by Brian Bakos
“The voice of war,” I say.
“Beg pardon, my lord?” Clyde says.
“The voice of war,” I say. “It isn’t screaming any longer.”
I spy King Bertram atop his great horse – a dark and glowering figure surveying the field of slaughter. I stand upon the rock and wave my good arm.
“Father! Over here!”
My words cannot have carried well, but somehow they reach the King’s ear. He turns my direction, and a bright ray of sunshine bursts upon his face. In moments he has crossed the field and dismounted.
“Rupert!”
He sweeps me up in his great arms and kisses my cheek.
“Thank heaven you’re safe!”
He sets me back on my feet. Tears flow from our eyes, and we brush them away without embarrassment.
“Look at you,” Father says, “thin as a willow switch. Your mother will be upset.”
He grips Clyde’s hand.
“Welcome back! I feared we’d seen the last of you.”
Clyde expands with pride like a blown-up goatskin. He bows deeply.
“Ever at your service, Your Majesty,” he says.
General Colfax approaches with Talbot and Norman.
“Your Lordship!”
The General’s granite face splits into a wide grin. He runs the last few yards and grasps my hand.
“This is indeed a blessed day.”
Father sets aside his joy and assumes an official tone.
“Who are these men, General?” he asks.
“The rebel leaders, Sire,” Colfax says.
Talbot bows.
“Captain Talbot reporting, Majesty, and my deputy commander, Lieutenant Norman.”
“Good work men!” Father says. “Your arrival could not have come at a better time.”
He turns his back and stands conferring with the military officers. Quick as that, Talbot and Norman pass from my command to the King’s. The men form a solid wall which leaves no room for me to enter.
Father glances back over his shoulder.
“Excuse me, son,” he says. “I must speak further with these gentlemen. Go and get cleaned up, we’ll talk later.”
“Yes, Father.”
The King and his commanders stride off together. Talbot and Norman turn back briefly and salute. I return their salute.
Then they are gone.
All around, my Rebel Army is being absorbed into the ranks of the King’s troops, taking orders from Sopronian officers. A force that had been a mighty extension of my will abruptly ceases to exist.
All I have left is a bow which has proved too powerful for me.
“Well, Clyde,” I say. “It’s time to go home.”
Epilog: To the Future
King Bertram quickly brought order to the Eastlands, now renamed East Sopronia. He wiped out the last bandit gangs and established the rule of law throughout this once criminal realm. Our country now extends from the Western Mountains to the East Sea.
The pirates disappeared back into the vast oceans from whence they came. A new town is going up in place of their old settlement. I am granted the honor of having it named after me. It is now known as Rupert Bay.
I spend much of my time here wandering the construction site and observing our ships maneuvering out on the water. Clyde often accompanies me.
Father has loaned Captain Petra both vessels for a voyage to his home country. In return, Petra is training the first recruits of our new navy.
“Another few months and we’ll be ready to sail,” Petra told me this morning.
“That must gladden your heart,” I said.
“Aye, Your Lordship. Sopronia is a fair country, but for a seaman like me, any land becomes too confining before long.”
“So it would seem,” I said.
He gave me a questioning look.
“Your Lordship feels something similar?”
I made no reply.
***
Talbot comes to visit this afternoon, finding me and Clyde on our usual hillside observing the ships. Talbot has little to do these days besides tend the estate Father granted him for his service to our country. Eastlander officers are not welcome in our army, except for Norman who can pass for a ‘true Sopronian.’
What a stupid waste!
“So nice of you to come, Captain,” I say. “I should have thought you’d be busy with your crops.”
Talbot chuckles. “Imagine – me, a farmer! No, I’ve leased my fields to the neighbors. A profitable arrangement for us all.”
He gazes at the town and at the new road snaking along the shore.
“The Eastlands are becoming civilized,” he says.
“Yes ... they are,” I say.
Talbot cocks an eyebrow.
“Perhaps a bit too civilized for Your Lordship’s liking?”
“Soon they’ll be just like the rest of Sopronia,” I say. “Already our noblemen are moving in, grabbing up the best land. I’d thought we could do without them here.”
“Surely they won’t oppress the people,” Talbot says.
“Father will prevent that,” I say. “Still ...”
I think about the many good men who perished in the war. They are seldom far from my mind these days.
“Was it all worth it, Talbot?” I ask.
The Captain smiles.
“We move in the current of history, my lord, and can only see ahead a small distance. But, yes, I believe future generations will look upon us with favor.”
I nod, then wave a hand at the distant ships.
“Petra’s efforts are going well,” I say.
“Indeed they are,” Talbot says.
A long silence follows, broken only by the cawing of seagulls. Clyde, Talbot, and myself each mull our private thoughts.
“Let me venture a guess,” Talbot finally says. “Your Lordship wishes to accompany Petra on the voyage?”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” I say.
“Me too!” Clyde pipes up. “Take me along.”
“Certainly, Clyde – if I should go,” I say, “but that is highly unlikely.”
“I shall go with you as well,” Talbot says.
“But I thought your ambition was to live in the ‘Golden Land,’” I say.
“And I shall, as long as Your Lordship is also there,” Talbot says. “But wherever you travel, conflict is certain to follow. You will always require defenders.”
“If you expect violent adventure, you will surely be disappointed,” I say. “I would be going as a peaceful observer only.”
Talbot shakes his head.
“Your Lordship has a deep hatred for all evil things, and it is your nature to oppose them. This will be constant source of strife.”
“You’re quite the philosopher, Talbot,” I say.
“I only state the obvious, my lord.”
“Well,” I say, “if you feel that strongly about it ... yes, you may come along.”
“Thanks, my lord,” Talbot says.
“Besides, Father told me that I couldn’t go without you,” I say.
Talbot looks astonished for a moment, then he breaks into a wide grin.
“Well, you’ve outfoxed me again,” he says. “That’s why you’re the Prince and I’m – ”
“The greatest soldier in our kingdom,” I say.
We look out over the bay, following the long sunset shadows from the hills to the open sea beyond.
THE END
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