by C. M. Bacon
Sir Talos turned his attention to me. He lifted me off the floor with one colossal hand around my throat. With the other hand, he spread his thick fingers and pulled at my tunic, ripping it off as if it were tissue. I fell to the floor with a THUD next to Arvin. Our noses began bleeding from the force of the impact. King 974th looked down at our sunburned bodies as several drops of our blood dripped onto the marble floor.
“Throw them in the dungeon and burn them on the pyres tomorrow for ruining my pristine floors.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tradition Is King
Giant Sir Talos threw us into the castle’s dank dungeons. I looked over at Arvin, who was thrown first onto the straw floor of our cell. He became like a roly-poly in the darkest corner and didn’t say anything. I wondered what Arvin and I had done to deserve this.
Did I call Arvin “Chipmunk” too many times? What had Arvin done? What brought us here?
I looked around the dim cell for any way out, then saw two heavy straw bales in the corner opposite Arvin. I struggled to stack the bales on top of each other and reached my hands, palms together in the light of a tiny window above. It was too small to escape but large enough for the foul smell of overfed horses to waft through. I took in a stench-filled breath and exhaled it in a prayer for help to take us anywhere else.
“Please God, if you get us out of this, I’ll be a better friend to Arvin. I’ll show him how to win at Dragon Sorcerer 1,2, and 3, ask him over for dinner every week, swim with him every Saturday, collect gewgaws every Sunday, and I will never ever throw another water balloon at him. I’ll even help him glue rhinestones and sequins on anything he wants. Please-please-please.”
A girl’s muffled voice came from the next cell. “Who are you talking to?”
“Who’s there?” I asked, stepping off the straw bales and putting my ear to the wall.
“Go to the cell door. We can hear you better there.”
I walked to the heavy iron door. It was bolted from the outside but had a rectangular hole cut at the bottom. I laid on my stomach and put my ear down to listen.
I whispered, “I’m at the door. Where are you?”
“A boy?” she asked, surprised. “I’ve never heard a real boy in these cells before. This very morning, my sister said she heard a young boy whispering to her from inside your cell, but it was only a hissing serpent slithering in the stables.”
“I’m Perry. I’m with my friend, Arvin. Who are you?” I asked. “Did your horrible little King lock you in the dungeon, too?”
“No. It wasn’t Majesty 974th. It was Majesty 973rd,” she said.
“973rd?” I asked. “How long have you been in that cell?”
“It’s hard to tell. We only learn a year has passed when the silver bells ring six times.”
“How many of you are in there?” I asked.
“There are three of us: my sisters and I. They’re with me,” the soft voice said. “I’m Sophia, the eldest sister.”
The second sister said, “I’m in the cell, too. I’m Sonia.”
The third sister said, “I’m ready. I have all my books.”
“That was my youngest sister, Siria. Never mind her,” Sophia said.
I said, “I don’t understand this King of yours. How can a king be so horrid and cruel?”
“To understand that, I must tell you a story. Can I tell you a story, Perry?” Sophia asked.
“I love stories,” Siria said.
“If you think it’ll help,” I said.
Sophia said, “Kings have gotten more ruthless and vicious since Great Majesty King Regem Elijah Endanleg the 12th died after a single year on the throne. He was the Greatest King in our kingdom’s 1,200 years. He planted those delicious white figs growing everywhere. They grow even in the hottest, coldest, or driest of places.”
Siria said, “I like figs. Father gives us some through the window each evening.”
“Shhhh! No, he doesn’t,” Sophia said, snapping at Siria. “He built this castle by hand, defeated 10,000 murderous invaders, and fought off a serpent as large as a tree trunk. He lost a finger to its poisonous venom, but he didn’t die.”
“Sounds like a fairytale to me,” I said, doubting her stories. “How did he die?”
“A wildfire encroached upon the kingdom. Not even Majesty 12th could extinguish it. He struck a bargain with a warlock with glowing red eyes. He promised he’d give him the power to save the kingdom, so he enchanted one of his white figs. If Great Majesty 12th ate it, he could save our kingdom. But the warlock tricked the king and poisoned the fig. Majesty 12th died in horrible agony.”
“Majesty 974th is far worse than a warlock,” Sonia said, interrupting Sophia’s silly tall-tale. “He continues Majesty 900th’s tradition by locking away every woman in the kingdom who is not pleasant to his eyes. When the next King is chosen, he’s supposed to release the girls he finds more pleasing. But Majesty 974th left us all here to await his pyres. If you want to pray for something, pray Sir Talos forgets about you before the morning firewood is stacked.”
“Majesty 974th is ‘The King of Black Bones’ because he likes to watch them burn.” Siria interrupted with grotesque excitement in her voice.
I vomited my full stomach of sweet figs onto the straw floor.
“Siria, how can you sound excited?” I asked, shocked by how readily she accepted her gruesome reality. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Please forgive Siria. She doesn’t understand,” Sophia said. “Her mind shattered like glass, watching as our father burned black on the Majesty’s pyre. She believes we’re at school, reciting our history lessons and playing games with Father.” Poor Siria.
“Why are you down here?” I asked.
“My feet were too big to wear silk slippers. Sonia’s hair was cropped like a boy’s when Majesty 973rd came to see Father. And he was annoyed by Siria’s pleas for Father’s life and supposed she’d be quieter with us.”
“Why have you had 974 kings in 1,200 years?” Arvin asked, startling me.
I turned and smiled, glad to see my friend sit up against the wall. I had worried poor Arvin would join Siria in her confusion, but his eyes were dry, his bloody nose was wiped clean, and he had a powerful glint in his eyes.
Arvin asked again, “Why so many?”
Sophia explained. “Majesty 12th was 15 when he became King and sacrificed himself to save the kingdom before he was 16. And so the tradition began: A King is crowned at 15 and must die by 16. All kings must sacrifice themselves for their people. All nobles must have at least 10 sons to keep the royal lines going. The noblest of nobles will have at least 20.”
“Even if I can believe a 15-year-old King did all that and sacrificed himself before 16, your silly tall-tale doesn’t explain that despicable boy 974th. He’s vicious and deranged.” Arvin said.
“I saw what he looked like,” I said, supporting my strong friend. “His hair was falling out, his eyes were sunken and dark, and his skin was yellow and flaking. He’s not slitting his wrists; he’s dying of something else. I’ve seen it before.” Arvin looked at me and knew what I meant.
Sonia taught us more. “Great Majesty 12th sacrificed himself by eating a poisoned fig. Ever since, all kings, including Majesty 974th, must do the same.” Arvin and I were horrified at the repugnant idea.
Arvin blurted out questions in rapid succession. “The white figs? Are they poisonous? Is that why he looks sick?”
“Majesty 974th poisons the white figs himself or the nobles do it in secret,” Sophia said. “He must eat the deadly fruit every morning of his reign. The poison slowly destroys his body and unhinges his mind. Majesty 974th was murderous and insane before he ate the poisoned figs.”
Arvin and I sat in the filth of our prison, perplexed and in silence. The quiet was such I heard a cockroach scurry through the stables and down into our cell.
DONG!
A loud bell, deep and disturbing, resonated into our dank and dirty cell, breaking the uncomfortable s
ilence.
“Shhhh. Listen. What’s that?” Sophia said, silencing us all.
DONG! A second bell rang.
DONG! A third.
DONG! A fourth.
DONG! A fifth.
DONG! A sixth bell echoed in the distance. The dungeon fell silent.
“Majesty 974th is dead,” a woman shouted from deep within the dungeon.
“He’s dead,” another woman shouted.
Another said, “He’s gone.”
Another said, “We’re saved.”
Another said, “I like bells.” It was Siria.
A chorus of joyous women’s voices shouted from behind their bolted cell doors, grateful their misery might soon be over - if King 975th honored the tradition.
Arvin and I listed as Sophia, Sonia, and Siria spoke amongst themselves in eager anticipation of the prince who’d become King Regem Elijah Endanleg 975th.
“Maybe it’ll be Prince Lupen of Aldis,” Sonia said, excited at the prospect of “Rupert.”
“No,” Sophia said. “He’s sure to be 16 already. I hope he’s found a sweet girl yet unburnt by Majesty 974th.”
“Prince Giles II of Wexter?”
“No. He’s with his father fighting the Majesty’s war across the sea.”
“Prince Harnob of Callen?”
“No. The nobles don’t want kings who are allergic to figs. Their reigns end too quickly.”
“Prince Nelrik of Harson? I heard he’s gentle and kind, unlike all the others.”
Sophia laughed for the first time. “He would be best for women in this sorrowful kingdom. His soft nature makes him weary of violence. He vomits at the sight of blood, jumps over spiders, and runs from small rodents. We can hope for someone like him - at least until the white figs do their job.”
Siria, ever quiet and attentive, added, “Father says Prince Nelrik of Harson wears his sister’s maquillage.”
It seems like all the best gossip makes it into the dungeon.
“Prince Aldor of Irbon?” Sonia asked.
“Let’s pray Prince Aldor doesn’t assume the throne. He’s as crazy as Majesty 974th, and he doesn’t like prisoners. We’ll all be dead before lunch,” Sophia said, terrified of “Aldor.”
“Sophia?” Arvin asked, “How do you know all those things?”
Siria said, “Father told us. He tells us about his day and all the latest news when he visits the school.”
Has Siria’s glass mind chipped off another piece?
“Siria, do you hear him now?” Arvin asked, making me feel even more sorry for her.
“No silly. He’ll bring figs tonight when he comes to feed his horse and polish his golden armor,” Siria said.
“Was your father a knight?” I asked.
“He’s a great knight,” she said. “He’s the greatest of them all. You’ll see, Perry. You’ll see tonight.”
“Sophia, Sonia, you said your father is dead. What’s Siria talking about?” Arvin asked.
“Siria’s confused again,” Sonia said. “Father doesn’t come, but somebody does. He visits at night, passes us figs through the stable window, and tells us everything he’s heard or seen that day. He hasn’t come in over a week, though Siria waits by the window eating invisible figs and talking to the serpent hiding somewhere in the stables. Last he visited, he spoke of marching with fifty noble sons across the kingdom - one of whom will be crowned Majesty 975th. We don’t know his face nor his name.”
I looked over to see Arvin jumping on the double straw beds. He was far too short to reach the cell window without help. “What do you think, Chi-. I mean Arvin?” I asked, trying to keep my promise.
Smiling, he said, “The same as you, Mud Monster.”
“Do you think father will bring more figs and gossip tonight?” Siria asked her sisters.
Sophia said, “Of course. I’m sure he’ll give us a dozen white figs and tell us about his day.”
“I hope he does,” I said, whispering under the latched door.
I couldn’t sleep at all. Every wet sniff of the sisters and neigh of the horses made me believe giant Sir Talos had come to do his duty. Arvin and I sat against the cell door looking up at the little window opposite and above, occasionally hearing the snake’s “hiss” from under the straw. I prayed Siria’s golden knight was who it sounded like - though I expected our situation to get at least twenty minutes of laughter.
“My little Siria,” a deep voice whispered from the windows above, “I’ve brought figs and great news.”
“Father!” Siria shouted.
“Shhhh. Quiet, Siria. You’ll bring another knight,” Sophia said.
“Majesty 974th is dead. I pray whoever becomes Majesty 975th will be honorable and set you all free.”
I heard a rustle of straw and Siria after. “Oh, Father. These figs are delicious. What news of Prince Nelrik of Harson?”
The low voice said, “I saw him today as I guarded the procession of nobles. He looked ‘kingly.’ I’m certain he could become Majesty 975th.”
I climbed onto the stacked straw bale beds and whispered through the little window. “Sir Humbert? Is that you?” I asked, praying again in my head as the words left my lips.
“Who dares to speak my name?” Sir Humbert asked.
“It’s us. Perry and Arvin,” I said.
“I don’t know why boys are in the dungeon, and I certainly don’t know anyone with those ridiculous names.”
I wondered if we were mistaken. How could he be the same giant knight and not remember leading us that morning?
Arvin’s face lit up. “Sir Humbert. It’s me, Little Red Rhubarb.” Arvin huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Rhubarb, I thought that voice belonged to you. Rhubarb, remove the washing board from your gullet, won’t you?” Sir Humbert said, trying to contain his roaring laughter, his nose wheezing as explosive chuckles tried to escape his huge head. “How’d you get into this awful mess? You didn’t try dressing in girls’ frilly tunics, did you?”
“Obviously,” I said, almost breaking from a whisper into a roar. “You got us into this you oversized golden gorilla. Now, get us out of it.”
“Calm yourself down,” he insisted, his thunderous voice vibrating my teeth. “Don’t be vulgar, whatever your name is.”
I said, “My name is Per-”
“I don’t care to hear it,” he said. “Majesty 974th ordered wood chopped for two morning pyres. I didn’t realize those were for you, or else I wouldn’t have made them so flammable.”
Sir Humbert muzzled his monstrous hoots and howls again, sounding as though he had cupped his hands over his mouth and plugged up his nose. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or being a clown in shining armor.
Siria said, “Father, don’t be unkind to Perry and Arvin. The teacher says they’re new to our school and have to catch up on all the important subjects.”
DONG!
A bell rang out somewhere near the stables. It reverberated into our cell, making us stand to attention and count the number.
DONG! A second bell rang.
DONG! A third.
DONG! A sixth bell rang out loud.
“They’ve done it,” Sophia said. “The council of nobles has chosen Majesty 975th.”
“I wonder who it is. I hope it’s Prince Nelrik of Harson,” said Sonia.
“Will this be on the test. I didn’t have time to study today,” said Siria.
“I’ll return - and with good news, I hope,” Sir Humbert said, leaving.
The volume of his clanging armor grew fainter as he walked out of the stables to learn what he could. After a lifetime of silent minutes, he rushed into the stables. His armor clanged as he came to a halt at the sisters’ cell window.”
“I heard the news,” Sir Humbert said, huffing as he ran to crouch at the sisters’ window. “The nobles chose Prince Aldor of Irbon to be Majesty 975th. His first breakfast of white figs will be at dawn.”
“I like the white figs. They’re sweet and delic
ious,” Siria said, her shattered mind unable to comprehend Sir Humbert said we’d all die at first light. Arvin and I listened as Sophia and Sonia burst into tears, joined by Sir Humbert soon after.
The whimpering giant said, “Oh my poor Siria, this is all my fault. If you hadn’t seen your father die so horribly, you wouldn’t have lost your beautiful mind. Do you remember, Siria? I set his pyre ablaze as my King commanded. You screamed loudly that day, stopping only to call me ‘Father.’ I couldn’t hurt you again, so I let you believe the lie. Please forgive me, my poor Siria.”
Siria listened and said, “Do you have any more figs, Father?”
“Sir Humbert,” Arvin said, “You can’t take back what you did, but you can save Siria and all of us. Do what’s right, right now.”
Did he get that excellent speech from my mother?
“Sir Humbert,” I said, interrupting Arvin’s wonderful “moving on with life” speech, “Arvin’s right, and you owe us this much. So get us out.”
After thinking for a moment, Sir Humbert said, “Get away from the window, move the straw beds to the door and hide behind them.”
I didn’t understand his plan, but Arvin and I obeyed without question.
“Perry, Arvin?” Sonia’s voice whispered under the door. “Are you away from the window? Did you do as he said?”
“Yes, we’re ready,” Arvin said, preparing to fight his way out of the castle.
We heard the clanging of armor, the loud NEIGH of a horse, and a BOOM! followed by the RAKA-TAK-TAK of crumbling rocks. I jumped back as the whole cell shook, hitting my head on the hard cell door.
“What is he doing?” I asked, turning to see Arvin roll into his roly-poly position. He covered his head, eyes, and ears.
BOOM! RAKA-TAK-TAK
BOOM! RAKA-TAK-TAK
The cell shook again and again. I followed Arvin’s example and hoped Sophia, Sonia, and Siria were doing the same.