Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Scelwhyn seemed to notice that he was rambling and he drew himself up. “Anyway, let me introduce you to the tailor,” he said, and at that instant a thin, reedy-looking man entered the room. “Arnaud, meet Tucker. He will be in charge of outfitting you with a new wardrobe.”

  Tucker bowed, glancing disdainfully at Arnaud’s clothing and muttering something about “disgraceful.” Arnaud politely ignored the man’s comments as he nodded in return. Scelwhyn did not allow Arnaud to see him smile, but he felt pride at the careful way Arnaud had handled the situation.

  “Tucker will show you to your rooms for the night. More permanent arrangements will be made once the coronation is over, but for tonight, I hope you will not be offended if I put you in guest rooms? The king’s apartments are in a bit of a disorder at this moment, I am sorry.”

  “It isn’t a problem,” Arnaud said, feeling vast relief at not having to sleep in the king’s apartments, at least, for tonight. He felt that he could handle a guest room for now, and perhaps the king’s room would not be such a shock later.

  He followed Tucker to his rooms, allowed the tailor to take his measurements, and then he found himself left quite alone. He found that now that he was not doing anything or being overwhelmed by anything he had time to think. The thoughts that came were unwelcome ones of home and the great responsibilities that would be placed upon him as king and how much he wished he could go home. He sat down on the bed and waited miserably for whatever was going to happen next. After a few moments he whirled violently and threw himself face-first into the pillowy softness of the bed where he allowed himself a few tears before falling into a sound sleep.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  “Have you seen him?” Zara asked Leila excitedly.

  “Seen who?” Leila asked curiously, petting the bird that rested on her wrist.

  “The new king! He arrived last night with his brother.”

  “Silly,” Leila said. “That’s not his brother, I heard Father talking to King Jairem about it, they don’t know who he is, but apparently he’s to be the new king’s advisor when Father leaves.”

  “Oh,” Zara said. “But have you seen him, the new king, I mean?”

  “No, and you’re not to go traipsing about the palace looking for him either; apparently he’s sleeping and not to be disturbed. You know they traveled all night without stopping,” her voice grew a little sterner, although Leila never could sound very stern. At Zara’s disappointed look Leila said comfortingly, “You’ll see him in a few hours at the coronation anyway.”

  “It’s so exciting! A commoner becoming a king, just like in a fairy tale!”

  “It is exciting,” Leila admitted. “Still, I wouldn’t let Calyssia know about the fight you got into with Garen.”

  Zara grimaced, wondering how Leila always seemed to know everything she had been up to. Garen had been Scelwhyn’s last student and was near Zara’s age; the two had been friends for a long time. Garen had given up his studies as a wizard. He had a natural talent for the magic, but he had finally decided to become a knight instead. He had turned from his studies at magic and decided to live out the rest of his life normally. He was now a squire and would soon be raised to full knighthood; he would also begin to age normally from now on.

  “He started it,” Zara said petulantly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Leila said with a sigh. “Don’t you understand that? Calyssia doesn’t care who started it, the fact is, you got into a fistfight with a squire over nothing, no, don’t look at me like that, it doesn’t matter what he said, to Calyssia it amounts to nothing. You gave the poor lad a black eye. Really, Zara, that’s no way to treat your friends. Calyssia will tell you that it isn’t proper for young ladies in general to get into fistfights, and it most certainly is not proper for you.”

  Zara hung her head. “I know, I ought to have a higher standard for myself and act in a way that honors my family which has had a longstanding good name, but... Leila, he made me so mad!”

  Leila hid her laughter. “He called you a lady, dear, which you are, whether you like it or not, and in my opinion it was not worth punching him over, especially since he meant it as a compliment. He obviously thinks you’re a lady, though he may be the only one. The rest of us know that you’re a mischievous young imp who is generally nothing but trouble. You’re lucky Garen is more chivalrous than you and didn’t punch you back.”

  “I’d like to see him try,” Zara said with a toss of her head.

  “Zara, Zara,” Leila shook her head. She paused thoughtfully, “You know, you really ought to go apologize, the poor lad doesn’t know why you hit him, and he is probably wondering if you’re still his friend or not.”

  “Oh fine, but only if you don’t tell Calyssia about it?”

  Leila put a finger to her lips. “I’ll not say a word. Make sure you’re back in time for the coronation, and perhaps if you think about it, you might heal Garen’s eye? It might make your apology go over a bit better.”

  Zara nodded and skipped off to make peace and Leila watched her go, amusement twitching at the corners of her mouth. Unlike Dylanna and Calyssia, Leila appreciated Zara’s carefree, and sometimes reckless, spirit. She was confident that their youngest sister would calm down at some point and do some serious growing up, but she saw no reason to rush that time any nearer. The girl was a ray of brightness and a cheerful melody, and she hoped growing up would neither dim that light nor silence that tune.

  Whistling to herself, Leila went to ready herself for the coronation ceremony. She, too, was curious to meet the new king.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  The coronation ceremony took place atop Fortress Hill. The steep, flat-topped summit separated the castle from the Wyrden Forest. The people of Aom-igh seemed eager to set aside their grief, as instructed by Jairem, and welcome their new king. Bright and festive replaced the dark and mournful clothing of the previous day, and as Arnaud walked among his people and strode the steep path to his new life, cheers rang out all around him.

  Arnaud was feeling remarkably small, considering how many people were hailing him with gladness and hope. He wanted to bolt back the way he had come, grab a horse, and gallop home. His stomach was playing leapfrog with his wildly pounding heart. By the time he reached the top of the hill, it was nearly midday, but he felt as though years had passed in his ascent.

  Scelwhyn looked at him kindly, but Arnaud did not notice. He froze, suddenly forgetting all the instructions that Scelwhyn had given him while he was getting ready for the ceremony. Luckily, Scelwhyn noticed the wide-eyed expression of pure terror on Arnaud’s face and guided him through the ceremony with ease. Arnaud responded to his cues automatically, and later he could barely remember anything about the ceremony at all. Finally, Scelwhyn bade Arnaud to kneel. The action snapped the young man out of his daze and he knelt before the wizard, looking up at him with solemn eyes.

  “Do you, Arnaud ap Tierna, swear to uphold the laws of this country, to both serve your countrymen in honest friendship and lead them fairly, fearlessly, and selflessly throughout your reign?” Scelwhyn asked.

  Brant tightened his jaw as he was struck by the tremendous challenge and sworn responsibility being placed upon his friend. Steel resolve formed in his own heart to ensure that Arnaud did not bear this burden alone. Wistful thoughts of home floated through his mind. How gladly he would have sworn such devotion to his brother’s reign in Llycaelon.

  “This I swear,” Arnaud said, “upon my life.”

  Scelwhyn raised the crown for all to see. It sparkled in the light of the Dragon’s Eye as he lowered the light circlet onto Arnaud’s head and bade him rise.

  “Hail Arnaud ap Tierna, King of Aom-igh!”

  Arnaud stood and watched as the people knelt. His responsibility to them filled him to overflowing. As much as he had not wanted this, he realized he could not let them down. He was the latest in a long line of kings descending from Llian who had beat back the forces of darkness so
long ago, wielding a blade of light.

  At that moment, Brant’s thoughts were far away, and instead of Arnaud, it was his brother’s coronation he attended. A dark wave of homesickness flooded over him as he watched Scelwhyn place the crown on Arnaud’s head. Brant pushed the darkness from his mind, down into the furthest chambers of his awareness. He knelt along with everyone else. Then he joined in with the crowd, cheering the loudest for the new king, for his friend, for his brother.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Arnaud took off the golden circlet and placed it carefully on the stand next to his bed. He surveyed his new surroundings contemplatively. In the center of the room was a huge bed with curtains all around it. To his right, as he walked in the door was a great window and to his left was a wardrobe that could have held enough clothes for half the kingdom. The room was decorated in blue and silver, which was better than some other combinations he had seen in the castle. With a deep sigh, he climbed into bed and instantly fell asleep.

  “Your Majesty,” the concerned voice made Arnaud open his eyes reluctantly.

  “What now?” he asked with a deep sigh, his voice muffled by the feathery blanket that his face was buried in.

  “Sire, it is time for dinner, and you must get dressed and washed up.”

  Arnaud groaned. “Let me die,” he said dramatically. “If I starve to death then at least no one will expect me to be king anymore.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” a wry voice replied.

  Arnaud sat up quickly. “Scelwhyn,” he said, abashed at his own grumpy behavior. “Why must I get washed and dressed for dinner? Do I have important guests, is there a banquet?”

  “No,” the wizard shook his head, “tonight is even more special than that. Tonight is the great celebration of Aom-igh’s new king.”

  Arnaud’s eyes widened and he leaned his head back. “I forgot!”

  Scelwhyn frowned. “You are the king, now, you cannot afford to forget things like this. Your cooks and servants have been busy for weeks, preparing this event. Hundreds of people will be arriving momentarily and you must be there to greet every one of them and receive their congratulations.”

  Arnaud’s face went pale. “Hundreds?”

  Scelwhyn nodded firmly. “Get dressed and be downstairs in ten minutes.”

  The wizard swept out of the room, and Arnaud quickly began to get ready. He opened the wardrobe and selected the finest set of clothes he could find. Then he washed his face, combed his hair, and set the circlet of gold upon his head. When he finished he stood in front of the mirror and made a face. The reflection made the same face back at him, but Arnaud felt that he hardly recognized the man in the mirror. His boots and leggings were of soft brown leather; his tunic was cream colored and heavily embroidered with green and gold thread. There were ruffles at the collar and cuffs and gold buttons with the seal of the king stamped upon them. He wore a thick belt of gold about his waist. He stared thoughtfully at the shimmery green cloak that boasted gold trimming. It seemed too much, and so he debated about leaving it. Then he realized that Scelwhyn must have commanded the servants to allow him to dress himself and he did not want that privilege revoked, so he shrugged and threw the rich cloak about his shoulders and strode out the door to face his subjects.

  A servant was waiting outside his door to lead him to the Great Hall. Arnaud followed the young man, getting more lost and confused at each turn; he determined to ask Scelwhyn for a detailed map of the palace first thing in the morning. When he arrived in the Great Hall, the servant told him to stop as he opened the door. There was a fanfare of trumpets as Arnaud entered the room. At the sound, the people who were filing in through the other doors stopped and cheered. Arnaud looked around and felt as though he would like to be sick. He had not seen the Great Hall before, and its vastness was dizzying. The room had a golden glow to it, and two of the walls were covered in windows and bordered by balconies with exquisitely carved stone railings.

  Scelwhyn came to Arnaud’s side and led him over to the small dais where he would greet his guests. A line formed instantly, and Arnaud soon found himself the very focus of attention. He humbly accepted everyone’s congratulations and stared at the door as though willing the line of people to end. One good thing that he discovered in the endless line of guests was that many of the people mentioned their own names and where they were from. Arnaud had always been excellent at remembering names; it was one of his gifts. He decided firmly that he would do his best to remember the names of everyone he met, and he determined to meet and learn the names of every one of his servants, from the bravest knight down to the lowest scullery maid.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Zara and Leila were giggling at the back of the line. Calyssia rolled her eyes at Dylanna but said nothing. The two younger sisters were always having more fun than should have been allowed and they simply could not be trusted to stay out of mischief.

  Dylanna merely whispered, “This was your idea.”

  Calyssia grimaced. “If I didn’t let them meet the new king tonight when everyone else gets to, they would have complained for days. Besides, they would have found some way to attend anyway. At least this way I know exactly where they are and perhaps we can keep them from doing anything too silly.”

  “We?” Dylanna asked mildly, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

  Calyssia shot a startled look at her sister, and then snorted. “You could never stand by and just let them get into trouble.”

  “That is true. Oh good, we’re next in line. Oh! He looks like he is about to fall over. Really, this is a bit much for anyone all in one day, and he is so young.”

  Calyssia nodded absently in reply to Dylanna’s comment. The young king did indeed look weary. She turned back to shush Leila and Zara, admonishing them to be on their very best behavior, and then she moved forward to curtsy and introduce herself. Arnaud brightened as he saw that there were only four more guests to greet. He also noted that these were the loveliest guests he had yet seen. He turned his attention to the next guest and held out his hand.

  “I congratulate you on your coronation, Sire,” she said, “and I welcome you to the palace. My name is Calyssia, daughter of Scelwhyn.” She laughed softly at Arnaud’s astonished look and then turned and walked out onto the ballroom floor.

  Dylanna greeted the king in much the same fashion and then glided after her sister. Arnaud felt a little out of sorts, as though he had just met two angels, and he mumbled his thanks as Dylanna congratulated him. The third young lady introduced herself as Leila, Arnaud took her hand and bent to kiss it, and then jumped back as something wet touched his nose. Two tiny, dark eyes and a pair of whiskers peered out at him from under Leila’s loose sleeve. Arnaud glanced up and she grinned impishly.

  “Oh, that’s just Custard,” she whispered confidentially, glancing about to see if anyone else was listening.

  “Custard?” Arnaud asked, whispering as well.

  “My mouse. He’s not supposed to come inside, but he would insist on meeting you, and you know mice, you just can’t deny them anything. Welcome to Ayollan, Your Majesty.” She danced off lightly and he lost sight of her in the crowd.

  Arnaud chuckled as she left. He appreciated a good sense of humor. Then he sighed and stared at the door again, feeling greatly relieved that this was his last guest. As he turned to greet her, his heart stopped and he forgot everything he was supposed to do or say. His hand dropped to his side and he simply stared, entranced by the vision before him.

  The last guest was the loveliest creature Arnaud had ever seen. She had dark blue, almost black eyes; her long, curled hair was pale gold, and it framed her sweet face in soft ringlets. Her shy smile nearly blinded him and he felt as though he had been suddenly whisked into a completely different world.

  “Congratulations on Your Majesty’s coronation,” her voice reminded him of the tiny crystal chimes his Aunt Euphie hung outside her kitchen window. Her words jarred him out of his thoughts and
he realized with a guilty start that he had missed her name. She began to turn away, but he reached out and gently took her hand. She stared back at him in surprise.

  “May I…” words failed him and he was forced to clear his throat and start over. “May I have this dance?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” She giggled, and he noted the impish dimples in her cheeks.

  He took her hand, feeling as though the weight of the crown had suddenly been lifted, and led her out onto the ballroom floor. The people parted for them, and the music began to play softly. Had Arnaud cared, he might have seen the knowing looks on the faces of some of the ladies from the noble houses, he might have seen the mixture of concern and delight on the face of his advisor, Scelwhyn, and he might also have seen the shock on the faces of the three girls he had greeted just moments before. He might also have noticed the envious looks being thrown at his partner by all the other eligible young ladies in the room. Had he been listening, he may have heard the whispers of the nobles as rumors were begun and added to. But Arnaud was oblivious to all of this, for he could only think of the girl that held his hand. All he knew was that he must be in some sort of dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, and that if it was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

  As the night wore on Arnaud and the girl danced and talked and found that they had much in common, they had many similar interests and tastes, and neither one of them cared much for huge events such as this one. After awhile, the Great Hall seemed crowded, and so Arnaud led her out onto a balcony. Several other people were out walking along the balcony as well. Arnaud found an empty bench along the railing where they sat together and stared up at the vast night sky and attempted to count the sparkling stars. He glanced at her shyly and wished desperately that he had caught her name when she introduced herself. It would be too awkward to ask her now, he knew, and he cursed himself for a fool. Not for the first time, he wondered where Brant had disappeared to, he could use his friend’s advice right about now.