The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  “Follow me,” the military escort said brusquely.

  “Be brave,” Stratetix whispered as he alit from the carriage.

  “And may Deu be with us,” Helena answered even more quietly.

  The soldier led the husband and wife through a back door of the palace. Though they had been arrested on charges of illegal activities, they were not in chains and had not been treated cruelly. Yet Helena knew how serious the situation was. She had already been threatened with death once because of her association with Deu, and she had no reason to expect otherwise this time.

  A series of winding staircases brought the couple to a plain wooden door. Helena sensed she was being escorted through lesser-used corridors instead of the main hallways. She didn’t know what to make of that.

  “Enter,” the soldier ordered.

  “What’s in there?” Stratetix asked.

  “Don’t ask questions. Just go.”

  Stratetix slid his arm protectively around his wife, and she nestled close to him. “Whatever is inside, let’s face it together,” he said to her.

  The room was small and sparsely furnished, though the decorations it did have were elegant. A plush carpet was on the floor, and three chairs were arranged around an oaken table. A window in one wall looked out over the city.

  Stratetix held Helena’s chair, then sat down beside her at the table. No one else was in the room. Helena nervously tapped her fingernails on the polished wood while Stratetix stroked his beard.

  At last the door opened, and when Helena saw who entered she scrambled up along with Stratetix. “My lady!” she exclaimed, bowing at the waist.

  “You may rise.”

  The queen mother’s face was stern as she walked across the room. She was an attractive older woman with a proud chin, gray eyes, and silver hair streaked with dark strands. Though her figure had become more rounded since Helena had seen her last, she was still a striking beauty.

  “Sit down with me and we shall talk of important matters,” Katerina said, taking her place at the head of the table across from her guests. She drilled Helena with a hard stare. “I would not have expected treason from you, Helena d’Armand.”

  “Your Majesty, I am guilty of no such thing.”

  “Traitors never think so. They always justify their illegal actions by claiming to serve the higher good.”

  Helena remained silent, but Stratetix spoke up. “May I ask why we’ve been brought here today? The accusations leveled against us were vague and preposterous.”

  The queen mother turned to regard Stratetix. “You are the type of man upon which our kingdom is founded,” she said. “Sturdy. Hard-working. Patriotic. By the sweat of your brow the people are fed. Why do you have to stir up so much trouble?”

  “I do not seek trouble, only the well-being of Chiveis.”

  “As you define it.”

  “No, my lady. As heaven defines it.”

  “And who speaks for heaven? Astrebril?”

  Stratetix was about to answer when Helena laid her hand on his arm. “Queen Mother Katerina, I remember you as a religious seeker. Many years ago we used to debate divine things. How would you answer that question today? Do you believe Astrebril reigns on high?”

  The queen mother sighed. “Perhaps not. Yet it is agreed by all that your God caused my husband and daughter to be snatched from this world.”

  “That was the work of evildoers, not Deu.”

  “Aha! So you do not deny your loyalty to Deu?”

  “I have only known my God a short time,” Helena replied, “yet he has done me no wrong. Should I now blaspheme the one who saved me?”

  “It would be in your interest to do so. According to my son, your faith is a capital offense. Piair hates your God.”

  “He shouldn’t. Deu didn’t kill your husband, or Princess Habiloho. That was arranged by—”

  “I know what you think,” Katerina interrupted bitterly. “And even if it’s true, that too is a crime to suggest.”

  “Should we not prefer the truth over the laws of men?”

  “Crime cannot be allowed to stand in Chiveis, Helena d’Armand.”

  Stratetix leaped to his feet. “Crime? This kingdom is infested with crime! The Royal Guard has been turned into a band of marauding thugs! Cultic religion is crammed down our throats! Freedoms have been taken away from the good people of this land!”

  Helena tugged on her husband’s tunic. “Sit down, love. Remember we are in the presence of royalty.” The queen mother’s outraged expression softened at Helena’s soothing words.

  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Stratetix muttered as he took his seat again.

  Katerina acknowledged the apology, then looked closely at Helena. “Do all the people of Chiveis feel this way?”

  “Many do. Times have changed.”

  “When did they start to change?”

  “In recent years,” Helena answered evasively.

  “The daughter of Armand may speak her mind in my presence. Do you think my son is unworthy of his father’s rule?”

  “I would not go so far as to say that, Your Highness. Yet I do not believe the younger Piair has found his footing yet as king.”

  “We loved and admired your husband,” Stratetix put in. “That cannot be said of all who lived during his reign.”

  The queen mother shot him a sharp look. “What does that mean?”

  Helena and Stratetix exchanged glances, then Stratetix said, “Some say the events surrounding the Battle of Toon were suspicious.”

  “Explain yourself, Stratetix of Edgeton.”

  “Well . . . we have learned on good authority there was a conspiracy against King Piair.”

  “A conspiracy during which my father was killed,” Helena added, “and not by outsiders.”

  “By whom then?”

  “Rebels within the Second Regiment.”

  “Pfft! Those men are tools of the High Priestess,” Katerina scoffed.

  “Yet greatness is still to be found within the Royal Guard.”

  “Let me tell you about greatness, Helena d’Armand. Your father defended my husband’s life with his own. He stood over him with his mighty sword while the enemies raged and the arrows flew. Piair loved Armand like an older brother. Well do I remember the day he brought home that sword after your father died. Piair held it in great honor. He said it must become an heirloom of Chiveis, to be awarded only to a warrior of supreme skill.”

  “That warrior is now in exile,” Helena said.

  “Yes. Because he chose Deu. As have you.”

  “I have only chosen to seek the truth wherever it may be found. I have chosen to reject corrupted deities and to seek the good Creator. And I remember when you longed to do the same.”

  Katerina frowned. “Be that as it may, you have defied my son’s orders. You have spoken of Deu. He is a forbidden divinity.”

  “But what if he is the one true God?”

  “I am not the regent. I cannot change my son’s commands.”

  “But you have other kinds of power,” Stratetix suggested.

  Helena leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “My lady, I know you recall what Chiveis used to be. You remember the ideals upon which our kingdom was founded. Use your influence to restore those ideals! The people don’t support the oppression of our land. Nor do the troops. Give them cause, give them hope, give them a reason to fight and they’ll resist! Don’t let our kingdom be enslaved to the High Priestess.”

  Katerina lowered her chin and covered her eyes with her hand. She sat in that posture for a long time, kneading her forehead with her fingers. “Oh, Chiveis,” she whispered.

  Stratetix and Helena waited silently.

  At last the queen mother raised her gaze to the couple. Her authoritative demeanor had returned. “Very well,” she said. “I think it is time for the Royal Guard to hear your story, Helena d’Armand.”

  She nodded obediently. “As you wish, Your Majesty. But should I speak of . . . eve
rything?”

  “No! Not everything! Just what is asked about the Battle of Toon.”

  The queen mother pulled a string on the wall to ring a bell outside. “A hearing before the Warlord will be arranged in a few days. Until then you must remain locked in my guest chamber. I will tell no one you are here, not even Piair. You must testify to what happened at the battle. Now more than ever, Chiveis needs to be reminded of its past.”

  “Are we under arrest?” Stratetix asked. “Is this going to be some kind of trial?”

  “It is a military hearing, not a trial.”

  “Are we to be charged with a crime?”

  “Not formally, though I cannot guarantee you will remain unharmed. There are those who do not wish the truth to be heard.”

  “I will accept the risk and speak of what I have learned,” Helena said, “though my knowledge of the conspiracy is secondhand. Shouldn’t we summon eyewitnesses?”

  The queen mother uttered a little laugh and waved her hand. “Perhaps we can do that. But corroboration of the facts is not my main concern.”

  “Then what is, Your Majesty?”

  Helena stared at Katerina’s face until she looked up. The two women locked eyes.

  “I do not merely want your testimony,” the queen mother said. “I want you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because in times like these, only the daughter of Armand can help the soldiers of the Fifth remember who they are.”

  When the Papa arrived in Jineve at the head of an army, Mayor Calixte could no longer hide in Montblanc Palace. Brother Thomas smiled to himself as he saw the consternation on the mayor’s face. Even the haughty palace steward looked worried. Maybe now they’ll start taking action!

  The Papa’s arrival had coincided with Teofil’s urgent message from Chiveis. The slip of paper on the pigeon’s leg had carried dire news: an army of three thousand barbarian warriors had gathered at Chiveis’s borders and was preparing to move out. Combined with the kingdom’s Royal Guard and the elite force of shock troops called Vulkainians, Teofil estimated the invasion army to number five thousand men. The only thing preventing an immediate march on Jineve was the need to gather sufficient supplies and mounts.

  Mayor Calixte welcomed the Papa to Jineve with hastily arranged fanfare suitable to the visitor’s high station. Although the Jinevans didn’t know much about the Universal Communion, they still had a memory of distant Roma. Everyone could see the Papa represented a powerful faction from that legendary city. Of course, the presence of three thousand knights and Marsayan militiamen only served to reinforce the Papa’s standing.

  A translator who spoke Talyano was summoned to assist Mayor Calixte and the palace steward on the dock at Jineve’s harbor. “Forgive me for not offering a more elegant welcome,” Calixte said through his translator. “I would certainly have gathered the surrounding nobility had I known you were on your way.”

  “That is not necessary,” the Papa replied. “It is to the average citizens of Jineve that I wish to speak.”

  “It can be arranged,” the palace steward said. “In a few days we can erect an appropriate podium, with a lectern and risers and a canopy over the platform.”

  The Papa waved his hands. “There is no time for such things. War is upon you whether you wish it or not. You must decide today how to respond.”

  “The Holy Father can speak from his ship if the people will congregate along the waterfront,” Brother Thomas said. “I am sure they are more interested in what he will say than in the trappings of rhetoric.”

  In a matter of hours the city of Jineve was abuzz. The curious and the concerned gathered on the lakeshore, waiting for the big announcement from the foreign visitor. Rumors spread like a disease—rumors that portended an imminent invasion by dark forces. Yet Brother Thomas wasn’t too worried about the rampant gossip. A measure of anxiety was needed right now. He knew today’s hearsay would become tomorrow’s reality unless something was done to stop it.

  By midafternoon the crowd had swelled until it thronged the entire shoreline. The official translator was joined by heralds with amplifying horns so that everyone could hear the Papa’s address. Brother Thomas piled some empty crates on one of the Christiani riverboats, which was moored lengthwise a short distance from the bank. The Papa ascended this makeshift podium while the translator was stationed at his feet. Several heralds stood nearby, up to their waists in water, ready to repeat the translator’s words to the masses.

  The crowd quieted as the Papa offered greetings on behalf of Marsay and Roma. He told the people he did not come to make war against Jineve but to defend it from aggressors. “Even now an army is gathering in the east,” he said. “A message has just been received from our spy in the Kingdom of Chiveis. The wicked High Priestess of that land is preparing to invade Jineve. She will force your men to fight her battles. She will give the bodies of your women as prizes to the lascivious barbarians. She will plunder the resources of the realm to make horrific weapons. These are not empty threats—no, indeed! Terrible events are about to occur unless you take action.”

  The Papa paused to allow the translator to catch up, but before he could begin again the stunned crowd exploded into panic. The men gaped at each other, and many women broke into wailing. Even the soldiers looked frightened. Desperate pleas were addressed to Mayor Calixte in his open-top carriage, yet the Jinevan ruler had no comfort to offer.

  In all the commotion Brother Thomas slipped over the riverboat’s gunwale and waded halfway to shore. He had picked up some of the local language during his time in the city, so he yelled, “Listen!” in the language of Jineve. Repeating this word again and again, he flapped his arms like wings in an attempt to hush the crowd. Finally some of the people noticed him. Brother Thomas pointed to the Papa. “Listen!” he cried once more—and they did.

  “History is trying to repeat itself, my friends,” the Papa continued. “Centuries ago Jonluc Beaumont came here from Chiveis. He had departed Jineve an exile but returned as a conqueror. When your kingdom was defeated he went on to Marsay, and there he initiated a binding Pact. The rulers of the earth swore an oath in their own blood, and the heavenly powers took notice. I ask you: What human goal would make the demonic pantheon pay attention? What could possibly be so important to the unclean spirits that they would set aside their usual bickering and unite behind a common cause? Do you have any idea?”

  The Jinevan citizens turned and muttered among themselves, but no one knew the answer. “Money!” someone shouted. The Papa shook his head. Cries of “Sacrifices!” and “Power!” were closer to the mark, yet the Papa let the debating continue. At last he raised his hands to call for quiet again.

  “What the spirits desire most is to exterminate what they fear. Good people of Jineve, listen to me now! There is one true God in the heavens! His name is Deus—Deu in your speech. He is the good and loving Creator of our world. The demons hold men in bondage, using the chains of our lusts against us. Indeed, the entire cosmos is enslaved to sin! To free us, the Creator sent his son Iesus from his right hand. Iesus became a man to teach us the truth, but evil men put him to death. Yet that was not the end of the story. Deu raised his son to life again, and in that moment the bondage of sin and death and the demons was broken. Shattered, I tell you! Only Deu is strong enough to vanquish the evil powers. That is what they fear. Do you want to be free? Do you want to be free this very day? Then come . . . come to the faith of the Christiani! Come into the shelter of Deu’s holy communion. Only there will you find refuge from the powers that assail you.”

  The Papa stepped back and stood still. Time hung suspended. The awestruck crowd was silent—until a voice broke the otherworldly hush.

  “I will come!”

  The speaker was a dark-haired boy. Brother Thomas beckoned him into the water. “Come, lad,” he said. “Come and be washed by Deu.”

  “Me too!” said a woman with a baby on her hip. She waded out beside the boy.

  “And me,”
cried a burly man in a blacksmith’s apron. “The gods scare me!”

  Then, as if an invisible wall had crumbled, the crowd surged off the shore and into Leman Sea. Up and down the Jinevan waterfront the citizenry left the bank in a mass exodus. The waters teemed with an innumerable host. Humble peasants mingled with wealthy aristocrats in the frothy waves. Some of the taller citizens waded out to chest level to make room for the others. Even Mayor Calixte joined the throng. Men, women, and children alike stood in the cold lake and stared expectantly at the Papa.

  Brother Thomas swam back to the longship and climbed aboard. The Papa had been conferring with the translator, but now he resumed his stance on the crates. He lifted his face to the crowd and spoke in the local tongue.

  “Jineve! Do you take Deu and Iesus as your own?”

  “Yes!” came the resounding reply.

  “Then be washed!” the Papa cried, and the people of Jineve plunged beneath the cleansing flood.

  A lump settled in King Piair II’s gut as he stared at the horde that had massed before the walls of the Citadel. The warriors milled about, churning up the soil, dropping trash, defecating wherever the urge took them. They weren’t guardsmen. They weren’t even soldiers at all. They were outsiders. And he, the sovereign monarch of Chiveis, had invited them into the heart of the realm.

  By Astrebril’s beard, what have I done?

  The chieftain’s tent was visible in the distance, reminding King Piair of his recent meeting with Vlad the Nine-Fingered. The man was a buffoon, yet he knew how to wage war and take booty, which made his retainers adore him. A week earlier Piair had signed the treaty of cooperation with Vlad under the High Priestess’s watchful eye. The illiterate barbarian could only sign the agreement with an X. Two glass vials had sat on the table, encrusted inside with the scabs of an ancient oath. Now, as before, the Chiveisi had joined themselves to the outsiders.

  Piair grimaced as he stood on the balcony. The thought of a such an unlikely confederation made him sick to his stomach. What do the people think of all this? Do they hold me up to scorn? Do they judge me unequal to my father?