Timothy and Barbara exchanged glances, as if they had missed something.
���Oh, there’s no need to whisper, my boy. Everyone here knows we’re just regular folks on Earth,��� he said, smiling.
���But why-��� Barbara began to ask, but she was cut off.
���Oh, it was King Corwan’s idea,��� Wilbur said, almost brushing them off. ���He said he didn’t want there to be any formality between friends, and so he made your grandmother a queen, and once we got married, well that made me a king, I suppose.���
���And no one cares you’re not really King?��� Barbara asked.
Wilbur sat back in his chair like he was thinking. ���In practice, I’d say, most people have forgotten all about it, or else, no,��� he said answering Barbara’s question. ���I don’t think they care… Which was maybe Corwan’s point in this whole thing.���
And that seemed to make enough sense to them, however Wilbur did not appear to be finished with his point.
He spoke again, raising his finger like he were to ask them something important. ���How did Elizabeth get to be Queen in England?��� he asked.
Timothy scratched the side of his chin, trying to recall what he’d learned in civics class, from last quarter.
���She was born into it, right?��� Wilbur said after a brief second, answering his own question.
���Yes,��� and ���I guess so,��� they replied.
���Well, there you have it,��� Wilbur said, as if that had settled it. ���You see, your grandmother,��� he said, pointing toward Matilde, ���she was born to be the Queen of Earth. And so whether or not they know it back home, we only try to do what’s best for our people… Meaning, we don’t need fancy palaces and servants to prove it, we can be real kings and queens, even if we’re fake ones.���
In the afternoon, Timothy and Barbara were treated to a small supper of toasted grain bread, and olive paste, topped with tomato, and served with a ruby colored vinegar dipping oil, and there was a small glass of wine for each of them.
And eventually, when the day had waned on and it was nearly sunset, and they had grown tired of waiting, Timothy began to ask around, wondering when the King would return to the palace for the evening. Though apparently that as the wrong sort of question, for no one expected the King to return at all, until the war had ended. And lastly, there was information from one of the attendants in the palace (an old woman who’d been a nurse to the King’s grandfather), she said that she’d heard from others, that King Corwan had taken a post by the break in the wall, and that he would be there for most of the night.
Which left him with no other choice (if Timothy had wanted to speak to the King about Asa’s return), except for him to make his way out from the palace gate, through the cindered and charred parts of the city at sunset. And after a long walk, as the last rays faded from view, the Prince of Earth found the King of Gleomu standing watch at a gaping hole in the wall, which had grown slightly larger since he’d last left. King Corwan stood on top of the broken pieces of the wall, with his long sword drawn in front of him, the tip of it pointed to the ground, and he had his hands resting on the hilt of it, like a regal guard.
���Excuse me, Your Majesty,��� Timothy said, after clambering up the mound of broken wall to stand beside the King.
Corwan lowered his gaze for only a brief second to see who stood beside him, before returning his attention again to the giant’s army encamped in the fields around the city.
���Good,��� the King said. ���I was hoping you would come.���
���You were?��� Timothy asked, as all the sunlight was at last fallen to the west of them, and the soldiers at their stations began to light the torch lamps.
���Of course,��� the King said proudly. ���I’ve heard what happened with Darius, and how you’d saved my Queen’s life.��� And for a longer moment, Corwan took his eyes off the battle entirely, and with an expression of tenderness Timothy had only seen equaled by his own father, the King said, ���All my thanks to you, Prince. I am forever grateful.���
And then setting his attentions forward once more, he continued, ���When this is all over, we shall have a feast in your honor.��� The King smiled at the thought of a grand feast, but for now there was still the war to be had, so that the expression of battle never truly left his face, even as he said this.
And they both went on again, to watch the giant’s army for any signs of movement, or attack, but there was none of that.
After a few minutes, Timothy saw over his shoulder, other watchmen making their way between posts, and he heard the clinking of metal as supply men delivered extra stocks of arrows, and spears for the artillery. Yet, besides this, the city was quiet, and Timothy had finally got the courage to ask what he’d come for.
���Your Majesty… I came to ask about Asa,��� Timothy managed to say.
���Did you now?���v
By the deepness of the King’s voice, it made Timothy instantly feel as if he were not going to get a positive answer, but since he’d already begun the process of asking, he thought he might as well finish. After all, the King was ���forever grateful��� to him, as he had said, perhaps this gratitude might extend to other areas as well.
���You see, he’s stuck in the north, and he… he can’t come back because of your laws. Though, if you’d allow me, I could bring him back by morning.���
Even saying these words Timothy felt foolish, and like he had overstepped his bounds to even ask King Corwan to make this exception in his laws, and he felt sure the King would be furious with him; Although he was not, not even slightly.
���And why should I change them?��� Corwan asked, with his hands still resting on the handle of his royal sword, shoulders back and arms straight, with his eyes closely fixed on his duty as a watchman.
Timothy thought it obvious. ���Because he’s your son,��� he answered.
���Timothy,��� the King spoke, like he would explain something important, and he looked at the boy in the eyes as he said it. ���If he were myself, I would not change the laws… That machine is a weapon, and the less we use of it the better.���
Timothy���s face was distraught as he thought about the King’s words for a moment, and then pointing out across the plains toward the giant’s army, he said, ���Then if it is a weapon, why not use it? Send out an army to attack them from behind, or something… we can win the battle, Your Majesty, there’s still time.���
By then the night had fully fallen on the city, and the flickering torchlight cast deep shadows on the King’s face and beard.
���Young man, don’t you remember… Darius would have used that machine for great evil, not just in our world, but in all worlds.���
And as they stood there a tiny piece of the wall, that had not yet fallen, finally broke loose and fell, clicking against the larger stone slabs as it skipped down the face of the pile on which they stood, and it landed with an almost silent thud on the dirt outside the city wall.
���But you’re not Darius, Your Majesty,��� Timothy eventually spoke, after searching through his mind for something that seemed right to say. ���Surely, you would use the globe for good.���
The King breathed in a deep breath, as he answered.
���Yes, I’m sure that I would… But we do well to withhold such great power, even from ourselves.���
���But why?��� Timothy asked, with the glow of lit torches, and the light of stars and the moon shining down upon them.
���Because I shall not always be king,��� Corwan answered.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Palace
When Timothy returned to the palace that night. There was a commotion in the halls, and an obvio
us unsettledness, and he was sure he’d thought he heard someone crying. In fact, he’d nearly stopped one of the waiters by the kitchen door to ask what had been the matter, that was until he saw Barbara leaving the dining hall. She too had been recently tearful, and her face seemed to be saddened for sometime.
���What’s going on here?��� Timothy asked her, while still glancing around at some of the other passersby leaving the dining hall, who’d seemed to be equally as sad.
Barbara’s expression was mournful, and she spoke softly in a whisper.
���The King’s son has just died,��� she answered.
���Who, Asa?��� Timothy asked, but realizing as he said this, that that was not a very thought out response.
Barbara’s eyes fluttered, as if she’d been slightly startled, and slightly amused by Timothy’s lack of deduction at the moment.
���What? Of course not, don’t be silly. How could we even know that anyway?��� she answered. ���No, it’s one of his younger son’s, Tahan,��� she said, stepping out from the middle of the hallway, so that she would not be rudely in peoples’ way as they spoke.
���It was during the horsemen’s attack,��� she began to explain, ��� …when you left to fight Darius. Both he and his horse were knocked off their feet by Atilion’s giant club, and he’s just died an hour ago.��� And Barbara stopped to wipe a bit of moistness from under her eyelid. ���In fact, a lot of the soldiers died in the attack,��� she continued.
And then looking back toward the open doors leading to the dining hall, she said, ���And I overheard a woman at dinner, who’d said that she’d heard from one of the generals’ wives, that the walls won’t last another day of this, and they say then that the giants will just wait us out, and walk in one night when we least expect it, and when our supplies have run low.���
���Seems hopeless, doesn’t it?��� she ended with.
���Yeah,��� was all Timothy could think to reply, overwhelmed by this flood of awful news.
A young woman and a man, who’d wore the same sort of physician���s clothes as they’d seen earlier, walked by, and the two had stopped talking, until the man and woman had gone by them.
���Is Asa still not coming back?��� Barbara asked, once she and Timothy had their privacy again.
���No, the King won’t allow it,��� he answered.
And following this, Timothy, who was by then quite thirsty, and with his stomach growling from his long walks, both to and from the North Gate, and from not having a full meal previously; He took some leftover tea and crackers from the dining hall, and they continued to speak for hours in one of the common sitting rooms: about the war, about what would happen to them if they had to flee the city, and if they would be back in time for the end of what would have been our summer here on Earth, or, if not, would people say they had died as well.
Yet throughout the night, though, neither of them wanted to speak about the very real inevitable possibility that either of them might actually die during the war, and so they spoke of it only as a hypothetical, and not for very long.
And when they had finished, as they were returning to their own quarters, and while the steps of their feet echoed in the late night hours, through the empty marble palace halls, Timothy said these words:
���You know, we can go back home, when this is all done… and the people there may have thought we’d been dead, but we wouldn’t have been. And we can go back to how things were, but they can’t. If this city and the palace are destroyed: then Asa, and Delany, and Corwan, and everyone else, they lose their homes, and they can’t travel to another world to forget about it.���
��� …Or they’re not allowed to,��� Barbara added.
���Right,��� Timothy said, agreeing.
It was late after midnight, and Timothy lay awake on his bed, with his other new sword propped up against the pillow beside him, and he’d had the note folded inside his pocket, in case he’d overslept. But even as he lay there, he could not help but think, that the city would be doomed if they could not find a way to stop Atilion and his evil army.
And it was sometime during that night of tossing and turning, though it was hard to say exactly when, while laying upon his comfortable bed, that Timothy had had a very selfless thought, perhaps an evidence that he had grown somewhat during his journeys, thus far.
There was a way to stop Atilion, to disrupt his army, maybe enough so that they could win, and he was the only one that could do it. But he would need to first borrow something from Barbara, without her knowing.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Challenge
By the first light of morning, Timothy was awake. By then, he had, with the help of one of the palace maids, gathered an extra change of clothes for Asa, and some medicine, and all the food he could fit inside a pack, and he stood alone in the palace gardens at sunrise. In one hand, he held the scribbled note that would carry him along, back to the broken window room, and in the other was Barbara’s crossbow, the one that was a present to her from Queen Delany, and he had meant to borrow it indefinitely, and he hoped she would not be angry with him.
Light stretched over the eastern garden walls. The note began to glow in his hand, of its own accord, and the shrill ringing noise began again. Then, like a lightning bolt, he was swept away once more, reflected back to the broken window room, for what perhaps would be his last time.
Flashing through the painting and back into Darius’s poorly lit underground basement, Timothy set the pack of things he’d brought for Asa against a half-wall in the window room. He charged the globe and set the point of Barbara’s arrow at an exact place, a place that he’d well decided on the night before. The arrow began to emit a golden light of its own.
There was a noise of someone at the basement stairs.
���Forgot to say goodbye, did you?��� Asa said jokingly. He stood at the base of the stairs, and was leaning most of his weight onto a homemade crutch he’d fashioned to help him around that massive lonely house, until his legs had healed entirely.
Timothy turned, and very solemnly replied, ���Goodbye, Asa.���
At once, a look of terror spread across the wounded prince’s face, he knew that tone, and how Timothy had meant it.
���No!��� he shouted, but it was too late.
In a moment, the arrow, and the crossbow, and Timothy, were lifted into the air, and shot through the painting, and across the northern country, back to the place where Timothy had chosen.
It was still early morning, as Timothy passed through the open fields, letting the high grass sink around his ankles. Behind him, in one of the few standing watchtowers along the wall, a warning bell rang, and he heard the noise of a horn being blown to call soldiers to action. But still he kept walking, evenly paced, he had ten minutes left and did not want to waste it rushing.
Not very far ahead of him, Timothy saw the catapults, as big as houses. And even before he was close enough to have a look at them, the disgusting stench of giants floated in the air, seeping into his nose. (And so that you can imagine it, commonly most giants stink of rotten meat and the foulest body odors.) In his ears were their snorings, until he came closer.
Thud. Thud.
As he drew nearer, one of the sentry giants noticed him and beat the warning drum to wake the rest of the army. Within seconds, he heard foul-odored giants calling between themselves: ���Well look at that���, ���Just a child��� some would say, or either they would erupt in an arrogant laughter.
Finally, when he’d come to a reasonable stopping distance Timothy cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, ���I’ve come to challenge Atilion.���
But this had caused an even greater roar of laughter, which came to rest with Atilion’s own treacherous and stony laughter. The mountainous giant pushed through the crowd and stood in fron
t of his army, gazing down at his new adversary.
���You want a challenge, little boy?��� he laughed, and his other giants laughed, shaking the ground beneath Timothy’s feet.
Timothy pretended not to be afraid (and did a good job at it), but his stomach churned with every word.
���We can settle this war now,��� he shouted, as bravely as he could. ���If I kill you, your army has to leave.���
Atilion sneered and grinned as he spoke. ���Do they? And what do I get in return, when I kill you… your surrender?��� he asked, waving his deadly club at the city.
Timothy paused to answer this, and after looking around at the deformed giants’ faces, and at the ominous catapults all around him, he said loudly, ���Well, no… You would kill us anyway, but this just gives us a fair chance.���
The giants, of course, thought this was all devilishly funny, so that Atilion had to yell insults at them so that they would be silent.
���Alright, little child,��� the giant lord answered. And then giving a wicked grin, he said, ���I will play your game.���
Wind swept past the grass and Timothy’s pant legs, as Atilion drew back his spiked club, the size of a massive ancient fallen oak tree. Timothy raised up his crossbow, hoping that the ringing would have started by now, but there was nothing. He gave himself too much time, he thought.
Atilion paused at the top of his strike. ���Have you only got one arrow?��� he chuckled, and chided the boy.
���That’s all I need,��� Timothy answered, in his full voice.
However, Atilion, not wanting to make this challenge appear too easy for himself, and turning back to judge the expressions on his men’s faces, he decided to draw this out, so to not lose the fear and respect of his army.
Yet, even at this same time there was another thing that had happened, the horn that had blown some minutes ago within the city had served as a message to call all the remaining horsemen to battle. And a charge had begun, at full speed, a formation of warhorses led by King Corwan himself.
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 23