Sins Of The Father

Chapter 1 : The First Son

Chapter 1 : The First Son

Löwenkopf, 1403

What rises out of the ashes, other than words that we use comfort or fool  ourselves into thinking the situation can only get better from here? Phoenixes are a thing of fantasy and it is important to discern reality from fairytale before all is lost. As Céline stared at the charred remains of parchment where the flames travelled and consumed the dreaded words of which came as no surprise, there were no feelings of comfort. Still she watched the ash and smoke as though reading the words all over again. What kind of mother would not react to threats to the life of her child?

It was not as though the boy was evil and deserving of judgement — not that she  would have tolerated the hand of justice coming from anyone else other than her king. No, the boy was judged and sentenced for merely possessing the name he was given at birth and heir to a mighty kingdom. The longer Céline deliberated she found that she had not done anything with the news due to the uncertainty that came with her king. Her son's life could not be another teaching moment, especially since failure meant certain death. Something had to be done, yet she didn't know what.

Breath went through Céline hurriedly and harsh for a few moments as her strength failed. Was it the words she read earlier or the long-standing illness? She stepped forward, holding on to the railing of the rooftop terrace connected to her chambers.  Looking down to the garden square below, the air seemed crispier  and  snappy. Contrasting greens, pinks, oranges and whites  that stared back at her in the morning sunlight and through sconces  at night, that her king had installed so she could enjoy it day and night, did not bring its usual calm. The forces of the earth all seemed to be colluding against her.

Céline turned around, pressing her back against the railing in search of some strength or some divine inspiration. The wind peppered the ashes until there was nothing left, except the memory of the words were like tattoos etched to the finest folds of her mind.

"Can I assist you to your chamber?" The words were not a question. It was a loaded statement — a sick queen should not break the bed-bound command given by the king. A new maid of honour obeyed commands — the problem was that it was not Céline's orders that she followed but the man who rotated servants before they were comfortable. Familiarity is the greatest sin, next only to disorder. The king's way was useful but left little room for loyalties to be formed. "Wear this, Your majesty."

A gown as thick as it was heavy blanketed the  the frail queen's shoulders. Céline sighed. She was lucky if she could walk five steps without the need to keel over. Céline straightened up, schooling her features,  and very much the queen that many wondered why a strong man such as King Maximilian V had not abandoned her. She stepped forward one step after the other until she was beside her bed.

Céline waited and as though on queue, the girl lifted the weight of the gown off her shoulders. A maid of honour was servant — as decorative as she may be and the girl was beautiful and youthful. Had she enticed the king or one of the three princes? Céline no longer bothered herself with the specifics, like clockwork, in six weeks she would be gone. Measured and elegant, Queen Céline floated around to face the girl.  "Tell me, have all the delegates arrived?"

"No, Majesty, the Midarai people have yet to arrive."

The game had long started without Céline's knowledge or control. There was nothing more that kings loved than playing games with the lives of others. Once one king made a move, Queen Céline was certain that there was nothing that she could do to protect her children. Her body became taut with nerves and anger. "Get me my son."