A Mother's Love

by Marian Unn

  Chapter 19

  It really was a private trial. I did not even leave my quarters. I dressed and was told to eat my breakfast, well before it was even given to me. I was wary of it when it came. How did I know there was not some foreign drug in it that would make me act strangely? But I told myself not to accuse or judge my son’s intentions, and so I ate it, but not all of it, for I did not feel a great desire to eat the morning that could possibly be my last.

  A knock came from my door. The maid, who was just about to take out my breakfast, opened it to four men who immediately came in. They were followed by two soldiers dragging in a man, a sack covering his head. I dare not see whose battered face lay behind it. It would surely be a gruesome and painful thing, seeing as the rest of his body was covered in horrific wounds.

  Leading the group was my son, who looked strange as he frowned, standing among the other three men who smiled and chatted, laughing about politics and some other mundane matters.

  They greeted me individually and courteously, as if we were at a party! I found them ridiculous and insulting. How could their manners be so light and carefree during such a serious event as a trial?! Whose verdict, I add, could possibly result in my death! What sort of men has my son trusted my fate to?

  Although they all looked eager to speak to me, they did not dare to. That is, they would not recognize me until Merek did, as was proper, out of respect to the King.

  I rose when Merek approached me. Kissing me on the hand like a stranger, he spoke aloud in a monotone voice, “Good morning, Mother.”

  Now even I knew better than to call him Merek in front of others, even if there were only a few. “Good morning, my King.” That was all I would call him. Not his majesty nor highness, for he was neither majestic nor high. However, he was the King of the land in which I lived, and so I called him that. All other titles would be a lie, and I do not wish to add to my sins with a lie.

  Seeing as he had greeted me, the others started their progressions towards me.

  “Ah! This must be his royal Highness’s mother, Madam Rosetta, I presume?” an elder gentleman with a crooked grin bowed to kiss my hand, his bald head shining as the small rays of the sun reached through the thin window. The next man made the same motions as the previous, but he was much younger and more quiet, saying nothing as he grinned in a most curious manner. The third man was just as chattery as the first. Though he was not nearly as bald as the first, he did not have as much hair as the second.

  “Hello! Hello, Madam! It is so good to have finally met you! My name is Daniel Huverstein. If I may be so bold as to proclaim, I am his Highness’s royal advisor.” Bowing and kissing my hand, he stood awkwardly next to the sofa. A third person on it would simply be over crowded, and Merek had already taken the second chair.

  “Ah, how rude of me, Madam! How rude of me!” the first man shouted, shaking his stout little body on the couch. “I forgot to introduce myself! Please forgive me, your Highness,” he smiled broadly, quickly bowing twice to Merek. Clearly the apology was not directed towards me.

  Before the first man could speak, Merek waved his hand and the man snapped his jaw shut, suppressing all the words he so desperately wanted to speak. “No,” Merek said without raising his voice, “Let Huverstein do it. You take too long and are too extravagant in your explanations. Huverstein will move much more quickly through the introductions. Now, Huverstein, begin.”

  The first man sneered with his eyes but smiled at Huverstein who held his head high for the King’s minor praise, his eyes laughing at his companions in victory.

  “Of course, your Highness,” he bowed. Turning to me, his eyes never touched mine as he spoke, quickly and simply, without stuttering or hesitation. He was clearly a confident and intelligent man. “As I previously informed you, my name is Daniel Huverstein and I am his Highness’ royal advisor. Granted I do more administrative work than advising since our brilliant King has no real need for anyone’s advice; and so I find any work given to me a great gift from his majesty.” He bowed several times to Merek. Whether he did so out of fear, stupidity, or real respect, was unclear to me. What is clear, however, is that he seemed to me to be somewhat like a pet of sorts, searching for praise and admiration from Merek in every word. Though Merek’s expression never changed, Huverstein seemed to become more and more excited the more he spoke. “Next is General Xavier Culeth. As you have probably guessed, he is the highest ranking general of the militia. Of course, his Highness is the absolute head of our great forces, but just below him is the General.” He emphasized the ‘below’ which caused the General’s cheeks to burn. “And finally, the young man here is Paulen Laurence. He may be young, but he is quite the intelligent young man. He holds the great title of the royal scientist, but he is also the royal librarian, lawyer, judge, and a very good poet as well! A brilliant young fellow really.”

  Laurence bowed with courtesy once more, his cheeks flushing bright as he sunk down into his seat. So this young man would probably be the one who determines my fate. After all, he appears to be the only one, besides Merek, who would have most likely memorized the law. His smile was oddly sweet and kind. I wonder how such a gentle child came to know Merek.

  It was remarkable how different the two were. I could list pages of differences, just by looking at them. Merek’s eyes were cold and dark. He does not smile or frown. Merek gives off a confident and superior aura where as Laurence is shy and appears humble. Laurence does not have an overpowering aura, but a welcoming and kind one.

  He appears to be a gentle fellow, though I know better than to let a sweet smile fool me. Still, he does look awfully kind.

  “Lastly,” Huverstein raised his head high, a tone of seriousness taking hold of his voice, “I suppose you already know him, but we shall introduce him as well.” Following his hand, I directed my eyes towards the man who up till this point had remained silent. I held my breath while they pulled the bag from his head, “This is Bartholomew Ygrate.”

  I nearly fainted at the sight of him! His face bruised purple, deep wounds became clearer as they pulled him into the light. The man was hardly recognizable! Though my heart shuttered at this sight, I kept my composure. I must not let them realize that I know him. I must not give away that I am aware of my circumstances and his.

  “We had the man known as Joshua Quetell in custody as well, but he was such a frail man. I am afraid he did not make it in the dungeon. Sorry to say he died last night.” Huverstein shook his head as if ashamed, his bright smile flickering back on his face not a moment later.

  Gripping my hands together at the mention of Quetell’s death, I could not help but shoot up as well. Squeezing my jaw shut tight, I sat back down quietly, the men’s eyes glancing curiously at me. What a foolish mistake! I must remember that I must not show emotion. I must not show sadness, nor fear, nor anger, or anything of any sort whatsoever! Though it was true that such emotions had been building themselves up inside of me, I did not show it on my face. I had cried so long last night and had hoped I would not be able to produce a tear today. However, with such news, I do not think it would take much more for me to break.

  ‘What of the children?’ Was the immediate thought that came to mind when they spoke of his death, but I said nothing. I just sat there quietly, trying my best not to cry out or scream as all the horrible thoughts of what could have become of them rushed to mind. And so I stared at the three men, refusing to look at Father Bart. The lock on my heart began to break, and I knew I would not be able to hold back my tears for long.

  “Begin with the questioning,” Merek ordered calmly. Leaning back in the chair, his eyes watched me carefully, observing me like some specimen, like some unpredictable creature in the bush. He looked at me as if I were a little creature of prey and he the predator, but he was wary to strike at me. For he knew I had teeth and claws just as sharp as his. So like a predator studying his prey, his sharp eyes studied me, trying to make me divulge something before a single question
could be asked. Although I knew this insufferable test was occurring over a span of a second, I still found myself suffocating under his perturbing gaze.

  “Yes, your Highness, I shall begin.” Laurence pulled some papers from his coat pocket, along with a case which held a thin pair of glasses, which he placed precariously at the end of his nose. Licking his thumb, he flipped through the papers, mumbling something to himself as he did. Peering over his spectacles he spoke to me in a quiet voice, but was it strong! Powerful and direct were his words, clean and precise, as he spoke the questions that would test and determine my innocence or guilt.

  “Did you or did you not go to town every Sunday evening?”

  Slamming down a mixture of feelings, I nodded, and in that instant realized that my response was improper and quickly corrected myself. “Why, yes, I used to go out often. I love this town. Although the castle is very grand and magnificent, it lacks one thing. Do you know what that is, Sirs?” I asked, but answered my own question before any one of them had a chance to respond, “People.”