Castle Guard

The vast room, already swarming with the Castle Guard, began slowly to fill with heavily-armed intruders. Swords were drawn on both sides, but, for some unknown reason, no one attacked. They stood, weapons at the ready, warily sizing each other up. No one spoke. The Castle Guard, without one command, arrayed themselves into a formation that put their backs to the wall and one of the two doors in the room. Slowly, the invaders moved into a slightly different position, but also with their backs to a door.
They moved with quiet determination and I knew that if I didn't speak up soon, blood would be shed. Lots of it, and all unnecessarily. I wormed my way through the tense, rigid soldiers that were readying themselves for battle, and posted myself in front of the Castle Guard.
"You must lay down your weapons," I commanded in as royal a tone as I could manage. "I give you my word you will not be harmed."
The men began to mutter heatedly. No one moved to sheath a sword. Their faces were stone masks, masks of men willing to die for what they thought was right. If only I could get them to listen to me; none of the soldiers needed to die.
I swallowed hard. Many of them I had known since I was but a young child, and I knew they would feel I was betraying them. They could not understand that things had changed dramatically, for both my social position and my political influence.
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward. "Begging your pardon, Highness, but it appears to me that you are being held captive by our enemies. It is our duty to rescue you."
I looked into his eyes. He was a stoic man, fair-minded and always ready to execute orders, no matter the personal cost to him. Right now he would die to see me safe; I hoped he wouldn't have to.
"Captain, I am not being compelled by these men. You must believe me. If you will surrender, not one of you will be harmed; but we have to get through, and they will not hesitate to cut you all down. They have a tactical advantage and greatly superior numbers." I tried to speak steadily, but was afraid my nervousness had shown through.
The captain licked his lips slowly, taking in me, the soldiers at my back, and assessing the situation. He raised his sword and I knew he was going to give the order to charge. It would be a slaughter.
"What can I say to make you believe me," I yelled at him.
He smiled sadly. "Nothing. I believe my eyes."
"Hold a moment." I turned my back to him and spoke to the commander of the invaders. "I told you there would be a point when you would have to trust me. This is it."
He studied me warily. "What is it that you want us to do?"
"Put away your weapons."
He stared at me wide-eyed. "You have to be joking, Highness."
I shook my head slowly. "It is the only way. These are honorable men and they will not rush you. But as you can see, they are convinced I am being compelled to speak these words. If you show that you follow my orders, however. . . ." I let the sentence hang and turned back to the captain.
"Sheath swords!" the commander bellowed. I heard the faint rasp of metal on leather.
"Captain, will you do the same? You now have evidence that I am not their captive."
The captain looked at me long and hard. Finally he sighed. "There are forces at work in the kingdom that I can't begin to understand." He extended his sword to me. I took it, wrapping my fingers around the hilt, feeling the balance of the blade. He turned to his men. "We are at their mercy."
I felt like crumpling to the floor, so great was my relief. It was not yet over, however. Now I had to make sure that the ever-capable Castle Guard could not distract us later on. To do that, I would have to break faith with some of them. Being men of action, they would not understand. "Put down your swords," I said.
They lowered their weapons.
"On the floor, please. All weapons you may have." A hard knot of anguish formed in my stomach as I watched the brave men disarm themselves and stare at me, waiting on my word. "If any of you wish to join us in our mission, you may." I waited, not really expecting any response to the offer. I was not disappointed. No one moved. I motioned to the commander standing behind me. "Please," I told the Castle Guard, "do not resist. You will not be harmed and I will make sure you are not forgotten."
The commander issued orders to his men, and some began to gather the swords, daggers, and slings lying on the floor at the Guardsmen's feet. Others removed the lengths of rope hanging from their belts and bound each Guard's hands behind his back. Not one of them made the slightest move of resistance; all their eyes were on me.
They had placed their complete trust in my judgment. I could only hope I hadn't made a wrong decision. The tip of my tongue ran across my dry lips and I swallowed hard.
When every Guard was bound, the commander looked expectantly at me. I took a deep breath.
"Leave them here. They won't get in the way."
The commander nodded, gestured to his troops. They followed him through the next door in a very orderly fashion, without a single glance at the prisoners they were leaving unguarded. As I moved to go with them, the Captain of the Guard caught my eye.
I stopped.
"I'm very sorry it has to be this way, Captain. Truly, I am."
He regarded me with a steady, unblinking stare and did not say a word.
My eyes traveled from his face to the face of every man in the room in turn. They all stared at me silently. There was no accusation in their eyes, no betrayal; just a simple, almost childish trust. I suddenly felt as if someone had placed a giant boulder on my shoulders. I now knew the awful power of having someone willing to live and die for you, no matter what the cost.
It was a fearsome knowledge.
I wanted to throw up.
I forced myself to calmly meet each gaze, then walk out of the room with dignity. I could feel their stares following my back as I left them behind.
* * *
I gripped the sword hilt as if I were hanging a thousand feet above the ground and it was all I had to hold on to. My fingers began to protest, but I ignored them. My eyes concentrated on the stairs I was mounting behind the scores of invaders.
Fourteen.
Fifteen.
Sixteen.
There were sixty steps to the top of the walls. That was were my father would be. It was strange, but I still thought of him as my father. It was too bad that he had lied to me all these years, knowing that I was to be discarded. My teeth clenched in anger.
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
Twenty.
It was just three weeks ago, on my eighteenth birthday, that he had broken the news. I had just opened my eyes. He was the first thing I saw that morning. I loved him, as any child loves her father. And he told me. I was not his child, was no relation to him at all, nor his deceased wife. I would be allowed to continue my life in the castle, but there was to be no thought of inheritance. He severed an eighteen-year-long bond in a casual statement. He didn't care. How I hated him.
Twenty-four.
Twenty-five.
Twenty-six.
There was no question about staying at the castle. I had left that very afternoon, taking only my falcon, my horse, and a pack of food and clothing. I had wandered across the countryside for several days, wondering what to do. I had only a little money and no place to go, no real connections with the world outside my father's castle. And then I met him.
Twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
Thirty.
I had stopped at an inn for the night, cold and wet through from a rainstorm that pounded down outside. After ordering a hot drink, I settled beside the fire to warm myself. He made his way across the room to sit beside me. At first, he didn't say anything. Then he began to ask questions. What was my name? Where was I from? Where was I going? Was I traveling with anyone? I was reluctant to answer them, and strangely enough, he had seemed pleased with that.
Thirty-four.
Thirty-five.
Thirty-six.
Then he began to talk, but not about himself. He spoke of a year long past, a decisive year for the small kingdom's history, but not one generally spoken of when the winter tales are told. It was a year when power was shifted, people were killed, and the surrounding country thrown into turmoil. A king and queen were murdered that year, he had said, quickly and silently. It happened so fast that relatively little attention was paid to the deed. The servants noticed, but were not heeded when they told their story.
Thirty-eight.
Thirty-nine.
Forty.
One night when everyone went to sleep, one king ruled the castle. When they woke up, another had slipped into his place. There were a few astonished and quite noisy servants, but they were soon silenced. Many of the common folk didn't notice at all; one king's name was just as good as the next, and a few thought that they had had the name wrong all along. There was no proclamation, no drastic change, no announcement of a new system. The new king and queen even adopted the surviving child as their own. Life went on as usual.
Forty-four.
Forty-five.
Forty-six.
He had said all this quietly, not looking at me at all. He merely stared into the fire and talked. I had known instantly that the child he spoke of was me. I had felt the rage mounting inside of me at the realization that I had called the murderer of my parents "father" those eighteen years. I felt sick. Then I had demanded of the man why he told me such a dreadful truth when it had been hidden from me. There had been no question in my mind that it was the truth. There were too many details in my memory that slipped into place as I heard the tale for it to be otherwise.
Forty-eight.
Forty-nine.
Fifty.
He looked at me solemnly, then asked if I would like to take what was rightfully mine and avenge the death of my parents. I had asked him if he really had to ask. It was then that he had smiled and taken me to a place where men knew the truth and had been waiting for me. It was incredible. The next two weeks had been spent making a plan.
Fifty-four.
Fifty-five.
Fifty-six.
I had told them that if they trusted me enough to do whatever I said, I could take care of the Castle Guard, and I had fulfilled my promise. Now we had to find the man who had slain my parents and taken over their role in my life and what was rightfully my kingdom. My mind was filled with the atrocities of the man I had once called father. The sword clenched in my right hand glistened in the sunlight. I filled my left hand with a dagger from my belt, thankful that my studies had included more than just history and mathematics.
Fifty-eight.
Fifty-nine.
Sixty.
As I stepped onto the wall top, my gaze traveled across the countryside. Rolling hills dotted with trees and sheep, plains with scattered villages, backed by a fierce mountain range covered the landscape. A few fluffy clouds drifted through the blue sky and I saw my falcon circling overhead. I took a deep breath of the sweet, cold air and smiled grimly.
Then I looked for the man who had claimed to be my father for so many years.
I did not have to look far. He stood askance, jaw flapping and calling for the Castle Guard. The few that had not been to meet us earlier appeared at his side. I pushed my way through the men, who moved aside for me, and stared at the king face-to-face. The Guardsmen looked at me, at the man they knew as their king, then took a step back. I shifted my gaze to them. They took another step back. My face softened and they dropped to one knee. I nodded to them, and they fled.
The pretender looked at me, amusement and fear fighting for residence on his face—amusement that I would dare to challenge him, fear of the support I had already rallied. I nodded again.
"It really is me, Father. Oh, but I can't call you that anymore, can I?" My face hardened. "Would your rather I called you a usurper, a pretender to the throne, and a murderer?"
Fear finally won the battle, but its victory was short-lived. His face instantly became an expressionless mask. "You foolish child," he spat. "It should have been enough for you to be able to live in the castle, surrounded by your servants and pretty things. I never wanted you to die."
A thin smile touched my lips. "Finally, one thing we have in common. I don't want to die, either." Now my eyes narrowed. "The time spent with your weapons master will ensure that it will not happen. Your final wish has been granted." I raised the sword.
The men behind me took a step back to give us room.
Slowly, the imposter drew his own sword, one that was specifically molded to his hand, his grip. I clearly had the disadvantage when it came to weapons. I, however, had practiced every chance I got. I knew for a fact that he hadn't touched his blade in weeks.
I took a quick step forward and the swords met lightly. A pained expression crossed his face.
"What's the matter?" I taunted. "Nervous about fighting me? It's not like you're fighting your child," I said, lunging as I spoke the last word.
He darted back, striking my sword aside in the barest nick of time. I took another step forward and slashed at him. His face crinkled in concentration as he dodged the sweeping blade. We managed to cross swords a few times more, sparks flying in all directions, before I finally opened a thin cut on his cheek.
First blood.
I lunged. He parried. I slashed. He blocked. I swept my blade at his legs. He jumped over the steel. What he lacked in continuous practice, he made up for in years of experience. Even so, I forced him farther and farther back along the wall. The he slipped underneath my defenses and sliced at my shoulder. I twisted away and the tip of his sword neatly cut the left shoulder of my tunic, barely grazing my skin. It wasn't at all a bad wound, but when I spun away from the flashing blade, my ankle gave way and I found myself pressed against the wall, my sword hand trapped.
Time seemed to crawl by and everything moved in slow motion. I heard cries from behind me and saw an evil grin creep onto the false king's face. I could not move away from the wall fast enough to intercept the blade that he lifted above his head to swing down on me.
The sword began to drop.
I heard a screech coming from behind him and my eyes traveled to the sky above his head. My falcon, wings folded back, talons extended, was diving at the flashing metal. The large bird plowed into the back of the pretender's head, driving him to his knees. The sword clattered harmlessly to the ground.
He shook his head dazedly. Then, before I had time to react, his already pale and sweaty face turned a sickening ash color, and he sank to his knees. I frowned, wary of a trap. Cautiously, I stepped forward and nudged him with the toe of my leather boot. He didn't move.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped back. It was over, and I had won.
The commander came running up behind me. "Is he dead?"
"I think not. He has had a spell like this before."
The commander nodded, then drew his sword.
"Hold, man. What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I will kill him, so you will have no blood on your hands, so you will not have to worry about him again."
I shook my head. "No. It is not done. Have him thrown in the dungeons. That is enough for now. I will decide his fate later."
The commander, clearly unhappy with the decision, gave orders to two of his men. They grabbed the pretender's arms and hauled him away.
"Now we must free the Castle Guard," I said.
"Is that wise?" the commander asked. "They may try to revenge him."
I shook my head. "I know where their loyalty lies. You saw it. It is not with him." I jerked my head after the two soldiers. "I will do it myself, if you will not."
"That will not be necessary," he hastened to say.
"I believe I will come anyway."
* * *
Even after eighteen years of castle life, I am not entirely certain I am used to people bowing to me. Most certainly, I am not used to an entire roomful of soldiers bowing to me, even after I had them taken prisoner. But what unnerved me most was the next day, when I had been arrayed in full royal regalia and ushered onto the balcony, and saw the soldiers, the Castle Guard--those who weren't beside me, the commoners--farmers, merchants, and the like, along with the lesser nobility standing on the ground below me, all waiting for me to appear.
My stomach twisted itself up into knots.
And then the cheer began.
It started sparsely, slowly, quietly, but quickly climbed to a massive, unified chant.
As I listened to the people, my people, those who entrusted their very lives into my young hands, tears clouded my vision. I could only pray that I would be worthy of their esteem and honor.
The chant continued long after I had begged them to stop.
"Long live the true Queen."