Finger-Talker

- part two -

After a moment, the finger-talker turned toward us and said as the King signed, "Death is an irrevocable sentence. Then again, the danger present in those plotting against a kingdom is great. And again, the judgment of a council of elders is valuable. Yet, it is our decision to postpone making the final judgment. The High Council shall meet during the next seven days and re-examine their judgment. We shall consider the defense again. Finally, in seven days those accused shall be brought back before the throne for final judgment. The Guard shall see the accused to the detaining clambers for the interim after our hearing is completed."

When the King's decision was finished, the men accused were instructed to bow again. Then, after the pause, the woman spoke to me. Although her brown-black hair swirled in waves around her face, and cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, I could still see the sky-blue of her eyes, which projected the authority of the words she interpreted.

"There has been other news of darkness as well. News has reached our ears of a spy taken in the royal camp. Who will come forward and speak of it?"

The Guard who had followed me through the woods came forward and was joined by the Second Officer to the Prince, and they knelt to the King. In a very complete account the Guard accusing me told of my conduct and of my capture.

"And will the accused now stand and give account of himself?" the Throne asked at the conclusion of the accusation.

"My Lord the King," I began, suddenly realizing that I was speaking to the young woman instead of the King. Looking up to the him, I continued as confidently as I could, "I am from the Land of the Free. . . ."

Quickly I told my version of the story, having trouble only when one of the elders asked me, "Just how did you get into the kingdom if you arrived here by chance?" At that point I stumbled and stuttered, saying something like, "If I told you, you wouldn't understand. But I'll tell you anyway." My instinct was correct: they didn't understand. And it seemed to me that my explanation gave more evidence to suspect a cover-up than to believe in my innocence. As the silence of deliberation fell upon the chamber again, I felt less and less hope for a good outcome.

The Eldest of the High Council rose and came forward.

"It is the conclusion of this High Council, our Lord the King, that the accused appears to have told the truth. It seems plausible that he is simply the unfortunate victim of bad timing and an undisciplined curiosity. However, we also know that it is part of the training of the personality of a spy to project the image of believability. It is our conclusion, being unable to confidently determine his guilt or innocence, that if the accused is a spy, he is extremely dangerous. Therefore, it is our judgment that the King seek a penalty short of death but harsh enough to protect His Person, the kingdom, and the people."

The King paused before speaking. As he signed to the young woman, she began to speak his words. "We have felt no fear of this man. Yet, the elders are wise in their conclusion. The accused will be detained on close inspection for the period of one year. He will then be brought back before us for judgment. . . ."

Then, as the King signed his last phrase, the young woman turned toward me, looking directly at me. ". . . The Guard shall see the accused to the detaining chambers. . . ."

Just as she spoke her last words, I signed the one phrase I knew in sign language. It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to find its mark. Her voice never faltered, but the look of authority produced by the words she interpreted fell away immediately to a startled expression of her own. She had no time to react, however, for I was instructed to bow, and then was briskly marched below with the others-but I was marched farther below than the chambers we had first entered, to the lowest level.

As the light from the door entered ahead of me and sliced through the darkness, I saw what appeared to be a dungeon, and I protested, "Surely these are not the detaining chambers? Where are the other prisoners?"

"Quiet!" hissed the Guard in my ear. "Spies have no claim to luxury. This will be your home for the next year. You'd better accommodate yourself to it lest you spend the remainder of your life here!"

I was led inside to a far corner where I was shackled in leg irons anchored to the wall, and shackled by the wrists in irons anchored above my head. Then, with my protests ignored, I was left alone.

* * *

Scarcely had the Storyteller paused when Herbie urged him on with "What happened then, Storyteller?"

"Patience, Herbie," Old Lightfoot said, sitting back on his haunches and having a good laugh, "Hee-heeeee! Got us wound up real good, Storyteller! Good tale so far says old Lightfoot. Yep. But time for a quick throat-sloshing, A dram of ale perhaps?"

"Yeah, yeah, a dram of ale, I say," agreed Bubba, who was already pouring the small draft for each of the Inhabitants from the flask at his side, and a double portion for the Storyteller.

"But a quick dram, yes?" bargained Herbie.

Mr. Hawk chuckled softly and the Storyteller laughed with him. "A quick dram, Herbie," the Storyteller reassured the snail. Taking a moment to recollect his thoughts, he sipped his ale, finished the last swallow, and began again.

* * *

Through the window high in the top of the wall of the dungeon, the moonbeams fell across the expanse of the room to the other side where they echoed from the wall in waves of eerie gray illumination. Slowly they sifted through the mustiness of the damp dungeon until they reached the straw tossed about the floor for the comfort of those who could rest reclined. In that dark place the gray light could have been mistaken for a dying, overcast day: gloom is not the right word to use to describe a bad place from which one might never get free.

There was low, deep-pitched groaning in that place. Some would die soon. Some would live on in misery for years. But no one would find pleasure, unless it was in their pain. Though I had been there but for less than half a day, my arms were already chafed almost to bleeding. My legs cried out with pain. There was no rest for my feet without weight upon my wrists. Down I wanted to slump: for a minute; for two. But my wrists shouted in the attempt. Pain! Pain and misery. I wondered at the life remaining in those who had been there for weeks, or even months.

Quite suddenly the place was besieged by clinks and clanks and then the squeal of hinges. Then a voice – no, a pair of voices, the first, that of a woman – sliced through the moans and the groans.

"The King's servant seeks the prisoner with the King's permission. The less you question, the more likely you will remain in His service as well."

"Your pardon, young one. But His servants do not remain His servants without caution."

"Very good, Guard. And a point well –"

She broke off her speaking when she saw, or felt, the gloom of the dungeon.

"Where is the light, Guard?"

"There is to be no light for the scoundrels."

"By whose orders?"

"By orders of the Prince."

"When?"

"Last month."

"Why, Guard? Why no light? Don't even the dogs deserve light?"

"Careful, my Lady. 'Why' is not a question servants are allowed to ask. It is because the Prince desires it."

The Lady remained silent. I could see the glow of her white dressings in the pale light. Obviously more than she could see of me.

"Where is the spy?"

"The last one, in the corner."

She moved tentatively over to my corner of the dungeon, careful not to step on those who were able to recline. She at last stumbled over an unseen leg and fell on her hands and knees. Swiftly she turned to the man over whom she had fallen.

"Did I hurt your leg?"

There was no emotion in his voice at all as he replied, "No, my Lady. It's not my legs that are in the shackles."

For another moment she looked at him before saying, "I'm sorry," and turned toward me once again. She got to her feet and walked closer to me. Looking at my wrists in the shackles, she spoke.

"Even a spy should not be chained like an animal."

"At least if I were an animal, I could lie down," I replied.

Against the wall, the faint light would not allow me to see her eyes, although I could see the outline of her face. Nevertheless, I still remembered their blueness from the Throne-room earlier in the afternoon. Soft eyes, that saw much and expressed much.

"Perhaps you really are a spy, who signs bold words in a public place; for few in the kingdom know the secret of the signs. And 'I love you' is not expressed by a man to a woman in public."

"I'm not a spy; I'm a messenger. A stranger to your kingdom, yes, but only a messenger."

"And who sends such a bold message from outside the kingdoms?" she asked with puzzlement in her tone.

"Some messages are meant for one ear only, my Lady."

About that time I unthinkingly slumped down to ease my legs, having forgotten about my wrists. Pain! I clenched my jaw to keep from yelling, but a groan slipped past my throat before I caught it. Hot pain. But it began to subside after I jumped back into a standing position.

"Not a pleasant welcome for a messenger to the kingdom, I'm afraid," she said of my pain. Then, as she leaned close, she whispered, "If messages are not to be overheard, there is no better place to speak them than in the darkness of a dungeon."

"Then listen closely. The King is threatened. An attempt will be made against his life. His son builds a loyal following among the Guard even now, which will quickly turn against the King. Those imprisoned elsewhere, where I should also be imprisoned, are guilty of no insurrection as I am guilty of no spying. At the Prince's command, they shall be freed and will accomplish the assassination. Time is short."

There was no reaction to the words I spoke. A moment of silence, and then, "But why the Prince, who will naturally inherit the throne?"

"'Why' is that question which is prohibited, my Lady; I do not know. This I know: the attempt will be made; the time is short. And this message is from a stranger to your kingdom, who favors neither your King nor his son. The outcome now rests in your hands."

Once more there was no immediate reply. Then she whispered, "Groan once more."

As I eased my weight against my wrists, the groan was real: long and low. And she was gone in an instant, her white dressings gliding, glowing in the eerie gloom.

"Guard," she spoke sternly, "unshackle that man. He has been detained unjustly and suffers ignobly."

"No more ignobly than the others, Lady Auria. I have received my orders, and you have no authority to countermand them."

"Then I will get such authority, Guard – from the King." Her glow disappeared into darkness and the gloom was pierced once more by the squeal of hinges and the clanks and clinks of a door's locking. Finally, the dungeon, the Prince's dungeon, was relinquished to the sound of sighs and groans of those seeking a surcease, either sleep or death.
 

Not more than a half an hour later the clinks and clanks and squeal returned to the dungeon. The soft, but firm, voice of the Lady Auria became audible.

"I say again, I am both the messenger of his authority and the person to whom the authority is granted. If it is so against your better judgment, Guard, you are free to send the messenger boy to the King's room. I assure you that he will not be pleased to be interrupted a second time. Now either let me hear no further protests, or send the boy."

Silence followed her ultimatum.

"So be it, my Lady. He is yours."

At this the white glow of dressings entered the dungeon. Another outline materialized beside her as she moved cautiously through the room once more. The boy. He approached me and brought a key up to my shackles and unlocked them. My arms dropped to my side uselessly and I collapsed to the floor. Relief seeped into my legs.

The boy moved back toward the entrance, but the Lady dropped quickly to her hands and knees beside me and leaned down, gripping my shoulder tightly and whispered to me, "Rest will come this night only for those who die. The King has not been warned, but the Prince has been informed. If he knows of me, you cannot remain unknown to him much longer." The precious relief which had found its way to my knees now fled. Every muscle in my body complained, but I got up quickly. Then we moved.

* * *

"The next portion of my tale, Herbie," the Storyteller said to the snail, though he still gazed into the flames of the small campfire before him, "I was not present to witness. The same is true of some of the later portions. But from what I was told and what I later saw and learned, I shall reconstruct this portion of the tale. Let me take you back to the Lady as she left the dungeon the first time."

* * *

Lady Auria ascended the steps leading upward from the dungeon to the Palace with ease and grace, unruffled by my message, as though it were only a confidence to be taken to the King and not of royal emergency. Out of sight of the Guard below, however, she began the long dash up to the upper chambers in the wing which was naturally the furthest distance from the dungeon. Up stone steps, up more stone steps, then around a corner, across a marble threshold, then down a long hall of granite, past a quick turn where the granite gave way to marble, polished and gleaming, and around a final turn. Out of breath, gasping, she had to take a moment before she could speak.

A lone Guard stood outside the great oaken door which was the entrance to the King's private quarters. His face was mercilessly blank, to deny without even a word any and all requests to see the King after he had retired. When Auria had caught her breath enough to speak, she looked up and confronted that face of stone with all the firmness and confidence she could muster.

"Guard, I must see the King."

"The King has retired for the evening, my Lady. No one sees the King after he has retired."

His eyes never flickered down to glance at her, never even blinked."

"He will see me, Guard."

"He will see no one. We are under his order."

"The matter is one of extreme import, Guard."

"My life is of extreme import, Lady Auria. I am under order."

"Is your life of greater import than that life with which you are entrusted?"

Firm determination. He broke his transfixion and looked down at her. "As his Guarder, my life is as important as his. Speak clearly. What is the meaning of your riddle?"

She did not want to give in to his command. If she lost her firm position, there would be no admittance. She knew what transgression of the King's orders meant.

"My message is for the King," she persisted stubbornly.

"And my 'message' from the King is that no one disturbs him after he retires. Upon the pain of death." (Members of the Guard were put to death if orders were irresponsibly transgressed.)

"Are you willing to risk his life by turning me away?"

"I am not willing to sacrifice my life if I admit you and he is not pleased."

She thought quickly. They were at stalemate. The game was over. All or nothing now. He had come down far enough to concede the condition of the King's pleasure. But he would have to hear the message.

"There is a plot to assassinate the King," she said quickly, before she could second-guess herself.

His gaze never wandered. "What assassination attempt cannot wait for his advisers in the morning?"

Frustration and anger leapt up in her heart. Incompetent!

"The assassination devised by the King's son!"

The Guard burst into laughter and Auria's anger turned to rage and then, like the wave dashed against the rocks, shattered and subsided into disappointment and embarrassment. Questions flooded into her mind and doubt arose. Was it foolishness for her to have so trusted a complete stranger's words (and words based on no evidence at all) that she would risk the anger of the King and the scorn of this Guard?

"I apologize, Lady Auria, but I think it unlikely that the natural heir to a throne will take it through force," the Guard replied through the last chuckles of his laughter. "It will wait till morning. Perhaps it is time now for you to retire to your quarters?"

Feeling too shaken to respond, Auria quietly turned and walked back down the marble hallway, past the turn and down the granite hallway, around a corner and down a flight of cold stone steps and into another hallway down which her quarters were located. She thought back and saw the stranger at the sentencing earlier in the day, who had caught her gaze with three quick signs: I-love - you. She wondered who he was.

As Lady Auria turned from the door and walked past the turn where the marble gave way to granite, the Guard signaled the boy who sat silently across the hall. The messengers had a way of becoming a part of the palace furnishings, present and noticeable, but seldom seen. The boy answered his summons alertly.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You heard the conversation between the Lady and me?"

"Yes."

"You can repeat it?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then check to make sure Lady Auria has gone to her quarters. After you have checked, then tell this conversation to the Prince."

With the fluid quickness of a bobcat, the boy moved quietly down the hall. Taking his place by the door, the Guard fixed his gaze once again to the opposite wall. And he smiled.
 

It was dark in Auria's quarters as she entered. She went to her bed without lighting any of the torches on her walls. Alone with the quietness of evening, she thought unquiet thoughts of the stranger in the dungeion. Was he making his story up? Was it some kind of play for freedom? She remembered the statement of the Eldest about the necessity for a spy to be believable. Yet, the question of his motive was not the real cause of her unrest. The Guard was right: the story of the assassination attempt would wait for the morning. If it were true, the attempt could not occur in the space of an evening. "Soon" was the word, not "tonight." She had over-reacted, had badly over-reacted. No, that was not the most bothersome question. The stranger had given her such a start with his words! And his signs! That was the question which puzzled her the most. Who was this stranger that he would know the signs?

Having taken a pillow in her hand, she tossed it back on the middle of the bed as she got up. It landed against another pillow, vaguely resembling someone curled up in her bed by the diffused moonlight which oozed through the shaded balcony door. Walking across the room, she slipped through the opening, allowing the thick but loosely woven canvas shade to fall back in place behind her. The balcony was just a covered, semi-circular stand outside her room, large enough for only one person at a time, where she could view the palace grounds below leading to her right. She agilely climbed atop the ledge which railed the small balcony, a danger which she had enjoyed since she had first come to the Palace as a girl to be the King's interpreter. The thrill always exhilarated her.

As her mind drifted toward those other days, though, a new danger brought her back to the present. The click of the lock of her door and a moment of silence caught her ear. Then there was what seemed to be a quick scuffle – on her bed, for it creaked!

"Bonehead!" spat a disgruntled voice. "It's a pillow!" "But it very well looked like a body on the bed!" came the reply.

"Nevermind what it looked like – it's not! Get a light on and check her sitting room. If she's not here, it'll be our heads that roll." Doors. Flickering shards of illumination slipped around the edges of the canvas and spread across the balcony, but, on the ledge against the wall, she was still in darkness. Noise. They checked her room, even drawers, as if she could fit into them.

"She's not in here. It's that simple."

Silence.

"Send the boy to tell the Prince. Have someone search the grounds. I'll check this wing. And remember your head, Think. It's on the line if she tells her story to anyone else."

There was no more noise, and Auria could not be sure if the men had left the room. But finally the sound of the click of her lock came, and she eased off the ledge, to peek carefully into the room. No one was visible. Upon entering the room, she saw the mess of feathers on her bed and picked up the pillow to look at the knife-cut which had ripped it open.

The implications stung her like the big drops of rain in a thunderstorm. The plot was true. The Prince was involved. The Guard at the King's door was a traitor. She was in danger. And the King could not be warned.

What could she do?

Again she thought of the stranger who had started all of the madness and wondered how long it would take the Prince to connect her to him. The King could not be warned, but perhaps the stranger could be freed. If she could bluff the Guard of the dungeon, maybe she could get the stranger out. Then she would try to think of something that they could do.

So she came to get me out of the dungeon. And she got me. Then she told me what all had happened as we turned aside from the main stairway, which joined the lower and upper palace chambers, to a dimly lit, musty hallway she said was an infrequently used route to the servants' quarters.

"When the Deaf King ascended to his father's throne, he dismissed a number of harsh restrictions on the servants, one of which forced them to traverse these rude tunnels when traveling to and from the kitchen and their quarters. So most use the above-ground pathways now."

Abruptly we stopped, apparently a safe talking distance from the main passage.

"Now what do you think we ought to do?" she asked, looking at me expectantly, as if I were familiar with this kind of predicament.

It was my turn to be startled. This woman was new to me and I didn't know how to reply to her. The Palace was new to me and I had no idea of where to go. And that world was new to me – I didn't know how to get out. At that moment I just wanted to get back to My world, to my home, to my bath and soak all of the aches and pains away. But I was there, and she was there, and both of us might never see our baths again.

"I'm sorry, Lady Auria, but I don't know of anything we can do. I really don't know anything of your Land or of your Palace. You'll have to lead us."

She pursed her lips. Her eyes stared down the hall, but

her mind wandered to other places. Perhaps she was envisioning scenarios in her mind, as I had been much earlier in the day. Like the dawn sky her eyes brightened and grew warm, a liquid blue.

"Sure. Yes, of course!" She grabbed my hand and we ran down the corridor with the echoes of our footfalls following close behind. "Come quickly, I've thought of an idea."

"What's that?"

"Just come on and I'll tell you when we get there," she replied, pressing on even faster. "The Prince won't know that I know about the attempt on my life for a while, and we've got to get there before he figures out that I know I'm in danger, because he will know where we've gone."

"And where are we going?"

"To my father's house."

"Oh," I answered, as if it all made perfect sense to me now.
 

The Prince crouched at the head of the table, as if he might spring over the table to throttle the first man who disagreed with him or questioned his judgment. His Second Officer in the Guard was seated beside him on his right. Five other men, four of whom were members of the Guard, were seated around the table. They were listening to the boy who had been sent to tell of the unsuccessful attempt on Lady Auria's life.

"Blast those two incompetents!" the Prince exclaimed wildly, banging his fist on the table and causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. "Bumble-headed bricks!"

After pausing to regain his composure, the Prince continued, "Okay, okay. So we're suffering from a bit of bad timing. She can't be far. And since she wasn't there, she won't be alarmed. We'll take her before the night is done. But what must now be done about our plans? Obviously, someone leaked the plot. What should be done?"

There was quiet in the room as the men pondered the question. After half a minute, the man directly across the table from the Prince, the single member of the group not in the Guard, spoke.

"There are one hundred and fifty officers of the Guard in service at this time. Sixty-seven of them are loyal to you Prince. Out of four hundred officers of the fighting forces, two hundred and twenty are loyal to you. The balance of power has shifted to you in these past few weeks. It is my feeling that you could ascend to the throne if we put the plan into motion this minute. But more time to effect a larger shift in the balance would probably insure less loss of life and officers in the fighting. However, if you choose to wait, the Lady must be killed, and the source of the leak must be found and eliminated immediately, Which means that there's a better chance of suspicion being raised."

"Very good, Sudaalt. You'll serve me well as commander. Valic," the Prince said, acknowledging the Second Officer, who had signaled to the Prince while Sudaalt spoke. "Yes, my Lord. There is also the matter of the sentencing of your hired assassins. We were not given as long a delay as we would have liked. If we wait, and the High Council and the Kinq decree death, we'll be forced to move sooner than we would like anyway."

"Good point, sir."

There was another pause as the Prince waited for further comments. None were expressed. He broke the silence himself.

"To find the source of the leak is nearly impossible. A sentence of anything but death for our hired hands is unlikely, also. Therefore, we'll move tonight while we still have the element of surprise. Though the Lady Auria knows of our plot, her conversation with Kraff should silence her for a while; she'll have no idea that the plot will be accomplished before mid-morning tomorrow. Any objections?"

He looked in the eyes of each of the men at the table.

"Boy!"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Go alert the Guard at the detaining chambers. Tell him we will move at half past four. He'll receive instructions at a quarter past four."

"Yes, my Lord."

The boy slipped silently from the room.

"Officers," the Prince said with a smile, "at noon tomorrow you will be the new High Council."

Even with the Prince's confidence, there was tension in the air. Each man knew what the cost could be.

"My Lord?" said the boy when he returned fifteen minutes later, announcing his entrance.

"Yes, boy, what is it?"

"There is a new development in the lower levels." The Prince rose to his half-crouch again and the eyes of each of the officers snapped toward the slight figure by the door.

"Speak your news."

"My Lord, the Guard at the detaining chambers told me of the visit of Lady Auria to the lower levels almost two hours ago. Would you like for me to recount?"

"No, boy, just give the essence."

"She went to see the prisoner accused earlier of spying. The Guard at the detaining chambers had to explain to her where the spy was being kept. This visit was confirmed by the Guard of the Dungeon. However, he told of a second visit by the Lady, to take the man. By authority of the King, she said. It was about an hour and a quarter ago that they left."

"By the Witch!" exclaimed the Prince. "A crafty, bluffing little woman she is. Well, we must find her now. Obviously, the spy was the leak, although he should never have known anything about the plot himself. One of the hired hands must have let his tongue slip somewhere along the way. She must know about the attempt on her life since she went to get the spy. By the Witch!"

"Will she suspect our attempt tonight?" asked the Second Officer.

"Maybe not, but she'll try to alert someone," the Prince responded, his thumb and forefinger tracing the curve of his mouth as he contemplated his next move.

"Where would she go for help?" asked Sudaalt.

"There's no guesswork there, Sudaalt. She'll go to her father's house, thinking we won't know of her escape; she'll feel safe there. Valic."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Take an officer and go to her father's house. If she or the spy or her father are there, kill them. On second thought, take two of the Guard. The old man might still have his sword."

"Will this create any changes in your plans, Prince?" asked one of the other Guard.

"No, Sholt. It only solidifies them. We must move tonight. Remember, at five you must go relieve Kraff at the King's door. Allow the servant girl and Commander Jaway to enter as usual. She will exit as soon as she serves the King his breakfast. Jaway will exit some quarter of an hour later. Allow them free passage, or harass as much as is normal. One bit of suspicion and Jaway can spoil the entire ambush.

"When the King has left his chambers, send the boy to alert me. Then, by six, I shall be King."
 

At a quarter past four the messenger entered the detaining chambers. The "prisoners" were unshackled and given weapons. At half past four, the Guard led them to the exit near the stables. Hidden by the deep shadows of the night, for the moon had already set, yet exercising extreme caution to remain unobserved, the group of forty-nine men moved forward to the floral gardens. Quickly they took places of concealment inside the garden, previously drawn up and assigned at an earlier meeting. By a quarter until five they were in position, alert, and envisioning the blue starfires they would receive as payment by noon. No one who was not trained by ear and eye would have ever noticed their movement in the night. No one untrained noticed. And there was no Guard outside the palace that morning.

They waited.
 

The servant girl arrived at the great oaken door at ten minutes past five as she did every morning. Sholt had taken his watch at the door exactly at five. Though not as fresh as he normally was, from having stayed up deep into the night, he was exhilarated by the nearness of the takeover. He said something lewd to the girl, but the cowl of her cloak merely dipped down as she turned her face to the floor. He grinned at her embarrassment. Chuckling, he unlocked and opened the heavy door for her and she entered with the King's breakfast tray.

Jaway arrived at that moment and Sholt addressed him: "My Lord."

"Good morning, sir," the commander replied, acknowledging the verbal salute as he entered the passage to the King's chambers.

Sholt heard Jaway give the password for the day to the Guard at the inside door, then closed the great oaken door. As he waited, anxious and eager now, the quarter of an hour seemed to stretch into a full hour; the servant girl had knocked from inside soon after she had entered, but the Commander would be a few minutes behind her. When it seemed that Jaway was staying longer than usual, Sholt began to perspire lightly. But at a half past five, Commander Jaway thumped the inside of the door to be let out.

"Lengthy orders, today, Commander?"

"Yes, sir. Twice as many as normal. Our Lord the King had a bad dream in the night. Insisted on telling me the whole thing, he's jumpy this morning."

"Will he go on his walk, my Lord?"

"Yes, sir. Just as usual. I suggested that the flowers would do him good."

"Very good, my Lord," Sholt responded evenly, smiling as Commander Jaway hustled down the hallway.

With a wink, Sholt dispatched the boy to the Prince. By six. . . .
 

The King entered the garden with ten Guard in his presence, three more than normal by the command of Commander Jaway as a reaction to the King's dream. The Prince was neither surprised nor alarmed. The Guard, who bore only swords, would never get close enough to his archers to deliver a single blow.

The Prince came forward in the garden, surrounded by walls of flowers, to meet his father. He was ruthless, but not without honor. It was only honorable that his father know who instigated the assassination before he died.

"Father, I have come to take your kingdom," the Prince stated, gesturing with some idea of communicating his words. "If I do not, then surely King Talowat will soon take it in the war which is inevitable, and decimate our people as well."

The King signed in desperate motions, but there was no one present to translate for him.

"These men," the Prince continued as the assassins, each with his bow and a quiver of arrows, stood up from their places of concealment, bows ready, "are archers all. Deserters from Talowat's forces. They will deliver your kingdom into my hand."

As the Prince started to turn and walk away, the King signed again, this time accompanied by a voice, a female voice – a voice filled with authority.

"My son, do you come to me with bows and arrows, archers from a foreign Land? To capture a kingdom? The kingdom surely would have been yours, my son. But now look around you. . . ."

At this speech, the sound of rolling thunder broke the morning quiet, but the sky was a clear blue with the early morning sun.

". . . look at the ramparts, my son."

At first the Prince looked around the garden in confusion, trying to find where the voice of Lady Auria came from. Then, understanding the words, he looked up at the ramparts of each tier of the Palace. At least three hundred archers were standing along the ramparts, bows ready. Baldimoor, Lady Auria's father, the younger brother of the King, Commander of the Archers, waved to the Prince. Then the sound of thunder died into silence and the Prince saw another hundred archers mounted on speeds, led by Commander Jaway, surrounding the Prince's own archers, bows ready.

No arrows were shot. Each of the Prince's archers had also looked at the ramparts and seen the mounted archers. They lowered their bows. The Prince fainted.

And the deathly silence which had fallen over the garden in the early sunlight was broken only by an awed and angry voice among the Prince's archers, "Berle, I told you we'd never see those blue starfires."

Lady Auria and I stepped out of our place of concealment and she went to the King, embracing him. She had served him well.

As he hugged her, the King cried.

* * *

The Storyteller grew silent, looking out over the Brook of Meeting as it lapped and gurgled, perhaps living the scene again in his mind. Glowing embers from the campfire colored his cheeks a rosy red and cast a twinkling, glittering light in his eyes.

"But how did the King find out about it?" Herbie asked anxiously, driven by his curiosity.

Glancing from the Brook across to Herbie, the Storyteller smiled and replied, "Well, Herbie, when Lady Auria grabbed my hand in the servant's passageway, we dashed off to the servants' quarters. Auria, being a servant of sorts herself, was well acquainted with the royal servants, especially with the family who were in charge of the entire staff. She woke the woman in charge of the kitchen as soon as we got to the servants' quarters. It took little time for her to convince the woman of the danger at hand. This woman, in turn, woke her brother-in-law, who was in charge of the stablework, and told him. In a matter of moments a mount had been brought around. Then we were off like a shot, me wincing with every stride, being saddle-sore from my previous two days of riding,

"The horse, as it turned out, was another of the things which saved us. If we had gone to her father's house on foot, the Prince's Guard would have gotten there ahead of us. (The messenger boy provided us with a detailed account of all the Princess plans some time after the whole thing was over.) The Guard then would have killed her father, and then us. It would have been the end of the King, the kingdom, everything. But we got there quickly and told her father of the plot.

"Baldimoor, as I have related, was the commander of the Archers who marched on foot, splitting the Command of all the Forces of the kingdom with Commander Jaway, who was chief strategist and Commander of the Mounted Archers. As soon as we had related the plot I had overheard, and told of all the events of the night, Baldimoor went to dress and bring around two fresh horses. A quarter of an hour after our arrival we were riding again, back toward the Palace, to the quarters of the Archers who remained on alert continuously.

"These archers were actually quartered within the walls surrounding the Palace. The bunkhouses were long and narrow, with their doors opening inside the walls, facing the palace grounds. Baldimoor galloped up to the gates as we approached the walls, and removed the Captains of the Gate, herding them toward the nearest bunkhouse door. The archers inside were directly under Baldimoor's command, thus, certainly loyal to the King. Two archers were given orders to detain the Captains of the Gate until given further orders (their loyalty could not be guaranteed). After ascertaining that three of the Guard had left the Palace to go into the city some quarter of an hour before Baldimoor's arrival, two of the officers were instructed to replace the Captains and to detain the three Guard when they returned. Then other officers were sent to other bunkhouses which were known to house loyal archers. By the hour of one, four hundred archers were being quietly marched with the cover of darkness into position along the ramparts of each tier of the Palace. Any Guard who had the misfortune to stumble upon the proceedings was quickly bound and gagged, loyal or disloyal, to prevent word from reaching the ears of the Prince. By the hour of two, all four hundred were in place.

"Meanwhile, Lady Auria and I were rushed down to the servants' quarters, our escort taking down two of the Guard who spotted us crossing the palace grounds. They were bound and gagged and led to the servants' quarters with us. At our arrival, plans were made for Auria to replace the young woman who normally carried the King's breakfast into his chambers.

"When the hour of five came, Auria delivered the King's breakfast wearing the young woman's cloak with the cowl pulled low around her face to protect her both from the chill of the morning air, as was its usual purpose, and against identifycation. After she had entered the King's chambers, she was able to relate the danger of the Prince's plot to the King and tell him of Baldimoor's expectations of and preparations against an attack on the King during his morning walk. Jaway and the King drew additional plans and interchanged ideas on paper as she left. They devised some possible scenarios for an attack during other parts of the day, making preparations for each.

"After Auria left the King's chambers, she hurried back to the entrance of the servants' quarters and we were dashed to the west side of the Palace near the stables. From there our escort led us toward the garden, concealed most of the way behind the shrubbery growing along the Palace wall, until we were opposite the entrance to the garden. We stayed in that concealment until the King appeared.

"Commander Jaway, after he left the King's chambers, sent a quick message to have three Guard added to the King's protection and went directly to the quarters of the archers behind the stables and alerted them. In minutes they were mounted and waiting, like a condensed coil ready to spring into action, looking for the signal from Baldimoor atop the ramparts, which would come if the Prince showed himself or the ambush was detected in the garden. Like a bolt of lightning, the signal flashed and was followed by the sound of thundering hooves.

"When we heard the voice of the Prince, we moved quickly to the entrance of the garden, hiding behind the flowers. Lady Auria missed the first signs the King made, but then spoke as he signed the second set. Then, like the whirlwind out of the thunderstorm, there was destruction in high winds. Not physically, of course, but in the soul of the King. Finally, there was only silence."

Once again the Storyteller paused, as if to ask for questions.

"And what happened to the Prince after that?" Frolic asked, no longer sarcastic.

"He was given a hearing before the King and the High Council. Though the offense was immediately punishable by death, the High Council felt it would be just to sentence the Prince to spend the remainder of his life imprisoned in his own dungeon, the conditions of which the King and the High Council were unaware. But after an hour of deliberation, the King officially sentenced his son, and those directly involved in the plot, to death. The next morning, as the dawn began to approach, the men were beheaded, and the sun rose on a new day,

"The prisoners with whom I had been imprisoned in the dungeon were moved to better quarters. Lady Auria and I were there to see them moved, and she was quite surprised when one of the men, an old man, kissed her hand, bowing to her as he passed by and said, 'Long live the King, and long live the Lady who watches over us.'"

The Storyteller lapsed into another silence, awaiting more questions. None were asked, and it appeared that he was finished. Slowly, as our minds returned from the Land of the Deaf King to the Brook of Meeting, the chill of the evening's Rest moved in a little closer to the glowing remains of the campfire. It reminded us that the Slumber was fast approaching and would overtake us away from our homes if we did not end the meeting soon. But the laugh of Old Lightfoot sent the chill stinking back into the Oaks for a minute or two more.

"Hee-heeeee! What a stomper of a story! A really good tale for the evening, don't you think, Mr. Hawk?"

"A splendid tale, Lightfoot. We are honored, Mr. Storyteller, and quite satisfied, I should think," he replied, with a glance toward Herbie.

"Well, I don't know about all of that, Mr. Hawk," Old Lightfoot responded. "I've still got a question I'd like to ask."

He looked toward the Storyteller with a grin and asked, "Did you ever see the Lady again, Storyteller?" The twinkle in his eye suggested that another laugh was not far away.

The Storyteller, who had been doodling in the grass again during the interchange, looked up at Old Lightfoot with a grin of his own and said, "Yes, Lightfoot, as a matter of fact, I did–"

"Did ya fall in love with her?" Bubba interrupted, thumping another rhythm on his knees in excitement.

"No, Bubba, not with Auria. We were friends for a time. Just for a little while. Later I had an opportunity to go back to that world. Lady Auria's father had been killed in a battle and the Deaf King had died a good old age. Lady Auria was then Queen Auria. She invited me to the Palace as a royal guest, so I went. There we conversed about new happenings and old times. It was good to see her again.

"That's been several years ago now – a long time, really. But I'll always remember her. She served her King, and her people afterwards, well."

A final silence invaded the circle of friends in the low light of the campfire and the chill slunk back out of the Oaks, maybe coming a little closer the second time. We exchanged the traditional parting pleasantries as Bubba poured another dram of ale. Then we parted to our respective homes, the Storyteller retiring with Bubba to spend the Slumber in his home.

And as the Slumber arrived, we each dreamed of a Lady dressed in a gown of glowing white, with dark swirls of hair cascading over her shoulders, with eyes as blue as the sky, who talked with her fingers and spoke the emotions we so often leave in our hearts.
 

THE END

Copyright © 1984, 2002 Robert L. Williams.