The Kings of the Seven Bells

by Marti Talbott

  When at last, the Boons entered the throne room, Boon Mobbox did all the talking. “The king died in his sleep.”

  The women finally released their held back tears, a couple of the distraught men sunk into seats on the benches, and the others stared at the floor. “How is it possible he died in his sleep?” the father of the would-be-bride asked. “He looked well enough when he went for his ride yesterday.”

  “He was old,” Boon Carbollo said, which of course, was not a lie. He took the hand of his intended bride, led the wedding party down the hallway on the Carbollo side of the Castle, and out the door. The tortured expressions on the faces of the bride and groom kept the other Carbollos from voicing the normal cheers and congratulations. Instead, they followed the couple into the city, down the street, and to the marketplace.

  It was there, Boon Carbollo made the shocking announcement.

  BOON MOBBOX WALKED down the hallway, exited the castle door on the Mobbox side, and headed for his city. As soon as he arrived at their usual gathering place in front of the city gates, he gave the alarming two sharp blasts on the flute-like horn he kept with him always. Then he waited. Those out and about came immediately, and they too waited while others poured out of their homes, and rushed out of the city gates.

  All the while, he surveyed the faces of the men, looking for any hint of guilt. As well, he tried to take note of those he did not see. Once gathered, Boon Mobbox did not have to silence the people, for they held their voices, eager to hear what he had to say.

  “King Grafton died in his sleep.” He listened to the gasps, took note of the women who began to cry, and again looked over the crowd. Just as he expected, there were several who welcomed the news, although they did not outwardly show it. He knew each of them well and could not imagine any of them capable of murder. Even so, he continued to look for any hint of guilt among them – he saw nothing suspicious.

  “Finally, the days of the seven bells have arrived,” someone said.

  Boon Mobbox was not surprised and nodded. “First, we must bury the king, and then the challenges shall begin.” He stayed with his people and answered their many questions as best he could without telling them the truth. He marveled at those who had strongly been opposed to a Carbollo king, now found a voice in his favor, calling him a great and just king. But then, what was the point in saying otherwise? He longed for a Mobbox king just as much as anyone, and the king’s death was the only way to bring about a new king – but not like this.

  Once all the questions had been asked and the comments made, the people began to go home. Boon Mobbox wished to do the same. Instead he went back to the castle, to make certain his commands were being carried out.

  NOT ONE AMONG THEM had been alive the last time a king was buried, so the only funeral traditions were those that had been handed down from generation to generation. Eight stout Carbollo men set the burial box on their shoulders, and started the procession up the Carbollo side of King’s Mountain. The box was wrapped in the king’s favorite tea-rose cloth, and atop the box lay his gold, jewel encrusted crown. Behind the pallbearers, the king’s guards carried long poles upon which hung King Grafton’s flag, and those belonging to all the previous kings. Next, the women who cared for the king in his castle, repeatedly dipped their hands in baskets, and withdrew pleasant smelling spices and flower petals, which they tossed on the path.

  Led by their Boon, the Carbollos reverently followed the women. On a path just wide enough for two, Raxton and his little brothers walked behind their tearful mother and distressed father, with Gincar not far behind. She stayed with her family, but he could feel her watching his every move, and did not dare look for Sarinna. He was determined not to give Gincar anything more to hold against him. Instead, when his youngest brother got tired, Raxton picked him up and carried him.

  Because King Grafton was their king as well, Boon Mobbox and his people walked behind the Carbollos. To make certain Raxton and his sister would have no excuse to interact, especially where so many could see, Nerratel encouraged his mother and sister to remain near the back. Sarinna was not fooled, but she let it pass for Raxton’s sake. Instead, she admired the sea of pastel colors in the clothing the women wore, Carbollo and Mobbox alike, as they climbed the mountain in front of her. The gowns were so much alike, that had it not been for the robe Boon Mobbox wore, she would not have been able to tell where the Carbollo ended and the Mobbox began.

  Therefore, young and old alike, all the people of Extane followed the box up the side of King’s mountain where all the other kings had been buried. Everyone remained completely silent while Boon Carbollo took the crown off the top of the box, and the pall bearers laid King Grafton to rest beside his wives and children, beneath the snow that never melted.

  IT WAS NOT UNTIL THE service was over and the people turned around to go home that Raxton’s eyes met Sarinna’s. It was enough for now – it had to be.

  After they got home, he bid his family goodbye and said he was going hunting. Instead, he walked across Carbollo land, stepped over the creek, and then entered Mobbox forest. He moved from tree to tree until he had a clear view of the back gate to Mobbox City. He assumed, and rightly so, that Nerratel had taken his mother and sister home first. He was taking a terrible chance. Even so, he waited, hoping Nerratel would come out. At last, his wish was granted. When Nerratel walked into the forest, Raxton carefully followed until he was certain the two of them were completely alone.

  Raxton softly whistled.

  Nerratel instantly turned around, and when he did, Raxton showed himself. Nerratel was reluctant at first, but gave in and went to see what the Carbollo wanted. “If this is about my sister...

  “It is not,” Raxton interrupted. “I am in need of your advice.”

  “My advice?” Nerratel folded his arms and snickered. “You wish to know how to beat me in the challenge.”

  “I wish that were it.”

  Nerratel withdrew his smirk, unfolded his arms and listened.

  “I saw two men enter the castle last night.”

  “Is that so very odd?”

  Raxton dropped his gaze. “It was very late and I might not have seen them, had there not been a light coming from inside when they opened the door. They were being very watchful and quiet.”

  “Tell me, why are you bothered?”

  “There is word among the Carbollo guards that the king was murdered.”

  Nerratel caught his breath, took hold of Raxton’s arm and pulled him deeper into the forest. “Murdered?” he asked, finally stopping and releasing Raxton’s arm. “Can it be so?”

  “If it is, the Boons are not telling us.”

  Nerratel stared at the ground for a long moment. “They are not telling us – because they think a Mobbox killed him and ‘twould start a war?”

  “A Carbollo would not have done it. We loved the king.”

  “True, all the Carbollo loved him.” Nerratel was again quiet, trying to sort out his thoughts. “I fear the answer, but did you see who enter the castle?”

  “There were two and they entered on the Mobbox side. I know they were Mobbox for I saw the mark on the forehead of one. Yet I know not their names.”

  “Have you spoken to Boon Carbollo about it?”

  “I have told no one but you. Would your people believe the word of a Carbollo against two Mobbox?”

  Nerratel rubbed his forehead. “No, probably not – not without more proof than just your word.”

  “What advice can you give?”

  “I advise you to enter the challenge, win it, and then try to better me in the quest.” He finally smiled. “Rest easy, Raxton, for we do not know for certain if the king was murdered.”

  NERRATEL MAY HAVE CALMED Raxton’s fears, but he was anything but calm. If it was true, there were two killers among the Mobbox and until they were found out, no one was safe. He meant to collect wood in the forest for his furniture making, but he headed home instead. On the way back to the city, he considered who i
t might have been, and before he reached the city gates he had his suspicions. Even so, he went home to assure himself that his mother and sister were safe.

  It was unusual for Nerratel to come back so soon, and when he saw the worry in his mother’s expression, he realized his mistake. “I am hoping there is news of the challenge, and if anyone shall be the first to hear the news, ‘tis my mother.”

  “So soon?” Sarinna asked.

  “You are right, little sister, it is too soon.” He kissed Sarinna on the forehead, touched his mother’s arm, and then went downstairs to wait for word. He hadn’t been there long before it started to rain.

  It did not just rain, it poured that night. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed across the dark sky, and frightened people on both sides sought safety and comfort in their homes.

  THE NEXT MORNING AND still deeply saddened, Boon Carbollo entered the empty throne room and took a seat on one of the side benches. Since the king was a Carbollo, it was the Carbollos who saw to his needs, but with no one to guard or care for, the castle in all its splendor and glory was completely empty. The world had suddenly changed, and not for the better. Deep in thought, he paid no attention when Boon Mobbox entered.

  Boon Mobbox took pity on the man who looked as though he was about to cry, and sat down beside him. “I find I have no words of comfort,” he admitted.

  “There are no words,” Boon Carbollo agreed. “I know not which one, but one of the king’s guards has spoken of the murder.”

  Disappointed, Boon Mobbox hung his head. “Have you confirmed the rumor?”

  “We agreed not to. Word spreads nonetheless, and I find not answering more tedious than out-right lying. This is the only place on Extane where a man can be alone with his thoughts.”

  “And here I am intruding.”

  “At least to you, I do not need to answer. My wife-to-be finds she cannot be comforted until there is a new king to marry us, and who knows how long that might take.”

  “You have my sympathy. My wife has little patience either.” Boon Mobbox folded his hands in his lap. “We must distract the people and to do that, we must choose the challenge. We have agreed on little else. Can we agree on that? I favor the foot race. It is...”

  “Of course you do,” Boon Carbollo interrupted. “You know very well Nerratel would win the foot race.”

  “Has Raxton gone soft since the last challenge?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Know you not that no one wins the foot race twice in a row?”

  The Carbollo was not convinced. “There is always a first time. I suggest archery.”

  At that Boon Mobbox balked, “Because Raxton is a hunter and Nerratel is not?’

  “Have you no Mobbox hunters?”

  “Of course we do, but we, the two of us, must be sensible. How many among the fit young Carbollo men would make a good king?”

  “Not many, I suppose.” Boon Carbollo slightly smiled. “One or two would likely be a disaster.”

  Boon Mobbox also smiled. “I confess the same is true of more than one Mobbox.”

  At last, the two men managed to ease the tension between them, and both were relieved. It was Boon Carbollo who spoke next. “Are you suggesting we somehow make certain Raxton and Nerratel win the challenge?”

  “I ask you, is not intelligence most important in a king? Why does a king need superior strength if he has guards to protect him?”

  “Apparently, King Grafton had little strength left, or he might have managed to fight off his attacker. Nevertheless, you raise a valid point. Choosing a challenge whereby a man must be intelligent instead of strong seems more appropriate.”

  Boon Mobbox sighed. “Yet, he must be fit enough to win the quest.”

  “Therefore, he needs both strength and intelligence. It seems we have solved nothing.”

  He gave that some thought before the Mobbox said, “Unless we have two challenges, one a riddle to confirm intelligence, and another to display strength. The stone toss, perhaps?”

  “A very heavy stone to help Raxton and Nerratel win?”

  “There are some who might be worthy contenders, but I see no other recourse.”

  “And if the wrong men win?”

  “That would be a problem. Perhaps we might think of a way to disqualify them?”

  The Carbollo paused to think for a moment. “Perhaps so. They are called ‘The Days of the Seven Bells.’ How many days do you suppose it will be?” When his friend had no answer, Boon Carbollo took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “What are we to do until we have a new king?”

  “We shall manage somehow.”

  “How? Are you and I to settle disputes? The burden would be too great.”

  The Mobbox chuckled. “I’d be happy to relieve you of your share of the burden.”

  “Believe me, I am tempted. Have you not noticed how my hair becomes bluish? I feel the years more acutely, especially now. Unfortunately, my people will never agree to let you be judge over them.”

  “Tell me, would a Mobbox king be so very unthinkable?”

  “Depends on who he is. You are not young enough for the quest. Besides, you are too set in your ways.”

  Boon Mobbox narrowed his eyes. “And you are not?”

  “I do not wish to be king. Being Boon is taxing enough.”

  “Perhaps we should forbid all disputes until we have a new king.”

  Once more, Boon Carbollo smiled. “Let them see to their own troubles? ‘Tis the best idea I’ve heard from you in years.” He stood up, walked across the throne room, stopped, and looked back.

  “Now, about the riddle. I have told all the ones I know.”

  “I myself have never been good at riddles.”

  “Therefore, I have an idea. There are many rooms in the castle we were forbidden to enter. Have you not wondered about them?”

  Boon Mobbox quickly rose up. “Many times.”

  “Shall we not see them now? Perhaps the castle might help us think of the perfect riddle.”

  Together, the two most powerful men in Extane left the throne room through the side door, entered the hallway, and came to an abrupt halt. In all their years, the hallway had been short with nothing but a staircase leading to the second floor on the end.

  That was no longer true.

  Instead of being short, the hallway was long. It had closed doors on either side, and one mysterious door at the end opposite the stairs. After a moment of contemplation, it was that room Boon Mobbox sought to see inside first. To his dismay, the small, square room held but one chair and no other furniture.

  Upon the chair sat a man who was quite old, and quite alive.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE NEXT MORNING, NERRATEL shared a morning meal with his mother and sister, and then went off to collect his thoughts. As hard as he tried, he could not imagine any of the Mobbox actually committing murder. Yet, it must have been a Mobbox. There was no other explanation, especially after what Raxton witnessed. More importantly, the Boons were seen going into the castle early in the morning, and had not come out. Therefore, news of the challenge had not yet been announced.

  Nerratel walked up one hill and down another before he entered the forest. Shortly after, he heard whimpering and stopped to listen. At first, he thought it was an animal. A few more moments passed before he heard the cry again, only this time the child plainly cried out for its mother.

  He walked toward the sound and again paused. “Where are you?”

  “Over here,” said the tiny voice.

  Nerratel parted the bushes, looked down, and at last saw what the problem was. The silk strands of the little Mobbox girl’s skirt were caught on a bush. Try as she might, she had not been able to pull it free. “Hadler, are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but when my mother sees my clothes, she shall make me scrub the floors.”

  Nerratel chuckled. “I suspect she shall.” The threads of her skirt were so tangled, he finally took out his knife and cut the child free. He
put his knife away, drew the girl into his arms, and when he did, she put hers around his neck. He smiled, and then began to make his way back out of the forest. “Why are you so far from home, little one?”

  “I followed a rabbit.”

  “Ah, I have done that.”

  “Did your rabbit fall in a hole?”

  “That’s were rabbit’s live.”

  Hadler said, “Truly? I did not know that.”

  “Now you do.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  It warmed his heart. “I love you too.” He carried her all the way into the center of Mobbox City, up the steps, and then knocked on the door of the little girl’s home. Her mother was surprised. “There you are, Hadler. I was about to go looking for you.”

  Hadler puckered her lips as if she might cry. “My dress got caught and Nerratel cut me loose.”

  “Of course he did. Nerratel is always helping someone.”

  He again smiled when the child’s mother kissed him on the cheek, and then took her daughter out of his arms.

  “You shall be our next king.” Hadler’s mother said. “The kind ones always win the quest.”

  Just before he left, he said, “I hope you are right.” After he went back to the street, he chuckled. Hanler’s mother could not possibly know which of the former kings were particularly kind and which were not, but it was a pleasant thought just the same.

  CONVINCED THAT RAXTON would become king, and that he would marry her, there was elation in her stone-stepping when Sarinna returned to her favorite lake that afternoon. She saw happiness in the water, the swans, the ducks and even the waterfall, which often got in the way of her stone stepping. Sarinna Mobbox was thoroughly and completely in love. It was a complicated love to be sure, and she told herself repeatedly that it might not work out the way she dreamed. Just now, however, her heart was full, her arms begged to be in his, and she knew her smile would always be for Raxton, no matter what happened. As she stepped from stone to stone, she kept an eye out for him while she tried to think of a fitting song to sing. She thought of one, and then another, but alas, none of them truly conveyed the happiness she felt inside. She would simply have to make one up.