by Jeff Wheeler
Maia felt a little faint as she watched Dodd begin to march. As the new Earl of Forshee, Dodd carried the velvet pillow with her crown. Richard Syon’s wife, Joanna, carried the Cruciger orb on another pillow. The Earl of Caspur bore the scepter, which was made of solid gold, wreathed with ornate designs, and topped with enormous sapphire gems.
And finally it was her turn. Sabine squeezed her arm one last time and let her go. She would follow in the crowd behind. The High Seer was not part of the ceremony, her position being dominant over all the rulers of the realms.
Maia sucked in her breath and started to walk. Her royal gown was simple and beautiful, but it would be changed once the anointing was complete. Another gown awaited her at the abbey. Her train was carried by Suzenne, the Countess of Forshee, and they were followed by the other ladies-in-waiting whom Maia had chosen to serve her.
As she trod on the rumpled blue cloth, gazing straight ahead with as much dignity as she could muster, there was an audible sigh from the crowd, and a hush quickly fell across those who had assembled to watch the auspicious occasion. She saw men doff their hats and crush them against their shirts. Women bowed and curtsied as she passed by them. Though she longed to stare at her people, Maia maintained the tradition and kept her eyes fixed on the abbey spire. There was a tradition that queens be carried in a litter—that was the way Lady Deorwynn had insisted upon—but there was also another tradition for going on foot, which Maia preferred. Her hair was down and full, decorated with no braids or ornaments.
The procession to the abbey was not long, but to Maia it lasted an almost unendurable time. She had never been the focus of so many eyes. She wondered, darkly, if the kishion was among those who watched her. She did not doubt that he was, and the thought caused a chill to seep into her bones. She wished Collier had been able to attend the occasion. She knew from Simon that he had landed safely in Dahomey, but that was all she had heard.
The abbey grounds had been decorated for the occasion, but her heart was beating hard in her chest and she barely paid attention to her surroundings as she entered the main gates, glancing up at the tall archway and blinking back at the bright sunlight. A large platform had been erected in the middle of the courtyard where the ceremony would take place. She saw the canopy screen being held in the ready. On each side of the courtyard, benches had been constructed, and the choir from Assinica had assembled, a group of at least a hundred men, women, and even children.
She saw Aldermaston Wyrich awaiting her at the head of the platform, a tall, stately figure. His hands were clasped in front of him, and he stared at her with a peaceful, reassuring look, as if he saw her fears and concerns and hoped to soothe them.
The constant regret of what had happened to her in the lost abbey pressed down on her more than ever. But she marched forward, determined to face her humiliation with as much dignity as possible.
The inner courtyard was teeming with the nobles of the realm. Flags fluttered in a small breeze. Those bearing the royal regalia mounted the steps in front of her and arranged themselves around the Aldermaston. Maia came forward and then knelt on a cushion in front of him. He gave her a warm smile and winked affectionately, a final attempt to calm her.
The Aldermaston turned to those assembled. “My friends, here present is Marciana, rightful and undoubted inheritrix by the laws of maston and man to the Crown and royal dignity of this realm of Comoros. This day she is appointed by the peers of this land for the consecration, inunction, and coronation of said most excellent Princess Maia.” He smiled benevolently, his voice easy and unpretentious, his accent only adding to the richness. He was an excellent speaker. “Will you serve, at this time, and give your will and assent to the same?”
Maia trembled on her knees, waiting to hear her people’s pledges. They came in a rush of sound, filled with enthusiasm and forcefulness.
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”
The sound sent shudders jolting through her, and she felt, for the first time that day, the whispering of the Medium. It brought a feeling of warmth, of approval, and most importantly, of peacefulness. Within the grounds of Claredon Abbey, she had found the reassurance she had not felt in the palace. She closed her eyes as the Aldermaston laid his hand on her head.
“Please close your eyes,” he instructed those assembled. She sensed him raising his hand in the maston sign.
“Marciana Soliven, by Idumea’s hand, I Gift you on this, your coronation day. I Gift you with the wisdom to rule and lead this mighty people, to defend your realm against its enemies. I Gift you with patience and understanding, so that you may judge not after the manner of men, but in accordance with the will of the Medium. I grant you a feeling of peace on this day and with . . .”
His voice dropped off. Maia felt a prickle of unease. A strange darkness settled on her soul as he started to speak again, his voice choked with emotion. “Maia . . . I Gift you with . . . hope. When the storm comes. When night shrouds this land and your heart. When you are at the brink of utter despair, I Gift you with hope that will see you through.” He forced the words through his teeth, his turbulent feelings clearly roiling beneath the surface. “Even the darkest night will give way to the dawn. Remember this, Maia. Remember this, our queen. Make it thus so.”
The words he spoke sent a pall over those assembled. He lowered his arm from the maston sign, and Maia opened her eyes and looked up at his face. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he stared down at her with deep sympathy, and she shuddered at what it meant. What had he seen as he had performed the Gifting? It was clearly a premonition of something horrible.
Aldermaston Wyrich extended his hand to help her rise. As she came to her feet, the choir from Assinica began to sing.
It was a sound unlike anything she had ever heard before.
The voices were strong, skilled, and perfectly blended. It was not a song with words, just a series of chords and strains. There were no instruments to accompany them, but their voices replicated the sounds of a full orchestra, some low and throbbing, some high and piercing. It was soft, lilting, and the force of it grew and grew, swelling like a rainstorm of sound that washed across the courtyard of the abbey, ascending over the walls and into the streets. Maia could hear the sounds of the little ones, the children, among the others, and it stung her eyes with tears.
The choir’s music built and then ebbed and then built again to a crescendo more powerful and affecting than anything she’d ever heard. With the sound came the Medium. It was as if the singers had ensnared it with a spell, their voices a supplication that could not be denied. Maia stared at them in wonder and awe, experiencing a flood of unexpected emotions. The gathered crowd was mesmerized too, she could tell. The choir’s song had stilled the enormous city as if it were a child too wonder-struck to breathe. The feeling of the Medium permeated the throng, spreading to every soul who could hear the singing.
Maia glanced back at the Aldermaston, who beamed with pride and approval at those who were singing the coronation anthem. She stared at him in disbelief, understanding anew the importance of these people they had saved from destruction. She could not imagine what would have happened if the Victus had gotten to them first, silencing their music, art, poetry, and craft forever.
The choir finished singing, the end of their performance leaving pricks of gooseflesh down Maia’s arms. The Aldermaston smiled at the choir. There was no clapping or cheering. Praise would only have defiled such purity of music.
Aldermaston Wyrich gestured for her to kneel again. She did and lifted her face to him.
“Will you, Lady Maia, pledge to defend your subjects, maintain peace, and administer justice throughout the realm?” He smiled at her again, but now there was solemnity in his expression.
“Yes,” she answered boldly.
“Will you promise to the people of Comoros, your realms and dominions, to keep the just and licit laws and liberties of this realm and your dominion?”
“Yes,” she said. Now was the time. She shuddered wit
h anxiety, but the dread in her heart had vanished.
Once she had risen from the pillow, the Aldermaston escorted her to the canopy held by four men who were part of her Privy Council—the mayor, the Earl of Caspur, Dodd, and Richard Syon. Suzenne waited behind them to help her disrobe.
She trembled with cold as Suzenne helped strip away her gown, leaving her in her chaen and chemise. She saw the men’s eyes widen as they took in the sight of the kystrel’s taint rising from beneath her bodice. Even Dodd’s mouth firmed into a small frown. Maia breathed deeply and then knelt once again before the Aldermaston.
Aldermaston Wyrich turned to the four men, his expression grave. “We allow you knowledge of this,” he said softly, “so that there be no deceit in the realm. The marks of corruption you see on her body were not chosen willingly; they were offenses done against her. She passed her maston oaths at Muirwood on Whitsunday. She is a queen-maston, not a hetaera.”
As he spoke, the force of the Medium jolted through the group, as palpable as it had been during the choir’s performance. Maia saw those holding the staves start to tremble, as if the meager weight of it were suddenly too heavy to bear. Tears trickled down Caspur’s cheeks. With a look of astonishment, the mayor flushed and turned away his gaze. Dodd continued to look at her for a moment, his expression changing to wonderment, and then shifted his gaze to Suzenne, as if to ask if she already knew. Suzenne nodded and smiled knowingly.
Richard Syon, who had long known the truth, gave Maia a look of tenderness and encouragement that warmed her heart and emboldened her. He was the one who had helped her the most. He had sustained her, taught her the ways of the Medium, and enlightened her with wisdom and the tomes of the ages. She respected him as a father.
Aldermaston Wyrich took out a small delicate vial topped with a jeweled stopper, which he unsealed. “The Chrism oil,” he said. Then he dipped his smallest finger into the vial and anointed her forehead, temples, shoulders, and breastbone with the pungent-smelling oil.
The wetness and warmth of the oil felt strange against Maia’s skin, yet it did not burn or hurt. It did not mark her as something counter to the Medium. “This coronation ritual has existed for centuries,” the Aldermaston explained. He spoke louder, his voice carrying past the curtain for the crowd to hear. “This oil is pressed from fruit in a certain garden in Idumea. The Garden of Semani. Called the Chrism oil, it is used to anoint Aldermastons. And in this case, a queen. I bestow upon you the rights and stewardship of the kingdom of Comoros as sovereign ruler. May you keep and preserve your oaths as you defend this people.”
“Amen,” uttered the four men holding the canopy. As she looked at each of the men holding the canopy, she saw nothing but respect and loyalty. She felt their support and was silently grateful.
Suzenne then opened a wardrobe chest and removed the queen’s regalia, a gown befitting Maia’s rank, though one that was less adorned than the ones Lady Deorwynn had favored. She quickly helped her dress, covering her from the sight of the men who now knew her secret. With the binding sigil removed, they would be free to speak of it with others. She silently hoped that they would not, that the power of the Medium they had felt would be enough to silence their tongues.
Once she was dressed in the ceremonial gown, they lowered the covering and revealed her to the rest of those assembled in the courtyard. The Aldermaston then summoned the implements of her authority—the sword of state, which he girded around her waist as if she had been a king, the scepter of power, and the Cruciger orb. Then in front of everyone assembled, the Aldermaston put the coronation ring on her finger—marrying her to the kingdom—and the crown on her head, giving her full authority over it. This finalized the ceremony.
As she felt the metal of the crown weigh down her hair and press against her temples, the choir of Assinica started to sing again, and this time their anthem was more festive and celebratory. Their song signaled to the crowds that the coronation was over, and the cheer that began outside the walls shook the very platform on which Maia stood. People on rooftops visible over the abbey walls waved hats and screamed her name. There were so many people in the street, on porches and verandas and roofs, it was almost a riot. She would have to pass through them to get back to the palace, and the very notion of doing so was daunting.
The choir continued to sing as the procession began to return to the castle, leaving in the same order that it had entered. The sea of onlookers strained against the wall of pikemen who had formed to prevent the people from converging on the street.
“Are you relieved it is almost over?” Suzenne whispered from behind her.
“Over?” Maia asked, straining with a smile and twirling the scepter as she waited for their turn to walk. “My troubles are just beginning.”
The coronation was celebrated with an enormous feast at the palace that evening, though Maia felt disgruntled by the mood of revelry in the hall, by the freely flowing spirits. But she had harkened to the lord mayor’s counsel not to change the tradition. Doing so would have risked offending the nobles and the common people, who expected to celebrate such occasions. The audience hall had been turned into an enormous banquet—after removing the benches, the palace servants had brought in tables and arranged them in a giant square. Now Maia sat on a raised dais with her councillors. Her seat, by tradition, was higher than all the rest. She had eaten sparingly, still nervous about the first official day of her reign. Part of her poor mood had to do with her father. She could not stop thinking about how he had managed to convince himself that the authority invested in him by an Aldermaston could be superseded by royal decree. It was unthinkable. The solemn occasion had touched her deeply, and she felt the marks of the Chrism oil almost as if they were a palpable burden laid on her by Aldermaston Wyrich. How could her father have deceived himself and bucked the traditions of the realm so completely? Another qualm she felt about the celebration was that this display of wantonness, greed, drunkenness, and celebration did not seem to acknowledge the true state of the kingdom. They were on the verge of being attacked by the Naestors and their limitless cargo of bloodthirsty warriors, who hoped not just to steal their treasures, but to put every one of their victims to death.
She stared at the throng around her, at all of the courtiers imbibing and eating, feeling anxious for the demonstrations of wealth, wine, and feasting to end. The people, she had heard, were carousing in the streets. They had ripped down every decoration to keep as souvenirs and had already filled the gutters with debris and muck. Maia had told Richard that she wanted the streets swept again that night so they would be clean in the morning.
“My lady, a word?” came a voice at her ear, and she turned to find the mayor, Justin, standing nearby with a wine goblet.
“Was is it?” she asked him, her brow crinkling under her brooding thoughts.
“You do not look as if you are enjoying this celebration.”
She shook her head. “I am not. The people appear to have forgotten the danger we face.”
He frowned. “No . . . they celebrate, which does not happen often enough. I wondered if you had considered what to do with the Rundalen estate?”
“Please, Justin,” she said, waving him off. “I said I would make all such decisions in the presence of the Privy Council after taking some time for deliberation. This is not the place.”
“Very well. I beg your pardon.” He sauntered off, stopping to bid a servant to fill his cup. She frowned after him, missing Collier so much it hurt.
“What did the lord mayor want?” Suzenne asked, approaching Maia from behind. It was an immediate comfort to have her close.
“What they all seem to want right now,” Maia replied with disappointment. “Money and power. It will not be easy to change the temperament my father instilled at court. All this celebration is making me ill. Can they not appreciate that danger and doom are almost upon us?”
Suzenne rested her hand on Maia’s arm. “You have seen the armada, Maia. They have not.”
&
nbsp; Maia watched a married man flirting with a younger woman. The sight sickened her. “Where is Jayn?” she asked.
“Over there,” Suzenne responded. “Talking to Joanna. Jayn is grateful for you, you know. If things had gone differently, she would be sitting in your chair right now. She dreaded it.”
Maia suppressed a smirk. “I would almost welcome a reprieve. I am glad she is staying on as a lady-in-waiting. She must be very overwhelmed by all the sudden changes. I am sure we all are.”
There was a commotion at the entrance to the great hall, and a rider appeared, bringing his stallion into the assemblage. He wore the royal colors, and Maia recognized him as Captain Carew, her champion. This was part of the ritual as well. The crowd of feasters stopped talking as the horse clomped in, snorting roughly at the mess and crowd. The tables were lined around in a giant square, leaving an opening in the middle. Carew’s steed trotted to the center. He wore ceremonial armor, gauntlets, and had a sword belted to his waist.
“Who dares to affirm that this lady is not the rightful queen of this kingdom? Who dares it?” His voice bellowed out to those assembled in mock sincerity. Maia saw he was a good actor. He looked both menacing and handsome as he stared into the crowd. “Who challenges her right to rule Comoros? Come forward and I will show you the truth! Come forward and meet your doom! Who here challenges her right to rule?” He flung down one of his gauntlets, which clattered in the middle of the hall.
Maia cocked her head toward her friend, dropping her voice to a whisper as she felt the sudden stillness of the room. “Suzenne, would you remind me tomorrow that—”
“I do!”
Maia stopped, blinking with surprise. A voice rippling with challenge and menace sounded in the crowd. The ceremonial utterance of the threat had never before been accepted in all the history of the realm.