“If what you’re doing isn’t the Lord’s work, I don’t know what is,” Justinian said. “You’re welcome to use the cathedral to do these good works as much as you need.”
The two of them strode to the center of the cathedral, and Alec began healing the people who had come for relief. A large throng of residents milled about the nave as a result of hearing about the previous day’s success, until the priests organized them in a line that circled back upon itself.
Alec again saw every person one at a time, listening to them, searching them with his health vision, laying his hands on them and praying with them and for them. The line moved at a steady pace, but would not diminish, as more people continued to drift into the lengthy queue. Alec directed many to get medications he knew should be readily available, and healed others directly, slowly sapping his energy, though he tried to conserve it after yesterday’s exhausting performance. At length he decided to call a halt to the effort, and directed the priests and guards to invite everyone to come back the following week.
“That was nearly three hours effort, majesty,” Justinian told him as he left the public view and returned to the private offices. “You must have helped more than two hundred people in the past two days.”
“It was just a fraction of those who need help, and next week it will be even greater,” Alec said as he sat slumped in a chair. “But it felt good to help the ones we could. Next time I think I’ll o mix up some of the most common remedies in big batches, and bring them with me to disperse to for typical complaints; that would help move things along faster.”
He took his leave and he and Rander rode back to the palace to meet again with Armilla, for a bite of lunch and, Alec hoped, a chance to rest. “We’re scheduled to go see the granaries this afternoon, as you requested,” Rander told him as they approached the palace. “We’ll need to leave again shortly.”With a groan Alec was back on Walnut without having much of a chance to rest, and rode far up the riverbank to a collection of very large stone silos, where the produce of the fields was stored for consumption, sale and protection.
The royal party found the operators of the granary terminal, and questioned them closely about the state of the silos and the capacity to store the harvest that would soon be leaving the farm fields to come to market.
“There’s not enough space here to hold what we usually see,” a worker told them as they rode among the structures. “I help work on a small farm, and the summer rains were very good this year, so we’re seeing a big harvest come in. Several of the silos haven’t had any maintenance work done in the past two years, and they aren’t ready to keep the grain from spoiling.”
Alec and the others thanked the man for his information, walked and rode about the silos some more, investigating the ones that seemed in worst shape, arranged to have repair crews sent out, then returned to the palace. “Rander, do you know how to contact the former close advisors to the king, folks like Marble or Ventin or Areley?”
“Sire, we’re trying to find them. They were the smart ones, the ones who got out of town early, before the troubles became apparent to the rest of us,” Rander reported. “It’s not easy to locate them, because so many others have moved or passed away, leaving no one to talk to about them.”
“Were you serious this morning about having a ball to bring the nobility back to the palace?” Alec asked as they dismounted from their horses at the stables.
“Well, yes, mostly,” Rander stumbled to answer, his face turning red with embarrassment.
“Is there a particular noble lady you hope to see attend?” Alec laughed, then when he saw the look on Rander’s face realized he had come close to the mark and he added, “Not that it matters, I think it may be a good idea. At least it will reward those who stayed behind if nothing else.” He secretly had his own lady he wanted to attend as well, heart-breaking though it might be to see her again.
The rest of the afternoon was a succession of meetings on small matters, after which Alec ate dinner alone and retired early, with Armilla at his door.
The next two days involved a series of introductions, meetings, and document signings, as the machinery of the palace began to revert to the operations of serving under an active leader. Alec managed to find time away from the duties to compose a letter to the Duke of Goldenfields. It was a task that required several false starts, as Alec tried to find the right voice between being a subject and being a ruler for a manreatly admired and looked up to. At last he felt he had found the right tone to strike, and wrote his note to be delivered to the Duke himself.
“Your Grace,
Your duchy is the place where I first found refuge from the fears of our troubled world, due largely to your kindness, leadership, and good example. Goldenfields remains at the heart of the Dominion, and its strength and success spell a better life for everyone who resides between the ocean and the mountains. With your permission, I will begin sending troops to help you in your battle against the lacertii who invade you, and I will send other forms of assistance and aid, so that all your efforts can focus on fighting the troubles from beyond our common borders.
With sincere regards for your people,
Alec, Protector of the Crown”
He wondered if the name he used was pretentious, but decided that it best explained who he was now, and signed it as such, then sealed the envelope, and asked for its speediest possible delivery to the Duke. He had listened to various people address him in a variety of ways with various titles, and knew that most were wrong, but wasn’t sure what was right.
Alec felt the urge that evening to visit the cathedral. He knew that he would return there in a few more days to heal the people again, but he felt drawn to the peaceful sanctuary it offered, a place to pray and experience the atmosphere of devotion. “Armilla, let’s take a little journey,” he said as he opened his door, feeling the sense of satisfaction that confirmed he was doing the right thing.
“Majesty, where do you wish to go? I’ll alert the Guard to establish an escort for you,” the towering woman replied standing in a pose that spoke of some surprise, some hint of uncertainty generated by the unexpected announcement.
“We don’t need an escort,” Alec replied, starting to walk towards the stables. “I feel called to go to the cathedral and pray. You and I can slip out of the palace and down to the cathedral unnoticed. It’s after sunset, and no one expects me to leave the palace, let alone go to chapel. Walnut will enjoy the ride, and I’ll benefit from the environment.”
Armilla sensed she would not win the argument, and decided to accept Alec’s judgment. Together they rode down the boulevard, hoods drawn to hide their faces. When they arrived, they tied their horses, and Alec led the way inside. He felt a need to find a certain place, but didn’t know what place it was. They climbed the flights of stairs to the chapels above the main sanctuary, and Alec paused as they passed the spot where he had fought and won the claim to protect the crown. He stopped there, thinking keenly about the warrior ingenaire powers he had possessed, and suddenly felt a sense of loss for having surrendered the greater portion of those powers.
I’m going to pray in here, if you’d please wait outside,” he told Armilla, putting his hand on the door to the chapel where so much had happened. In the evening no light shone through the large sunrise stained glass image that dominated the exterior, eastern side of the room.
Alec kneeled before the small altar, and tried to compose himself. He had seen the crown here, battled Julian here, traveled from and to this spot through time; he considered all the things that had transpired. He had done so much, pursuing goals that had been set for him, and he had lost the chance to reach the goal he had set for himself.
He clasped his hands more tightly together, and shook himself, trying to free himself from this melancholy. He fell into the comforting rhythm of the traditional prayers, words he had learned while a child in the orphanage. The melodic flow of the words drew his mind towards calmer waters, and he felt his pulse s
low down and the clamminess dissipate from his palms.
Alec knelt for a long time, praying for peace and tranquility. He asked to be made comfortable with the fate he received. He held a significant amount of responsibility for the Dominion, more than he was certain he could handle. He had lost a great portion of his warrior powers, and that troubled him. He wanted to be able to engage his powers at any time to deal with any problem that might arise. And he continued to regret losing Bethany’s affections. Yet he had to believe there was a reason for these things to have happened. So many good things had happened especially for him, he couldn’t believe that God had let things happen by chance. As he felt the restorative contemplation of his logic, he heard a muffled sound outside the door. Rising to his feet, he walked to the door and opened it, to find Armilla speaking with a priest.
“Armilla, we can leave,” Alec told his guard. “I feel better now. Have a good evening, brother,” he addressed the frocked individual who was with Armilla.
“Majesty, this person doesn’t believe you are the crown protector, and demands that we leave right now,” Armilla said with indignation in her voice, dissatisfied with the disrespect she believed was being shown to her sovereign.
“Since I’m ready to leave anyway, it’s nothing to bother about,” Alec said, not interested in protecting his dignity. “Please tell the Arch prelate I’ll see him again next week when I return to heal the population here,” Alec addressed the priest, and then he walked away, Armilla following him.
“You have to stand up as protector and not let people disrespect you,” Armilla said to Alec in an insistent voice as they returned to their horses.
“If you or I were that priest, we wouldn’t believe that the protector of the crown left the palace to sneak into a chapel to pray in the middle of the night either,” Alec answered.
“You’ll be sure to mention this to the Prelate when you see him, right?” Armilla persisted, looking for some vindication.
Alec agreed, and they rode back to the palace without incident. Twice more that week Alec felt called to the cathedral in the evening for prayer; neither night brough any further problems, but gave Alec a sense of comfort as he kneeled in the chapel and contemplated the complex situation he found himself in, trying to find the logic and the balance that took away the pain and uncertainty he felt. Even as he mourned his loss of the ability to battle at any time, or to call upon Bethany as his own lover, he took pleasure in knowing that Noranda had revived, and was hopefully safe with Brandeis while Durer was now leading Stronghold to better times.
The evening after his third visit to the cathedral, Alec had a dream of remarkable clarity and realism.
“Awaken, Alec,” John Mark said gently, sitting on the side of his bed.
“Teacher, why are you here?” Alec asked, sitting up in bed, startled by the appearance of the prophet.
“You are so troubled, Alec, and you shouldn’t be,” the small man replied. “You are doing the Lord’s work, just as much as the priests in the churches are.”
“Thank you,” Alec said. “That is good to hear, but it’s not enough. I just feel so unhappy, now that I’ve lost Bethany. I’d come to rely on her to be waiting for me; thinking about her was something that kept me going during the past several months; expecting to love her was the goal I relied on in my everyday thinking.”
“That pining away is not good for you Alec. You wanted Noranda, but you learned that God had other plans for her and you accepted that. You’ve since seen how they turned out; you know the joy that she and Brandeis have found in each other. And you know they will help make Stronghold a better place, thereby making the Dominion a better place. There is a plan for you too, Alec. You should trust God to always have a plan for your heart.
“Do not let your pain disrupt your thoughts. Remain clear-headed. And remember that your other concerns are also part of God’s plan. I know you wish for your warrior powers to be an everyday ability. But it cannot be so now. It would be a weakness for you to think that you could go out every day and win every battle. A ruler must be a father, and a conciliator, and a leader, but seldom a warrior, especially not when it comes to handling the matters of your own subjects,” John Mark explained. “You will be a warrior when you need to be, don’t worry. Let your mind and your soul be at rest, and continue to show everyone what a good ruler you will be until the heir is announced. Now rest soundly. I am so pleased with you, my son.”
Alec awoke the next morning, feeling comforted and relieved of some of his worries. There was no evidence that John Mark had physically been in the room with him. But Alec knew that the prophet cared for Alec deeply, and he knew that the message was meant to give him relief from his concerns.
That day Rander reported that some of the former king’s advisers had been located and had agreed to meet with the new leader. He set up a meeting with them and with Alec’s banker from Traders Bank, who had quickly studied the finances of the throne. Alec asked that Brannis and Rubicon be invited to join as well.
The afternoon of the meeting arrived, and Alec welcomed his guests. He remembered meeting some of them back whildevny had ruled.
“It is a pleasure to see you again,” he told Ventin and Marble, reminding them of the night at the Ingenairii Apprentice Ball, when they had met. “Thank you for coming back to the palace. You understand how badly the Dominion has been harmed. There is a lot that needs to be done to restore order. You were trusted advisors to King Gildevny and I’m certain you have some ideas of what can be done, or should be done. I’d appreciate your sitting in here with us to hear some reports about our funds, and give me your thoughts about what we do next.”
“Winsor, would you tell us what you’ve found out from looking at our books,” Alec said to the banker sitting at the other end of the table. All the others at the table swiveled their heads to direct their attention away from the crown protector, and towards the young man with the sheaf of papers before him.
“Your majesty, you are not collecting any duties on goods that ship in through the port here at Oyster Bay, nor any due payments from your vassals, and only a portion of the property taxes here at Oyster Bay,” the man reported succinctly. He detailed how duty payments from shippers had stopped after the old king died, and that vassal payments had not arrived at all in the past year. “Most of the nobles have stopped paying their property taxes, although your agents are still collecting from the small businesses and small farmers close to the city,” he explained.
“So you’re saying we’re not getting very much money at all compared to what the crown used to receive,” Rander said. “How do we get that money back? Do we even know how much people owe us?”
“You’ve still got some people who work in the palace who know what you’re owed,” Winsor replied. “They can give you a list of the nobles who owe you money. As far as the trade duties, you need to start manning the collection offices at the docks, probably with several soldiers at first. And the last part, collecting from your vassal states, well, that probably requires the protector to send some message of his own to the other rulers regarding payment,” he finished, looking at Alec. After further discussion about specific figures and amounts, Winsor left the meeting, depositing several more bags of coins from Alec’s account on the table.
“Sire,” Ventin spoke up, “do you feel that you can contact Natha Millershome’s dockyard to find out if they will voluntarily start to comply with the duties?”
Alec looked around the room. “Is this what being a ruler is always like? I watched Duke Toulon in Goldenfields do so much of this very type of stuff, but I never thought a king would be so busy with so many of these types of activities. Fixing roads, collecting taxes, storing grain, even planning coronation balls just to make the nobles happy – the things we talk about are always meant to achieve something, but will I ever do something just because it’s what I want to do?”
“Rulers don’t have to do all these things you’re trying to do; only the good on
es do these things. There have been many kings who didn’t bother with all this work, and unless the king’s staff was very good, the people of the Dominion paid the price,” Marble said, without making it sound like a lecture.
Alec sighed. “I will go talk to the Millershome and Locksfort dockyards tomorrow,” he said. “Ventin, if you think you know who we have on staff to collect duties, Brannis will have several men escort him to the independent traders’ docks in the morning.”
“What did you say about a party, your majesty?” Marble asked.
“Tell him Rander; it was your idea,” Alec replied.
Rander paused before speaking. “We were thinking of ways to get the nobility to return to the city, and I suggested putting on a coronation ball, so they all would come to dance and to see the protector of the crown.”
“It sounds like an excellent plan. Once you get them here, you can start collecting taxes from them, and then pay for cleaning the roads and making the city safe for them,” Marble responded encouragingly. “Announce that the ball will be held and let the news get out among the nobles, and see how many flock back to town. We’re going to be pretty well into the autumn by then, so they’ll be happy to have an excuse to return to the city.”
Rander looked at Alec, who shrugged. “Go ahead and follow his advice,” Alec said. “Although I regret it now, that’s why we brought these two back.” He grinned.
“Shall I use these funds to pay the army and constabulary?” Brannis asked, pointing to the money Winsor had left behind.
The Lifesaving Power: Goldenfields and Stronghold Page 23