The Great Succession Crisis

by Laurel A. Rockefeller

  Chapter Eight: Healing Old Wounds

  Ten beinors later, Lady Cara checked on Lord Corann, surprised to find him in Anlei’s room. Over the beinors, both Anlei and Corann cooperated with her instructions, speeding the healing. Sitting down besides Corann in a chair set up for the purpose, Lady Cara waved a hand scanner over Corann’s shoulder. Unlacing his tunic, she guided her well trained hands over his left shoulder, pushing down occasionally to gauge Corann’s reaction, “This is looking much better, more than 90% healed. How is the pain?”

  “A little sore; I’ve kept to bed rest almost exclusively since I saw you and barely touched Anlei – not exactly easy right now.”

  “That’s not hard to guess. In your bed rest, did you ever read what I gave you?”

  “Yes, I made a point to read it when Anlei was out of the room – just in case.”

  “What do you think about the recommendations?”

  “I think it’s doable – but I don’t know anything about her specifics,” confessed Corann.

  Lady Cara handed him a second tablet, “I pulled Anlei’s medical records; her biorhythms have been recorded, of course, for several yen-ars. It’s been a matter of planetary interest for certain kinds of records to be maintained regarding the likely heir to the throne. Nothing has been deleted on her. You will find that most comprehensive and useful in your family planning.”

  “Does she know this data exists?”

  “Not likely; they were obtained through standard physical examination scans. Nothing she would notice; just an extra setting on the computer to collect data on. Not everything has to be done with patient awareness, Corann. Particularly with one who has not yet come of age. Strictly speaking, you are the only adult in this marriage until her fiftieth natal beinor. She’s of legal age to marry, but she’s not legally an adult yet. As her husband, you are her legal guardian, you know since you are of age,” informed Lady Cara.

  “I was not aware of that; I just assumed that her majesty retained her parental rights….”

  “Husband always trumps parent in these things, Corann – unless abuse is involved; I know you. You’ll die before anyone touches her inappropriately.”

  “Yes, I will,” affirmed Corann. Corann looked at the data, “So when can I begin applying all this information…when is my shoulder sound enough?”

  “It’s sound enough right now for intimate activity, but give it another five beinors before you start really trying. Work your way up to your former activity level. I would start with some meditative martial arts for your workout – no swords, no spears, no archery or weapons of any kind. Do not practice with a partner for another twenty beinors. With the weakened muscles in the upper shoulder I am bit concerned about dislocation should you push too hard too fast. Ease into things, work the muscles, but work up to what you are used to. If you can do all that…I think you are fine to return to duty.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me; may I stop by your office later for a more detailed exercise plan?”

  ‘How does next beinor morning sound?”

  “Terrific.”

  “Good morning, Corann. I have not seen you here before,” noted Lady Knight Elda as she attacked and parried with a rapier against a swinging target suspended from the ceiling of the Gurun practice chamber on the far side of the palace. This was Corann’s first visit to the practice chamber since moving into the palace. The walls of the chamber were lined with practice weapons. A side door led out of doors to an enclosed courtyard spanning one hundred zhang by eighty zhang in size set up with a dozen different targets for different styles of archery and thrown weapons. A skylight filled the ceiling and fifteen floor-to-ceiling windows brought in natural light, making the room brightly lit in the morning and afternoon – storms notwithstanding.

  Corann picked up a practice rapier from the far wall, “May I join you?”

  “Of course, it’s been a while,” acknowledged Elda, walking to the free space at the center of the practice chamber with her rapier pointed towards the floor.

  “Lady Healer Cara just cleared me to begin sword work again.”

  “That bad, eh? I knew Janus hit you pretty hard….”

  “Harder than a knight is likely to admit to,” confessed Corann, saluting Elda, then presenting his rapier to begin the duel.

  Elda saluted Corann, and then engaged him with an attack au fer, “I understand. If someone attacked the queen, I would probably do exactly the same thing – and try to keep face by avoiding the healers after.” Corann counter-parried, redirecting with a forward crossed riposte. Elda circled, testing Corann’s defences before counter-riposting. Corann feinted, and then lunged. Elda caught Corann’s blade with her sword, deflecting it back towards him. Disengaged, the friends circled with the precision of expert martial artists. Elda cut towards Corann. Corann counter-parried.

  For an entire shir-or the friends duelled amicably; neither side landed a blow on the other. Finally, with the duel in a perpetual stand-off, the friends saluted one another and disengaged, their workout highly productive.

  Corann embraced his old friend, “I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed a duel so much. It really has been a long time. Queen Isabelle took you into her direct service just twenty beinors after your elevation; I’ve barely seen you except in passing since. Even with the wedding breakfast, you were there more to watch over the queen than to socialize.”

  “Since the death of Prince Alastair, I think her majesty has needed her knights of Ten-ar and of Gurun more than ever. I think in her heart she is afraid that something will happen to either Princess Anlei or Prince Anwell,” admitted Elda.

  “But surely Anwell is no longer a threat to anyone; he abdicated when he was twenty-five yen-ars old. I too could have stopped this madness, this crisis, Elda. High Priestess Wehe offered to adopt me and make me king. In truth, she has been a mother to me, perhaps even more than Lady Priestess Cordelia. But I couldn’t. You remember my moral dilemma back then; how do you deny the crown to the rightful queen, take her place, as if born her sibling? For me, that was unconscionable. I just could not bring myself to do it. Now I wonder if I have not put everyone in jeopardy for it,” mused Corann.

  “You cannot blame yourself for not knowing the future, Corann. I am surprised you feel such remorse, as if all of the political firestorm you married into were your fault,” reassured Elda.

  “That’s just it, Elda -- I should have known, I should have foreseen the trouble that has only just begun. I am some sort of spiritual prodigy, at least in the eyes of those in power. I should have done more to stop this crisis. Now, I feel like our planet is on the verge of falling apart…all for my self-righteous pride.”

  “Make way, make way for High Highness, Lord Prince Corann, Consort to Her Highness, Crown Princess Anlei, heir to the Throne of Beinan,” announced the court herald as Lord Corann entered the throne room. Now beinor 40, Corann found himself fully healed from his wound and gaining strength as he followed Lady Healer Cara’s recommendations for strengthening his shoulder with exercise. For Corann, his first morning workout duelling with Lady Knight Elda felt exceptionally refreshing, like rain on a drought-stressed garden.

  Confidently, yet following protocol to the letter, Corann approached her majesty’s presence, “Your Majesty, may I enter your royal presence?”

  Queen Isabelle smiled at him, “Of course, Lord Prince Corann. Please approach. My lord, may we continue this later?” she asked of the young courtier in front of her. The courtier nodded then quietly melted into the crowds at court. “What may I do for you?”

  Corann bowed and approached, “I come to you to report regarding my health and well-being, Your Majesty, for surely you are aware that in defence of this throne, my previous injuries were aggravated and I required surgery to repair the damage to my already weakened shoulder.”

  Bevin clutched Isabelle’s ringed hand in worry as she graciously nodded, “Please continue.”

>   “It pleases me to report to your most royal of majesties that the head healer of this palace, Lady Healer Cara, has finally released me fully from her watchful care and declared my wound fully healed. I am now 100% able to resume my duties—all of them—as vowed to you and to this family. I come offering my services to you, Your Majesty, as a knight of Ten-ar.”

  Inside her heart, Isabelle laughed…duties…Corann knew the duty both of them most desired was not one of a public nature at all, but the most private and personal, familial duty of husband. Like Corann, she was eager for Anlei to conceive, eager to secure the throne and end this succession crisis, assuming a son by Anlei would appease the grid-locked Great Council.

  On her face and through her voice, Isabelle, the practiced politician, could not convey her real mind, “Your chivalry honours us, and this house to which you have joined yourself in holy matrimony. Let the family celebrate this evening with feasting, music, and dance in celebration of your return to health and with it, the return to prosperity for all of Beinan.”

  Lord Prince Corann offered an appreciative bow, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I shall prepare myself and my wife for the festivities this evening.”

  “Is it true, Corann?” asked Anlei, rushing into her apartment as servants hastened to lay out a selection of elaborate ball gowns for her consideration.

  Corann, finally strong enough, swept her into both his arms, picked her up, and twirled her around the room in a dizzy circle, “It’s true, milady. Tonight we feast, we dance, and then we dance all night in here to make our son.” Stopping his spiral, he laid her down near the head of the bed, careful not to ruin any of the gowns laid out at the foot of the bed, then climbed on top of her expectantly, kissing her wildly.

  “I can’t wait. Corann are you really able to--can we?”

  “You’ve never felt me so strong, so powerful, so…vigorous,” he replied between kisses.

  “Must we wait for tonight?”

  Corann remembered the data he memorized, “YES. Tonight we celebrate and until tonight, my precious princess, you will just have to wait.”

  “Since when do you ever wait to bed me?” she teased.

  “Oh, I don’t know, since having major surgery on my shoulder and lung….” he reminded.

  Anlei thought about the beinors since their reunion at the Ten-Arian monastery, “GOOD POINT. So why are we waiting right now?”

  “Because tonight, after I dine and romance you, my love, it will be all the more special. Have I ever really had the opportunity to fully court you before? I cannot recall ever being able to. First the injury, then the great masquerade, betrothal, a wedding; it’s all happened so fast. And so…let me court you tonight, my wife. Let me charm and seduce you and your cherished womb into giving me my heart’s desire tonight.”

  “You really want this, don’t you?” she asked, starry-eyed.

  “I do.”

  “Just for the crown or do you genuinely want to be a father right now, Corann? Is this just about my safety?”

  “I love you. What else can I do but show you my love for you in a way that creates children inside of you? How better can I show you how much I love you than by giving you children to assume your mother and grandfather’s throne, then to nurture children out of your womb and then from the moment of birth, show them how much I love them because I love you? I love all that you are, Anlei. What else can I want but to bring new life out of your body, out of our love? In the past my love for you maddened me. Now, through your body, I can give my desires and my needs a clear direction, my life a new purpose. I live for you and the family we can make through your sacred body. Goddesses forgive me, but I worship you. You are the goddesses incarnated for me. I am fed by your breasts as we make love better than any tangible food.” He reached for and gently caressed the under edge of one of her breasts through her clothes. Anlei breathed hard, moved and aroused by his words.

  “What gown would please you best for tonight, my love?” she asked, caressing him showing him the six gowns laid out on her bed or hung up around the room. A glittering lavender organza and dupioni silk ball gown with white accents with a split skirt and white underskirt caught his eye, its corset like bodice and low, scoop neckline holding particular appeal. He picked it up and handed it to her. She held it against her body and twirled for his approval.

  “PERFECT.”

  The grand ball ordered in Corann’s honour may not have been as large as the Great Masquerade of BE 6326, beinor 160, but rarely did a gathering of family and friends sparkle more. In a mere six shir-ors time, Queen Isabelle and Lord Prince Bevin and their staff had arranged for approximately 200 extended family and friends from houses Gurun, Miyoo, Ten-ar, and even one or two cousins from houses Xing-li and Balister. All of these were dressed formally, elegantly, in their finest fabrics and most expensive clothing. Those who could afford the high cost of red displayed it, if only in ribbons, sashes, belts, and other accent pieces. The purpose of the Great Masquerade had been to comply with the wishes of the Great Council to equitably help Princess Anlei find a suitable husband. This ball, quite to the contrary, was a pure celebration requested by the queen herself and therefore took on a genuine grandness the other lacked. This social affair the queen actually wanted.

  Since the announcement, the kitchen staff worked tirelessly on a grand banquet, preparing both white meats and red meat dishes favoured by both the royal family and across Dong-Bei. Fruits, vegetables, cakes, pies, desserts of every configuration and elaboration were prepared with exquisite skill and eye for detail. The staff knew how to impress when they put their skills towards grand parties. Tonight they demonstrated those skills and artistry fully.

  The evening began in the grand dining area with table after table set with the Beinarian version of fine china and elegant place settings on a form of linen-like table covering in royal white, silver, and gold. Goblets and flutes were filled with both alcoholic and non-alcoholic choices according to the tastes of each guest. Five generous courses filled even the most ample appetite of each guest, each one more sumptuous than the one before, and more daring. It was a banquet to be remembered with the immediate royal family at high table, Lord Prince Corann and Princess Anlei placed in seats of honour, her lavender and white ball gown glittering, the corset under her gown pushing up her small, milky white breasts to expose a pleasing amount of cleavage above the neckline, just enough to frame her almost Elvish-like body perfectly. Anlei was a vision of perfect Beinarian beauty. She wore a delicate necklace of lavender gemstones around her collar bone, completing the effect of perfection.

  As the lavish banquet portion of the evening concluded with the numerous customary toasts to the royal hosts and to specific planetary government leaders, including those in the more important committees of the Great Council, RK6 found herself watching the princess more and more. Unlike the humans in attendance, RK6 possessed great objectivity and eyed the festivities with a wider, politically oriented view. The whole sudden and lavish evening felt illogical to her programming. Surely something more than a simple celebration must be at play.

  With a calculating eye, RK6 watched as Lord Corann led Anlei onto the dance floor, their eyes never leaving each other’s star-filled faces. A Beinarian form of waltz played, something resembling a combination of a Viennese waltz with a foxtrot if viewed with Earthling eyes. The music was soft, orchestral, yet filled with the Beinarian shawms that so dominated the music used at Corann’s elevation to knighthood. With almost fascinated watchfulness she watched Corann twirl and spin his wife breathlessly around the ballroom, both laughing and giggling like youths merely thirty yen-ars old. The night was magical from a human perspective, yet RK6 wondered if the apparent beauty and fairy-tale like atmosphere was altogether the point.

  As the evening progressed past shir-or 12.65, Corann led Anlei out of the ballroom and towards her private royal apartment. Entering into Anlei’s private garden, Corann led her to a well p
repared bed of rich fabrics, cushions, and blankets under a massive protective tree resembling an oak tree, so strong and beautiful. There, finally, Corann bedded his wife, pleasuring the princess with not only the beauty of the night air, but what felt like a perfect evening. Well pleased, Anlei forgot about politics all through the evening and through the night that followed in Corann’s arms. She would remember it only as one of the most beautiful and romantic beinors of her life, never guessing just how much of all she experienced was by Corann’s masterful design.