Schwan (1 A Death in the Family)

It has been a while, but The Fuzz has posted a few pages of fiction here in the past.

So-

Here we go again.

Nothing serious, just a bit of fun.

Hope this silliness is enjoyed.

Of course it will come in pieces as in the past.

So let's begin...

Schwan

© Littlebranch Pages

1 A Death in the Family

The moon cast angular patterns from the houses onto the narrow street.  A lone figure made it's way from shadow to shadow.  He was cloaked against the chill in the air.  Although summer was near, the alpine nights were still cold.  His hood was pulled close; he did not wish to be recognized by the watch.

It was after midnight and the windows over the street were dark.  The townsfolk were sleeping after the festivities of the day before.  It had been the Queen's Birthday.  Queen Adelehide was popular with the people of Midmont, and all had turned out to feast in her honor.

The figure followed the narrow street, to an even narrower ally, where another waited with a cart.

"Tell the Duke," he whispered softly;  "The deed is done."

With this, he hurried back into the darkness.

The other mounted the cart and turned toward the city gate.

The gate was not closed; but it seldom was in times of peace.  The two men at arms at the gate stopped the cart out of curiosity; for it was unusual for anyone to be leaving the city at this hour.

But the cart contained only some goods for market, and they were satisfied with the driver's explanation of "wanting an early start for a lengthily journey," and the cart disappeared into the night.

By morning the rumors had reached the town.  The King was gravely ill.  Messengers were sent to the Crown Prince Fredrik, who was with the Rangers, at the southern border.  He was to return to court at once.

As the day wore on, there was no improvement.  By midnight, the bell of the Castle Chapel, began to toll sadly.

In the King's chamber all was silent except for the sobs of the Queen.  She had thrown herself on the bed beside her dead husband.  Princess Lillian stood alone at the window, looking out over the lake glistening below in the the moonlight.  It surrounded the castle and town on three sides.

The King's Physician stepped from the room, leaving the bereaved wife and daughter alone.  He was joined by the Chaplain, who had administered Last Rites to the King.

"I  don't understand it," the doctor said to his friend.  "This was so sudden.  His Majesty's health has been excellent."  After a long pause he continued, "There was nothing I could do."

✠

At the sound of approaching hoofbeats, the watchmen at the gate stood in the opening, holding their spears at the ready.  Two riders rode up on the tough mountain ponies favored by the Rangers who patrolled the frontiers.  They could hear the bells of the chapel tolling slowly.

The watchmen challenged the riders.

The foremost rider threw back his hood, and the watchmen recognized Fredrik, the Crown Prince.  The watchmen snapped to attention, and presented arms.

"What news, Goodmen?"

"None good, your Highness; the King is dead."

Then the Watchman snapped to attention again, saying, "Long live the King!"

"Greet the Captain of the Guard for me," said the Prince returning their salute.

And then the two men rode on, slowly now, toward the castle gate.

Prince Fredrik entered the King's Chamber, nodded to his sister and then touched his mother, the Queen.  She sat up and clutched his hands.

"Why?" was all she said.

He had no answer.  As she turned back to her husband, Fredrik went to Lillian at the window and they embraced.

"You've been gone too long," she said.  It was almost an accusation.  Then her gaze turned to Rolf, standing at a respectful distance near the door.

"You too," she said.

Fredrik excused himself.

"I must speak with the physician."

He stepped out into the antechamber, where the Doctor was waiting.

"I don't understand it," the doctor told him.  "One moment he was fine.  The next, he was fighting for his life."

"No one else has been ill?"

"No one, Your Highness."

✠

It was some time later.  Prince Fredrik sat alone in the darkened chapel.  He had known this day would come.  But he had never expected it so soon.  In an instant the responsibility for the kingdom had fallen on him.

He was young.  He had been enjoying his freedom.  These last two years had been spent with the Rangers patrolling the borders, and guarding the mountain passes.

He had been nominally in command; but in reality, he was being trained by the Ranger Captain.  And he had learned well.  But there was still so much more to be learned.

And there had been his time at the great universities; Paris, and Köln.  There, he had developed a reputation as a poor student and a womanizer.  But that was mostly based on gossip, and the reputation didn't bother him.  Beneath it all was a serious side, that few, but his closest friends saw.  Friends like Rolf.

They had grown up together, along with his sister, Lillian.  Rolf's father had served for years as Captain of the Castle Guard.  Rolf had been his companion in all his foreign adventures.  And Rolf was the moderating influence that had kept him out of a lot of trouble.  Now Fredrik hoped this would not change anything.

But still, he knew; it would change everything.

He heard someone enter the Chapel.  

"Are you ready?"

He recognized the voice of Friar John, a monk from the nearby abby.  

"Of course not."

"Good.  At least you realize it."

Friar John had in recent years become close to the Prince as his spiritual adviser.  It was another side of Fredrik that was hidden from most.

"They told me you would be here, Your Majesty."

"Cut that out, John.  I'm still only me.  The same me."

"You wish that were so… You want it to be so.  But you know it can't be.  This is your place now, and you alone must fill it."

"I can't do this!"

"The Lord has put you here, and he has prepared you.  Do you think that He didn't see this coming?

"The official coronation is in two days.  But as of this moment, you are King…  You might wish to pray."

With this, Friar John left Fredrik alone in the Chapel.    

✠

With Fredrik gone, Rolf walked slowly to the Princess.  She took his hands in her own.

"I've missed you."

Rolf said nothing.  She could see he was struggling with his emotions.  He turned his head to look out the window. 

"The lake is beautiful this morning," he said.  He wanted to add, "And so are you," but didn't dare.  Finally he asked the question that tore at his heart.

"Had your father found you a husband yet?"

Something went out of her at his words.

As much as she loved her father, the late King had believed in politicly advantageous marriages.  Although he and her mother had truly loved each other, still, the Queen was the daughter of the Duke of Solland, Midmont's neighbor beyond the southern pass.

In the passed year the King had been in contact with other ruling families; both in regards for herself, and her brother.  But Fredrik was King now.  He would be free to choose his own bride.  But her fate was in his hands now.  She longed to ask Rolf what he knew.  He seemed too distant.  Was he hiding something?

✠

The day before his coronation, Fredrik began meeting with the King's Ministers, trying to acquaint himself with the affairs of state.  For now, he would make no changes.  There was little point in changing what appeared to be working.

He also needed to chose his advisers.  He was beginning to realize that not everyone could be trusted.  And the circumstances of his father's death still bothered him.

He would keep Rolf near.  He was one man he knew he could trust.  And Friar John could be relied on as well.  As for the others... time would tell.

Word came of condolences from the Duke of Morlana, ruler of the country to the North of Midmont.  Fredrik was surprised at how quickly word of the king's death had traveled.

From the Foreign Minister, he found that the King had been in contact with the Duke, and there had been discussions regarding marriage between either Fredrik or the Princess, and one of the Duke's children.  For his part, Fredrik was not of the opinion that his duty to Midmont went quite that far.

From the Steward of the Treasury, he learned that although the treasury was not extensive, it should be adequate for the present.

And there were more reports.  Reports on the state of the roads; the condition of the town walls; the militia; and so on.  The list seemed endless.

Fredrik was surprised to find that there was even a network of spies, although he didn't care much for Slythain, the man in charge of it.

✠

The official celebrations surrounding the coronation were subdued.  The King had been popular, and Fredrik, while well liked, had a questionable reputation.  And the people, although loyal, were not sure what to expect now, with him, on the Throne.