Mariah slept like a baby and awoke, still smiling from the memories of last night. She held the golden bull charm on her necklace as she lay in bed. I will always love my family.
Three handmaidens helped Mariah get dressed and she went to the inner ward. Flags and banners displaying the silver ram of Bottomfoot with the powder blue background proudly rippled in the mountain breeze. A dais was set up and the three Maliks stood in the center preparing for the start of the festivities. On raised, tapered wooden benches sat most of Bottomfoot’s nobility. Mariah had thought her dress to be special until she saw the extravagant outfits and hats the ladies of Bottomfoot wore. A woman wore a high hat of peacock feathers that could have tickled the Gods’ feet.
Woodwind and drum players lined up on either side of the dais. It created a walkway from the entrance of the ward, directly up to the middle of the stage.
Mariah saw Chopkins and J. Everson standing in front of the benches and walked over to them. “My lady, may I be first to say you look quite stunning on this lovely day which surely toils in agony trying to match your beauty,” Chopkins complimented with a bow. The young man had a strange way with words. He could sound utterly elegant in one sentence and completely coarse in the next.
“Thank you, my lord,” Mariah replied. J. Everson just politely smiled and nodded his head. He was the shyest and quietest of Torvald’s friends.
“Well, well, well. Little bitty Chopkins, I bet you gonna hide unda the benches while we honor some real men? Too bad you’ll never experience the feelin’ a knighthood,” a snide young man taunted.
“If it isn’t our resident goat mounter, Sir Palantane. I suppose it isn’t entirely your fault being fool-born,” Chopkins chided back.
“You see this,” the knight pointed to his golden pommel with raised ram’s horns. “How’dya like it planted in that fat forehead a yours?”
“I’m sure somebody is looking for a reeky snowballer somewhere and it just so happens you are fit for both, you should find the perverted man and be off,” Chopkins said.
“Someday, littl’ man,” he rapped his thumb on the ram horns but gave a playful glare before leaving.
“Why is he so contentious?” Mariah asked Chopkins. “Aah, we’re friends. We just give each other a hard time.”
J. Everson softly spoke, “You give everyone a hard time.” He looked at Mariah, “He cannot beat them with a sword so he uses words to relieve his aggression.”
“Just because a man chooses not to embarrass another man physically, doesn’t mean he isn’t up for the task,” Chopkins fired back quickly. J. Everson rolled his eyes.
“Shall we be seated?” Chopkins pointed to a reserved area in the front row of oak benches. The music suddenly stopped and everyone became quiet. Torvald, Edword and Lucille stood proudly on the stage. Women came around with baskets of flowers and Mariah picked a colorful, strong smelling arrangement.
Edword spoke in a determined, deep voice that sounded different than normal, “The greatest sacrifice a man can make has been demonstrated on the field of battle. Our men of Bottomfoot lived their lives in peace but died under violence. They represent every man and woman who sits here today. They represent every citizen from this region. These fallen men are Bottomfoot and all it stands for. They didn’t demand to be sent into harm’s way. They handled their duty to Bottomfoot and the Gods with dignity and valor. These young men will be remembered forever as heroes. These eighteen men stood and fell for all we believe in. They have paid the highest toll for our neutrality and we must never forget that even remaining neutral can have its consequences. These men understood that and upheld that oath with bravery and courage. We are forever indebted to their families.”
Torvald proceeded to read every man’s name and Mariah saw the tears flow from Lucille’s eyes. They ran down her cheeks and dropped onto her matching black and azure dress. The men wore all black except for the rams sewn on top of their left shoulder and right breast in silver thread that shone in the sunlight peeking through passing clouds. Lucille told the audience about the religious ceremony for the fallen soldiers in the castle chapel later at seven bells. Mariah found the compassion in Lucille that she had always cherished. Her brothers always had much more rugged views on death and mercy.
After the somber memorial, the horns livened again and following a melodic drum beat, everyone stood up. Five men in shining silver, full plate armor walked through the lane of musicians on either side and went straight up to the Maliks.
They stood in place as a procession of holy men came out next, waving an incense bowl around. Smoking metal bowls were attached to a rope and the older, pious men swung them back and forth. They sent sharp, spicy smells of cinnamon and clove through the crowd. The church men wore purple and white robes secured with belts of gold and concave white hats with a cluster of gemstones on their foreheads. The gemstones had been crushed and mixed creating quite the eye-catching spectacle. Mariah had never seen headwear like it before. Most of the priests in Mattingly wore simple wool tunics or even ratty old bed sheets but these men were robed in silk. Most of the patriarchs stood right behind the prospective knights. One man went up on stage with the Maliks.
Priests were called patriarchs in Bottomfoot. High Patriarch Lenehew smiled toothlessly at everyone and then looked down at the kneeling knights. Everyone in attendance took his or her seat again. The High Patriarch slowly rattled off, “Faith, honor, valor, courage, temperance, diligence, justice, loyalty, honesty and duty. These are all words that pertain to the path chosen by the Gods these brave men are about to travel. First a page, then a squire, and now it is on to knighthood.”
Mariah stopped listening as she saw Torvald staring at her with a gleam in his eye. She looked down and back up and he still stared into her eyes. Mariah felt a rush as the Patriarch finished.
Duke Edword Malik spoke next as the armored men remained kneeling, heads bowed. He orated:
“On this, our journey of justice,
We are guided by the Gods,
A knight shall wear thy life as your only cloak with these spoken vows,
A knight shall act with honor to defend justice,
A knight shall serve the Gods and his homeland,
A knight shall protect the weak and defenseless,
A knight shall show unwavering dedication to all acts chivalrous,
A knight shall remain faithful until he draws his ultimate breath,
Speak up now if you accept this oath for Bottomfoot and the seven Gods.
One by one the men raised their heads and responded, “I accept and honor this oath.”
“That’s fast,” Mariah whispered to Chopkins, who responded, “They had a much longer ceremony in the castle chapel last evening where they swore in the eyes and ears of the Gods. It lasted almost three hours, be glad you didn’t suffer through that. So many oaths and promises, I can’t remember the half of it. This is more of a quick dedication for the nobles and families. Everyone loves pageantry, it should seem.” I know I do.
The first man pulled his sword and presented it to Duke Edword Malik with open, upturned palms. Edword picked up the sword and placed the flat of the blade on the young man’s left shoulder. “I now dub thee, Sir Haral of House Repunte. You knelt as a man. Now rise as a knight of Bottomfoot.”
He went down the line and repeated the process until he reached the last man who looked miniature to Mariah. “I now dub thee, Sir William Ramsbee. You knelt as a man, now rise as a knight of Bottomfoot,” Edword stated.
“Why didn’t the Duke name his house, like the others?” she asked Chopkins. “He’s a bastard, he has no house. Ramsbee is the bastard name of Bottomfoot.” Mariah had always been taught that the bastard name of Bottomfoot was Ramsfoot.
When the bastard turned to face the cheering audience, he looked no older than twelve to Mariah. She was shocked to see this boy had been sent into battle. She thought about her brother Ruxin only being fifteen and having the entire weight of Mattingly on his
shoulders. Mariah Colbert wondered if she should go back to Mattingly to help her brother, but the gold gilt trumpets with flags of rams hanging almost to the ground made her forget these thoughts momentarily.
As the new knights walked out of the green grassy ward, they walked by the citizens in the front rows. She saw the women throwing flowers at the knights and realized why they were passing them out earlier. The men walked past and Mariah couldn’t decide whom to give her flowers to. She hurriedly extended the bouquet before they all passed and the little bastard knight who was shorter than Mariah accepted her gift. He smelled it and said, “They smell delightful. I’ll take them away posthaste. I’m quite certain they will wither in the presence of real beauty, my lady.” He spoke like a learned man and nothing like a crude bastard. Mariah smiled as he triumphantly exited the ward, arm in the air and a closed fist of her flowers at the top.
“Just remember, my lady, the way these men attained their knightly status is over a pile of dead bodies. Around five hundred this time. And more often than not around this realm, that is how it works but the number of dead is typically much higher,” J. Everson reminded her.
Her floating spirits were dashed with his stinging indictment. Her visions of the soldiers marching and this fashionable ceremony suddenly had an ugly tarnish similar to that on Sir Bastion’s armor earlier.
LEIMUR
“Why did mother and father have to die? Did I do something wrong?” Huber Leluc asked. Leimur squeezed her brother tight. “No, my sweet prince. Mother and father were bad people and it’s not your fault or my fault or even Romer’s fault. It’s their fault and sometimes bad people have to die,” Leimur told the boy. “Why?”
“To make room for the good ones, I would think. I will raise you better than they ever could dream. You will be trained to be a proper king. Has Sir Orah been teaching you swordplay?” she asked. “Uh huh. He said I was the finest four-year-old with a sword he has ever seen,” Huber bragged. “Undoubtedly, I’m sure. A true Leluc,” Leimur grinned.
Queen Leimur sat atop the throne with Huber on her lap. Only five of the thirty-seven wall torches were lit in the dim throne room. The overcast day was shut out by the black silk curtains and the golden pillars throughout the room didn’t have their normal bright shine. Huber Leluc, the pudgy prince, had thick black hair and haunting amethyst eyes similar to Leimur’s. The boy was blessed by birthright but he carried himself with tremendous grace for a child. He spoke in soft tones, waiting for his voice to deepen and was being groomed to be King of Goldenfield. Leimur carried the title of Queen but she had committed to only holding the throne as a regent until Huber became of age to rule. She nobly followed all the laws and regulations of Goldenfield.
“Someone said you brought tigers home with you?” he asked. “I did, they saved my life.”
“Why?” the boy wondered. Leimur responded, “Because I am the Tiger Queen and they recognized and protected one of their own. I will take you to see them later today but you must promise to be careful.”
He smiled, exposing his missing tooth, “Will I be the Tiger King one day?”
“You will. You’ll be the biggest, strongest, smartest and bravest tiger there can be. Man, woman and child will come from all ends of earth to kneel in awe before the great Tiger King,” her eyes filled with tears and she became emotional, “King Huber Leluc will be synonymous with a fierce warrior king who also shows compassion. Princesses from all points of travel will come to beg for your kisses. And all the bad men will run and cower in fear when they hear the name Huber Leluc. Mother and father tried to destroy the family name,” Leimur said. Repairing the family name and Goldenfield’s reputation was of paramount importance to her. “Why?” the boy asked.
“They didn’t mean to. They just got out of control and didn’t realize their actions were hurting people. Now you and I have a chance to rebuild our name and have it stand for something great again. That’s well important,” she told Huber. “Why?” he asked again.
“Because that is what will live on in the end, my little tiger prince. The Leluc name will, with any luck, carry on forever. We could be looked at as the two rulers who saved Goldenfield and the Leluc legacy,” she kissed him on the head.
“What’s a legacy?” “It’s what people write of, singers sing of and painters paint of. It is what we are remembered for after we die. When we are gone, we hopefully will have performed enough good deeds that people will remember and talk or write about for a long time like Marius Leluc. That is a personal legacy. If you take our family together, we have a shared legacy that will live on long after we die. Will we be respected and revered or laughed at by the world? That will depend greatly on us and because of that I may have to leave for a little bit again,” she told him. “Why?” Huber’s angry reaction echoed around the empty throne room.
“I just told you. I have to go talk to people to make matters better for when you are king,” she said.
“Will you take the tigers?” the eager boy asked. “They will probably follow me, yes,” she nodded.
“If they stay, I can watch them for you,” he smiled. “My brave tiger prince,” she said as a single tear ran down her left cheek. She kissed him on the cheek, “Now go practice with Sir Orah.” Leimur patted him on his plump bottom and the prince trotted down the marble steps, the rough bottoms of his feet skipping along the smooth floor and out of the throne room.
Leimur walked into her council meeting chambers and saw General Rigby seated alone.
“Am I intruding?” she asked with a half-smile. “Of course not, come in and sit down,” the General offered.
“We haven’t had a true chance to speak since I came back,” Leimur stated.
“We have not. Would you like to hear the worst first or should I slowly lead up to it?” he asked.
“Let’s have it,” she said preparing for disaster.
“The treasury is nearly depleted and we owe money, nearly a mountain of coin. I can’t even count how many lords are behind on tax tributes and counting is my strong suit.” Leimur jumped in, “What about the mines?”
“The mines are dry. The rivers and streams used to run rich until they were exploited by everyone. It seems the mines are experiencing the same problem now, my Queen. I would have to suppose it all runs out at some point. The diggers cry they need better tools to get deeper into the caves but that will first cost money to build. I think they are just trying to squeeze more coin out of the crown. Even then we still must hope and pray the unreliable diggers will find more gold. We’ve had reports of diamonds in cave tunnels in the Rooster Foothills, so for now I’ve sent some trustworthy diggers to investigate,” he said.
“We need conquest, war spoils,” she opined. “That would help, but we need to be able to pay free-riders and knights of unsworn allegiance to help. Feeding the horses is something everyone forgets about too. Our granary isn’t exactly at full capacity either. A war effort is a major expense and we have to be sure it will pay off,” he warned her.
“Had my plan worked, I would have returned with all the treasure of Harbor Valley. Instead, I came home a defeated Queen. I dismissed your counsel and men paid for it with our soldiers’ lives and my pride.” She looked him in the eyes, “I will not make that mistake again.”
“I won’t always be right but I will always give you my honest opinion and best judgement. You must simply take it for what it’s worth,” General Rigby said.
“That is all I can ask. What have we next?” He answered quickly, “I’ve been hearing black whispers of Pippen Mallory. Our network has told me that he is taking bribes.”
“I wondered who would break first. Who are the bribes from and for what?” the Queen demanded as she got angry.
“That is where it gets even more interesting. The bribes are from men who are sworn now to your uncle Marcel’s planned rebellion,” he told Leimur.
“I should have taken his head with my mother’s or never released him from the dungeons. He knelt right h
ere in this room and pledged his fealty. You were a witness that day,” she said.
“It has been mentioned that he is still irate over being imprisoned by a younger woman.”
The Queen shook her head, “Adultery with the Queen of Goldenfield is treason without mention of the fact the culprit was of relation. I spared his life. If they think he is irate, just wait. Who is making payments to Pippen?”
“Two men so far. Benton Ervine and a man known only as the Red Boar,” he informed her.
“Red Boar? He’ll be a split red boar on a spit when we are done with him. Where’s Pippen?”
“I couldn’t tell you at the moment but he should be here in a few hours for the meeting,” the General said.
“Does anyone know that you’re on to them?” “No, you’re the first other than our spies who all informed me directly,” he replied.
“Perfect, let’s keep it that way. What kind of forces has my uncle assembled?” The General scratched his ear, “He has quickly assembled a rather sizable crew of men behind him. He is hiding in Shellsmore right now.”
“Shellsmore? I suppose he is well defensed. We will find out what he is conspiring to do and plot our strategy from there. What else is there?” Leimur asked.
“Donegal has completely retreated from the border. We pulled back as well. We weren’t in a great position to conquer anything substantial. With the financial constraints, many of the men have gone home for now. Listen to me,” the veteran shook his head and a wry smile appeared. “I never would have thought financial consideration would ever cross my lips when talking about war. Ha. Of course, we can recall the men when we can feed them or when we need them,” he reported.
“Don’t let the free-swords and dark knights get very far. We need experienced veterans over the farmers from the border. It appears loyalty to the crown must be bought. I served without even mention of pay. I left a palace behind to perform my duty for the kingdom,” Leimur retorted.
Fractured Families (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 2) Page 8
