Once In a Blue Moon

by Simon R. Green

  “I haven’t been fighting on the border again,” said Prince Richard.

  “Good . . .”

  “I’ve been fighting kobolds down in a mine at Cooper’s Mill.”

  The Seneschal looked like he wanted to spit. “God give me strength . . . You can’t keep doing this, your highness! It isn’t . . . Look, we really don’t have time for this. Things have changed in your unauthorised absence. Suddenly and dramatically. You have to come with me right now, to discuss things with your father.”

  Richard looked back at Peter and Clarence, who both nodded understandingly and steered their horses towards the stables, taking Richard’s horse with them. Richard looked thoughtfully at the armed guards and then back at the Seneschal.

  “Why the heavily armed escort? Anyone would think you didn’t trust me to come with you.”

  “How well we know each other,” said the Seneschal.

  “I’m really not going to enjoy this meeting, am I?”

  “Do you ever?”

  “What is this all about, Seneschal?”

  “You have to discuss that with your father, your highness.”

  “How is he today?” said Richard.

  “Average,” said the Seneschal.

  Richard winced. “As bad as that? Oh, very well; let’s get on with it. What does my father want to see me about? Does he even know?”

  “I think it’s better if I wait till I’ve got you and your father together in the same place,” said the Seneschal. “Then I won’t have to explain things twice. Do I really need these soldiers to accompany us, or will you give me your word not to run off, so I can dismiss them?”

  “You have my word,” said Richard. “I know my duty. And I’m just too tired to go chasing up and down corridors.”

  “Either you’re finally developing some maturity or those kobolds really did a number on you,” said the Seneschal.

  “Guess,” said Richard.

  “Maturity,” said the Seneschal. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  • • •

  The Seneschal led Prince Richard through the pleasant and even cosy corridors of Forest Castle, where a surprisingly large number of people had turned out to wave and smile and welcome the Prince home. Richard regarded them all suspiciously, and looked at the Seneschal, who reluctantly admitted that news of the Prince’s heroic actions at Cooper’s Mill had got back to the Castle long before the Prince did. The details were sometimes blurred, and often contradictory, about exactly what it was he’d done, but everyone agreed it had all been very heroic. Peter and Clarence didn’t even get a mention. Lords and Ladies called out congratulations and compliments to Richard as he passed, and he just smiled and nodded and kept up a great pace so he wouldn’t have to stop and answer questions. The Lords and Ladies of Forest Castle only ever wanted to talk to the Prince when they were after something. The Seneschal frowned darkly, until he just couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “You know you’re not supposed to go riding off without a proper armed escort, your highness! You have no right to place your Royal life in danger!”

  “It’s my life, Seneschal,” the Prince said mildly.

  “No, it isn’t! Your life belongs to the Kingdom. What if you’d been attacked by brigands? Or kidnapped? If those kobolds had killed you, how would you have married the Princess Catherine and finally brought peace to both our nations?”

  “Peter would have held me up, Clarence would have managed the responses through ventriloquism, and everything would have gone ahead as planned,” said Prince Richard.

  “I don’t know why I bother,” said the Seneschal.

  “I don’t either,” said Richard.

  They finally left the crowds behind, to their mutual relief, and made their way to King Rufus’ private quarters, deep in the old heart of the original Castle structure. The Seneschal looked sharply at the two ceremonial guards standing duty outside the King’s door (their main duty was to go with the King whenever he went out, and then bring him safely back again), and the two guards immediately snapped to attention. The Seneschal and the Prince sighed, pretty much in unison. The Seneschal knocked loudly on the door, pushed it open, and led the way in.

  The receiving room was a mess; official papers and leather-bound books were piled up everywhere, along with half-eaten meals and even a few items of dirty laundry. Bits and pieces from various eras of Castle history that the King had sent for because he had a vague feeling they might come in handy and then forgot about. Chairs were full and tables were overloaded, and a bottle of really good champagne had been opened and then just left to go flat. The air smelled close and fusty, because the King hadn’t opened a window in quite a while. In fact, half the windows still had their curtains closed, blocking out the morning light and shedding a palpable gloom over the whole room.

  When Richard’s mother, Queen Jane, was still alive, she kept the King’s private rooms spotless. A place for everything and everything in its place. She organised regular dustings and always had vases of freshly cut flowers sitting about where they could do the most good. King Rufus went along with it all happily enough, but after his wife died . . . Rufus stopped caring about a lot of things. The Seneschal kept sending servants in to clean the King’s rooms, and the King kept driving them out again, because, he said, he knew where everything was and he didn’t want it disturbed.

  Richard always thought that the state of the King’s private rooms indicated the state of the King’s thoughts. Dark and gloomy and cluttered, and just a bit lost. When King Rufus was feeling relatively together, he would try to make an effort. Read some of the more important papers that came his way. And at least on those days, the mess did seem to make some kind of sense. Richard looked around the state of the receiving room, and his heart sank. It was clearly not a good day.

  King Rufus came shuffling into the room from his private study next door, muttering querulously to himself, and wandered around picking things up and putting them down again. It was obvious he was looking for something, but as usual he couldn’t remember what. Though he would never admit that, even to himself. Rufus was in his seventies, hard worn and worn down, and his mind had been deteriorating ever since Queen Jane died. Some days he didn’t remember she was dead, and would ask quite innocently where she was. No one ever told him. It would have been cruel. The servants knew he’d soon forget again, so they just told him she was in the next room. And Rufus would smile and nod and go about whatever he remembered of his business.

  King Rufus had been a tall and sturdy man in his prime, a warrior of much renown, but now he was hunched over and half his proper weight, because he kept forgetting to eat. His still noble head thrust forward, with its great mane of snow white hair, and he sported a full white beard, because no one wanted him trying to shave. He always seemed a kindly enough soul, with a smile for everyone, particularly if he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to know them. Today he was wearing his usual threadbare and battered old robes, which he clung to fiercely because they were familiar. His feet were bare. The Seneschal always dressed the King in his ceremonial best every time Rufus had to appear in public, and he would sit quietly while the Seneschal fussed over him and put his crown on. Rufus still remembered about duty and responsibility, even if he did have to have them and what they had to do with him explained to him.

  Rufus looked around furtively as he realised he had company. He pottered around for a while, clearly hoping they’d get bored and go away, but when it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, the King stopped and sighed. He looked Richard and the Seneschal over with a cautious, almost defiant gaze. He wanted to be sure he knew who they were before he committed himself to saying anything. He still had clear steel grey eyes and a firm mouth; but it had to be said that he had a lost and defeated look to him most days now. Rufus had been a great King in his time, wise and brave and dignified. He did a lot to ease the transition from Royalty to Parliament, because he believed in it and considered it in the best interests of th
e Forest Land. But that was then, and this was now. King Rufus’ mind was going, and it seemed to Richard that every day a little bit less remained of the man his father had been.

  The King’s head came up suddenly, as he finally put a name to his son, and the Seneschal. A great smile lit up his face, and he nodded cheerfully to them both. He seemed to be quite happy to be interrupted in whatever it was he thought he was doing. He sat down in the nearest chair, as though it were his throne, and the Seneschal moved quickly to brush a pile of important-looking papers off the seat before the King could sit on them and crush them. The King beamed at him.

  “Ah, thank you, young man. Most kind. Most kind . . . Now, who are you?”

  “The Seneschal!”

  “Bless you!” said the King.

  “No, Sire,” said the Seneschal very patiently. “That is my title. I am your Seneschal, your head servant.”

  “Oh, good,” said King Rufus. “I’m glad we’ve got that settled. I thought you had allergies . . . There is a lot of dust in here. So, now we’ve got that settled, I have another question for you.”

  “Yes, your majesty, what might that be?”

  “Who am I?”

  “You are His Most Royal Majesty, King Rufus VII, Ruler of the Forest Land, Defender of the Faith, and Monarch of All You Survey,” said the Seneschal.

  The King blinked a few times. “Pardon?”

  “You’re King Rufus!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  The King looked at him suspiciously. “Then what was all that other stuff?”

  “Those are your titles!” said the Seneschal. Richard noted interestedly that the Seneschal was already dark red in the face and shading into purple. With a bit of luck, sputtering wouldn’t be far behind, hopefully to be followed by shaking of fists in the air, kicking of the Royal furniture, and with any luck, an aneurysm.

  “Good, good, good,” said the King. “Yes . . . What are you doing here, in my private rooms? These are private, you know.”

  “You have some important news for your son, Prince Richard,” said the Seneschal.

  “Important news, eh?” the King said brightly. “That sounds important!” He nodded serenely, and then looked hopefully at the Seneschal for a bit of a clue. The Seneschal sighed and turned to Prince Richard.

  “You’d better introduce yourself to him, your highness. Just to make sure he knows who you are.”

  “I can’t believe he’s got so bad so quickly,” said Richard. “Why wasn’t I told?”

  “You weren’t here,” said the Seneschal. “He’s not going to get any better. We’ve tried everything, from medicine to magic and back again. He’s not under a curse, or being poisoned, so there’s nothing they can do. He’s just . . . old.”

  “I know,” said Richard. He stepped right in front of the King and smiled determinedly at him. “Hello, Father! It’s me—Richard!”

  “Ah, hello, young Rupert!” said the King happily.

  “Richard, Sire,” said the Seneschal.

  “Not now, Richard,” said the King to the Seneschal. “I’m talking to young Rupert here.”

  “No, Father. I’m Richard,” said Richard.

  “Then who’s he?” said the King.

  “The Seneschal!”

  “Bless you!”

  Richard hung grimly onto his self-control with both hands, because if you didn’t, you were lost. “You have important news to discuss with me, Father.”

  “Do I?” said the King. There was a long pause.

  “Well?” said Richard.

  “Fine, thank you for asking,” said the King. “Had a good movement of the bowels first thing, that always helps. Mustn’t grumble.”

  “Let me, your highness, or we’ll be here all morning,” said the Seneschal. He snapped his fingers craftily, to get the King’s attention, and then plunged right in. “Prince Richard, I have to inform you that your arranged marriage with the Princess Catherine of Redhart will be taking place rather sooner than any of us had anticipated. We have received an official communication from the Redhart Court, that the Princess is already on her way to us, and should be arriving here within the next few days. Redhart also made it very clear that they expect the marriage ceremony to take place as soon as humanly possible. They didn’t actually use the words or else, but they were quite clearly there, between the lines.”

  Richard stared at the Seneschal with something very like horror. “What? Why weren’t we given any warning?”

  “Don’t look at me like that!” said the Seneschal bitterly. “This is all Redhart’s doing. We hadn’t even decided on the flower arrangements yet. It would appear that both Parliaments have been in touch with each other, behind the scenes, and are putting the pressure on to get you two married so the Peace Treaty can be signed . . . before certain vested interests on both sides can find a way to sabotage things. And both countries probably want to get the marriage moneymaking machine started as soon as possible. Lots of money to be made from a Royal marriage. We’ll still be selling ceremonial plates years from now. So you must prepare yourself, Prince Richard. Which means no more running off to play hero! Perhaps now you realise how much trouble you caused for us, when all this started kicking off and you weren’t here!”

  “Is that it?” said Prince Richard. “Can I go now?”

  “You stand right where you are, boy,” said King Rufus, and Prince Richard and the Seneschal both looked round sharply. The King was sitting up straight in his chair, his gaze was steady, and his voice was deeper and far more sure than they were used to hearing these days. Richard could feel a broad grin breaking out on his face. It was like his father had been away and now was back again. The King regarded Richard steadily.

  “I know you thought you’d have more time to get used to the idea, Richard. And I know you never wanted this marriage anyway. But I have been King long enough. Too long, I’m sure some would say. Soon enough you’ll have to wear the crown and sit on the throne, and serve the Land and its people with all your strength and all your heart. And for that you’re going to need a wife, a Queen, at your side.”

  “But how can she be coming here so soon?” said Richard. He could hear the plaintive, almost childish upset in his voice, but couldn’t help himself. “There’s months of hard travelling between Redhart and here!”

  The King gave the Seneschal a hard look, and the head servant bobbed his head quickly in response. “Normally, yes, your highness, but it seems Redhart has a particularly powerful sorcerer working for them. Called Van Fleet. Powerful enough to open up a dimensional gate, a shortcut between two places. They drove the Royal carriage into it in Redhart, and it popped out just a few days’ riding from here. We’ve already had sightings. We’ve sent armed troops to meet them and escort them safely here. Two days, your highness; no more.”

  “You’ve been off adventuring again, haven’t you, boy?” said the King. He fixed Richard with a disapproving gaze but couldn’t keep a smile off his lips. “Trying to forget your responsibilities, by running away to play hero . . . I was just the same at your age. But it has to stop. Now! I don’t really have to give you the set speech on duty and honour again, do I?”

  “No, Father,” said Richard. “I know what’s expected of me.”

  The King shifted uncertainly on his chair, the strength and focus fading out of his face for a moment, as his concentration slipped, but when he looked back at Richard again his eyes were clear and cold. “I know this has all come as a shock to you, Richard. We always think there’ll be more time, to do the things we always planned to do, but never got around to . . . I never met your mother before our marriage day. But we made a go of it. So will you. Because that’s part of the job! Of being King. Seneschal! With this marriage so close, so unexpectedly . . . there’s a lot of work that needs doing. Isn’t there?”

  “Yes, Sire,” said the Seneschal. And Richard couldn’t help noting that the Seneschal was smiling despite himself, so glad to have his old Kin
g back again.

  “Then lead me to it,” said King Rufus. He rose from his chair with the strength and speed of a man half his age; and then he winced, and slumped, and frowned . . . as though trying to think of something that was just on the tip of his tongue. Richard’s heart sank, but the King seemed to get his second mental wind, and looked directly at him. “I would have liked a chance to actually be King. To fight for the Land, to stand between the people and what threatened them, to live and fight and die for the Forest. Just once. But I left it too late. Don’t you make the same mistake, young Rupert.”

  He strode out of the room, leaving the Seneschal to hurry along in his wake. Richard could hear his father amiably barking out orders, and questions, as he disappeared down the corridor. And Richard had to wonder . . . was his father like this all the time, really, trapped inside a dying body and a crumbling mind? Looking out at the world but unable to reach it except for short periods like this? Richard hoped not. That would be cruel.

  He sat down on the chair his father had just vacated. He had some hard thinking to do. He’d always known the day would come when he would have to be King. Have to place the crown on his head, and the cares of the world on his shoulders. But just as his father said, he’d always thought he’d have more time. To come to terms with it, and maybe even find a way out. He hadn’t just gone riding out looking for adventure for the sake of it. He’d wanted a chance to prove himself worthy. If you had to do that before you could stand for Parliament, surely you should do that before you could be King?

  Rufus had been in his fifties, and on his second wife before Richard arrived. The one and only Royal child. And so Rufus was still on the throne in his seventies, long after everyone had expected he’d be gone. Richard had spent the last few years watching his father die by inches, and knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.