The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending

by Steven J. Carroll

  ���…We could have made it there, if we’d just rode faster.��� Matilde paused to hold back her frustration, obviously still mad at herself for the things she had no power over.

  Their storyteller fiddled with the folds of her blanket as they sat near the fire, soaking in its heat. ���In the morning we were ambushed,��� she continued very plainly. ���Some judged our attackers for common horse thieves, but I’ve never been so sure of that.���

  ���How could you tell they weren’t?��� Barbara interrupted.

  ���Well… because of how they fought, more like trained mercenaries than horse thieves,��� she replied.

  At that, both of her young listeners were completely befuddled.

  ���You fought with them?��� Timothy blurted out unbelievingly (as I suspect most would).

  ���What?��� This seemed to rattle his grandmother’s usually mild manners. ���I’m old, but I’m not dead,��� she issued. ���And when you’ve grown up as Del and I had, you’ll learn to fend for yourself rather quickly,��� she insisted.

  And being pressed, she went on further to tell how the thieves had lurched upon them, trying to kidnap all of them, but she said that their attackers had most likely been foreigners, or else they would have known the Queen to be an expert swordsman, and herself to be a most skilled archer and quick with a dagger. And that, if they had been natives, they would have likely taken more care with their lives.

  ���But they stole Wilbur?��� Barbara asked, seeming like she might, also, begin to tear at the thought.

  ���Yes,��� Matilde answered, breathing a heavy sigh as if still angry, and maybe at herself.

  Then, directing her attention toward Timothy, she continued, ���Your grandfather was a decent scrapper, I’ll grant him that, but he’s always been more of a doctor than a warrior.��� She took another breath and a sip of soothing tea.

  ���And after all, being over the age of thirty by the time he’d first come to Gleomu, and during peacetime, he hadn’t needed to develop his skills as intently, while Del and I had been raised with it.���

  Then she told how the few mercenaries that had survived the attack rode off on the royal horses, headed northward, but with no ransom for a year, she said that most in the kingdom had assumed the worst.

  ���Did you?��� Barbara asked, sounding particularly caring.

  Matilde sat back, widening her eyes, as though to keep her tears at bay.

  ���No, I’ve always tried to keep up hope… but I can’t imagine what he’s had to go through.���

  And she turned her head swiftly, looking into the low burning hearth, meaning to hide her tears, but what it had actually done was to let them sparkle, as the little droplets rolled down the thin lines of her face.

  Timothy was no good at crying, nor at watching women cry, and so he meant to try to make it better. And he remembered his own mother, when they’d first thought his grandfather to have died, how she’d cried almost instantly and intermittently for several months, becoming less frequent as time moved along, and he was no good at that either.

  ���Don’t worry, grandmother. We’ll find him.���

  But this was less accepted than he had anticipated.

  The old woman, Matilde Wolcott, Queen of Earth, jolted back toward their direction.

  ���No. Absolutely not,��� she said poignantly. ���You’re going home.���

  ���But-���

  Timothy tried to make his case, but Matilde wouldn’t hear a word of it.

  ���No,��� she held up her finger to shush him. ���How would your mother feel, if she knew I’d put you into such danger?��� And she shook her grey streaked hair. ���No, I will not lose a husband and a grandchild all within the same year.���

  Timothy pursed his lower lip upward when he heard this. He knew it was pointless to argue now, although he had wanted to. There was no avoiding it. It seemed he and Barbara’s adventures and bravery in this new world were being cut short. And who would dare argue with the Queen of Earth?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Council

  At the center of the city, in the council building, by the following late morning, there were heated arguments in favor and against bending to any ransomer���s requests, and more substantially against placing Queen Matilde willingly into any amount of peril.

  However, and surprisingly to some, it was the Queen of Earth, herself, who’d stood up in opposition most vehemently and would not heed to any of their cautions, as she made her address before the council.

  Timothy and Barbara sat in a section of the audience’s seating reserved for high ranking dignitaries, and had both been fairly engrossed in the proceedings since just after breakfast. The expansive structure, with its grand bench seating, for the members of council, brimmed beyond capacity. The place was a bustle of activity and filled with ready spectators since the King had called for an emergency council meeting on the night before. And the noises of arguments and rebuttals seemed to swell more loudly as the day wore on.

  One of the council members, bearded and portly in appearance, spoke out, offering his own advice. ���Your Majesty,��� he said addressing Timothy’s grandmother. ���With all due respect to your office, these kidnappers are very obviously laying a trap for us, and should we walk toward it blindly?��� He took a large breath, most of it through his nose.

  ���Wouldn’t it be a more discriminating choice, to send out a battalion first, to search out their intentions, before allowing Your Excellency to be placed into harm’s way?���

  However, Matilde would hear none of this, and spoke nearly overtop of the man to get out her answer. Which she issued out, standing at the center of the court building and turning as she spoke, to be sure she was heard by all in attendance.

  ���Councilman, with all due respect, I will place myself into any harm that is required of me, as long as my husband’s life is at stake.��� And then turning again, redirecting her attentions toward that specific council member, she said, ���And if I shall not have the support of the King’s army, then I will go at it alone.���

  Her voice was unwavering, and her warnings left any reluctant members of the council without nearly a choice but to side with the King’s request for military intervention. Which was soon made much easier, when King Corwan suggested that this regiment be made up entirely of volunteers, which was met with unanimous support.

  And just as the last councilman stood to give his vote, sealing their decision, Barbara leaned in, to whisper to Timothy, ���Even for a fake queen, she’s quite good at it.���

  Their last day in that world was much less dramatic, but a good amount more like what they had hoped their days to be like during their visit: A late breakfast of smoked salmon, hand squeezed juices, and fetra, a specialty dish of wild potatoes and herbs.

  (Which upon writing this sounds much less appealing than it tastes. And so, if you’ll please, you may just have to take my word on it when I say that both young travelers helped themselves to second platefuls.)

  And after breakfast, at the behest of adventure, they were sent on various trips throughout the city: a carriage ride through the merchant district, a walk atop the wide city walls to see the armaments, and then lunch in the main square, dancing, and a spectacular performance of juggling. And after what was a very full dinner, Barbara was whisked away by the Queen’s three daughters (who in order of their ages are: Alethea, Amity, and lastly Pemberley, the youngest of her twelve brothers and sisters). That said, Barbara was stolen away for an evening of beauty treatments, that, I presume, nearly all women find invigorating. While Asa, the King’s son, as a means of saving Timothy from such tortures, brought him to the main palace hall by torchlight to begin his training in the art of swordsmanship, a skill quite necessary for all respectabl
e princes.

  And yet, as one may not have anticipated, given Timothy’s more moderate stature, he, who’d spent a good portion of his childhood watching staged combat, as a tag-along on the set of many of his father’s productions, he showed an instant knack for swordplay; Albeit still, understandably, many many years behind Asa’s skill level and strength. And clearly seeing that with any flick of the wrist his mentor could easily unhand him (without Timothy even barely noticing what had happened), he was not too quick to forget his place as a pupil.

  At the end of the night, the two left the great hall and went to go their separate ways. And Timothy, his arms fully wearied from hours of sparring, eagerly let his tired arms settle limply at his sides, once he was sure Asa had turned to go in the opposite direction, and could no longer see him. Although, in doing so, the flat of his palm grazed the handle of a sword. This startled him. He’d become completely unaware of it at his side, and he ran back to catch pace with his mentor.

  ���You forgot your extra sword,��� Timothy said, trying to sound much less winded than he may have actually been.

  ���Oh, did I?��� Asa replied.

  And Asa, pausing to stroke the front of his night-black beard, but with an expression on his face as if he’d had some idea in his head all along, and had only been feigning at thoughts, knowing full well what he’d intended to do.

  ���You keep it,��� the King’s son answered. And in his deep voiced way of it, he said, ���Consider it a gift, from one prince to another.���

  A emerald green hilt, with a woven band of gold around it. A flashy metal blade with the engraving of eagle wings etched onto its surface. Timothy had never owned a weapon before. And although he had always secretly wanted a sword of his own, he was never so foolish as to think his mother would have allowed him it, back home in London. And this new sword and sheath were a marker to Timothy that he was beginning to grow accustomed to his newly discovered princedom.

  ���If only I could be a prince in every world,��� he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

  And although Timothy, himself, would have found this childish to admit to: On his last night there in the palace, he slept with his new sword on his bed, resting its handle on a pillow for safe keeping. And all that night he dreamt of slaying beasts, and that the cut hedge dragon in the palace garden had come to life, and of glorious battles, and always with the truest of bravery, and finest valor, all things well befitting a prince of Earth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Regiment

  Almost as quickly as they set their steps on this new world it was time to say goodbye, and there were many fond farewells. Both young travelers had no less than begged to be left behind at the palace, but Matilde, the Queen, expressly forbade it. Saying, that if she were not able to be present to secure their safety entirely, then they would, both of them, need to be left in the safest place available to them; Which plainly put was back home in Mayfield, where they had hoped to have escaped from for the summer, but those fair dreams had now seemed impossible.

  And so, around midmorning, as the King’s regiment was already prepared for their journey, and as they were receiving their commissioning at the northern gate, the King stood to give his address. And King Corwan thanked the men for their willingness, and made statements about their sacrifice and dedication, to volunteer as they had; There were thirty-nine men in total, saddled on horses, swords strapped onto their backs in preparation for the long ride ahead of them. Some of these volunteer soldiers being from the King’s own palace guard, some generals (both old and young), some more brave council members, and the rest of the group were filled up with layman, (which is not something very unusual for Gleomu, and if I can be allowed a little bit of boredom I’d like to tell you why: You see, because the realm of Gleomu has enjoyed a history of relative peace, sometimes spanning nearly a century at a time without much war, if any at all, the ruling council had long, long ago developed a system for enlistment known as the citizen’s army. Which, according to law, dictates that every able-bodied man, twice a year, must take a week’s leave from his other duties, in order to train for battle, and in so doing, they have eliminated the need for a standing army, as most countries in our own world will have. Notwithstanding, the only ranks held on a full time basis are that of the generals, who facilitate training in times of peace, and direct conscription and troop’s movements in times of war. Which then leaves the last and highest rank, in an active army, to the King, the General of Generals, as he is known by in wartime. It is a system for battle that has worked, without flaw, for generations, and by my judgement, is something I should like to see replicated here on earth, although I am not so blind as to hope for it.

  And, if I may add one more thing, the only time in history, to my knowledge, that this mandate of the citizen’s army had been nullified was during the false reign of Faron, the King’s wicked older brother. And I should suspect the reason for this being that only tyrants, as he was indeed, will fear the military strength of their subjects, and will work unrelentingly to deny them these abilities, in order to bolster their own stolen and misdirected powers. Such vicious men, we have seen and continue to see run rampant in our world, but my hope is that the likes of these shall never be welcomed in Gleomu.)

  And now, again to our story: The only other volunteers there that morning not yet mentioned, on the hillside by the northern gate, were two of the King’s sons: Asa, who had served as a royal host for the young travelers since they’d arrived at the palace, and the King’s eldest son, Reuel, who was the third by that name.

  But I would not have you to think that all the rest of the royal princes had been cowards, nor unskilled as soldiers, on the contrary. Much earlier that same day, there had been a hotly contested dispute in the palace over which of the King’s sons should be allowed to join in with the regiment. For King Corwan had issued a mandate stating that, at the most, only two of his nine sons could volunteer for the mission, saying it was ���unwise��� to risk his entire lineage in an untested war. And so, after picking hay straw to decide who should go, the lots of the winners fell to Reuel and Asa, who had both chosen the longer straws.

  And thusly, King Corwan ended his speech as the sun rose higher above the hilled plains, thanking the men for their selflessness, to rescue a ���dear friend, and a longtime ally.��� And, that said, it came as only a minor surprise when he announced his intent to join in with the mission, as well, saying in these words, ���Therefore, I would be remiss to send my bravest men onward, into such a worthy fight, and not to take my rightful place with them.���

  From the crowd there came shouts and well wishes for His Majesty’s courage. In the end, Corwan announced that ���the duty of rule��� would be left with the Queen in his absence. This was of course a formality, because the rule of the kingdom always alighted to the Queen during the King’s absence, but here too this was met with gracious hoorays. After his speech, Matilde turned quickly, as if she’d heard a distant signal, or an obvious sound audible only to her.

  ���It’s time,��� she said, grabbing both young travelers by the hand.

  Timothy felt his ears almost burst with a loud ringing, as a bright shot, like a missile of light, went sailing up over the plains, returning back home to Earth from where it had come.

  And like a dream, or something that must be woken from, the King and Queen in all their royal fare, with the citizens of that great city, and generals, and noblemen, in their dapper courtly attire, were vanished. And when they had returned, Timothy and Barbara stood blank faced, in the window room, watching the massive lifelike painting sparkle with the scenes and the stars from that distant world.

  Soft ebbs of our own moonlight trickled in through the top gable windows. (For as you should know, though it was still morning in that other world, it was nighttime in our own.)

  ���Do you think we’ll ever go back?��� Barbara pondered,
with the gleams of far away starlight falling on her face and hair.

  Timothy turned to look behind him, out through the tiny passageway and into the attic study beyond, to where his grandmother had disappeared to. His shoulders shrugged, as if he were not so hopeful.

  ���Maybe, if she ever finds my grandfather… but as it is, she treats me like I’m still this little boy, keeping us here while she’s going out to face all sorts of dangers.��� The tone of his voice heightened to show that he was complaining. ���I’m not a little child,��� he protested.

  ���Yes, but you are her grandchild,��� Barbara added.

  ���Still, doesn’t mean I’m too young,��� he repeated. ���I could help them find him,��� he said, placing his hand onto the hilt of his brand new sword. He kept his hand there for a second, trying to imagine how he would fight in battle.

  And Barbara stepped in closer, lowering her head to catch his attention.

  ���But we are helping,��� she replied. ���Don’t you remember the job she’s given us?���

  Although Timothy was less than impressed.

  ���What? To be her postman?… Doesn’t seem very important to me.���

  ���Well, not all important things are dangerous. Besides, we’re the only ones who can do it, so that makes us important.���

  ���Fine…��� Timothy relented, and looked to be softening. ���Maybe you’re right,��� he said.

  And they went back again to gazing longingly at the moving images of Gleomu in the painting. They saw wide peaceful meadows, and tall ominous mountains, and in one of the corner frames, an elegant city, not nearly as large as the capital city where they’d just come from, but beautiful all the same. (And if you’d looked closely, as closely as they did, you could see people in that pleasant city, moving and going about their days, and once in a while the occasional passing horse cart.)