Short Stories From The World Of ARTK

The Reign Of Osenne Ashhand, Part Eight

It is Anor 18th of the year 3244 A.G. Jandis Ashhand is forty five, his mother Osenne Ashhand sixty seven.

  "Are you sure?" Jandis asked, trying to make sure he held the crying twins correctly as his mother looked like she were going to break, and Osenne Ashhand did not break.

  "Yes-" she said. "Gods, I am sure. I woke up next to him and he weren't breathing."

He attempted to sooth the twins, a boy and girl- Sefare and Juliana Ashhand, but his mothers tears weren't helping and he had no idea what to do. He could ask their wet nurse to watch them, but that hadn't been part of the job she agreed to. She'd feed them and nothing more; and Anber hadn't even wanted that.

No, she would feed her own child. She'd insisted on such during the few months they tried to make another one, and then her entire carry as well. Though Osenne and Tibost had protested, she also fed servant's babes( or any other that needed feeding) during the later weeks of her carry.

The milk a woman made while carrying was often less, but particularly good for babes- at least that was what most witches, midwives, and Fenthos devotees claimed. Osenne tried to tell her it were unbecoming of a lady, even a made one- but it went in one ear and out the other. She managed to have a few bars of soap made from the stuff and had and five or six feedings- four of which were to help out a servant girl she'd grown up with.

Oddly enough, the babe became visibly healthier- but it didn't matter now.

Not long after the last feeding, she'd died bringing his children into the world. Jandis would never forget the look on her face as she went; the fear and pain that didn't belong on someone so young. He couldn't take it back, but he would make sure her children knew what an incredible woman she was. Her name would not be lost to history like so many other commoners who'd married into nobility, not if he could help it.

She would be mentioned in the books, even if it were only a birth and death date.

"Gods just give them to servants! I can't think!" his mother began to yell, her voice softening when he flinched. "Anber... would not fault you for needing half an hour. It is... beautiful that you're honoring her wishes and raising your own children. I have never known a nobleman who would do the same.... but you cannot do it without help."

Slowly, Jandis nodded. He knew he could not do this alone, that he'd be utterly useless if he and the twins were dropped on a farmhouse somewhere and he were told he had to farm, slaughter, and cook all their food.

Osenne called for servants with tears in her eyes, and he handed them off. Then Jandis's mother were in his arms, any resolve not to cry gone.

"Do they know what happened?" He asked. "How he left us? Poison?"

"No-" Osenne shook her head. "No they.... don't. He was old and it happened in his sleep. My son...... it won't be long before I'm gone too. There is little I can do to help, but you must prepare yourself."

"Mother-"

"Your great-great grandfather was King Jesper Ashhand. The last king. The ruler of a kingdom so great the entire world felt the need to tear it down, and took over two years to do so while he had no allies. Never forget that you are his blood. Never forget that you are the blood of Ashwood, who was the descendant of a dragon rider. Do not forget that. Be a kind ruler when you can, but do not forget that our family got where we are from ruthlessness. And if an enemy arises and pushes you, show them why Ashhand's have ruled Kroba for thousands of years."