by Brad Clark
The old servant approached and nodded his head in greeting. “It is becoming boisterous, my lord. Lords are clamoring to hear news and find out who will take the throne.”
“I fear the worst,” Lord Martin said.
“Oh?” Arpwin replied with a raised eyebrow.
“The king has no heir and I fear that there will be a fight over who will be given the throne,” Lord Martin replied.
“Be given the throne?” Arpwin asked.
“Yes,” Lord Martin explained. “With no male heir the throne must be given to someone.”
“The bloodline of the king goes back many hundreds of years,” Arpwin replied incredulously. “The gods who created the earth bestowed upon King Thorndale’s ancestors the throne of the Karmon! That cannot be broken.”
“There is no choice,” Lord Martin said. “With no male heir…”
“Again, you bring up the male heir,” Arpwin interrupted. “Where is it written…?”
“It does not need to be written!” Lord Martin shouted back in his high pitched voice. Instantly regretting the tone, he let out a sigh and continued. They already had this argument. Many times. He was tiring of it, even though in his heart, he knew Arpwin’s argument did have some merit. “What you imply cannot happen. The lords will not accept the rule of a woman.”
“And why not?” Arpwin asked.
“There would be civil war,” Lord Martin replied.
“There will be civil war anyway,” Arpwin countered. “If any lord lays stake to throne, the other lords will rebel. They don’t mind giving our undying fealty to the crown, but they will surely not give it to one of their peers.”
“She is but a girl!” Lord Martin cried out, trying in vain to find any argument against what he knew was really the right choice.
“She is a young woman,” Arpwin replied calmly. “Older than many kings when they took the throne. King Thorndale was only two years older than Princess Elissa when he took the throne. He had help. He didn’t make all his decisions himself. The lords helped him when he needed it. I know because I was there. From the moment he put the crown on his head, I was there. He was an impetuous child. Prone to temper tantrums and he drank too much sweet wine. But we survived. The kingdom survived.”
“But will she accept it?” Lord Martin asked with a heavy sigh.
“If she were the eldest boy, she wouldn’t have a choice,” Arpwin said. “It should be hers.” And then he added after a moment, "Whether she likes it or not."
Lord Martin slowly shook his head. “I cannot see us surviving. We will be weak with a young girl – woman – on the throne. Thell will see it as a sign of weakness and they might just march on us. We lost so many men and boys up north. I cannot see us surviving a long campaign with them."
Lord Martin buried his hands in his face. "We are beaten and bloodied. We must regroup and heal our wounds. And we must begin preparations for defending our kingdom.”
A crashing of the doors behind him caused Lord Martin to jump up off the throne.
Three chainmail clad soldiers, each holding long hauberks, escorted the very large form of Lord Neffenmark into the chamber. A number of similarly clad soldiers followed the lord into the chamber, pushing aside the Royal Guard who were trying to keep them out.
“What is this?!" Lord Martin shouted in as strong of a voice as he could muster. "This is a private meeting and you are not welcome, Lord Neffenmark.”
Neffenmark continued to march forward, his jowls jiggling with each step. Three paces from the throne, the lead three soldiers stopped and struck the floor with the base of their weapons. Neffenmark smiled and said, “I have come to pay our fallen king my respects.”
“You insult the king by marching in here with your mercenaries,” Lord Martin said.
“My guardsmen are ceremonial, I assure you,” Neffenmark said. His face twitched as if he wanted to smile.
“You need twenty guardsmen?” Lord Martin asked.
“There are eighteen of them,” Neffenmark corrected. “But like I said, they are ceremonial.”
The room started to fill up. Curious onlookers filtered into the room to see what was about to happen. A low, excited buzz permeated the room. A number of Royal Guard inched into the room as well, their hands resting near their swords.
“What are your intentions, Lord Neffenmark?” Lord Martin asked sharply.
Spreading his hands wide, Neffenmark replied, “Why, like I said, I am here to pay my respects.” This time he let his face twist into a toothy smile.
Lord Martin sat back down on the soft, cushioned throne and said, “Neffenmark, your actions are as transparent as you are fat!”
A light laughter circled through the room. Neffenmark’s smile faded while he glanced around him. “Very well, then. As there is no proper male heir to the throne and with the king having left the defenses of the realm in shambles, it is only proper that someone with the resources to restore Karmon to its greatness take the throne.”
“And who would that be?” Lord Martin asked.
“Tyre is beset by political infighting,” Neffenmark said. "There is no one strong lord who commands a large enough presence to lead the kingdom. We must look elsewhere. For someone who has the power and resources to lead this kingdom back to greatness. Is there such a man in the kingdom? Do you know of one?"
Lord Martin kept silent, is mind churning. He had never liked Neffenmark. The man was a pompous and arrogant bully. His army of mercenaries was drawn not only from the dredges of Karmon, but Taran as well. There were even rumors of Thellian men serving in arms for the fat lord. But he was also one of the largest landowners. His castle and village were virtually self-sustaining. If he grew his army large enough, he could probably be his own kingdom. But Lord Martin knew he wanted more. The prize of the throne of Karmon was too great of a prize. He also knew how he ruled. He ruled with an iron fist. Punishments were severe and rarely just. His peasants were kept in line through fear and intimidation. He could not let that kind of leader ascend to the throne.
“No?” Neffenmark asked after watching Lord Martin squirm for some time. “We all know that you will not take the throne.” Neffenmark had called Lord Martin out as a coward many times and unfortunately, Lord Martin had yet to prove Neffenmark wrong.
Weakly, Lord Martin replied, “Yes.”
“Yes? Yes as in, you will make a claim for the throne?” Neffenmark asked with a raised brows and a wide smile.
Lord Martin stood and straightened his tunic. He looked down upon the fat man. There was no way that he could let Neffenmark sit upon the throne. There was only one way out of this.
In a voice as loud as he could muster, Lord Martin said, “The reign of King Thorndale has come to a close.” He looked out across the men and women who had gathered in the chamber. The murmuring and whispering stopped quickly. Everyone wanted to hear what was to be said.
“Go on,” Neffenmark prodded, a smirk on his face. It was clear to him that Lord Martin was going to attempt to place himself on the throne. Neffenmark knew that Lord Martin did not have the support of the rest of the kingdom, so it would be a failed gamble to prevent himself from being given the crown.
“The line of King Thorndale has been unbroken for hundreds of years. Generations upon generations of Karmon men and woman have prospered under the rule that the gods of our ancestors set in motion. The Knights of Karmon are the greatest warriors the world has ever seen!” Boisterous shouting and whooping followed for several minutes before it became quiet enough for Lord Martin to continue.
Once the cheering subsided, Lord Martin continued. “It is for that reason that the line of King Thorndale continue. Our noses have been bloodied, but we are not broken. We will heal. As a kingdom we will heal as well. And the only way to do that is to keep the line unbroken. Therefore, as the blood heir of our late King Thorndale, Princess Elissa will be given the crown of Karmon and rule as Queen Elissa Thorndale.”
Lord Martin’s voice rose in volume as he f
inished his speech. But silence greeted him as his words came to an end. The men and women, soldiers and servants, guardsmen and mercenaries were too stunned to speak. Even Neffenmark was caught off guard. His joyous, smiling face drained of all color.
***
Princess Elissa was still in bed, legs pulled up to her chin, wool blanket pulled tight around her. Tear stains streaked her cheeks. She sat quietly, staring at nothing. Arpwin and Lord Martin stood at the foot of the bed, trying to be patient.
Marta, Princess Ellisa’s personal attendant sat next to her, stroking her long hair. “She must be allowed to rest." Marta was an older woman, not quite as old as Arpwin. But not many in the kingdom were as old as Arpwin.
“Marta,” Lord Martin said softly. “You may go now.”
“The princess has been through a lot," Marta said with a soft voice. Then she turned to the men and snapped, "Her father is dead! She must be allowed to grieve and mourn. You must leave her be."
Lord Martin, feeling rejuvenated by his speech in the throne room, responded in anger. “A lot of fathers are dead! The time for mourning is over. The kingdom will fall apart if we don’t keep together. Neffenmark wants the throne. Is that what you want? You want that conniving bastard leading this kingdom? We will have both Thell and Taran on our doorstep ready to attack us.”
“She is but a child,” Marta pleaded.
“Where is Conner?” the princess suddenly asked.
As it was her first words since collapsing at the gate, all three turned their attention back to the princess.
“He has not returned from battle,” Lord Martin said.
“He is dead, then,” Elissa said in a soft monotone. It was not a question, but a statement.
“We do not have any word of him,” Lord Martin said.
A fresh tear appeared at the corner of her eyes. She let the tear drip down her cheek without bothering to wipe it away. It dropped off her chin and onto her blanket.
“Your highness,” Lord Martin pleaded once again. “You must listen to me. Your kingdom needs you. They need you take up the crown.”
“My father is king,” she replied softly.
Lord Martin turned away, exasperated. To Arpwin he said sharply, “There must be another answer. There must be someone else.”
Arpwin just shook his head. “It is her or Neffenmark. No others would dare go against Lord Neffenmark. He has too many spies, too many mercenaries. Too many stories and rumors of what he has done to those who dare oppose him. The other lords are truly afraid of him.” For the first time he allowed private conversations the he had with the king to leave his lips. "The king did not trust Neffenmark. Nor do I. And nor should you."
"Princes are raised knowing that someday they may take the crown," Lord Martin said. "It is a part of their life. They are tutored in etiquette and procedures. They learn how to lead in battle. And how to lead a kingdom. Girls, however, are not raised thinking they will ever wear the crown, unless it is as the wife of the king. She has never been trained or taught any skill that a ruler needs."
"But she can be taught," Arpwin countered. "And if we keep good advisors around her, she can rule effectively. But we must keep the line of Thorndale intact.”
There was a knock on the door. Glaring at the arguing men who didn’t budge to answer the door, Marta stood and walked quickly to open it. Words were quietly exchanged and then she finally pulled the door open to reveal the large form of Lord Neffenmark.
A deep anger burned within Lord Martin, but he did his best to hide it. Neffenmark ambled in dressed in a freshly clean purple silk tunic. He tipped his head in greeting.
“Lord Neffenmark,” Lord Martin said coldly.
“I believe we are at an impasse, are we not?” Neffenmark asked, ignoring any pleasantries. “The kingdom is up in arms at the thought of the princess taking the crown on her own.”
"Getting right to the point, huh, Neffenmark?" Lord Martin growled. "The princess taking the crown is the only option."
Neffenmark smiled and said, “It seems that you have grown a sharp tongue and some courage, Lord Martin.”
“From the fear of you wearing the crown,” Lord Martin replied. "You are not fit to rule. You are an embarrassment to good men everywhere."
“You know,” Neffenmark warned with a sharp look. “I have plenty of friends around. Killing you would be an easy chore. I would suggest that you keep your bitter tongue to yourself from now on.”
“Are you threatening me?” Lord Martin asked.
“Why, yes, yes I am.” Neffenmark replied. “But I did not come here to trade barbs with you. There will be plenty of time to deal with the likes of you in the coming months. I have come to offer the solution.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve you wearing the crown,” Lord Martin said.
“Your attempt at circumventing the laws of our kingdom by putting a girl on the throne is an insult to every king who ever placed a crown upon his head,” Neffenmark said.
“There is no law preventing Princess Elissa from taking the crown,” Arpwin interrupted.
Neffenmark turned to Arpwin and glared at him for a long moment, as if he were taking in his presence for the first time. “And who are you? The king’s handmaiden? The one who wipes his behind when he is too old to do it himself?”
The insult angered Arpwin into silence. He knew his place and it was not in arguing with the potential ruler of the kingdom. He held his anger in check, accepting the fact that he was beneath both the lords. That was one reason why he had loved the king so much. The king always spoke to him as an equal. He knew his place, but when they were alone, it didn’t matter.
Neffenmark turned back to Lord Martin and said, “The law may not be written anywhere, but it is what the people think it is. And what the lords of the realm believe it is. I do not care about laws, but I do care about this kingdom.”
Lord Martin laughed. “Other than yourself, there is nothing about this kingdom that you care about. You care about yourself and power. That is it. And it is the law of the land that has kept this kingdom together while the empire stretches its boundaries each year. We are safe from them because of our strength and part of that strength comes from adherence to the laws of the kingdom, not in ignoring them for your own personal gain.”
Neffenmark chuckled. “That hurts me. Deeply. I care very much about this kingdom! And because I care so much about this kingdom, I offer a plan that will prevent civil war. And I do believe my answer will fit into your so called law." He took a moment to make sure that he had everyone’s full attention. "I shall offer myself as the husband of the princess. This will allow us to follow your law. The princess will be queen. I shall be king only and until our firstborn male is of age. And then I will cede my power to him. And the line shall continue.”
“And so for the next fifteen, twenty years, you are the ruler of our realm,” Lord Martin. “Thinking about that just makes me ill.”
Neffenmark’s smile grew. “Your words continue to hurt me so deeply. I see no other way.”
From behind them all, a new voice shouted, “And how about if I just kill you where you stand!”
They all turned to see Marik, sword in hand, standing in the doorway. Dried blood still stained his face and clothes. His eyes glistened with anger. “This traitor has been plotting for this moment for years! He will not cede his kingship. He craves power too much. His only goal was to gain the throne. And once he has it, he will never let it go.”
“I hope you have some solid evidence for your accusations, or you may just find yourself headless,” Neffenmark said with a deep growl.
Marik did not move, but he kept his sword up and ready. Neffenmark spread his hands wide and waddled to the window. He pushed open the shutter to let in the cool morning air. The strong scent of the ocean filled the room. The crashing of waves hit their ears.
“Look beyond the cliffs and to the horizon,” Neffenmark said. He stepped aside so that Lord Martin and Arpwin could see. Marik d
id not move, for he had already seen them. Lord Martin walked slowly to the window, his mouth open in disbelief. Sure enough, on the far horizon he could clearly see the sails of vessels heading their way.
"Now more than ever we need someone who can lead us," Marik said. "We cannot stand against the might of Taran without the kingdom being together."
Neffenmark smiled and said, "I couldn’t have said it better myself, Sir Marik"
"I was not talking about you," Marik growled.
“As you can see, coming across the ocean are vessels from Taran. They will make landfall later today. There is also a contingent of centurions coming down from the north. They will arrive in the morning, I fear.”
Marik took a threatening step forward, but he did not advance. "Our eyes were to Thell while Taran slipped around our flank."
"You knew about this?" Lord Martin asked Neffenmark.
“They have come for peace,” Neffenmark replied without directly answering the question. “But with me. And only with me. If I do not hold the crown then there will be war. The reach of the empire will touch us and swat us off the world.” He turned to Marik and said, “So, Sir Marik. I shall ask you, which would you rather have? Me upon the throne, or shall you strike me down and we will have a war like you have never seen before?”
Marik turned his eyes from Neffenmark and looked at the princess, still huddled on the bed, her eyes wide with fear. He could not imagine what it must be like for her, to have her entire world come crashing around her. He had trained for this. He was a warrior. He knew that his sole purpose in life was to die for his kingdom. To serve it for as long and as well as he could, but ultimately, he knew he had to be willing to give his life so that future generations of Karmon’s could survive in peace. But for Princess Elissa, all she knew was living a comfortable life in the castle. And now she was thrust in the middle of a war not only between nations, but between men. He had no qualms with rushing forward and driving his sword into the fat man’s chest. Even if he were killed in the process, it would be worth it because he would rid the kingdom of its worst evil. But a pact had been made with the devil and he could not risk the kingdom for his own personal hatred.