The Medievals 2 Read online

  “So how does one go on after that?” Richard asks, part of him considering his love for Wendolyn.

  “You imagine that even the dust is sacred. That everything you touch, he is in it. He may be gone from this world, but I still have him forever. And he has me. We are linked by the endless, invisible twine of which Master Cheng often speaks.”

  Then, she touches her hand to Richard’s face. “And I have you, Richard. You are the thing that makes him live on. His story is now your story to continue.”

  That truth sits with Richard: he will now carry on his father’s legacy. It is a daunting task, but it also instills him with a sense of purpose.

  “Come, Richard, let us visit your father together,” his mother prompts as she stands.

  Richard nods, and then follows his mother as she goes, his heart slowly lifting with his body.

  ◆◆◆

  The procession from the castle gate to the rocky shore is somber and soundless as King Henry is ushered through the streets that are crowded with mourners.

  People from all over the Realm have poured into the city in recent days. There are villagers from all Nine Territories: fisherman and blacksmiths and shipbuilders and more.

  But Richard’s invitation also spread to the other side of the Northern Barrier, and the kingdom has also welcomed Beyonders to the ceremony: Truscans, Bugbears, Gryphons, and Fire Fairies are among the mourners. Never have so many visited the kingdom; and never have so many made so little noise as grief has captured their tongues.

  Richard walks with the weight of his father on his shoulders. Along with Ivanhoe, Loxley, and El Cid, he is carrying the wooden vessel that will come to rest atop the pyre at the water’s edge.

  Meanwhile, Master Cheng and Queen Soraya walk measuredly just behind the pallbearers, carrying ceremonial torches. And behind them, Mulan and Wendolyn follow.

  The streets and buildings all around them are wartorn. The battle with Waldron and the saurians has left much of the city charred and pockmarked. Some areas are devastated entirely.

  It will take time for the kingdom to heal and rebuild. And not just the structures and roads. Richard knows that this funeral is about more than simply his father’s death: the Army of the Realm saw many of its greatest warriors killed, including many from the King’s Lead Guard, as well as Constable Clyburn, who never returned from his campaign to the northern part of the city.

  A generation of men have been lost. Mothers, wives, sons and daughters will be mourning them for years to come.

  As Richard and the others arrive at the rocky shore, he is awed by the crowd, his eyes unable to find its end as humans and Beyonders stretch the length and breadth of the beach in full. The setting sun hangs its head low in the sky, bowing before the fallen King one last time.

  Together, Richard and the others shoulder the wooden vessel through the mourners and across the pebbles until they reach the edge of the water. There, they ease his father onto the pyre, which sits upon a raft. Richard looks down at his father’s body, draped only in a linen cloth.

  His hands look smaller than Richard remembers. And his beard has been shaved, leaving his face thinner. For Richard, this body before him is almost unrecognizable.

  He turns away from his father, and toward the crowd of mourners on the beach. Among them, he sees the White Hairs, with their long wrinkled, stoic faces. He sees Despen, the King’s Scrivener, with his squinty eyes. And he sees King Lemlee, standing among hundreds of Truscan soldiers that helped save the Realm only a fortnight ago.

  From his pocket, Richard pulls the parchment on which he has written a tribute to his father. He has spent hours and days searching for ways to express the weight of this moment. But wrapping words around such a profound loss feels insufficient. And now he wonders if emotion will prevent him from even delivering this wanting encomium.

  But then Richard finds Wendolyn among the mourners, standing there beside his mother. And her violet eyes encourage him.

  Richard clears his throat, and begins:

  “Some time ago, a question was introduced into my mind, and I have been living with it ever since: What story will people tell of me when I am gone?” Richard glances at Master Cheng standing nearby, acknowledging the source of his query. “I was consumed with how I might be remembered as the evening draws in on my life, how history would judge me. But now, as I struggle with the impossible loss of my father and our King, a new truth has been born: I am my father’s story, as I am my mother’s story. I am part of a legacy, a narrative that began long before my birth.”

  Richard looks to his mother, and she smiles softly.

  “My father held the lantern high for the Realm, ever beating back the dark with his light. He was a man who stood solid in his truth. He fought shoulder to shoulder with the knights of the Lead Guard, always alongside them in the fiercest of battles. And off the battlefield, my father had a rare touch that was both kingly and common. My father was ardent in his affection for the Realm and its people, and that affection was returned in kind. His death will be the great ache of our time. And for as long as stories are written about the legends of the Realm, my father will be part of them. I will be forever proud to be a piece of his story.”

  Then, Richard turns his attention to Wendolyn and Mulan there on the beach.

  “But my father’s legacy, as well as our ancestors’ legacy, cannot be written as a stainless tribute. It would not serve my father, nor would it be instructive to the Realm and its future. In my father’s final hours, his eyes were opened to the misjudgements of our ancestors. The King realized that, long ago, we had built a wall out of fear -- and we had banished magic and mystical beings to the Beyond with the false belief that it would keep us safe. But our ancestors were wrong. We were wrong. By keeping magic from our borders, we only made ourselves less safe. Our strength is in our unity, not our division. The Beyonders draw breath from the same air we breathe, and their destiny is tied to our destiny -- a truth we learned as they came to our aid against Waldron and the saurians. We belong to each other, all of us; and we must look out for one another. And so, in my father’s name, I bestow upon his legacy a final act: from this day forward, we shall cure this lasting imperfection by ending the divide between the Realm and the Beyond; and by rightly tearing down the Northern Barrier. Magic and mankind will be reunited once again.”

  The silence on the beach ends abruptly as cheers and applause break out in the crowd. Richard’s eyes find King Lemlee, who nods his appreciation to Richard: a promise kept.

  Then, silence once again claims the beach as Richard invites Queen Soraya and Master Cheng to join him by the side of the King. Richard takes his mother’s hand in hers, and together they watch the sun as it sets, pulling the last of its light with it. And as the sun disappears in full, it makes a final wink as a thin green light flashes on the horizon.

  Richard, his mother, and Master Cheng each take a ceremonial torch and touch the flames to the funeral pyre, and the fire catches. With the help of Loxley, Ivanhoe and El Cid, Richard pushes the raft out into the ocean, the water reaching their knees as they guide the flaming pyre out with the tide.

  Then, as the pyre gently floats away on the water, hundreds of Fire Fairies fly out over the ocean, filling the night sky, their light reflecting on the tide. The glowing Fire Fairies hover in the air above the burning pyre, and it is as if the stars themselves have come down from the firmament to say their final goodbye to the King.

  Richard looks to his mother, noiseless tears streaming down her face, her eyes never leaving the fire on the horizon. He returns to her side, and squeezes the Queen’s hand, comforting her. And, together, the two of them remain there in the departing light until the pyre finally, and fully, disappears.

  ◆◆◆

  When Richard awakes the next morning, the sounds of the ocean find his window. He can hear the waves crashing against the rocky shores, waves that are calling him back to the beach to visit with his father, whose memory is now sewn into
the tide.

  With the moon still holding fast to the dawn, Richard expects the beach to be empty when he arrives. But as he reaches the pebbles at the start of the shore, he sees someone standing at the edge of the water, the tide swimming around the man’s bare ankles.

  It is Ivanhoe, cloaked in a moment of solitude, unaware that Richard is behind him.

  From where Richard stands, it appears that Ivanhoe is gently speaking to the wind. And while such an act might seem to be the behavior of someone who has lost their mind, Ivanhoe seems as calm and as sane as Richard has seen him.

  Richard watches as Ivanhoe pulls the bovine horn from around his neck. He kisses it, and then whispers a final message into the air. Then, the erstwhile knight uncaps the horn to reveal a store of ashes, which are instantly swept up by the wind.

  Rowena.

  Ivanhoe has been carrying the ashes of his wife around his neck all this time, Richard realizes. Every time he clutched the horn to his chest, or fought to retrieve it, he was clinging to the spirit of Rowena.

  The ashes dance there before Ivanhoe for a moment: a sweet, soundless goodbye from Rowena. And then, the wind gently takes Rowena off into the ether.

  When the last of the ashes have flown off, Ivanhoe turns away from the ocean, and he sees Richard standing there. In his one good eye, there is a tear. And for the first time, Richard sees a man who does not suffer from a broken mind, but instead, a broken heart.

  “I am sorry,” Richard apologizes, partly for Ivanhoe’s loss, and partly for trespassing on such an intimate moment.

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Ivanhoe responds, stopping there on the beach before Richard. “It is I that should apologize, although I fear I have missed my chance to do so.”

  Ivanhoe pauses, and the wind stirs his beard and red hair before he continues: “I wish things had been different between me and your father. That we had found a way to come together again before his passing. We were such friends for a time, nearly brothers.”

  Richard remembers the Ivanhoe of his youth, winning the Knight’s Cup and earning the praise of his father. He remembers how truly close the two men were.

  “What will you do now? Where will you go?” Richard asks.

  Ivanhoe considers the question, looking back at the shoreline where Rowena’s ashes just floated away.

  “I have been seeking revenge for so long, I do not know what to do with myself, nor who I am anymore. I do not know what is left for me now that the saurian is dead, and my debt to Rowena is gone.”

  “Stay here,” Richard suggests. “Serve the kingdom once again.”

  Ivanhoe shakes his head. “I am not the same man I once was.”

  “And you need not be,” Richard assures him. “Master Cheng is leaving his post as the King’s hand. You trained under him. You share his wisdom. And you served at my father’s side, allowing you an understanding of the kingdom and its politics that few others possess. Ivanhoe, you have conquered your demons and resolved your past, now I implore you to help me shape the future of the Realm as we open the borders and begin a new era. Help me rebuild the kingdom.”

  Richard waits as Ivanhoe considers the proposition.

  Then, with a slight smile, Ivanhoe says, “There is so much of your father in you, more than you know. You have his persuasive tongue.”

  Richard’s chest swells at Ivanhoe’s words, the comparison to his father fortifying his confidence.

  Then, Ivanhoe gives his answer as he takes a deferential knee: “It would be my honor to serve as the hand to King Richard.”

  ◆◆◆

  At the Royal Port, El Cid readies the sails of his ship as the fading sunlight silvers the rippling water. As Richard moves up the dock with Wendolyn, Ivanhoe and Mulan, he sees the ship’s name written on its stern: Dona Ximena.

  “You named your boat after the woman that betrayed you?” Richard asks the Spaniard as they reach the ship.

  All around El Cid, there are bugbears and Truscans loading supplies onto the boat.

  “El Cid carved the name into his ship before Dona Ximena betrayed him,” the giant confesses.

  “Sure, but now tell them why you’re heading back to Spain,” Loxley says with a knowing smile, appearing with a load of supplies over his shoulder.

  “El Cid is returning to Espana to reclaim the glory that was once his,” the Spaniard says before pulling Tizona from its scabbard and raising it into the air. “Viva El Cid!”

  “And?” Loxley prods, clearly already knowing the other reason El Cid is travelling back to his homeland.

  El Cid lets slip a sheepish look. “And El Cid will reunite with his great love, the beautiful Dona Ximena. He will win her heart once more.”

  “You are returning to the woman whose father you cut down?” Ivanhoe asks, disbelief framing his question. “The very woman that then tied you to your boat and set you sailing off to a prison sentence?”

  El Cid shrugs, “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

  While Loxley and Ivanhoe shake their heads with a cynical incredulity, Richard cannot help but smile at this man whose massive, intimidating body hides such a gentle, good-natured spirit. Richard will miss the giant’s epic tales and his adventurous spirit.

  “And you, Loxley? Are you sailing with El Cid?” Wendolyn asks, turning the conversation to the thief.

  Loxley nods as he taps the chest of gold at his side. “I have coin to spend, and there are Spanish maidens to be wooed.”

  “A man who sleeps in many beds, dreams alone,” Mulan intones.

  “Is that jealousy I hear, sweetheart? Don’t worry, if that bed of yours in the Silk Lands ever gets too cold, you know where to find me,” Loxley says with a wink of his emerald eyes.

  While the blindfold hides the Shen’s eyes, her thin lips make it clear that she is unmoved by Loxley’s attempt at charm.

  Then, Loxley adds: “What lady wouldn’t want to share a siesta with the man who killed the evil Waldron?”

  “You killed Waldron?” Richard asks, smiling with disbelief at Loxley’s wild embellishment.

  “It was my arrow, wasn’t it? Million to one shot. You all were destined for the worms before I came along.”

  “You are leaving out a few details there, thief,” Ivanhoe says.

  “Ahh, poppycock, Red. So I cut out the boring bits,” Loxley shrugs. “Besides, who’s gonna be there to correct me?”

  Loxley winks and gives a salacious grin. Richard and the others can only shake their heads at Loxley’s brazenness.

  Just then, a Truscan reports to El Cid, its elfin stature not even reaching the giant’s shins: “We are ready to set sail, Captain.”

  “You have found yourself a crew?” Richard asks with surprise, looking to the bugbears and tree people that man the ship.

  “They wish to see El Cid’s beautiful country,” the Spaniard explains with a puff of pride. “It will be El Cid’s honor to show them the glories of Espana.”

  “I give this crew a week before the big ox’s unceasing gob sends them all diving into the ocean,” Loxley quips, clapping the great man on the shoulder.

  As they all laugh together there on the dock for what feels like the first time, and perhaps the last time for some while, Wendolyn moves toward El Cid and Loxley.

  “I owe you each a debt for saving my life,” Wendolyn conveys to El Cid and Loxley with a genuine, heartfelt gratitude. Then, she embraces each man, saying, “I hope to one day see you each again.”

  “She speaks for us all,” Richard tells the thief and the giant, and he feels a genuine kinship with these men who have proven faithful. “The Realm will miss you. And our gratitude is unending.”

  “Unending, huh? Soon as these pockets of mine go shallow again, I’ll test you on that,” Loxley grins.

  “Whenever King Richard needs El Cid, he will return to the Realm,” El Cid promises.

  Then, the two men grab the last of their belongings and board the ship. But as the Truscans and the bugbears begin to
untie the moorings, Loxley turns back to Richard, something bothering him.

  “King Richard,” Loxley says as if his tongue is trying out the new title bestowed upon Richard. “Certainly has a better ring to it than the Poet Prince.”

  Hearing that nickname once again, Richard realizes that its power over him has dissipated. He does not carry with him the same worries that had once gripped his mind before he set off on his quest: the whispered sobriquet that singed his ego; the fear that his story would not hold in the collective memory of the Realm as he reached the postlude of his life and beyond. Those worries now seem insignificant. Fanciful, even.

  “But it’s still missing something,” Loxley says, still considering Richard’s name even as the ship begins to slip away from the dock. “It doesn’t capture the God’s honest spirit of you, kid. The way that you roared when you brought your sword down on those chains and freed Wendolyn, you know?”

  Richard’s mind flashes to the moment in Waldron’s lair, when Richard sent all of his strength into his arms to break those chains.

  “And you’re gonna want a name that makes the barmaids swoon,” Loxley adds as the ship clears the dock.

  Then, after a few more moments of deliberation, and just before the ship moves beyond earshot, Loxley snaps his fingers in the air, an idea striking him.

  "I’ve got it!" the thief shouts. "Richard the Lionheart!”

  “You have the heart of a lion,” his father had said more than once. Loxley’s nickname for Richard serves the memory of his father, and that is reason enough for Richard to embrace it.

  Loxley gives Richard a final wink of affection as he stands there with El Cid at the edge of the departing ship, the two of them waving.

  From the dock, Richard and the others wave their goodbyes to the two men, along with their crew of Truscans and bugbears. And as they wave, the sails of the Dona Ximena catch an interested wind, and it pulls the ship with speed out onto the ocean.

  “Richard the Lionheart,” Wendolyn says with a smile as the ship makes its way toward the horizon. “It is fitting.”