Leed helped Rolen to his feet. The old knight clapped. He was surprised at the amount of skill that the musician had with sword.
“How do you come to be so skilled in swordplay, Leed? I understood the life of a bard was very peaceful. Playing music for room and board at an inn, strolling along roads, going where you please?”
The bard chuckled. He had seen quite a few fights in his career and had mastered the art of swordsmanship. But to the knight he merely said,
“Most of your assessment is correct. But traveling always has some aspect of danger, whether it be from wild beast or highway robber.”
Rolen stretched his arms as he listened to the conversation between the knight and the bard. The bard had, to him, ceased to be a mere musician. This was a daring man who knew many things, and could tell many things. Who had seen many things. Done many things. He looked at Leed with new respect. However, the bard bowed and smiled as he took his leave. Rolen hoped he would see the man again.
*******************************************
That evening, as Sir Jethro and his two squires sat at the table and ate their supper of stewed potatoes and broth, Squire Dunderhead asked a question.
“I was reading my in my history book earlier. It had a picture of the Royal family tree. Why isn’t King Bloomstead on the tree?”
The younger squire spoke with a lisp, and it was sometimes hard to understand him. The boy was only twelve years old, and had just finished his pagehood. Sir Jethro was silent for a moment before beginning his explanation.
“King Bloomstead is not directly descended from the Royal line. Ten years ago, he ascended to the throne, and began his glorious reign.”
The last sentence was said mechanicaly, as if he didn’t really mean it. Rolen perked up. He had heard rumors that Bloomstead was not the rightful ruler, but he had always assumed he was only king by marriage or something of that sort. Dunderhead was talking again.
“Did he marry the queen? The picture of her is pretty. I wish I could meet her sometime.”
The knight winced as he looked into the boy’s honest, open, face. He hated to lie like this, but it was best this way.
“There was a great banquet, and afterwards he was made king.”
This was partly true, after all. Nobody really knew what had occurred that night. There had been a banquet one night. The next day, the queen had dissapeared, and Bloomstead claimed himself ruler of the land until she reappeared.
But the queen had never reappeared, and all those who had sworn fealty to the throne had turned to the service of King Bloomstead.
*******************************************
After the meal, Rolen went to find the knight.
“Sir, that wasn’t the whole story, w-“
The knight put his hand over Rolen’s mouth. He held a finger to his mouth.
“No. But I do not know the whole story. All I know is that the queen disappeared and that Bloomstead took her place. The queen was unmarried, and therefore no one with a direct right to the throne. No, no more questions. To bed with you.”
Rolen wanted to ask more questions, but he bowed respectfully and left the room. A few minutes later, he was sitting on his bed, juggling. He tried to focus on keeping the balls arcing steadily, but he kept dropping them as his mind wandered to the question of Bloomstead’s succession.
“How do you come to be so skilled in swordplay, Leed? I understood the life of a bard was very peaceful. Playing music for room and board at an inn, strolling along roads, going where you please?”
The bard chuckled. He had seen quite a few fights in his career and had mastered the art of swordsmanship. But to the knight he merely said,
“Most of your assessment is correct. But traveling always has some aspect of danger, whether it be from wild beast or highway robber.”
Rolen stretched his arms as he listened to the conversation between the knight and the bard. The bard had, to him, ceased to be a mere musician. This was a daring man who knew many things, and could tell many things. Who had seen many things. Done many things. He looked at Leed with new respect. However, the bard bowed and smiled as he took his leave. Rolen hoped he would see the man again.
*******************************************
That evening, as Sir Jethro and his two squires sat at the table and ate their supper of stewed potatoes and broth, Squire Dunderhead asked a question.
“I was reading my in my history book earlier. It had a picture of the Royal family tree. Why isn’t King Bloomstead on the tree?”
The younger squire spoke with a lisp, and it was sometimes hard to understand him. The boy was only twelve years old, and had just finished his pagehood. Sir Jethro was silent for a moment before beginning his explanation.
“King Bloomstead is not directly descended from the Royal line. Ten years ago, he ascended to the throne, and began his glorious reign.”
The last sentence was said mechanicaly, as if he didn’t really mean it. Rolen perked up. He had heard rumors that Bloomstead was not the rightful ruler, but he had always assumed he was only king by marriage or something of that sort. Dunderhead was talking again.
“Did he marry the queen? The picture of her is pretty. I wish I could meet her sometime.”
The knight winced as he looked into the boy’s honest, open, face. He hated to lie like this, but it was best this way.
“There was a great banquet, and afterwards he was made king.”
This was partly true, after all. Nobody really knew what had occurred that night. There had been a banquet one night. The next day, the queen had dissapeared, and Bloomstead claimed himself ruler of the land until she reappeared.
But the queen had never reappeared, and all those who had sworn fealty to the throne had turned to the service of King Bloomstead.
*******************************************
After the meal, Rolen went to find the knight.
“Sir, that wasn’t the whole story, w-“
The knight put his hand over Rolen’s mouth. He held a finger to his mouth.
“No. But I do not know the whole story. All I know is that the queen disappeared and that Bloomstead took her place. The queen was unmarried, and therefore no one with a direct right to the throne. No, no more questions. To bed with you.”
Rolen wanted to ask more questions, but he bowed respectfully and left the room. A few minutes later, he was sitting on his bed, juggling. He tried to focus on keeping the balls arcing steadily, but he kept dropping them as his mind wandered to the question of Bloomstead’s succession.
