The Harrowing of Sidrah

Everyone Froze

Everything froze. No movement. No sound. No one was breathing. A moment halted by fear. The king had roared at the name, Kazim, and hurled the special bowl he was eating from right at Duchess Claudia Mallory. It hit the tabletop in front of Claudia and shattered. Pieces of the bowl were on the floor, stuck in tapestries, shards embedded in arms and faces of the Duchess and her child, Kimberly. Mother and daughter remained still, waiting to see what happened next. Would King Clarence move toward them and strike? If so they would flee once they knew his direction. Would he throw something else? If so they would duck. Maybe he would only yell. One never knew with him. Clarence Clareece  Kataan, king of Sidrah, stood up slowly and saw their terror of him, his own face full of rage. He walked out of the hall toward his chambers. The spell was broken. Duchess Mallory and her daughter started breathing and picking bowl fragments from their flesh.

                The servants began cleaning up the mess as the lords and ladies of the King's court went back to eating and talking in whispers. Prince Dennell, the King's heir, tried to concentrate on eating. The venison was very tender and tasty – his favorite. But he couldn't avoid hearing the inevitable comments that drifted his way.

                "Of course the King would not allow Mallory's child to be named Kazim in honor of his dead sister. After all, he killed her," said one voice. "His temper comes from the torture he endured in Manicotti Prison," said another. "No, it's his dead sister who haunts him," said a third.

                There were other voices, both about the King and about the death of his sister. There were whispering that his sister was still alive, plotting revenge against her brother. Others said that Kazim had been one multiple babies born at once through magic, all identical.

King Clarence was famous for his temper. It burned fear into almost all who met him. Of course most of this subjects never met him close up. Their fear was all the greater for the embellishment of the stories about the King. Prince Dennell, seated opposite the Mallory family, vowed again albeit privately that he would be a different King. He had never told another soul his vow. Although he was a prince and the heir, the people in his life would not take a ten-year-old boy seriously. He would never treat his subject, nay anyone, the way his father treated people. It hurt all the more because he loved his father.

                Dennell's thoughts were interrupted by the smell of peaches  as someone sat next to him. It was Kimberly Mallory, his betrothed. Her family operated vast orchards of peaches. She laid her hand on his and looked into his eyes. He longed to tell her how he felt. He was almost sure he could trust her. Her eyes understood. He wished he knew Kimberly better. After all, he was supposed to marry her when they both turned 16. But by the order of the King they were forbidden from spending any real time together. Oh, they saw each other often enough at official dinners like this one or outings of the First Families. But he longed to be with her. Just her. To talk or race or make mud pies like they did years ago. They had been betrothed at age seven. The King and Duke Mallory had made an agreement that their children should be wed at 16. One of the stipulations of the King was that they were to be kept separated until they were 14. And then only chaperoned encounters would be permitted until their marriage. Kimberly squeezed his hand and then went back to sit with her family. Such a short and non-verbal encounter was to be overlooked.

                When Prince Dennell was much later left in his quarters to perform his toilet and prepare for bed, he was still replaying the events at supper in his mind. He gazed out of the castle window down into the desert. The castle was on the edge of a plateau of dense forest, which gave way to desert in the valley below. The Duchess had asked the King permission to name her next child, a girl, "Kazim" to honor the Princess Kazim, the King's dead sister. That had enraged the King. The bowl the King had thrown, that he had been eating out of, should not have been used in any case. It was to be used only at the harvest feast held every year once the harvest was complete. His father had taken it out of the special display case along with a spoon – not wanting to wait until servants would bring the proper dishes. The bowl had been crafted by Sidrah herself. It was part of the special set of dishware handed down for four generations.

                Sidrah was Dennell's 4th-generation grandmother, after whom the Kingdom of Sidrah had been named. Sidrah having led a group of people to this area. Dennell need not wonder what Sidrah would think of his father the king's actions today. Or of all the other times Clarence had lost his temper and terrorized his subjects. Dennell opened the chest at the foot of his bed and rummaged to the bottom, pulling out an old, wrapped book. The book had been forbidden by King Clarence right after he gained the throne. It was a history of Sidrah and her journey to this area—including how her people had been mostly massacred in the North.

                At the beginning of the forbidden book, in fancy calligraphy, was the definition of the name, Sidrah:

Sidrah

À      An honorary name given to a female with these traits

À A badass motherfucker.

À Someone, specifically a girl, who is unbelievably amazing at all aspects of life.

À Someone too cool for the human race.

À      The name of a lotus tree only found where a desert meets a forest.