Journey's Middle

by B. K. Parent

  “Due to the fact that we do not know when the Princess will be healthy enough to assume her duties, I have consulted with the royal advisors, and to prevent chaos from reigning I am prepared to continue to act as Regent until such time as the Princess is well enough to rule.”

  The Regent let us know that he was honored that he had been chosen to be the Regent all those many years ago when the Queen had died, and in spite of great personal sacrifice, he had still chosen to serve his country. Though he had looked forward to returning to the simple life of a landholder, he remained willing to do his duty and continue to serve the Crown and his county. How he said this made me want to hurl something or to stand up and yell “liar” at the top of my lungs. I must have shown my agitation for Carz leaned against my leg, and Shueller bent over and softly told me to relax. I nodded and then tried to loosen my hand from around Carz’ rope.

  The Regent continued to talk about how he would continue to rule, and I realized a quiet but steady swell of noise was beginning to fill the Well of Speaking. At the same time, I noticed that the elite royal guards behind the Regent had taken a more alert stance. The Regent’s announcement was not going over very well, and there was a general feeling of increasing restlessness in the crowd. I began to worry about what was going to happen next when Lord Hadrack stood.

  “Your attention, please,” Lord Hadrack requested in a voice that held both just the right volume and command to quiet the crowd. “If I might address you, your honor,” he stated, looking directly at the Regent, who nodded a yes. “Your term as Regent officially ends the day Princess Esmeralda comes of age, am I not correct?” The Regent nodded yes. “What we have here then is a territory that is unprecedented in our history, as far as I can tell. We have a living Princess who recent traditions suggest should rule, but who you say is too ill to do so. Since you are no longer legally the Regent, rather than continuing at what must be great personal sacrifice, might I suggest an alternative?”

  The nobles and other dignitaries on the speaker’s platform were looking distinctly uncomfortable, and the elite royal guards had taken on an even more alert stance.

  “I think, Lord Hadrack, that suggestions might be welcome, but this is neither the time nor the place. Might I suggest you make an appointment with me for later in the week?” replied the Regent.

  “I would suggest,” said Lord Hadrack, mildly using the Regent’s words back at him, “that this is the appropriate time and place, since you are trying to continue to rule Sommerhjem without the will or the consent of its folk.”

  I could see that the Regent was beginning to look angry, and I was worried that he would signal the elite royal guards to do something to harm Lord Hadrack. I was also aware of a rising change in mood within the Well of Speaking, for a clear division of folk was becoming quite evident; there were those who agreed with Lord Hadrack and those who backed the Regent. Suddenly I was worried that if this discussion became too heated, violence would erupt.

  “Now, my dear Lord Hadrack,” the Regent said, in what he must have thought was a calm and soothing voice but seemed to me to have an underlying feeling of oiliness, “I appreciate that you and other nobles have had your differences with my rule, but again, I repeat, we should meet and discuss what needs to happen next in a more comfortable setting.”

  “You will not stand down then?” Lord Hadrack asked.

  “I think it is best for the continued consistency in governing this fine land of ours that I stay on as Regent until such time as the Princess is able to fulfill her role as ruler,” replied the Regent.

  A number of “Here, here,” and “Good plan” shouts came from the Regent’s supporters. An equal number of negative suggestions came from those who opposed the Regent’s idea. Over the increasing noise of the crowd of folks gathered in the Well of Speaking, the Regent raised his voice to be heard.

  “This assembly is over. By order of the Crown, you are now enjoined to disperse.”

  Lady Celik stood, faced the Regent, and stated emphatically, “I do not think you have the authority to end this assembly, Lord Klingflug.”

  The crowd, noting a new voice had spoken up, quieted immediately, and time seemed to stop. The Regent was beginning to look flustered and frustrated. His face was beginning to turn red, and if smoke could come out of a one’s ears, I think his would have been smoking.

  “I repeat, until such time as the Princess is well enough to rule, I will maintain the reins governing Sommerhjem, as I have faithfully done these lo so many years. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it,” the Regent said, but it was clear that his patience was almost at an end.

  Master Rollag rose to his feet and said, “You will step down when the Princess is well enough to rule?”

  “Yes, yes, that is what I have said several times.”

  There was a stir in the crowd as Seeker Eshana stood up, and he made an imposing figure dressed as he was in the brilliant blue formal robes of a seeker. The folks who had sat near him moved aside to allow him to reach the central stairs, and he began a slow descent towards the speaker’s platform. Midway down, Seeker Eshana paused and held out his hand to a figure hunched under a light cloak, whose face was obscured by a wide brimmed hat. As the two continued down the stairs, the royal guards headed by the Captain move forward and formed up around them. I chanced a glance at the Regent and the other nobles on the speaker’s platform and noticed looks of concern and confusion.

  When Seeker Eshana reached the bottom of the stairs, he addressed the Regent. “Will you step down when the Princess is well enough to rule?”

  “Yes, and yes, and yes again. How many times do you want me to answer the same question?” said the Regent, and I could clearly hear the annoyance in his voice.

  “Three times should be sufficient,” Seeker Eshana stated mildly. “I would suggest that you are now relieved of your duties as regent.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, nothing has changed since we gathered here. The Princess is still gravely ill and keeping everything the same as far as how Sommerhjem is governed is only common sense,” the Regent said, running a hand through his thinning hair in frustration.

  The hunched figure who had been standing quietly beside Seeker Eshana slowly straightened up, removed her hat, and handed it with great dignity to Seeker Eshana. One of the royal guards stepped forward and removed the light cloak.

  “The rumors about my grave illness have been blown greatly out of proportion,” stated the Princess, in a voice that carried conviction and the weight of command behind it.

  A very loud murmur ran through the crowd.

  “What are you trying to pull, Seeker?” the Regent demanded. “Why would you try to put an imposter before the crowd assembled here?”

  “Would you truly question the integrity of a seeker before so many when you know it is our life’s work to seek truth? That is what we are oath sworn to do.” Seeker Eshana shot back.

  Because of where I was sitting, I could see beads of sweat forming on the Regent’s brow, and his face had turned from a light red to almost a shade of purple.

  “I beg your pardon, Seeker. Since the Princess was confined to her bed so terribly ill, and I saw her just before I came here, I am concerned that you have been misled, and an imposter has fooled you.”

  “How then would an imposter have the Princess’ seal in her possession?” Seeker Eshana asked back.

  The Princess pulled a chain out of her shirt and held it up for those close to her to see. All I could make out was something dangling on the end of a chain and catching the light as it twirled. While others were looking at the Princess, I happened to catch the Regent looking questioningly at Lady Farcroft, and she quickly turned away, not looking him in the eye.

  Mere moments after that exchange however, Lady Farcroft abruptly stood up and faced the restless crowd. “The real question you shoul
d all be asking yourselves is whether the Princess, who has been so gravely ill recently, is fit to rule,” she declared. “What does she really know of Sommerhjem and its folk?”

  “Far more than I did a few weeks ago before I escaped a plot to kill me,” the Princess shot back, and the noise in the Well of Speaking increased as everyone began to talk at once.

  There was a loud pounding sound as the Regent began pounding the butt of an elite royal guard’s staff on the floor of the speaker’s platform and yelled for silence. The crowd began to settle down once more.

  “It would seem we are at an impasse,” the Princess said, aiming her remark at the Regent. “Many of the folk are loath to have you continue on as ruler and . . .,” she held her hand up to stop the Regent from interrupting, “. . . and in my recent travels, I have come to understand that many are equally not thrilled to have me take the throne. There is a solution, however.”

  “And just what do you think that might be?” the Regent asked.

  I could almost hear the sneer in his voice, as if he thought he would have the upper hand no matter what she would propose.

  Was he wrong?

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  An instant hush fell over those assembled in the Well of Speaking; a collective breath-holding, waiting for the Princess to speak.

  “It does this land we both love no good if we divide it in a power struggle over who is to rule,” the Princess said calmly. “One solution, of course is for me to abdicate, but . . .,” the Princess held up her hand, indicating she wanted it to remain quiet, “I am not willing to do that. You could arrange for my ceremony to be seated on the throne, but I am thinking you are not willing to do that, based on the lengths you have gone to maintain control, so . . .,” the Princess paused and turned to face those of us assembled, “. . . I call the Gylden Sirklene challenge.”

  To everyone’s amazement the Regent began to laugh, a huge, from the belly, laugh. Some in the crowd nervously laughed along with the Regent, but most were just looking at him stunned.

  “Is that the best you can offer?” the Regent shot back, once he had finished laughing. Turning to the assembled crowd, he addressed them. “Is this who some of you would chose to rule Sommerhjem? A young, untried, inexperienced lass who has shown absolutely no interest in Sommerhjem, and now thinks she has a solution to our dilemma by calling a challenge, which at the very best, is some obscure myth?”

  It was at this point that I noticed a stir in those seated just a little to the left and above me. One of the most ancient men I have ever seen, stooped-shouldered with a large mostly bald head, except for a few wispy white hairs sticking out willy-nilly, stepped onto the stairs and began a slow descent towards the speaker’s platform. He was followed by a woman of equal age, who had more wrinkles on her face than a dried grape, and who descended the stairs with the aid of an intricately carved walking stick. As she passed by me, I was momentarily distracted from the drama unfolding before me by the carvings on her walking stick. The designs matched some in the book the Huntress had given me. It made me want to know all the more who these two were.

  “A chance to speak on this matter, Your Highness, Regent,” the man queried. “As the royal historian, I can tell you that the Princess is well within her rights to call down the Gylden Sirklene challenge, and that it is not a myth at all. It is well documented in any number of books and ancient parchments, as the royal librarian can attest.”

  Heads swung to look at the royal librarian, who stood just a little taller and straighter. In a voice that was both warm and rich, she stated that while the Gylden Sirklene challenge had not been used to select a ruler these last several generations, it had been the way rulers of Sommerhjem had been chosen previously, and there were rules to be followed now that the challenge had been called.

  The Regent lost some of his swagger at this point. I knew he had anticipated that this might happen, since he had done things over time to eliminate, or try to eliminate, this possibility, but I think it caught him off guard that it was the Princess who had called the challenge. I wondered if he had been holding in reserve the possibility of calling the challenge himself. It would seem for all of his plotting and planning, having the challenge called by the Princess was not something he had anticipated or planned for, but I could almost see his mind working, plotting how he might use this turn of events to his advantage.

  “So, royal librarian, if you and the royal historian, two of the most learned folks in Sommerhjem, say the Gylden Sirklene challenge is truth, not myth, who am I, a humble servant of our land, to dispute you? Is it not true that there are rules on how this challenge must take place? Have you found somewhere these rules are written down?”

  I had the feeling that the Regent thought he already knew the answer to his question, for while he was trying to look very interested in the royal librarian’s answer, a smug look had swiftly crossed his face.

  “The references in the royal library refer to a Book of Rules . . .”

  “And have you found a Book of Rules?” the Regent asked, interrupting.

  “I am reluctant to say that in all of my years as the royal librarian, I have yet to run across it.”

  “And you, royal historian, do you know where this mysterious Book of Rules lies hidden?” the Regent asked dismissively, as if he already knew what he would have to say.

  “I do not, but . . .” the royal librarian started to say, when the Regent cut him off.

  “Well, that leaves us with a dilemma does it not, my dear Princess Esmeralda? However can we follow through with the challenge you called when the Book of Rules which governs this so called challenge is not to be found?”

  “Your pardon, Regent,” the royal historian interjected, “I may not know the location of the Book of Rules, but I do know who does.”

  The Regent had the good grace to look taken aback and stuttered just a bit when replying, “You, you do?”

  “Seeker Eshana, would you come join us?” the royal librarian requested, and Seeker Eshana went to stand by her. “If you would be so kind as to hand me the book you showed me yesterday.” Holding aloft the small book, bound in very worn and faded leather, she showed it first to the Regent, and then turning and facing the assembly, she showed them the small book.

  “That’s it, that little book is the famous rule book governing the most important challenge in our land?” the Regent scoffed, and a dismissive murmur ran through the Regent’s supporters. “Well, then, why don’t you read it to us?”

  He was again looking like he was holding the winning hand, and I became very uneasy.

  “I am afraid I cannot comply with your request,” the royal librarian stated. “It is written in a language that has been long lost to us.”

  “Well, that’s a fine pickle, now, isn’t it? Maybe our Princess should have done some better research before she called down a challenge whose rules are in a book no one can read. How do you expect anyone to take you seriously?” the Regent scoffed.

  Heads swung towards the Princess, many I am sure hoping she had an answer, and many hoping she did not.

  “If I might comment,” the royal historian interjected. “While the royal librarian and I might not be able to read the language in the book, references concerning the Gylden Sirklene challenge suggest that the members of the Høyttaier clan have knowledge of the language.”

  Once again, there was a great deal of talking among those assembled, and the Regent was again looking as if he had gained the upper hand. “That clan was always small in number, and I cannot recall if I know if any are still live this day, so . . .”

  “Our numbers are still small, but greater than you have been led to believe despite your efforts to eliminate us, Regent Klingflug. Like the Princess’ grave illness, which was in no way true, the demise of the Høyttaier clan has been greatly exaggerated. We simply disappeared for a whi
le or took on other roles for safety’s sake,” stated the woman I had come to know as Master Clarisse.

  “How do we know that you really are a member of the Høyttaier clan and not just an imposter in a grand conspiracy to confuse the issues of an already contentious time?” asked the Regent.

  “You do not,” Master Clarisse said simply, “but that is probably what has kept me safe all of these years. However, there is a way to verify I am telling the truth, is there not?” Master Clarisse asked directly of both the royal historian and the royal librarian.

  “Why, yes, of course, it’s really quite simple,” the royal librarian stated. Noticing those around her were either looking confused or impatient, she went on. “All those born to the Høyttaier clan usually have a strawberry colored birth mark somewhere on their body.”

  “Fortunately for me, I do not have to remove any clothing in front of this assembly to show mine,” Master Clarisse stated, lifting the back of her long hair up, revealing a jagged edged blotch about the size of a copper coin at the base of her hairline.

  “This young woman’s birthmark is consistent with what I have read in the records,” commented the royal historian, “which would suggest that she is telling the truth. The next question should logically be, can she read the language of the text in the Book of Rules?”

  The Regent was looking less and less happy with the revelation that Master Clarisse was indeed a member of the Høyttaier clan, and yet, I think while his mind must have been whirling at a rapid speed, there was really nothing he could do at the moment but let what was happening before him play out. All those assembled were now witnesses to what was happening, and he was wise enough to know that even with the royal guards at his command, he could no longer control the situation, which is what we had hoped for when we had talked about someone calling the challenge. What we had not decided was who should call the challenge, and we did know that we had only some of the elements for the challenge to actually happen. We knew Seeker Eshana had the Book of Rules, and Da had the small box he had brought back from the Shadow Islands, but none of us had known Master Clarisse was a member of the Høyttaier clan, or what else would be needed. It was only now that I had begun to realize what a very loose and incomplete plan had been cobbled together. We were not out of the woods yet.