by Sophia Walker
The nightingale chirped sadly. The sun sank down. The old king lay dying. The nurse at his side adjusted his pillows again as his advisors watched the king tentatively. Four weeks earlier, King Nicholas Francis Alistaire IV had disinherited and banished his only son, Rupert Harrison Alistaire. With the plague that had ravaged the country eight years earlier, there was no other member of the Alistaire family left alive, and no official heir to the throne of Kandoria. Once the king finally succumbed to the tuberculosis affecting him, the palace would slowly descend into chaos as everyone with any influence squabbled for power.
The head of the palace guard, Captain Warnarly, paced anxiously by the door. He knew the consequences if the dying king did not name an heir. He feared also that Prince Rupert would not let his inheritance go so quickly. Even though he was banished, he would surely raise an army and come back to Kandoria to claim what he had lost. His father was the only one who could ever talk any sense into the prince, and even he had failed. The prince was simply too far gone.
After the captain had discovered the prince’s shady dealings with some criminals who had been suspiciously released from prison, he had taken his findings to King Nicholas. The king had been lenient with his son’s “mistakes” in the past, but this was too far for even his only son and heir. The criminals involved had been arrested as part of a conspiracy to assassinate several high-profile officials. It was the last straw, and the king had made his disappointment known in front of the entire court. Prince Rupert was now disinherited and banished from the kingdom, never to return on pain of death. Some said it was a bit extreme, but Captain Warnarly knew the king felt he had failed his people by not raising his son to be a better ruler. It was not only a punishment for the prince, but his father as well.
The king’s nurse, Peggy Amana, stepped away from the bed and towards the captain. “He’s fading fast,” she whispered in his ear. The captain nodded and walked toward his king.
He hesitated just a moment, and then asked softly, “Your Majesty, about the issue of your heir…”
“I fear to fail again,” the king whispered feebly, looking the captain in the eye. “The Alistaire family has failed in its most sacred duty, and so it will never hold this throne again. Kandorian law states that the next heir may not be of royal blood, as long as they are worthy of the title. Warnarly, promise me they will not know my secrets.”
Warnarly nodded, thinking of the diary the king had insisted he have after the prince’s banishment. He had read it several times since that fateful day and knew the secrets it contained must never be viewed by another. The king’s breaths grew shallower, and Peggy stepped to his side. As Warnarly watched the king give a soft, sad look to his faithful nurse, he knew what the king meant to do.
The advisors leaned in close. A hush settled over the room. The captain closed his eyes. The king turned to Peggy and whispered, “You will be my heir.”
Peggy blinked rapidly, then ducked into a curtsy. “Your Majesty…” she hesitated. “The people would object. I, I am not royalty.”
“You do not have to be. Ever since you lost your parents and entered my service, you have proven yourself trustworthy and entirely capable of commanding respect. There is no one more worthy of the throne, and I know the kingdom will be in good hands.” With these final words, the king laid back and closed his eyes for the last time.
Peggy blinked tears away as she leaned over and lightly kissed King Nicholas’s forehead, a liberty she would never have dared to take in life. The nightingale on the window sang a sad song. The captain stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, leading her from the room.
“Come, Your Highness, you must prepare for the coronation.”
Two months later, Queen Margaret Amana, ruler of Kandoria, dressed in a lovely green gown made of satin and lace, stood in the window of the queen’s chambers and watched a gray nightingale swoop and turn above the landscape. Captain Warnarly hesitated at the door, wondering how to break the news to her. Ever since her coronation, the queen had been firm but generous, taking frequent trips into her capital city of Tairene to help the poor and distribute food among the lowest of her subjects. She punished the criminals the guard captured but gave them a chance to prove their good intentions while in the prison. The people adored her, but not all her advisors. The queen had cut their allowances to start a soup kitchen in the city, which did not sit well with some. The queen had a good heart, and sometimes when one is good, they fail to see the bad in others. Sighing and thinking everything had been easier when he was in the infantry, Captain Warnarly stepped forward and stood at attention.
“My Queen,” he began hesitantly. “There is a small matter I would discuss with you.” “I know. I have some time before I have to get ready for tonight’s feast, and I was hoping you would stop by. Won’t you sit?” The queen walked over to her favorite couch and sat gracefully, signaling to Warnarly to do the same. He relaxed slightly but remained standing.
“I know my rule is not accepted by all. I suspect Baron Griebling, in particular, is plotting against me, and I am powerless to stop him, especially with his recent trip to the country. My advisors resent me, and I’m sure cutting their allowances didn’t help. Not only that, but in the background always looms the threat of Prince Rupert’s return. Stop shaking your head, you know it’s more than just rumors, Captain.”
Warnarly stopped, impressed as always, by the former nurse’s ability to read his mind. He had feared the same thing several times over the last few months, and to hear her taking a threat seriously pleased him. Still, worry pricked his stomach as he watched his queen’s face. A shadow had crossed her ever-cheerful brow, and her eyes looked vacant and distant.
“I’ve had a vision,” the queen whispered. “I saw the throne of Kandoria. Rupert sat upon it, and he held the crown. He told me my days were numbered. I will not sit on the throne for much longer, Captain. I do not want the people of Tairene to be stuck in poverty when the invasion happens. I want to help them as much as I can.”
Warnarly sighed inwardly. He should have known the queen would take a selfless approach to the impending downfall of her reign. His dreams had been the same. Queen Margaret’s reign was coming to an end, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The next night, the captain woke to an insistent banging on his door.
“Sir! You have to see this.”
Pulling on his uniform, he strode up to the north battlements, where his officers waited for him. A lieutenant handed him a spyglass and told him to look. An army was approaching. They had already captured the town and quickly, silently, moved towards the palace, torches in hand. Captain Warnarly barely even saw the sheer numbers; he was focused on the man at its head. Prince Rupert had returned to Tairene.
“Gather the men and arm the cannons!” the captain shouted as he lowered the spyglass and turned to his lower officers. “I’ll send a battalion to the south side of the castle to look for anyone approaching from that side. The rest of you spread out along the battlements and give the orders to fire the cannons and the bowmen to fire interchangeably. Any questions?”
“No sir!”
“Good, now get to it.” Warnarly turned on his heel and walked toward the south battlements. There was much to do, and little time to do it.
Down by the ditch surrounding the castle, Prince Rupert stood next to his ally, Baron Griebling. The scar across his cheek and mouth he’d gotten in a fencing match years ago was more apparent in the flickering firelight, and it gave him a menacing look, just the way he liked it. With his greasy dark hair in a ponytail and his hands behind his back, he contemplated the palace guard’s response to their surprise attack. The counterattack had been much weaker than expected, which meant the baron had gone through with his part of the deal and successfully paid off most of the guard. Not every business deal he made went this well, and he was surprised that the baron hadn’t tried to double-cross him yet.
“Your Majesty,” purred Griebling, startling him out of his reverie. “The men have broken down the doors.”
His smile growing wider, Prince Rupert grabbed his horse’s reins. “Well then, let’s go conquer a kingdom.”
Warnarly raced up the stairs to the queen’s room with the late king’s diary under his shirt. Prince Rupert had sent half his army to the south side, as he’d suspected. What he didn’t expect however, was that half the guard didn’t come when the war trumpet had sounded, leaving him severely depleted. When the invaders had brought out the battering ram, Warnarly told his battalion to protect the palace staff and had rushed to the queen. She was supposed to have a personal detachment, but since half the guard had already sold out, there was no telling who was with her.
Pushing open the door, the first thing he saw was Queen Margaret crouching at her desk, a secret compartment unlocked and the papers within scattered about. Warnarly stopped in his tracks; he knew he had seen that paper somewhere…
Margaret looked up and saw him, then stood, picked up several papers, and stuffed them into the satchel next to her. “You must go,” she said as she handed him the satchel.
“Where?” Warnarly asked, blinking confusedly as he took the satchel from her hands, then it clicked where he had seen that paper before. It was his birth certificate, and that meant Queen Margaret knew his true identity. He watched dumbfounded as she quickly put her signature on an official-looking piece of paper and slid off the royal ring. She stepped toward him and handed him the ring and the paper.
“King Nicholas was well loved by the people, and so will you be.” She smiled, a hint of sadness on her face. “He never wanted an Alistaire to be king, but you are not an Alistaire. I know you were born out of wedlock, but he still loved you. Here is the paper, signed by my own hand, naming you as my heir. Without that or the royal seal, Rupert cannot claim the throne. There is a secret passageway in the walls, you probably know about it from Nicholas’ diary. Take the papers proving who you are and flee to Carusus. There you can build an army and someday return to claim your throne. Benjamin…” Tears choked her voice. “Promise me you won’t let these people down. They, they need a strong leader, and…”
Benjamin reached for Peggy’s hand. “I will,” he replied softly. “I’ll come back for you, and for Kandoria.”
Leonardo Magazine 