“Help me!” Anna called out to the crowd on the gamble that they might respond. “He’s going to make me a slave!”
The crowd immediately went about their business as if nothing had happened—or was about to happen—to the poor girl. Anna felt the sting of despair as Titus jerked her out of the mud.
“What goes on, Titus?” inquired a low, gravelly voice.
Titus swung around to see who spoke. “What?” he said.
An old man stepped around from behind a vegetable booth. He had a slender, pale face with wild, white hair and a thin beard and mustache. He wore a long, black overcoat that seemed to droop from his skeletal body. Underneath, Anna noticed that he wore a collarless shirt, waistcoat, and old-fashioned breeches, stockings, and shoes—like the people who had lived during the American Revolution. It was an odd contrast to the way everyone else was dressed.
“I want to know what you are doing,” the old man said.
Anna heard Titus’s sharp intake of breath. He recognized the old man. “You’re here!” Titus said. “I thought you were . . .”
“Dead?”
“No, no, of course not. The entire nation would know about that. I just thought that you were . . . were ill.”
“Too ill to come visit our lovely capital?”
“I thought you and the king . . . had an understanding.”
“The king and I have an understanding. But it’s probably not the same understanding. However, there is one thing I do understand: Slavery was outlawed in Marus years ago. Before you were born. How do I know? Because I was the one who outlawed it. Now let the girl go.”
Titus tried to sound tough. “I obey the king and his officers. You have no authority over me.”
“Don’t I?” the old man asked as he took a step forward. Titus stepped back, his grip loosening on Anna’s arm.
“No,” Titus said, less sure of himself.
“Let me tell you a little something about authority,” the old man said with a smile. “It is given, not taken. My authority comes from the Unseen One. From where do the king and his officers get their authority?”
“From . . . from . . .” Titus stammered, but he never found an answer.
The old man held up a finger. “A man your size shouldn’t wrestle around in the mud with small children. It’s not healthy. Your heart might not be up to it. Perhaps you should have a rest.”
Titus suddenly gasped, then collapsed back into the mud. His eyes rolled up in their sockets, then closed, and his massive form relaxed.
Anna quickly moved away from him. “What happened?” she asked. “Is he all right?”
“He’s having a little nap,” the old man responded. “He’ll wake up sooner or later.” The old man stooped to look Anna full in the face. “Tell me your story, young lady. You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re not even from this country, am I correct?”
“Yes, sir. You’re correct.”
The old man gazed at her thoughtfully. “You’re not safe here. I suggest you come with me.”
“But . . . why? Who are you?”
The man smiled again. “I am the Old Judge.”
The name meant nothing to Anna, but he had saved her, and that was reason enough to go with him. As she and the Old Judge walked past staring eyes in the marketplace, a train whistle blew in the distance.
“That will be the king,” the Old Judge said.
“The king is leaving?” Anna asked.
“No, he’s just arriving.”
Anna was confused. She had seen the king in the palace the day before. Had he left and was now coming back?
“I’m talking about the real king,” the Old Judge said, sensing Anna’s confusion. “The chosen.”
Watching from the train window, Kyle was amazed by the large number of people who had crowded onto the station platform to greet General Darien and his men. They cheered loudly as the train hissed and screeched its way to a stop. A delegation of men dressed in brightly colored military uniforms and hats emerged from the crowd. They looked serious and formal as they waited for General Darien to step from the train.
A train-car door swung open, and Colonel Oliver climbed onto the platform. He was followed by several other officers from General Darien’s regiment. The crowd grew silent as they watched. Then General Darien appeared in the doorway. The crowd went wild with cheers, flag-waving, and applause. General Darien blushed, then smiled and waved. The delegation stepped forward the second Darien’s feet touched the platform. A young man in uniform with wavy dark hair and a thin mustache broke ranks and unceremoniously embraced Darien.
“Darien!” he cried out happily.
“Hello, George,” Darien said with a laugh as they thumped each other on the back with all the affection of close brothers. A military band struck up a tune Kyle had never heard before.
“Sorry about all the fuss, but word got around that you’d made it back safely, and, well . . .” The one called George gestured at the crowds, the soldiers, and the band. “I’m afraid we’ll have to return to the palace with a lot of pomp and circumstance.”
General Darien nodded. “Then let’s get on with it. What about my men?”
“We have cars for them to follow in,” George said. “There’ll be a brief reception in the Great Hall, and then we’ll let you all get some much-needed rest.”
Kyle joined the rest of Darien’s men in large, old-fashioned touring cars. The tops were pushed back so that everyone could wave at the throngs who lined the streets leading to the palace.
Kyle had never seen such a display of affection for a public figure. Nor had he ever seen a city as grand as Sarum. Wide avenues of beautiful green trees and manicured lawns stretched out to majestic buildings of brick, stone, and marble. Some had broad stairs leading up to magnificent porticos and colonnades and the biggest windows Kyle had ever laid eyes on. The avenues spilled onto circles and squares containing monuments and statues acknowledging people and places Kyle had never heard of. Once again he was struck by how vibrant the colors were.
As the parade of cars pulled to the front entrance of the king’s palace, Kyle looked to the left and the right. Both wings of the royal residence disappeared into a forest and rounded off in a way that looked as if they went on forever. The main building was adorned with a golden rotunda with a statue of an angel on top.
The king’s servants met the entourage and led them through an arched door into an ornate foyer filled with paintings, statues, and a wide marble staircase. Kyle imagined that a tank could drive up those stairs without any trouble. They detoured down a grand hallway lined with more paintings, alcoves with statues, gold-leaf borders, and lamps hanging from carved pilasters.
Finally, they swung off through a double doorway into the Great Hall. It was great indeed, with high walls of carved wood, cornices, ornately framed portraits and mirrors, and tall, triangular windows that seemed to point to an elaborately painted ceiling filled with frescoes of muscular men engaged in battles of all descriptions. The room looked as if it could accommodate hundreds of people without anyone feeling cramped.
Kyle sat with the rest of the troops in chairs facing a stage with wingback chairs and a lavishly designed podium. Kyle suspected by the way the other members of the audience were dressed that the room was filled with dignitaries and officers from other parts of the country. The king—there was no mistaking him with that crown on his head—took the podium and welcomed the soldiers home from their daring adventures. The audience applauded.
The king continued, “It is with great pride that we honor you today. Your escapades have been the talk of all the nations. Our enemies now know that nothing is beyond the abilities of General Darien and his fighting forces!”
At this, General Darien’s men shouted and clapped.
The king waved his arms for the men to quiet down. Then he continued, “General Darien, I believe you have a presentation to make?”
Gen
eral Darien strode across the stage to another round of applause. When he had reached the podium, he began, “Sire, fellow officers of the royal army, ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to stand here before you today.” He smiled wryly. “I’m proud to stand anywhere, in fact. We had some close calls in our encounters with the Palatian officers.” Everyone laughed.
Darien went on, “As you know, I’m little more than a farm boy who has been blessed beyond his dreams. When the king said he would allow me to marry one of his daughters, I felt humbled and unworthy. It seemed that the only way to accept his graciousness was to do something to prove myself. Most of you know that I agreed to bring back the medals of 100 Palatian officers.” He gestured to Colonel Oliver. The colonel and another soldier carried a box forward and placed it on the stage. “Your highness, I’m pleased to report that I have brought you the medals of 200 Palatian officers!”
Pandemonium broke out as the crowd leaped to its feet. The people began to chant, “Darien! Darien! Darien!” over and over. Kyle watched with fascination. He thought for a moment that General Darien could have told these people to do anything—anything at all—and they would have done it. But their admiration wasn’t shared on the stage. Kyle couldn’t help but notice that the king looked sour-faced, as did many of the officers with him. Was it possible that the king wasn’t happy with Darien’s success?
When the noise died down, Darien concluded by saying, “Sire, these are only tokens. But I believe they symbolize the power and determination of your people to serve you at home and abroad, in the luxury of peace or in fields of war. May your name bring joy to our allies and strike fear in the hearts of our enemies!” The crowd applauded enthusiastically again as Darien stepped away from the podium.
The king’s face worked from a frown into a forced smile. He said, “Thank you, General Darien. Two hundred medals? I’m sorry, but our laws don’t allow for you to marry two of my daughters!” The people laughed as he went on, “You do us a great honor, General. And it gives me added pleasure to announce my permission for you to marry my daughter Michelle, in the Sarum Cathedral, next Saturday.”
Wild applause followed once more. A beautiful young woman with long chestnut hair and large eyes that darted around nervously appeared in the wings of the stage and was led to General Darien. The king clasped their hands together. Kyle assumed it was Michelle. The king raised his arms, and the people got to their feet again with shouts, chants, stomping feet, and clapping hands. The roar of the ocean could not have been heard in that hall, Kyle thought.
But Kyle couldn’t take his eyes off the king. For all the bravado and praise, Kyle thought that he looked like a very unhappy man.
The Old Judge helped Anna into his horse-drawn wagon. He gave her some fruit to eat and then told her to rest while they drove to his cottage in the small village of Hailsham, several miles from the capital. Resting was easy; it was a glorious summer’s day. Anna stretched out to greet the warmth of the sun, which somehow seemed bigger here, and let it soak into her body. She still hadn’t gotten over the dampness of the dungeon. She dozed for a while and only woke up when the wagon wheel bumped a large rock on the unpaved road.
Anna yawned and looked around. Shafts of light shone on the green hills and groves of trees and highlighted the village of Hailsham, which, as she now saw, sat in the center of a valley. It was composed mostly of a small cluster of shops and offices and a few cottages sprinkled around the outskirts. Nearby, the railroad track cut like a scar into one of the hillsides. Somehow it didn’t take away from the beauty, though. The whole scene looked to Anna like the kind of village you’d find on a picture postcard of New England.
The Old Judge’s cottage sat between a field and a forest. It was a simple building, mostly white except for dark beams of timber that ran from the thatched roof to the ground. The leaded windows were shuttered and had window boxes filled with flowers of all kinds. Roses, carnations, pansies—Anna couldn’t name them all. When Anna and the Old Judge had climbed out of the wagon, he lifted the latch on the heavy brown door and invited her in.
The main room had dark paneling, a fireplace, and two comfortable-looking chairs sitting on a colorful carpet. Off to one side were a large hutch and several bookcases filled with books of all kinds. A grandfather clock watched them indifferently, its arm swinging from left to right and back again.
A second room served as the kitchen, with a stove, sink, and open cupboards containing a modest array of dishes and food containers. Anna noted three doors leading to what she guessed were the bedrooms. The main room was naturally cool since the trees from the forest blocked the sun when it was at its highest point. She sighed contentedly. It might have been the most charming place she’d ever seen in her young life.
“After I take care of the horses and wagon, I’ll make us some tea, and then we’ll have a little chat,” the Old Judge said. He went to put the wagon in his small barn and unhitch the horses to run in the field.
Anna sat down in one of the chairs and glanced at the clock. It was 3:02. Without meaning to, she fell asleep again. When she awoke, a small fire was crackling in the fireplace, and the Old Judge was reading a book in the chair across from her. “I’m sorry,” Anna said sleepily. “Did I sleep long?”
The Old Judge closed his book and peered at her over his reading glasses. “Not long,” he said.
She glanced at the grandfather clock. It said it was 5:17. “Oh,” she said, sorry to have slept for more than two hours.
The Old Judge pointed to a cup and saucer and plate on the end table next to her. “I made you a fresh cup of tea,” he explained, “and there are some pastries for you to munch on.”
She thanked him and devoured the pastries. She had forgotten how hungry she was. When she finished eating, she still felt hungry and wondered when dinner would be.
“Would you like more?” the Old Judge asked. “Are you still hungry?”
Her parents had taught her that asking for more was rude, whether one was hungry or not. “I’m okay, thank you,” she said.
“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” the old man said. “You’re still hungry or those wouldn’t be there.” He tilted his head toward the end table.
Anna looked over and barely stifled her surprise. The empty plate now had several more pastries on it. She looked around to see if the Old Judge had a servant waiting on them. The cottage was empty, however, except for the two of them. She rubbed her eyes and thought, I must be very, very tired. Or am I still dreaming?
The Old Judge watched her with a fixed smile as she ate two more pastries. “Is that better?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. Her hunger was taken care of, for the moment. She reached over to the end table for her cup of tea and was startled yet again. The plate of pastries was empty. But I only had two, and there must’ve been seven or eight on the plate, she nearly said out loud. She bit her tongue, however, and didn’t say a word. She thought she must be dreaming.
“Let’s talk about your situation,” the old man said.
“My situation?” she asked.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she answered. “I don’t even know how I got here.”
“You’ve been chosen for something. You don’t know what it is?”
“No, sir. All I know is that one minute I was in an abandoned house in the middle of the woods, and the next minute I was in the king’s closet.”
The Old Judge took off his glasses. “That’s very interesting.”
Surprised, Anna asked, “You believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Nobody else has.”
“We’re surrounded by men of little imagination and no faith,” the Old Judge said wearily.
“I’m not sure that I’d believe me,” Anna confessed.
“Do you believe you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I believe you too.”
Anna was genuinely puzz
led. “But . . . why do you believe me?”
“Because the ancient ways of the Unseen One are full of mystery. Just because your homeland can’t be found on any of our maps doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Obviously you’re real, so there must be something to your story. And I know that the Unseen One is real, so there you are.”
“There I am? Where am I?” Anna asked.
“In the middle of a wonderful mystery!” the Old Judge exclaimed. “Now, drink your tea.”
“I think it’s gotten cold,” Anna said.
“Is it?” he asked as he put his glasses back on.
Anna reached over for the teacup. It was filled to the brim and steaming hot.
“That’s strange,” she said.
“What is?” the Old Judge asked. His voice was farther away than it had been. He now stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a tray in his hand containing two cups of tea. She shook her head. He’d been sitting in the chair a moment ago. How did he move so fast?
“I must be dreaming,” she said. She looked at the grandfather clock. It now said it was 3:06.
The Old Judge smiled at her. For the first time, she noticed that his eyes were different colors. One was blue, the other green. “Were you dreaming, or are you dreaming now?” he asked.
The celebration banquet in the Great Hall ended, and Darien released his men to go home to their families. Kyle waited, unsure of what to do or where to go. He worried that Darien had forgotten him now that they were back in the capital. But Darien hadn’t. He insisted that Kyle return home with him until they could figure out what to do next.
Darien lived in a manor that the king had given him after he’d defeated the Monrovians in a long, grueling battle. Built in a Gothic style with pointed arches, ornate stonework, and elaborate gables, the manor was on the outskirts of the city, nestled in a cozy corner of the royal forest. It wasn’t as large as it was complicated, with halls and rooms twisting and turning in different directions.
The Marus Manuscripts Page 4