Similar greetings and discussions continued through the weeks as the date of the wedding quickly approached. Lord Ahern arrived with Java’s entire family with a week to spare, and Ambros Mountainstand found himself the subject of intense scrutiny by the dukes. Java was so overwhelmed by the duties of empress that she was only giving monosyllabic answers to any question about her heritage, when she answered at all. Ambros and Nightingale, however, couldn’t put off the dukes, and were kept up late on several occasions by the dukes as they tried to figure out just exactly who Java was. Their answers were never sufficient. As far as the family knew, the Mountainstand line had started with one family on a small farm that was called ‘Mountainstand’ after the revolution. Who they were before then was anybody’s guess.
* * *
The day of the wedding dawned cloudy and cold, with a blustery late season storm carrying the threat of sleet or hail. Java looked out of her window and groaned. “Gods Above, don’t they want us married today?”
“It isn’t that bad, Java,” Jah’Moke said from his side of the room. “The ceremony will only take a few moments. Remember, we Latté don’t believe in long, drawn out rituals. They get in the way of the party.”
Java nodded and then sent Jah’Moke out of the room as the triplets, Sam, Naria, Werrin, Nightingale, Caloo’Ah, Marta, and Shair arrived to begin dressing her. Java was dressed in flowing veils of multicolored cloth, representing the four seasons.
Her face was covered with a translucent green, symbolizing spring.
Her shoulders were covered by patterned green and gold, for summer.
Her midsection and waist were wrapped in rich, harvest gold, symbolizing the harvest and fertility.
Her feet were in white boots for the winter.
There had been several arguments as to what kind of ceremony they should have, which God to honor, who should perform the ceremony, on and on, argument after argument about what would be appropriate for the empress. Java had silenced everyone by announcing that they were going ahead with their original plan and having a Latté wedding. This avoided insulting anyone in particular by insulting everyone.
Java was finally led to the throne room, her one concession to propriety, and knelt before Carr’Bon Veer. Jah’Moke entered next, also dressed in his finery, and knelt opposite her. The Carr’Bon looked at them both and smiled.
“Jah’Moke, of the house of Cawfy, why do you take this woman as your wife?”
Jah’Moke straightened his back and looked into Java’s eyes. “I take Java for love. I take Java for life. I take Java for the mother of my children.”
The Carr’Bon nodded, then looked at Java. “Java, of the house of Carrington, why do you take this man as your husband?”
Java straightened as well as she could before speaking. “I take Jah’Moke for love. I take Jah’Moke for life. I take Jah’Moke for the father of my children.”
“The Latté accept Jah’Moke and Java as one,” the Carr’Bon announced, sealing the vows and making them a couple, inseparable except by death. The Latté burst into wild cheers, startling the gathered people who had come to witness the wedding.
Duke Wilson looked about, unsure what was happening, and asked a simple question. “Is that it?”
One of the Latté was close enough to hear him and laughed. “Oh, no. Now we have a three-day party to celebrate!” the man laughed, taking the liberty of swinging Duchess Mildred in a circle before disappearing into the crowd.
Java enjoyed the first two days of the party, but the third day left her feeling odd. There was a tightness across her belly, and she felt the need to relieve herself almost constantly. Then the first contraction hit, and she knew: They had almost waited too long. Calling to her mother, she announced that it was time.
“But, Java, you shouldn’t be ready for another month or more.”
“Ready or not, here they come!” Java groaned, then sighed as the contraction eased. Nightingale stood and bellowed for the healers, and within moments Java was surrounded by her friends, family and as many healers and Magi as could crowd into the room.
Java was in labor for most of the day, attended by a relay of helpers, until the first of the twins made his appearance with the rising of the moon Alankarah. His cries as he protested his birth triggered cheers in the palace. The second twin arrived just moments later and added his protesting voice to his brother’s.
“They’re beautiful, Java,” Jah’Moke said softly as Naria daubed the sweat from her brow.
EPILOGUE
This is getting interesting.
Arandar the Bright
THE BIRTH OF THE TWIN PRINCES coincided with the birth of the Confederacy. Of the twenty-six duchies, seventeen dukes had attended. Those who were missing were mostly the dukes of the farthest duchies and weren’t closely related to the royal families of the four lost dukes.
Preliminary discussions had been held during the preceding weeks with all the dukes who had arrived, and most of the decisions were only awaiting final votes before being accepted. The dukes had excused themselves from the party and returned to their deliberations during the second day and had begun their tasks by picking the four newest dukes. With the question of the dukes settled, it was time to discuss the confederacy.
Duke Arten stood and waited for silence before speaking. “My friends, we are here to discuss the proposal by Empress Java that we join forces and become, once again, a single nation. You have all been informed of the details of the proposal, so I won’t rehash it today. Emperor Jah’Moke has deferred to me for this discussion, and I call for a vote. Who will join Hiddendell, Greencastle, and Lender’s Dale in the Confederated Duchies of Forinstan?”
One by one the dukes stood to cast their votes either with or against the confederacy. The eight dukes who were already part of the empire immediately joined, as did Duke Ander and Duke Senden. Hilliard and Raman also joined after some discussion, but they were the last. The others spoke of their fear of being ruled, of tyrants like Blackmoore or Frander, of losing control of their duchies. Arten nodded as they spoke, and finally accepted that only his closest neighbors and friends would join them.
Standing, he again addressed them. “By my count, there are fifteen duchies who wish to join us. It saddens me that the rest of you do not wish to join us, but we understand. As Empress Java told us when she first proposed this confederacy, you are free to make your own decisions. The offer remains open, and if you choose to join us at a later date, you will be welcome. There is just one last bit of business. Guard, please invite Empress Java and Emperor Jah’Moke to join us.” Arten held his peace and waited until Java and Jah’Moke were standing at his side. Behind them the proudly smiling Duchess Naria carried Prince Ander, and an equally proud Caloo’Ah Cawfy carried Prince Cava.
“There still exists an empire, and the control of eight duchies is still in the hands of Empress Java and Emperor Jah’Moke. I have with me documents that, with their signatures, will dissolve that empire and return control of the duchies completely to their rightful dukes.” Dipping a quill in ink, he handed it to Java.
Java smiled and looked about the room. “Dukes, Duchesses, we affix our signatures and seals upon these documents. As of today, the duchies that Frander conquered are returned wholly to the control of their royal families. The empire is no more, and Jah’Moke and I discard the titles that have been placed upon us.” Fitting actions to words, she signed and sealed the document, then stepped aside for Jah’Moke to follow suit.
Grinning up at Arten, Jah’Moke winked. “And so it ends. I am very relieved. Being prince consort to the Heir of Hiddendell is quite enough for me.”
About the Author
A U. S. Navy veteran, Loren K. Jones served as a nuclear reactor operator on attack submarines for six years before his honorable discharge in 1986. Loren makes his living as an instrumentation and controls technician, and writes because the stories won’t leave him alone until he does.
br />
Loren K Jones, Savior
Savior Page 33
