The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  The young soldier brought Stratetix and Helena to the stage. “Sit there,” he instructed. They sat down while the Warlord and his two associates watched, their faces stern and unyielding.

  A trumpet sounded from the vestibule at the rear of the nave. All eyes turned as the herald blew several clear notes, then signaled for attention with a flourish of his hand. After a call to order in which everyone took their seats, the herald announced the purpose of the military tribunal. “New information has emerged about the Battle of Toon,” he said. “By the will of our beloved Queen Mother Katerina, we will hear today from some of the eyewitnesses so that the truth may come to light. Foremost among these witnesses is the woman whose father once defended our realm: Helena of Edgeton, the daughter of the great Armand.”

  At the mention of that august name a buzz circulated through the crowd. The guardsmen nodded and whispered as they contemplated what the day’s events might hold. Finally the herald called for quiet, then pointed to the dais at the front of the hall. “Let us now give our attention to our general,” he said.

  The Warlord sat erect in his throne. He was an austere man with an authoritarian bearing, yet he was known to be fair. Above all, he was a loyal soldier of Chiveis. Pointing a finger at Helena, he summoned her to stand and bear witness.

  Deu . . . give me your strength.

  Helena gripped the lectern to hide her trembling hands as she faced the Warlord. To the right she could see the crowd in her peripheral vision, but she kept her attention on the man in front of her.

  “Tell us who you are,” the Warlord said.

  “I can give you my name, but to tell you who I am is a much longer story.”

  The Warlord frowned behind his bushy mustache. “We have the time, so speak.”

  “I am Helena d’Armand, wife of an excellent farmer, daughter of an excellent soldier. I am a citizen of Chiveis—a noble land, a beautiful land, a land that has made me what I am today. Its mountain peaks lift my soul toward heaven. Its good earth brings forth the wheat by which we live. The cattle of Chiveis are made fat on the meadow clover, giving us the bounty of their milk. With my own hands I have squeezed the teat and churned the butter and molded the wheels of cheese. I am not an aristocrat, despite my father’s high rank. In truth I am just a peasant, a village housewife whose table is never empty and whose flowerboxes are always full. Yet that is not all! I am also a woman who carries some dark secrets.”

  At this last statement a murmur rippled through the crowd. The Warlord leaned forward in his throne. “Those secrets are why we have summoned you here today, matron of Chiveis. Tell us what you know.”

  “My story begins with a captain named Hanson. Most of you gathered here today do not recall that name, for he was executed in dishonor, and his name faded from the lips of men. When we met three decades ago, I had just turned seventeen. He was handsome and charming, a very fine warrior in the Second Regiment. I will not deny I was flattered to learn that a dashing older man desired a romantic relationship with me. Captain Hanson pursued me, and as girls will do, I entertained his affections—yet only to a point. Deep down I knew he was not the man for me. At last I told him this. He grew despondent, then angry, then desperate. He came to my chambers and tried to prevail upon me. I was confused, and I resisted as best I could.”

  As Helena paused to gather her composure, the commander of the Second Regiment spoke up for the first time. “What happened that day in your room? You must tell the court exactly what occurred.”

  “No,” Helena replied emphatically. “I will not give those details in the presence of my husband and this company. Suffice it to say that my father caught us in an embrace. I was humiliated, yet things were much worse for Hanson. A few of you in this hall are old enough to remember Armand. He rarely grew angry, but when he did his rage was terrible. He ordered Hanson to be whipped and demoted to the rank of private. The captain’s military career was over, and with it went the careers of those who had tied themselves to his rising star.”

  The commander of the Second Regiment shifted in his chair. “Perhaps this justifies what my men have believed for years: the ‘great Armand’ is overrated.”

  The Warlord silenced the man on his left. “Rexilius! Enough with the regimental rivalries! I wish to hear the conclusion of Lady Helena’s story.” He motioned for her to continue.

  Though Helena had been speaking from the lectern to the Warlord seated across from her, she now turned to address the crowd directly. The hall was so silent she thought she could hear her own heart thumping in her chest. Raising her voice, she said, “You men may recall that my father was killed at the Battle of Toon, which happened a few months after the events I just described. What you do not know, soldiers of the Guard, is the way in which he died.”

  “He fell in battle! He’s a hero!” someone shouted from the audience.

  “Indeed he is a hero. Yet there are those who believe he was murdered.”

  At this announcement the performance hall exploded into a frenzy. Shouts of “Liar! Liar!” mingled with other voices that cried, “Quiet!” and “Let her speak!” The uproar forced the Warlord to rise from his throne and bark out a call for silence. The soldiers reluctantly hushed at their general’s command. He turned to Helena. “Tell us what you meant by that!” he demanded.

  Helena refused to cower. “On the authority of an eyewitness who fought at the Battle of Toon, I declare to you today that the Second Regiment was involved in a rebellion. The conspirators coordinated an attack with the outsiders, then fell back from the king—”

  The Second Regiment’s commander bolted from his seat. “Outrageous!” he roared. “How dare you say that!”

  “—fell back from the king,” Helena repeated firmly to the stupefied crowd, “and left him to die. Only the bravery of the great Armand spared the king’s life. Then an arrow struck my father—an arrow from within our own ranks!”

  The crowd’s agitation could be contained no longer. Once again the soldiers burst into heated arguments over the veracity of Helena’s claim. The men of the Fifth pointed fingers at the men of the Second, and tussles broke out across the hall. The Warlord shouted for calm, but this time no one could hear him over the din.

  The commander of the Second Regiment approached Helena with hatred in his eyes. He jabbed his finger at her. “Blasphemy!” he snarled.

  The ominous word caught the attention of the crowd. Heads swung around as the squabbling soldiers forgot what they were saying and focused their attention on the stage at the front of the hall.

  “This woman was involved in blasphemy!” the regimental commander screeched with spittle flying from his mouth. He wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth like a wild animal. “Two years ago she was accused of worshiping an evil god! I should know—my soldiers were the ones who tracked her down in the wilderness of Obirhorn Lake! I tell you, she’s a heretic!”

  Stratetix left his chair and came to his wife’s side, slipping his arm around her waist. “That matter has been settled,” he said.

  “Has it? Or do you continue to harbor blasphemies against holy Astrebril in your heart?”

  “I am no heretic,” Helena said.

  “Yes, you are! You are an infection upon our land! Your own daughter was banished from this realm because of her false beliefs!”

  “Leave her out of this,” Stratetix growled. “What does she have to do with anything?”

  Helena met her adversary’s fierce gaze. “You’re just trying to deflect attention away from the facts,” she accused.

  The regimental commander spun toward the spectators. “The facts, she says! Ha! I ask you, comrades, can we believe the so-called facts offered by a heretic?”

  “Blasphemer!” yelled an anonymous voice.

  “Away with them!” shouted another.

  Seizing his advantage, the commander whirled to face Stratetix and Helena. His eyes blazed, and he raised his fist in triumph. “Tell us the truth then! Do you or do you not serve the god De
u?”

  Helena glanced at her husband. She did not see fear in his eyes, only resolve. They joined hands.

  “I ask you again!” the commander shrieked. “Tell us whether you serve Deu!”

  “For Ana,” Stratetix whispered.

  Helena straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “We do,” she declared.

  “And so do I,” said a voice from the back of the hall.

  Teo had thrown open the double doors for Ana just as her mother made her noble confession. Ana’s cry of agreement welled up from her soul—a witness she had wanted to bear since the day she knelt under a blue sky and became the handmaiden of the Eternal One. Her bold words caused her father and mother to turn in unison. Their eyes met hers. Their mouths fell open.

  “Ana!” Stratetix exclaimed.

  “My love!” Helena echoed.

  The overjoyed parents rushed from the stage and dashed down the center aisle. Though the Warlord snatched at their garments to restrain them, their desire for Ana was a tide that could not be held back. Stratetix flung his arms around his daughter, lifting her from her feet as he swirled her in the air.

  “Daddy!” she cried, though she hadn’t intended to use that nearly forgotten word.

  “Little Sweet!” he answered as tears gushed into his beard.

  “Oh, Ana, you’re home!” Helena offered her arms, and Ana embraced her mother as well. The jubilant family huddled in the vestibule, pouring out their mutual love.

  Around the hall the stunned soldiers struggled to comprehend the new turn of events. They were expecting the condemnation of heretics, not the emotional reunion of a daughter and her parents. Ana could see the confusion on the men’s faces as they sought direction from a strong leader. Teo provided it.

  “General!” he shouted to the Warlord. “I am a loyal captain of the Fifth Regiment of the Royal Guard! I seek your permission to speak!”

  From the stage the Warlord peered at the strange commotion at the back of the hall. “Captain Teofil, by royal edict you are a condemned criminal. Yet according to the laws of our land, it is the Warlord, not the High Priestess, who is in charge of military tribunals. I will grant you the opportunity to explain yourself.”

  Teo grabbed a chair and leaped onto the seat. Everyone in the hall turned around to hear what he would say.

  “Brothers-in-arms,” Teo began, “I greet you as a fellow soldier of Chiveis. In secret I have listened to your words today, and now I have come to tell you the rest of the story. You have just heard how our kingdom’s finest warrior, Armand of Edgeton, was betrayed by conspirators. I will not lay the blame for this deed at the feet of the Second Regiment, but only those who made their devious choice thirty years ago. Yet there is one person alive today who does bear blame for murder.”

  Teo paused, and Ana could see he had the crowd in the palm of his hand. Every eye held him as he continued. “The High Priestess of Chiveis was once a little girl named Greta Izébela, who assisted in the care of the injured Armand. See here, we have a record from the orphanage.” Teo swept his hand toward Ana, who held the papers aloft. “We also have an eyewitness who is prepared to testify that Greta was the only person alone in Armand’s room before his recovery took a fatal turn. Everyone knows the Order of Astrebril was often the target of Armand’s criticism. How hard would it have been for a little girl to pour a deadly poison down an injured man’s throat? That is what his attending physician believes happened. I acknowledge the evidence is circumstantial. But does it not raise questions in your minds?”

  “It does, Teofil!” said a man in the audience who wore the uniform of the Fifth. “It’s very suspicious!”

  “Based on these facts,” Teo went on, “I suggest a thorough investigation be made into the High Priestess’s involvement in this affair. And surely we must call into question the legality of the edict under which I stand condemned. Anyone can see it comes from the priestess’s own urging.”

  “That is a matter for the law courts to decide,” the Warlord called from the dais.

  Teo nodded. “Very well. Then let us do that.” He turned back to the audience, raising his arms. “My brothers, as you may know, I am not only a soldier but also a professor at the University of Chiveis. Today it is time for a lesson in recent history. Perhaps you are wondering where I have been the past two years.”

  “Yes!” someone shouted. “Tell us!”

  With that invitation Teo began to narrate an epic tale of faraway kingdoms and great societies in the Beyond. After descending from a frozen wasteland with the woman he loved, he joined the army of a land called Ulmbartia, a land filled with marble palaces and glittering aristocracy. Through many trials and intrigues, Teo was separated from Ana, who went to live in the glamorous kingdom of Likuria on the Great Salt Sea. There she encountered horrific danger, and for a time Teo believed he had lost her. Yet he persevered, and after many months the lovers were reunited on a lonely island. Events culminated in a colossal battle at the legendary city of Roma. Good triumphed over evil. Yet that was not the end of the story. Teo was sent on a mission by a holy man, and during those months he found his way to Chiveis again. “But it was not the Chiveis I left,” he declared. “It was a land of oppression and fear.”

  Ana glanced around the hall. Many heads were nodding. Yes, Deu! Come to Chiveis!

  “What did you do about it?” a voice called out.

  “There was nothing I could do at the time, so I went back to Roma. But I returned to find evildoers had Anastasia in their grip.” Teo recounted his desperate pursuit of his beloved and her rescue over the blazing chasm of Fire Mountain. His daring deeds and heroic sacrifices had every soldier listening to his story in wide-eyed wonder.

  “And so at last we made our way home,” Teo concluded. “Anastasia and I have suffered unimaginable hardships. We have been bonded by fiery trials that nearly claimed our lives. Yet our God has been faithful to us, and now we have brought his Sacred Writing to you.”

  An awed silence hung over the crowd as Teo finished his story. No one knew what to say next—until an accusing voice broke the stillness.

  “Lies!” shouted the commander of the Second Regiment. “You have no proof! Who’s to say you haven’t invented all these fantasies?”

  Teo faced his accuser at the opposite end of the hall. “Actually, Commander, I’ve brought a few eyewitnesses with me.”

  Ana ran to the double doors at the back of the vestibule and beckoned with her hand. Three figures strode into the hall.

  “Let me introduce my friends,” Teo said from his perch on the chair. “I give you Lady Vanita Labella, daughter of an Ulmbartian duke! I give you Captain Marco, master of the Great Salt Sea! And last but not least, I give you Liber of Likuria, a mighty warrior of the Beloved!”

  The regimental commander swatted his hands. “Bah! These strangers prove nothing!”

  “Then just look around, everyone! You will find proof of what I’ve said today. Chiveis has lost its way. Our leadership has become prideful and arrogant.”

  At these words, one of the soldiers began to recite a poetic stanza: “‘You summit-heights of wide renown, clad ever in your ice; take care lest you come falling down! ’Tis pride, your fatal vice.’ ”

  “I know that poem!” exclaimed another man in the audience. “I was there the day Anastasia sang it.”

  “Me too,” a third man chimed in. “She should have won that competition! The rest of it was nonsense. She was the only poet who truly understood Chiveis.”

  “Sing it for us now!” someone yelled, and then a general acclamation rose from the crowd. “Yes! Sing it, Anastasia! Sing it!”

  Ana didn’t know what to make of the boisterous request, but Teo flashed her an encouraging smile. “You can do it,” he mouthed.

  “Sing it for Deu, Little Sweet,” Stratetix whispered in her ear. He pushed a chair into a ray of sunlight from the clerestory window.

  Ana mounted the chair and found her pitch. She smoothed her skirt and straight
ened her fitted bodice. After collecting her thoughts and taking a deep breath, she began to sing:

  My kingdom fair and full of light,

  What darkness hath crept in?

  O how can you escape this plight,

  To cleanse away your sin?

  The gods, they trample down upon

  My beautiful Chiveis!

  O who will come deliver us

  From pride, our fatal vice?

  I wait, alone, with longing heart

  My soul begins to pine

  For one who reigns o’er all to give

  A prophecy divine!

  Ana sang the lyrics with such clear tones that the cavernous hall was filled with sweetness. The notes swirled among the stone columns, penetrating to each hidden corner. Everyone crowded close, even the Warlord. As the last echoes of the ballad reverberated in the stillness, the spell that had fallen upon the onlookers lingered for a final, suspended moment. Ana stood alone on the chair, her crystalline song melting away in the recital hall. The soldiers began to rise to their feet in a spontaneous ovation.

  And then the world exploded.

  C H A P T E R

  15

  Ana tried to push herself from the floor, but dizziness fogged her brain, and she collapsed. A heavy weight pressed her legs. Although cries and moans surrounded her, the dull roar in her ears muffled all sounds, making them seem distant and unreal.

  What . . . ? Who . . . ?

  Her vision dimmed. Ana succumbed to oblivion for a few moments as she lay sprawled on her belly. Finally she found the strength to open her eyes and blink away the darkness. The air was thick with dust. She could taste its earthy grittiness on her tongue. Through the swirling gloom she saw a mass of bodies littered around a large stone hall. Most of the men writhed on the ground. Some staggered to their feet. Others lay deadly still.