by Marian Unn
Chapter 5
Seven years ago my boy left me, and four years ago he left this world. Surrounded by my sister and her family, the pain was healing, but it never truly vanished. I still cried at night, but I did not wail as I had for the first few months after his death. My outbursts slowly decreased to the point where I only loosed a tear now and then.
My nephew was young, a little boy of only three. Because my sister’s husband was always in the fields, and she and her other children always tending to the animals, I was often left to watch over the youngest son. The little boy did soothe my heart. Although he did not share the same face or hair color of Merek, he had the same spark in his eyes and a smile just as bright. I found in him a great joy that lifted my heart and soul. Those days I spent playing with him and teaching him were some of the best days of my life. They were nearly as good as those when both Jobel and Merek were still alive.
In this farmland, there was not much news from the town. My sister only went up to town twice a month now that I lived with her. She would hear news of the people in my old town. She told me of births, of deaths, of all sorts of changes, and sometimes, on a rare occasion, of the war.
“They say a new King’s come to power,” she told us over dinner.
“Is that so?” I said, uninterested in state affairs. It is not as if such political changes, major or otherwise, could affect much out here.
“Yes, they say he is young, very young, and handsome as well. They say he plans to move the capital to Vertensburg!”
I felt a string of my heart tighten at the mention of my old home. “Why would he do such a thing?” I asked.
“I don’t really know, perhaps he finds the present capital boring, or wishes to make a fresh start. You know he is young, so it is possible that he is just rebellious and wishes to make a statement of some sort by moving the capital,” she said, unaware of my growing interest in this particular matter.
“How young is he?”
“Stop that, John!” she shouted at her eldest son, who was caught scooping the potatoes from his sister’s plate. “Ah, sorry dear, what did you say? How young? Ah, he is only twenty two, if you can believe it!”
Tightening my lips I breathed sharply, “The same age as my son would be.” Placing her hand on mine, she smiled gently at me.
“What was he like?” the second youngest of my three nephews asked, his eyes large, sparkling with curiosity.
“Larcen! You know it is not a matter your Aunt likes to speak of,” his mother scolded.
“I’m sorry, Aunty Rosetta. I was just curious.”
“It is fine. I will tell you.” Folding my napkin in my lap, I smiled at him. “He was tall as a young man, with deep brown eyes which sparkled like your little brother’s do. His hair was dark and he-”
A knock came at the door.
“Oh, that man!” my sister growled. “I’m sorry, dears, I asked for Mr. Rakedson to come over for dinner next Thursday but he must have gotten a little confused again, what with his age. Welcome him kindly children!”
“Yes, Momma!” they all responded.
“Go on, Aunt Rosetta!” Larcen said anxiously.
“Very well, he was a soldier. A very brave boy, strong as well, he-” I was cut short by my sister’s sudden cry which echoed through the house. Her husband stood up quickly. Running across the room he grabbed the sheathed sword on the wall, but before he could unsheathe it, she reentered the room, a look of shock on her weary face.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” her husband rushed to her, looking past her down the hall, his eyes widened. “A-Are you the militia?” he drew back with his wife. My sister shook her head. She looked to me and then to the ground and then to me again.
“What’s going on!” her husband demanded. “I have come for the woman called Rosetta, your sister-in-law, sir.” The voice of a young man came from outside the room. My heart racing, I told the children to step behind me. Just as they did, a large soldier came through the door.
“What do you want of me?” I asked, hugging close to me my youngest nephew, who began to cry at the sight of the intimidating man.
“I want you to come with me,” a voice said from behind him, the same one that had addressed my sister. Gesturing for the soldier to move, he turned the corner. He stood tall in his uniform, the metals and badges of a soldier and king on his chest. His dark brown hair the same color as I remembered it, but when I looked into his eyes, oh, his eyes…his beautiful dark brown eyes that used to sparkle so brightly…oh, what an empty black they had become!
“Merek?” I whispered. Stepping towards me slowly he nodded, “Yes, Mother?” Shaking my head, I fell to my knees, “H-How is this possible? How are you alive? Y-You-”
“Another time, Mother,” he whispered, pulling me to my feet. “Another time.”
“Now, will you come with me?” He extended his hand in the most formal of ways, one that I had certainly never taught him.
“Of course, my son! Of course!” I exclaimed, embracing my child as he stood stiff, awkward and statue like.
His hands came to my back and he whispered, “I’d forgotten a mother’s love.” Then in a change of character he calmly pushed me away. “Thank you, Mother, but please refrain from acting in such a manner. I understand you have been living in the country for a while and so your mannerisms have digressed, but you must act appropriately from now on. You are no longer a commoner, but the mother of the King.” I stared at him bewildered. Who was this man? What had he done with my Merek? He was so serious and strange. What had happened to him?
“Her things have been collected,” a soldier called from the hall, my leather bag in his hand.
“Very good. Now, Mother,” he extended his hand once more. “Let us take our leave.”
Return to TOC
