have been heard in all three kingdoms.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Matthias’ telling of the empire’s history not only interested Gilbert but also intensified a desire to discover what recent event caused dragons to invade his father’s land.

  Matthias sipped his drink. “Dedicated citizens of the former empire who live in Malum risked their lives to bring messages to King Roland and your father. Sadly, their words told of skies darkening with trained dragons, searching for informants in Malum. Bursts of flames streaked through pitch-black skies. Charred bodies littered the woods.

  “To stop Ivan from harming Princess Esther, Kings Roland and Cyrus sent knights to rescue her. Reconnaissance missions lasted for weeks. Many warriors fell under the dragons’ fire. The living chose not to risk their lives burying the slain. They continued their mission but never found the princess.”

  Gilbert drew his broom-sword back into an attack stance. “We need to send more knights.” He swung his weapon. “I would lead the search into every inch of Malum and thrust my sword into the heart of anyone who dared stop us.” His weapon careened dangerously close to Matthias.

  The chancellor scooted his chair back. “Are we having fun?” He drew his cup to his mouth and drank. “Vista and Aerlis have remained peaceful, at least until recently when dragons attacked our people.”

  Gilbert’s father had always protected him from distressing news. He’d lived the dream childhood, but now wished he could have known the citizens suffered before this. “I’d didn’t know,” he said softly.

  “Your father had some special gift that kept his people happy, protected, and the roses radiant. Something strange happened to him years ago. He became angry over little things and didn’t care about his duties. The roses started dying, the people became dissatisfied, and now dragons have invaded the land. If I knew your father’s secret, I’d tell you and the council. Sadly, I have no advice to give.”

  The problem now seemed clear. “The key to the country’s welfare is shown by healthy roses growing throughout the kingdom.”

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  The solution, though, remained the mystery. Gilbert considered the chancellor’s words. He walked along the gallery wall and stopped at the likeness of his grandfather. “He must have loved his sons very much to split the kingdom equally.”

  “I believe he did.” Matthias winced, rubbing his back as he stood. “I recall reading in the chronicles that the emperor held on to a hope that his oldest son would turn from his waywardness and follow what he’d learned as a child.”

  So, if Uncle Ivan’s kingdom was infested by dragons and now Aerlis showed signs of the same problem, the answer must be in another place. “You said Unc
le Roland’s land still has fields of healthy roses, and he is known for his wisdom, right?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Gilbert snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Thanks for the history lesson.” He walked a little faster into the corridor.

  “Wait, sire. That’s what?”

  Gilbert didn’t take time to answer. He left for the solar. Entering the room he hadn’t dared step foot inside since his father’s death took tremendous courage. Mathias’ talk sparked the first drop of fortitude. There had to be a clue. It made sense his father would have known what to do.

  He stopped short from Father and Mother’s private chamber then slowly turned the knob and pushed. The squeaky hinge startled him.

  There was no fire inside the room. He shivered. No scribe. No attendants. The door continued to screech as he pushed it open. On the mantle sat the silver goblet and bowl from his old room. He walked farther inside. All his personal belongings had been delivered.

  His parents’ things rested neatly piled to the side. Seeing his father’s special royal robe and his mother’s favorite blue dress caused his heart to pound. Ache and sorrow buried deep in his heart revived.

  To the left was a table with an ewer. He poured water into the bowl and washed his face, surprised to find fresh water for his use but no fire in the fireplace.

  A balmy breeze invited him to the window that faced southwest. He propped his elbows on the sill. In the distance, waves attempted to crawl out of the ocean. Funny how they never gave up trying. Between the shore and the castle, villagers stood in the streets, selling their wares. Customers haggled prices. Vendors fought for their living. Each struggled to survive.

  The last thing he wanted was for Aerlis to become like Malum. A place where citizens barely had anything to eat. If only he knew the secret of the roses that the ambassadors from Vista had mentioned.

  Gilbert moved to the window facing north. His father’s pendant bounced against his chest in the quick turn. In the distance, a canyon spanned four leagues wide, providing protection on this side of the castle. Its depth surpassed anyone’s sight from the tallest tower. Malum lay beyond, too far away to see.