by Phil Geusz
I smiled when he said that, but the history I was rapidly learning claimed otherwise. The House of Marcus and that of the Royal Family, Kandoro, had a long, intertwined history that went all the way back to the Great Exodus. Yes, Marcus had proven very astute indeed at backing winners. But, the history books claimed, we were even better at making winners; at perceiving trends and getting out so far out ahead of them that no one else could compete. In any event, our support had proven decisive in crisis after crisis. Though of course James would never claim such—he just wasn’t made that way.
There was more natural beauty to be seen just in the Marcus holdings on Earth Secundus than there had been on all of Nova Europa. Massive rivers carved canyons through the hills, then wandered majestically across the endless plains. While a certain percentage of the land had to go towards farming and the like in order to support the populace, there were strict bans in place on most kinds of mining and even manufacture. The planet was for all intents and purposes a massive nature-park dedicated to preserving all that could be saved from terminally-ill Old Earth; the Marcus grasslands featured huge herds of zebras, antelope, and bison all living together in perfect harmony, and we also controlled part of an endless forest where countless varieties of monkeys flowed through the trees at all hours of the day. James and I spent weeks flying from place to interesting place with Mr. Banes, all the while composing papers, and it was so wonderful that I almost decided to give up being a ship’s engineer and become a master ecologist instead. “It’s up to you, David,” my tutor replied when I broached the subject. “We require trustworthy people to care for our lands every bit as much as we need skilled spacers.” Then he arranged things so I could spend a week following the Secundus estate manager around.
Was he really and truly saying that maybe someday I could hope to…
Eventually all good things must come to an end, however, and my time wandering Secundus was no exception. I’d known all along that eventually His Majesty would issue a summons so that he could award me the Sword of Orion, and the call came in just as I was finishing up my week with the estate manager. “We have thirteen days, David,” Mr. Banes explained gravely as he picked me up. “And that’s none too long to prepare for such a big event.”
I sighed and nodded, having been warned long since how complicated it was all going to be. There were all sorts of special Court rules I had to learn, even just to visit for a few moments. And there was ceremonial clothing to try on over and over again, documents to be prepared… I’d even have to learn how to behave at the press conference afterwards! I was so scared! The only good news was that James would be standing right there alongside me while I was with the king, acting as the representative of my House. That was really Lord Robert’s job, but His Majesty had apparently heard how we were best friends and all that, so he was allowing James do it instead. For some strange reason, my friend was actually looking forward to it. For my own part, however, I wished that he could just accept the silly thing for me—since he seemed to enjoy Court ceremonial so much—and get it all over with!
10
When the Big Day finally arrived both James and I had to get up early. We breakfasted together as usual, then were handed over to the household costumers. I still can’t imagine how or why things worked out this way, but James was placed under the care of Rebecca, a Rabbit, while I was assigned to a human named Gary. He was a lot older than Rebecca, and seemed terribly excited about the concept of dolling up a young Rabbit for Court. “Come on now!” he urged me as I shivered under what felt like my tenth cold-water rinsing. “Sit still!” It wasn’t too bad, really—by then Gary and I had already practiced this a few times so that we knew what to expect from each other. But still… Each sudsing was followed by an herbal rinse or mousse or conditioner or something, all of which stank to high heaven! It was sheer misery, it was! And then, when he was finally finished with my fur, he made me wear eye-liner! I hated that part most of all; the only thing that made it tolerable was knowing that the His Highness would be in full makeup, too. And so would James and everyone else. It was an old tradition, adopted because at Court one never knew when one’s face would end up in a newscast and be beamed all over the Realm. So everyone there strove to look their absolute best, all the time.
And, I had to admit, Gary did quite a job on me—Even Dad, I reckoned, would’ve a hard time recognizing me in my white satin robe. It was trimmed out in fire-lily red and orange, and came with a matching oversized and an ear-holed hood. My fur was glossy, my eyes were clear, and my nose was as brilliant shiny as modern cosmetics could make it. I expected that James would laugh when he finally saw the final result, but he didn’t. Instead he just stared a moment, then bowed like we’d been trained to do before His Majesty, making a wide saluting motion with his right hand. I smiled and bowed back the same way, even though my friend’s cosmetic-wok made him appear about five years old.
Then we were carefully loaded into wheelchairs—this time so we wouldn't scuff our ceremonial slippers—and whisked off to the waiting air-limo. There we met Lord Robert (who scowled mightily as he examined us from head to toe from his own wheelchair before finally nodding his approval) and Mr. Banes, who wouldn’t be entering the Royal Presence and therefore was merely dressed in white tie and tails. “You both look wonderful!” he gushed at last, fairly bursting with pride. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
This time at least the ride was short, though the wait afterwards wasn't. We’d been warned that might be the case; King Albert was so busy with war-related business these days that he often ran behind schedule. Luckily James and I were important enough that we rated an anteroom, where we sat and giggled at each other’s makeup and passed a video-game back and forth. Then there came a knock at the door, and just as I was climbing out of the wheelchair with my heart racing at about ten jillion beats per minute a familiar face burst through. It was Captain Blaine! And in one hand he was clutching a brand-new Staff of Hercules!
“My lords,” he greeted Robert and James first, bowing so extravagantly that I feared his overstretched ceremonial outfit would split at the seat. Then he smiled. “Forgive me, sirs. But I wanted to drop by and congratulate my former crewman on his big day.”
Lord Robert half-bowed from his seat and smiled. “But of course, Sir Leslie. And I congratulate you, as well.” He nodded at the staff and the brand-new Garter still fresh on the captain’s thigh from where His Majesty's own fingers had tied it into place. “I greet the new Sir Leslie, Knight of the Realm!”
Captain Blaine smiled again, blushing so red that it almost drowned out the ultra-fashionable false mole drawn on his heavily-rouged right cheek. “Thank you sir, is all I can say.” Then he turned to me. “Congratulations, David,” he said, extending his hand.
I accepted it and shook it warmly. “And you, sir.”
He nodded back happily. “I’m very glad for you, of course! Though of course I’ve lost all hope of retaining your services.”
“Retaining David’s services?” Mr. Banes asked from the back of the room as I blushed nearly as red as the captain had. “He never mentioned anything to us about that.”
“Oh, yes!” Blaine exclaimed, straightening his back and rising to his full height. “I know full well what a hero David was, you see. And I’m not ungrateful. It was my hope—before your own family took him in, that is—to train him as my personal footman.” He smiled at me again and laid a proud hand on my shoulder. “At wages, of course. But now…” He sighed and shook his head. “Even as a Knight of the Garter, I could never retain a holder of the Sword of Orion as a footman. My family isn’t nearly distinguished enough for that—people would think I was being uppity, even if he was an old shipmate. So I suppose he’s all yours.” He smiled and bowed again. “Not that I begrudge him, mind you!” he added hurriedly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to train and care for him far better than I ever could.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Robert replied, the irony in his voice totally lost on the new
knight.
“I’m sure it’s all for the best,” Sir Leslie replied, still aglow at his opportunity to share a private moment with Lord Robert. Then he patted my shoulder again. “You’ll do well with the Marcuses, David. They’re legendary for their indulgency towards anthros. Especially their personal-service staff.” His smile widened. “I certainly don’t begrudge you a little coddling after all you did for Hummingbird, and for me as well. You’re a very special Rabbit indeed.” Then he looked up to meet Lord Robert’s eyes, in the expectation of sharing a knowing grin.
But there was no grin on the face of the Head of the House of Marcus. Indeed, there was no discernable expression at all. “Thank you stopping by, Captain,” Lord Robert replied, his words warm but the tone icy. “And again, all of Marcus congratulates you upon your most-deserved elevation.”
“Thank you, sir!” Sir Leslie replied, once again bowing extra-deep. Then, moving rather oddly, he left the room in a series of further bows. “Long live the House of Marcus! May it prosper and thrive!” Lord Robert smiled icily back, nodding in acknowledgement to each ridiculous little prostration. Meanwhile, James sat shaking his head.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him after the captain was finally gone.
“Nothing,” he replied, looking at me strangely. “And at the same time, everything. Didn’t you notice?”
“Notice what?” I asked. “He was going to take me in, you know. Despite everything, from his point of view he was trying to do right by me.”
He stared at me again for a long moment, then looked away. “Perhaps the situation is worse I thought,” he murmured.
That ticked me off a little until I finally figured it out. “Oh!” I said at last, recalling how strangely the captain had moved as he retired from the room. “He got the protocol wrong, didn’t he? Captain Blaine didn’t turn his back on your uncle. But you don’t have to worry about that for anyone but His Majesty.” I smiled. “Don’t worry! I won’t shame your family in the throne room.”
James sighed, then licked his lips and turned away. “I’m quite certain you won’t, David. In fact, I never worry in the least that you might possibly shame us. It’s the thought of everyone else shaming you that I lose sleep over.”
11
It was probably just as well that Captain Blaine stopped by, because his visit left me practically no time to worry before it was our turn in the throne room. I was still mulling James’s words over and trying to figure out what he really meant by them as I was greeted and examined at the rear of the chamber by the Royal Chamberlain, then lined up just so with James slightly ahead of me and to my right. From that point on, my mind sort of blanked as I went through the pre-programmed motions and bowed before the throne. “Rise!” the Chamberlain was intoning in his deepest, most ceremonial tone before I really began to appreciate where I was and what I was doing. I smiled and slowly straightened, then stood stiffly at attention before my sovereign. We’d rehearsed it all a thousand million times, and so far everything had gone so perfectly that I was a little shocked when, without the slightest warning, His Majesty upset our routine. Instead of immediately calling me forward, he looked my friend and down, smiled, and addressed him with amazing informality. “Hello, James!”
My friend smiled back, bowing slightly a second time. He was at home with ritual in a way that I never could be. “Hello, Your Highness. It’s good to see you.”
The king’s smile widened; the expression did good things for his elderly, careworn face. I’d seen photos and paintings a million times, of course—they’d been all over Hummingbird, for example. And yet… For the first time he looked terribly familiar.
“Did you like the train set I gave you for Christmas?” the King asked. “It was my own, once upon a time.”
James grinned. “Thank you so much!”
Then they were grinning at each other, and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. James and His Majesty shared the same eye color, the same nose-shape, the same chin… I sniffed discretely at the air. My heavens! They even smelled alike! And milord had resembled His Majesty even more closely.
Suddenly my heart was all aflutter again. It was true! Milord almost had to have been the king’s illegitimate son! Reality sort of swam and shifted for a bit, then my sovereign was facing me. “And you, David! You’re looking excellent today, as well.” His grin faded. “I’m told you saved James’s life, at least twice. And nearly saved that of his father as well—certainly you gave your best in the effort. I’m eternally grateful to you as a result.”
I gulped and mumbled something, though I’m not sure what. But it must’ve done the trick because he smiled and nodded. Then he waggled a finger at the Chamberlain, who approached the throne immediately. “Douglas,” he whispered. “When this is over I’m, afraid that I’m going to require another unscheduled break. I’m sorry about the disruption, but well… There it is. I think I’m going to spend it with David here.” He nodded in my direction, and my heart raced again. “If you have the time, son.”
I gulped. “Of course, Your Majesty!”
He smiled and his hand twitched, for all the world as if he’d started to reach out and stroke my ears but stopped himself at the last moment. “Excellent!” Then he waved the Chamberlain away and pulled out a long, formally-worded official document. This he read in a high, singsong voice. It was the certificate that went along with my award, telling the story of how I’d grappled The Sword of the People and then played a key role in the success of the boarding action proper. Frankly I was getting a little bored with it all—every time someone retold the story it seemed to grow a little, and all the “whereas”es and “For the Glory of the Realm”ses in this particular version didn’t help any. Then seemingly out of nowhere a glittering sword with a midnight-black hilt and scabbard appeared and two footmen stepped forward to buckle it to me. There were three large diamonds mounted on the scabbard, not quite in a perfect line, to indicate that I’d won the highest form of the Sword, the one awarded for personal valor. Then I drew the Sword in the best salute I could manage—it was a lot heavier than the dummy I’d practiced with, and I’m afraid it wobbled a bit—as everyone in the room including His Majesty bowed to me. It felt really strange, maybe even a little wrong. But that was the way it was done, and I wasn’t in any position to argue. I’d never be required to bow to anyone again for the rest of my life, save His Highness himself. Then it was all over and the Chamberlain whispered in my ear. “Don’t leave, son. The king is going to withdraw.”
I nodded slightly, then stood and blushed as all the glittering and gilded Court hangers-on cheered and applauded me. Their appreciation seemed genuine, which just made it worse. I was still standing and blushing when the Chamberlain cried out “All rise!” even though everyone was already standing. Then His Majesty climbed stiffly off of his throne and vanished through the purple curtain behind it. After that I didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do with myself, so I sheathed the Sword and looked at James. He smiled back and rocked his head a little side to side, indicating that I should just stand and wait. So I grinned too and did exactly that…
…until a full-dress-uniformed and medal-spangled marine appeared at my elbow. “His Majesty awaits you in his private audience chamber, sir,” he whispered in my ear. “Shall I lead the way?”
12
The audience chamber looked more like a luxurious office suite than anything else. In addition to a desk and data console there was a little open area with a fireplace and several comfortable chairs and divans arranged in an oblong where His Majesty could sit and converse with a small group if he liked. He was working at his paper-strewn desk when I was let in, wearing a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses and studying a document intently. “Ah, David!” he greeted me with a smile as I stepped through the door. “Thank you so much for coming!”
I smiled back, then walked carefully across the room—carefully, because just a minute or so earlier I’d almost tripped over my new Sword and fallen on my face—
and sat in the chair His Highness was pointing towards. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “Chocolate milk, perhaps? That’s what I’ll be drinking. Some may find it juvenile, but I absolutely love the stuff.”
“Th-That sounds fine,” I eventually managed to stammer out. James absolutely loved chocolate milk too; while I could take or leave the stuff (and too much made me ill) it was clear that most certainly today I’d be taking.
His Highness smiled again, and then to my shock opened a refrigerator under his desk, pulled out a gallon of milk and a messy can of chocolate syrup, and began mixing. “I always make my own chocolate milk,” he explained. “Just as I still make most of my own sandwiches and dress myself on those rare occasions when I’m able to manage a day off.” He smiled at me. “Long ago, I used to sneak out of the palace and wander the city, trying to learn about how everyone else lived. I’ve always been a bit of a rebel, you see. I rode the busses, signed up for and performed day labor, and once even drank ale in a thieves guild.” His smile widened. “Those were wonderful times!”
“I can imagine, Sire,” was my rather lame reply.
Finally he came tottering over and handed me a frosty glass with a straw in it, then sat down in a slightly more ornate chair and sipped. “Ah!” he declared, his eyes rolling just like my friend’s always did. “That’s so good!”
I sipped and smiled too, then politely waited.
“David,” the king said eventually. “The first thing I wanted to say to you was that I’ve never handed out a Sword that I thought was better earned.” He nodded down at it. “May you wear it in eternal, untarnished honor.”
