by Tracey Alley
years, losing her sight, her mobility and finally, her intellect. Ursula still spent several hours a day with her mother but it was painful to watch the formerly strong, beautiful queen as she struggled to accomplish the most basic tasks. It hurt the young princess when her mother was unable to remember who she was or where she was.
A Queen’s Death
At the close of the first month of her father’s absence Ursula had gone early to her mother’s chambers. She had been driven there by the same sense of impending danger that she had felt the morning of her father’s departure.
Arriving outside her mother’s door Ursula had been stunned to see her mother’s handmaid, Gilta; a gruff dwarf originally from the mountains bordering Laxdale and Kemet, who was utterly devoted to the aging queen, standing outside in the corridor instead of her usual post at the Queen’s side.
“Gilta, why are you not with the Queen?” Ursula had demanded.
“Oh Your Highness,” Gilta began, tears streaming down her lined, weather beaten face, “I wish I was but your brother, the Prince, he sent me out. Your lady mother, the Queen Urda, she’s not well. I don’t know what’s happened but it’s as though her insides are wrenching themselves outside. I asked the Prince to call for a priest but he sent me out and is attending her himself.” Gilta broke down completely, unable to continue.
“Stay here, Gilta, I will check on the queen myself,” Ursula said, patting the now sobbing dwarf on the shoulder.
The princess went to open the door to the Queen’s chambers only to find the door had been barred from the inside. For a moment Ursula was so shocked she simply stood staring at the closed door; never in her life had she known of a locked or barred door within the palace complex.
“Ulrich,” Ursula had cried out, coming to herself and banging on the door, “why is this door barred? Let me in, I want to see Mother.”
For a few moments Ursula heard nothing but silence, just as she was about to knock again the door opened a crack.
“Ursula, forgive me, I merely barred the door to ensure Mother’s privacy, please come in,” Ulrich said, standing back and opening the door fractionally wider to allow Ursula to slip inside.
Unlike Ursula and Slade, who both resembled their father with their extreme fair hair and dark blue eyes, Ulrich had always more closely resembled their mother, who was daintily built with dark coloring. Ulrich shared their mother’s shiny blue-black hair, dark eyes and her diminutive stature. Ulrich was shorter than even Ursula by half a head, and a full head shorter than either their father or Slade. Ulrich also shared their mother’s much more slender build, although the daintiness that was so attractive on Queen Urda was less attractive and seemed almost effeminate in her eldest son.
“Ulrich, why was this door barred? Why was Gilta sent away?”
“Forgive me, sister, but I deemed it best under the circumstances to give Mother some privacy. I was about to send someone to call for you when you arrived. Come quickly, I fear Mother is not long for this world,” Ulrich turned away walking back to their mother’s bedside.
The sight of her mother was a terrible shock to Ursula. Although Queen Urda had been unwell for some time she had, for the most part, retained the grave air of dignity that had been the hallmark of her life. Now, however, the Queen seemed a mere shell of the woman she had been only the day before. Sweat stood out clearly on her brow, a strong stench filled the room and a quick glance around showed the young princess that her mother’s inside had been, as Gilta had put it, trying to wrench themselves outside.
Whatever illness had struck her mother down so quickly appeared to be centered in her bowels and her stomach with both of those organs trying to purge themselves. Ursula walked closer to the bed, taking up her mother’s hand, which was cool and clammy. As Ursula bent to kiss her mother’s cheek she was struck by the waxy appearance of her mother’s skin and the strange smell on her breath. In the back of her mind those two things were somehow significant but in that moment Ursula could not remember what that might have been.
As Ursula looked down at her mother’s sightless eyes staring endlessly at a ceiling she could no longer see, her own tears had begun to flow. Sitting on the Queen’s bed, holding her hand Ursula tried to talk to her mother but received no response. How long the young princess sat on the edge of the bed, whispering words of encouragement to her mother and her queen her did not know. All the while she sat there she had prayed to any gods who might be listening to spare her mother.
She also wished that her father was by her side instead of her eldest brother, whom she had never truly felt close to, not in the same way she and Slade had been close. The minutes had stretched into hours and Ursula did not move. Finally, after the sun had reached its zenith in the sky Ursula heard her mother take a last choking breath before lying still. At that moment Ursula had laid her head on her mother’s stomach, powerless to stop the flow of tears streaming down her face.
With the death of Queen Urda a change had settled over the palace of which Ursula had been initially unaware. Wrapped in her grief over losing her mother, desperately missing her father and without even her dearest brother to talk to she had not noticed at first the new deference being shown to Ulrich. Although Ulrich had been left as Regent during their father’s absence he had not been taken very seriously by the palace staff, the guards or even the populace.
Queen Urda’s death seemed to have changed all that. Suddenly people began treating Ulrich as High King. At the funeral for their mother Ulrich had dressed in light weight plate mail, obviously copied from their fathers rather than being the actual suit of mail that their father typically wore, as well as the full royal regalia. On Ulrich's orders the funeral had been rushed, allowing no time for any envoys from the other kingdoms to attend, something Ursula had found unusual. Even more unusual had been Ulrich's decision to give their mother a warrior’s traditional funeral pyre before sending her remains out to sea. When Ursula had questioned him about it Ulrich had replied he was simply honoring their mother, stating Queen Urda had been as much a warrior as any one of them in her own way.
At the time, although Ursula had found it strange she had not been suspicious. While she had never been very close to Ulrich he was still her brother and she had no reason then to doubt him. It was after the funeral that she began to notice the change in Ulrich. He now wore full regalia almost all of the time and went everywhere with a handpicked crew of royal bodyguards, something her father had never done. He also began to have strange visitors, not received openly in the palace reception hall, but who met with him privately in his own chambers. More disturbing Ursula noticed that at none of these meetings were there any Knights of Belenus present nor were there any of the monks from the Black Lotus monastery.
Whenever their father had conducted affairs relating to the governance of Saxenburg Erich had always included both the Knights of Belenus and the monks, preferring as many different viewpoints as possible to ensure the best decision was reached. Looking back on it now she realized that if she had thought anything at the time it was simply that Ulrich was not really fit to rule and handled authority badly. Each day that went past Ursula counted as a day closer to her beloved father’s return, a day closer to the time when Ulrich would resume his role as a Crown Prince and life would go back to normal.
In the meantime Ursula continued her studies in preparation for her final examination at the Black Lotus monastery just as her father had asked. There had been a time when Ursula had wanted nothing more than to join the ranks of the warrior monks and serve her kingdom. Two years ago when Ursula had begun to study under Solomon the strict ideals of the monks had seemed perfectly suited to the life she imagined herself leading. All the monks swore vows of poverty, chastity and humility, devoting their lives to study, to preserving the history of The Kingdoms and to aiding the royal family of Saxenburg in times of need.
As the day drew closer to the irrevocable moment of swearing tho
se vows Ursula had found that some of those restrictions no longer seemed as appealing as they once had. She still enjoyed the physical aspects of combat training, still believed in the ideals of protecting her people and her family. She also still enjoyed the study of the history and lore but she now knew that in her heart the isolated life of a monk was no longer truly her desire.
Still, with the continued absence of her beloved father, and now her mother’s untimely death, Ursula found that her studies provided some small measure of comfort. Becoming a monk, whichever monastery you would like to serve, was not an easy task. The potential monks of any monastery were rigorously trained in many various disciplines. The Black Lotus monastery trained potential candidates ruthlessly in all forms combat, although their main emphasis was on unarmed combat and strict physical conditioning. Despite the seriousness and strictness of their combat training they were actively discouraged from using the skills they honed daily. A warrior monk, she was always told, fought only when absolutely necessary and all other avenues had been exhausted.
In addition prospective monks were expected to study extensively. Not only the histories of The Kingdoms but they were