The King's Collie

Part III, Chapter 7: Unwavering Faith

Before the gracious month of April and its blossoming of springtime always came March. The beginning of the month was almost the most wearily-weathered part of the year, beaten only by the January too uneventful to mention. Even February only had that rather eventful Valentine's Day to lift the spirits. Grace came, however, as, by March's Ides, spring had surely come. The sun shone bright, and what little snow the Valentian climate had to offer in the weeks past just melted away. The land transformed from the late winter to the bright early spring, as the grounds and fields turned green again. There was less begging amongst the streets, more wealth and food to share, more travel to be had, and happy errands to be run. A much better norm of things was had.

Even Iago, during this time, seemed happy. Well— Content, that was more like it. Still, a rare occurrence with this bird. He seemed preoccupied. What he anticipated now was the incoming Easter holiday, which, thanks to this year's early full moon, would fall sooner than usual, on one of the last days of March. If there was one ruler of all, most considered, it would not be Felix, nor would it even be the Pope.

Meanwhile, holy as Iago supposedly was, his reason for his eagerness wasn't so. For whatever reason, a fresh scar laid across his cheek. Whenever he ran his terrible, taloned fingers around the healing wound, a snide smile always ran just as quickly across his wide, red-orange beak. He knew, too, that springtime brought heat, the yearly desire for the people to make their moves. Perhaps he could re-propose what he already had proposed, three months ago, and see if she would be more willing. How unfortunate for him, considering what had happened back at the castle.

—

Cameron meanwhile stayed in his finely-lit study. With nature still determining it was still barely winter, it was a little chilly in there in the March weather, but the atmosphere the stained glass created made him feel somehow warm. He sat at the instrument, with sheets of paper on its stand. They were lined, but not like any notebook: These lines were staves, where the collie ever so quickly jotted the notes. At his side on the bench was an open Book of Prayer that he borrowed from the library. Writing the Mass was no easy task, not whatsoever. To transfer these holy words to a musical offering while doing them justice was an undertaking that no uninitiated man could accomplish. Although Cameron was relatively uninitiated, he felt that this was a task in dire need of fulfilling.

He remembered Christmas, those nearly-three months ago. The music in the church was truly underwhelming, at best. At worst, it was inharmonious, and quite unpleasant. Iago needed some help, he reckoned. With this in mind, it was right upon the New Year that he got to work. The Queen thankfully let him do this hiding away in this study. Felix was happy with this, too, knowing that the collie loved his Christmas present so much. It gave the King a strange joy, which he assumed was just the holiday spirit.

It was this day, perhaps a week before Easter, that Cameron came across a snag in his progress. He was writing the trumpet part for what was to be the second-to-last part of the mass, when he considered using some high notes, the likes of which he didn't know whether or not the instrument could play. He knew, though, that Marco could probably help him. With this assumption, he strolled over to the halls, and knocked on the door to Marco's room.

"Might I come in?" he asked softly.

There was no response. At least, not at first.

Then came the wolf's deep, somewhat tired-sounding voice: "I'm feeling under the weather at the moment, let me rest a little while. The collie was concerned, with the tone this answer was delivered in. Marco sounded sick... or, at least exasperated. What was going on?

"Oh, you're evidently fine," chirped Lætitia from the very same room.

"Dammit, I was trying to lie to him, Læ..."

Cameron quickly stepped away, not caring to eavesdrop on such a thing. At least he knew now how they shared a room nowadays.

—

After the preparations, and the observances that led all up to this, Iago delightfully squawked as the Easter ceremonies were finally ready. Felix and Ophelia walked into the sanctuary with the collie, wolf, and sparrow behind them. Iago saw this, and was delighted to see that Lætitia had arrived. He had to keep her mind off of her, however, as he had to officiate this ceremony. The commemoration then went on, and the King was beginning to be reminded of last year's Easter. All of these ceremonies were consistently the same, ever since he was but a Prince. He shuffled his feet, waiting for this to just be over. It was certainly no proper kingly mood for a holiday like this, but he couldn't help it. Ophelia seemed to also be bored. Hell, everyone was.

That was, until Cameron got up from his seat, as did Lætitia and Marco. They got into some chairs at the left corner of the sanctuary, as did some unexpected arrivals: the King's musicians. They got into their places, as Cameron gave a signal. The music started. Everyone's ears perked. It started off, at first, like a usual chant, but the notes drifted. They had an organized harmony, and seemed to arrange themselves naturally. The singers actually looked happy to be here, and the old organ sounded brilliant and powerful through its pipes. A small ensemble had been assembled in the corner, with none other than the King's musicians accompanying the choir.

Iago looked shocked, both by the unexpectedness of this sudden musical intrusion and the apparent willingness of the choir to have rehearsed and gone along with it. The church's own choir! He was also shocked, by the sheer majesty of the sound emanating before him. Everybody was, staying both as silent and as still as a statue as they beheld the sacred-sounding music. Even now the people who were at the nearby streets flocked to the church's sides, to eavesdrop on this unusually sonorous echoing. Nobody minded that the hourlong service dragged on to be two. They were all enraptured at what they heard, so unlike anything they had ever heard within the walls of a church.

Cameron finished his chant, and, finally, the finale came. It resounded through the walls, and those who listened outside cheered once it was over. Felix beamed with the applause that came afterwards, and stood. Everyone did. The last strewn notes finally ended the fruition of the project that the collie had so diligently yet lovingly worked on. The entire party exited the church, only to be greeted with a crowd, cheering with approval. Cameron blushed, hiding behind the Queen like a shy stray. The collie knew, though, that this goal of people liking his product was only secondary. His primary goal had already been accomplished: undertaking this task, this three-month-long, perfectionist task, in the name of the Lord. Indeed, by that holy name, he succeeded. How little he knew his virtues shone. Felix looked on as Marco shoved poor Cameron into the forefront, and announced that he was the one behind all that. The lion chuckled a little, then thought hard, as they made way back to the castle.

Just as the crowd exited, though, an unexpected chirp from Lætitia echoed, as her space was thoroughly invaded by a frighteningly approaching scarlet figure. Marco hastened backwards in the realization that Iago was trying to redirect his lover back into the church.

Then came a mighty slam. Iago shook and fell, being hit in the head with a hefty blow. "Try it again sometime, bastard," Marco intimidatingly growled, wielding his instrument-turned-weapon. The viol thankfully stayed intact, and the wolf kept walking, trying to act as if nothing happened. The Cardinal staggered back, ashamed not of his own sudden action but only that such violence had occurred, holding his injured head.

"Thanks for the Christmas present, Your Highness," Marco put on a cutesy tone in saying to Felix.

"Pffsh— hush, now," the King had to restrain from laughing at the quip, not at all concerned for the Cardinal behind. Even Lætitia smiled, knowing nothing would come to harm her if that was the consequence.