Joshua rolled his eyes as his dreams of absconding slipped away.
The Bishop continued. “Where was I? Oh yes, Adam and Eve. While they were created without sin, the potential to stray from the path that God set forth existed, as we saw in the book of Genesis when Eve took the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Now, the tree of knowledge was a tree that God had told Adam and Eve they were not to partake of its fruit. But, the evil one was present in the perfect garden, and he lied to Eve telling her she in fact could be like God himself. Now, it was interesting that Satan used as temptation the very thing that caused him to fall from grace, as he also wanted to be like God. Mind you, he only wanted to be so in power, but not in goodness and grace.”
David’s mind started to block out the monotonous drone of the Bishop’s voice, which continued for what seemed to be ages. He glanced over at Liam, whose eyes were growing heavy as he fought the sweet escape that sleep would bring. Alexander was trying to look interested, as he had taken a seat and was resting his chin on his hand, leaning forward maintaining a dull eye contact with Bishop Malachi. David entertained himself by counting the frustrated sighs Joshua emitted and trying to guess when the next one would come. He reached into his belt, pulling a small flask of tea from it. He hoped it would keep him awake a little longer.
A hushed murmur became audible from the other side of the dressing room door. The guests were starting to arrive for the wedding, which was now less than half an hour off. Merchants, administrators, and craftsmen from the city of Lystra and all of the surrounding areas would be packing into the chapel today, and then into the grand hall as the first day of the wedding feast began. It would last through the better part of the week, or as long as most of the guests could stay away from their business. The guards would have their hands full this week, removing people who indulged too much in their drink and those who felt the need to start fights. Lord Alexander had thought of hiring a few of the Holy Defenders, but with the early spring trade starting up again, Lystra would probably need their services more.
The Bishop was starting to talk about Christ's betrayal and man's free will, which David was at a total loss as to how he had managed to arrive at that subject. He tried to trace the path of Malachi’s words, but his attempts came up empty.
The Bishop suddenly stopped talking. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the small, quiet snores of young Liam.
"David, could you please awaken the snoring prince?" asked the Bishop, making a reference to a story about a prince known for his inability to pay attention.
"Yes, Your Grace." Liam was resting his chin in his hand, which was propped up on his knee. David knocked his arm out from under him, and Liam awoke with a sudden start.
"Hmm?" Liam said wearily. "Oh, Your Grace, my most humble apologies. I ask your forgiveness, as I did not sleep well last night."
Malachi gave him an accusing glance, then continued. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, free will. As I was saying, free will is a gift from God, although God knows what the outcome of every decision you make is going to be even before…."
The Bishop was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Everyone sighed with relief as they straightened up and smoothed out their fine clothes. The door opened to reveal Lord Zareth Branvold and Lord Alexander Ki Kalendeen.
"Putting the boys to sleep, Your Grace?" asked Lord Alexander.
Liam's face reddened with embarrassment as all the other young men in the room looked at him and snickered.
Lord Branvold strode into the room. Like most of the dwellers of southern Elgannan, he was fair colored with light brown hair. Taller than Lord Ki Kalendeen, yet a little thinner, Lord Branvold has also been one of the battle lords of King Nicolae Northcott. He walked with an air of confidence that few men dared to show. Some mistook his attitude for arrogance, but if questioned about his deeds, Zareth Branvold told his stories with very little embellishment.
He spoke with a voice that boomed like thunder. "If you all would excuse us, Lord Ki Kalendeen and I would like to speak with the groom-to-be."
David, Joshua, and Liam all stood up stiffly. They walked out of the room without saying a word. It was tradition that the father of the bride would speak to the groom before the service. Usually, it would consist of threats and obsequious promises about the treatment of the woman to be wed. The father of the groom was also present, to stop there from being actual bloodshed. Although there had been need of his presence in the past, today he was mostly there because of tradition. David knew that Alexander was probably going to get bigger threats from his own father than from the loud, but very gentle tongue of Lord Branvold. The Bishop also followed the boys out of the room and closed the door behind him.
"Well, young men, I must check on the progress of my acolytes." He looked at David and continued. "Your mother threatened to use my hide as a decoration if anything went wrong with this service. And given her reputation, I am not once to take chances with the wrath of such a woman." He leaned over to whisper to David. "And considering how well she managed to tame your father, I fear I would be no match for her." The Bishop began to laugh.
"I wouldn't exactly consider father a tame man, Your Grace."
"Oh, David. You didn't know the kind of man he was at the Arch Bishop's University, or on the battlefield. He has mellowed a great deal since the days of his youth." The Bishop patted David on the head and walked off towards the room behind the sanctuary.
The noise from the pew area was growing louder. David walked over to the hallway door and peeked out. The chapel was almost packed, with nothing left but places to stand, and those were disappearing quickly. The service wouldn't even begin for another quarter of an hour. He couldn't imagine how full the building would be then.
Liam put his hand on David's shoulder. "It's too bad that Gabriel and Eleenia couldn't be here today."
A felling of sadness washed over David. "Father said it was too dangerous given the state of the war. Plus since it is mid-semester, El can’t afford to take a month off to come to the wedding."
“I heard that the Caledonian army was laying siege to Avonshire,” Liam said.
Joshua walked up to the two boys. "You know that could not be true. Even if Caledonia did attack Avonshire, they would never dare raise their swords to the Church. Even if the Holy Defenders weren't headquartered there, I can't believe that King Malcolm would order the destruction of anything owned by the Church. The Arch Bishop has always refused to take part in the war, even when King Nicolae himself came to the Monastery to beg and plead for aid."
David nodded, reassured. "You're right, I'm sure, Joshua. But I do wish they could have been here for Alexander's wedding."
“How are their studies?” asked Liam.
“Gabriel is doing well. He will be participating in his mentor’s combat test, or something like that. Eleenia is excelling, as always. She was a little upset that the bow master wouldn’t let her in the Archery class. He said it wasn’t proper for someone who was learning to heal to also learn to kill, not to mention being a woman.” David felt under his tunic and ran his finger across a long abdominal scar he had received while play fighting with Liam three years ago. He had been terrified that his father would be irate, but Eleenia had stitched his wound before they told anyone. She had done a superb job of it, as she had natural talent as a healer, even though he would carry the scar for the rest of his days.
“Fortunately, though, her commoner friends are teaching her how to fight,” David added.
“Hmpf,” Joshua said.
David turned his attention back to the chapel, wondering how many more people would be attending. He also wondered if he would ever see his brother and sister again.
The three men came out of the dressing room. The sound of their laughter filled the small hallway. Lord Ki Kalendeen opened a small door that led outside. “I wonder where Jarel is? I sent him to check on the k
itchen status half an hour ago. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any of the staff in quite a while. Maybe I had better go look.”
Lord Branvold clasped his hand down on Lord Alexander’s shoulder. “And bring the wrath of your wife and mine on you for missing the wedding ceremony? I think not, my old friend. Come, let’s get into place.”
The minstrels started playing a traditional wedding song as Alexander, David, Joshua, and Liam walked in a single file up to the altar. Alexander, being the groom, was the only one dressed in armor, as was the tradition for Ki Kalendeen weddings. His feet clanged against the stone floor as he walked. David could hear him starting to breathe faster as he took his place in front of the Bishop. Lord Ki Kalendeen hurried down to the front pew and sat next to his wife. She jumped as he touched her hand, and looked at him, startled. A reassuring smile seemed to calm her down. Lord Branvold hurried along the side aisle, pushing his way through the ever-growing crowd, towards the rear of the chapel. As David watched Lord Branvold make his way through the mass of people, he caught a glimpse of Lord General Sagaroth standing at the back of the chapel. Lord Branvold slipped around him and disappeared through the main double wooden doors.
The music suddenly stopped, and the entire congregation turned around looking to the rear of the chapel. The minstrels started to play again, this time a slow, majestic march that echoed from the high wooden ceiling. A small girl, probably no older than 8, walked down the aisle, bringing her feet together and pausing after every step. She had a small woven white basket hanging from her wrist, and after every step she threw a handful of white rose petals on the carpet behind her. David had never seen her before, and he figured she was probably the daughter of one of the Branvold’s most trusted servants.
The second girl to walk down the aisle was Mareth’s youngest sister, Serena. She wore a beautiful ivory-colored linen dress, and she was holding a bouquet of white and yellow flowers in her hand. She also stepped down the aisle slowly, pausing between each step. David studied her closely, and he decided that she looked bored. Serena was jealous that Mareth was marrying Alexander. She was a year older than David, and while the families expected her to be interested in Gabriel, even before he left to become a Holy Defender, she had made her feelings for Alexander very well known to him. David had heard stories of how Serena had an infatuation with his older brother ever since she was a young girl. During the infrequent visits, she would follow him around whatever castle they were in, gazing up at him and sighing. Alexander had somehow always managed to place Gabriel in her path and had made a hasty retreat. It was this young girl’s fantasy about stealing her older sister’s future husband that had kept her from being Mareth’s maid of honor.
David had no idea who the next two girls were. The girls were around the same age as Alexander and Mareth, both with light hair and fair complexions. They were both very nervous, and David thought they were probably commoners with whom Mareth had grown up in Kheog, one being a bridesmaid, the other the maid of honor. The sound of Joshua letting out a muffled “Hmph!” confirmed his suspicions.
As the last of the bridesmaids and maid of honor arrived at the altar, the music paused and started into the wedding march. Mareth looked beautiful in her white dress and veil, with early spring flowers woven into her braided, long, sandy brown hair. Her beauty was strongly contrasted by her concerned, uncomfortable-looking father walking beside her as she strode confidently down the center aisle. She had a broad smile of victory on her face as she shot a patronizing glance at her younger sister, who was doing her best to hide a sneer.
Alexander took her hand as she met him at the altar. Lord Branvold gave a smile, and blinking back unshed tears, he returned to his seat next to Lady Branvold.
The Bishop looked around the room, satisfied with the size of his soon-to-be captive audience. He took a long, deep breath and started into his signature drone. “Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
“Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled…”
David stood still, facing forward, as Bishop Malachi recited what seemed like both of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the Corinthians in their entirety…twice. The chapel was starting to get warm as the heat from all the bodies filled the enclosed room. His eyes started to get heavy as the warmth, combined with the Bishop’s never-ending voice, overtook him. He snapped his eyes open and took a deep breath. He turned his head slightly, gazing at Alexander and Mareth, who fared little better. David was glad that they were getting married. Over the last few years, he and Liam had discreetly followed them into the woods, watching them kissing and holding each other under a tree, or in an abandoned stable, or under the cloak of darkness in some remote corner of the castle. He and Liam had received a sound thumping from Alexander every time they could no longer contain their giggles, thus making their presence known.
David was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of movement coming from outside. Turning his eyes to his left, he could see silhouetted shapes moving about outside. He thought it was probably the servants, getting ready for the feast, although what they were doing outside the chapel, he didn’t know. He committed a breach of wedding etiquette by turning his head around. His attention was caught by his mother. Her face had gone completely pale as she looked in horror at the stained glass window. She looked ready to vomit.
The Bishop had finally finished his sermon. “Alexander Ki Kalendeen IV, do you take Mareth to be your wife in the eyes of God and men?”
Alexander paused and took a breath. “I do!” he said triumphantly. David heard his father give a sigh of relief.
“Mareth Elsbeth Branvold, do you take Alexander to be your husband in the eyes of God and men?”
“I do!” she answered quickly.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife." The bishop raised his hands and spoke to the congregation. "Behold, Alexander and Mareth Ki Kalendeen. May you find peace and happiness in God's love and each other's all the days of your life.” The couple turned around and faced the crowd as everybody stood and cheered. "You may kiss the bride.”
Alexander slowly lifted his bride’s veil from her joyful face. He took her hand into his and beamed a smile at her. As the couple kissed, the congregation cheered loudly. They turned and faced the standing, applauding wedding guests and started to walk towards the back of the church. Everyone grew silent as the minstrels started playing the exit march.
After the couple had taken four steps from the altar, there was a sound of glass breaking, followed by a whistling hiss and an audible thunk. The shaft of an arrow protruded from Mareth’s throat and blood poured onto her white wedding gown as she made a gurgling cry, falling to her knees.
"Mareth! NO!" cried Alexander.
The chapel erupted in terrified screams as arrows showered the crowd. David looked around in panicked indecision for a way to escape. An arrow nicked his cheek and brought him out of confusion. He turned around, seeing Liam curled up in a ball on the floor, covering his head, screaming. David grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's get out of here!" he yelled. Liam stood and the two boys sprinted towards the door that lay to the left of the altar and David followed as he surveyed the room. Bodies of the dead and dying were strewn about the floor. A woman next to him let out anguished cries as she cradled the head of her fallen husband. The as yet unseen attackers were now lighting their arrows afire and launching them through the windows into the rafters above. Smoke began to slowly fill the room as the roof caught on fire. Given the age of the timbers, David figured they would probably collapse on the packed-in congregation within a few minutes.
David plowed into Liam, who ha
d suddenly stopped. He stepped around him and grabbed his friend's hand, pulling him with him into the relative safety of the side hallway of the vestibule. Flaming arrows flew into the door as David pulled it closed behind him. "Why did you stop?" David yelled, grabbing Liam and shaking him.
Liam didn't answer. His lips were quavering and tears were running down his cheeks as he stared blankly into space. He pointed back towards the sanctuary and a gasp escaped his lips as he passed out on the cold stone floor.
David opened the door slightly and looked out from the hallway and saw the cause of Liam's grief. Lady Branvold, Serena, and Joshua had run to Mareth's aid when she was struck. All of them lay crumpled on the floor, multiple arrows protruding from their still bodies. The screams were distinctly fewer as many of the arrows had found their mark. One of the Bishop's altar boys made a run for the door. An arrow sprouted through his chest and he fell to his knees and slumped over, blood pouring from his mouth and chest.
Lord Ki Kalendeen burst through the door, a flaming arrow striking his left arm. The force of the door knocked David back as his father fell on top of him.
Alexander followed and closed the door behind him. He looked back towards the door. "I don't understand. They are wearing our servant's livery!" he said tearfully. He quickly darted down the hallway and rounded the corner.
"Father! You're wounded!" screamed David as he reached over and beat the flames out.
"Don't worry, David. I've had worse. Here, pull it free."
David braced one hand against his father's shoulder and tried to remove the arrow. The shaft broke at what David thought was two fingers below the skin, leaving the tip of the arrow still imbedded in his father's flesh.
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