Taunton Town: Legacy of the Seven

By Moshood Adebayo

Zetorn, the king of hell advances towards the earth. Kadjor and his tribe of seers sail the Aethiopian Sea. The seven families of Freewill fight for the thrones in Freetown court. In the middle of this, a fourteen-year-old Brabber Penners, son of a drunkard, finds himself trapped. To save the race of man, which is bound for doom, he must find his true parents, who do not want to be found.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781387528028

Book preview

1

Nobody must know about this, Brabber warned himself. Not even Gilbert!

It was a dirty adventure any man would lambaste but the spoils to keep would water the mouth. The palace was a complicated maze of a castle with its corridors and passages disappearing and appearing into one another like those of an anthill. It was a concluded decision nonetheless; Brabber would not withdraw now.

For weeks, he had been going to the palace, walking its premises and registering all of its details in his mind. That day again, he had gone, and like every other day, people had just passed him by like he was inconspicuous; age and size were on his side albeit he was pulling on broad crimes.

As he rested on a concrete railing and looked down onto the royal gardens, he sighed. There was only one place he had not been eligible to enter, the inner chambers, and of course, that would be the location of the legendary treasure room of the old seven rulers of Freewill. Even if the gods would descend to guard that room by themselves, someway, somehow, he would—

His Grace the king passes! was suddenly announced by someone from north of his location. Make way!

Brabber’s blood coursed tensely. There was a rumour that King Varys could see through a man by merely glancing at him. Now, would it be wise to stay or stupid to run when echoes of about twenty footfalls gradually closed in? He packed his hair off his face and told himself reassuringly, Be calm! He’s not going to take this route.

He settled to breathe hard ten times, ending of which he hoped would meet him calmer than his heart had betrayed. He breathed and after that, he turned around calmly, resting his back against the rail which was only two inches below his shoulders. There, to his disenchantment, people had already stilled one side and bowed their heads.

What is—

The king emerged in the company of guards, soldiers and nobles seeming to be in haste. Brabber would have bowed like the others, but the golden adornment on King Varys’s body was too glittery to look away from. He realized he had never seen the king’s face before. There had been palace-hosted events where he could have seen the king, but he was either busy practising with his sword at the armoury or plaguing his father, Gilbert with questions at home. He regretted not having seen him before because certainly, the glitters on him wouldn’t have been unfamiliar.

It was too late for him when after all, he bent his head. The shadows of the whole entourage stilled right at the tip of his nose, and when he saw the brown boots before him, he could not regret it more.

A warm hand cupped his frozen chin and pulled his head up. Naively, he decided to close his eyes. Perhaps, that way, King Varys wouldn’t see the mischief in them.

What is your name? he heard someone say.

His eyes popped open and the bold gaze of the king peered frighteningly into his. B—Bra—bber, he stammered. He knew he would be asked Brabber what? So, he completed it instinctively, Brabber Penners.

The king’s broad body soared away disinterestedly, and to his relief, which was as well a suspicion of danger, the king regained his speed and so was his entourage.

Brabber could not breathe, and as if he wasn’t on edge already, a woman suddenly materialized before him, also bending to his face.When the king walks, people lower their gazes, she lectured, seemingly offended. I bet your father taught you that but… you turned deaf ears, didn’t you? Now, you will tell me what you’re doing here.

W—what?

You heard me.

I—I—I… I— was what Brabber was able to spit out of his shivering lips. What would he have said he was looking for, the treasure room?

What errand are you running? groaned the woman demandingly.

Brabber looked at her as if she was a creature from the nether world. Words must have been locked away somewhere within him, he could not do more than shake his head.

Oh-oh, mused the woman. I thought as much. Idle hands, I know where exactly you should be. She grabbed him by his left ear and pulled him towards the inner chambers, passed the guards without questions and then, into the part of the palace he was just dreaming of infiltrating. It was happening too quickly for him to believe and as he quickened after the woman pulling him by the ear, he could not help but manage with a bit of head movement to relish the dreamlike beauty of this new environment. Every ceiling was white. The walls, with their relief sculptures, were also white. ‘Wow!’ he marvelled. ‘This is nice!’

Servants in different garbs were seen going about their duties. Soon, the walk around the inner chambers ended at a place imbued with aromas. This hinted to Brabber that they were in a kitchen. ‘Why here?’ He stroked his ear after the woman had let go of it.

A cook walked down to them and greeted the woman in somewhat a funny way.

Nuesa? the woman simply demanded and the cook disappeared through another door by the right end of the room. It was quite a large room and even men were there, sprinkling spices into pans and stuff into pots. Brabber was nearly licking the air. Why could the woman have brought him here?

Nuesa, a tall woman with rather aggressive facial cosmetics dashed into view and greeted just exactly as the previous cook had done. Oh, Lady Kathy? she giggled. Pardon me. How can I be of service? We’re entirely busy, but whatever Your Lady demands, we will—

It’s okay—it’s okay, Nuesa. The woman waved her hand flippantly. I only brought an idle hand. I bet you can keep him busy somehow.

Um-um Nuesa grinned, showing nice dentition which had failed to titivate her smile. We can definitely find a role for him. Now, idle hands, come over here at once.

Lady Kathy, the woman who had brought Brabber retraced her steps, leaving him with Nuesa in the kitchen. When Nuesa surged ahead and signalled to him to follow her, Brabber discovered the kitchen was not just that large hall, there were other rooms too; freezing room, slaughterhouse, washing room, grinding room, bakery and store. The walls here weren’t painted white; they were differently brushed as the work done in them had demanded.

When they finally stopped, Brabber knew what job he was brought to do, dishes.

These aren’t all, Nuesa exhibited the dishes with a stroke of her finger. They’re just… some of them. She winked and walked away.

Brabber stood there, speechlessly angry. ‘The king didn’t even complain about me looking at him, what does the Kathy woman care?’

There, Nuesa’s voice came behind him again.

He turned and was greeted by a sight which almost provoked him to scream. Three young cooks were wheeling carts of ceramic plates in.

Young darling, Nuesa cackled. You must finish before nightfall, eh? Angela will show you how to handle them. Now, you may begin.

He wanted to protest, but his eyes were the only organs that found courage, his lips didn’t.

Nuesa left, and so did the young cooks except one.

Come, I’m Angela, she introduced herself.

Brabber wanted to cry.

What did you do? asked Angela amusedly.

Nothing! The response came rather too assertively.

Be calm, Angela urged reassuringly. If you will be fast, I can help you through the whole of it, okay?

Brabber wanted to yell at her, but his muscles relaxed on second thought. ‘Haven’t I been dreaming of gaining access into this part of the palace? Where am I now?’ A wry smile gradually descended on his face. He had been unwisely angry at a blessing.

Angela, right? he asked, nicely now.

The girl nodded.

You will help me?

Why not? …if you’ll be quick.

I’ll try but…

What?

How would I be able to repay you? Will I be allowed to come here some other time to… perhaps help you out on some of your… things you do here?

Sure. But not if I don’t know your name.

I’m Brabber. I live on the meadows.

You’re a Gibson then.

No, I’m from the Pennerses. My father is Gilbert.

Lord Penners, I know him.

Yes, that’s the one. Hope he hasn’t stepped on your toes before.

Gilbert the Gorilla, Angela cracked. Not at all, I never even met him.

Brabber was surprised the girl knew his father rather too much to have called him Gilbert the Gorilla, only odd she said she never met him. He could’ve asked more questions, but the girl had got to work.

Now, Brabber, she said sharply. Take this.

As Brabber responded to the do-this and do-thats, his mind wandered. ‘When I locate the treasure room,’ he promised himself. ‘I’ll steal enough treasures to be rich for the rest of my life. When I get rich, people will bow to me like they do to King Varys and I will kick them in the butts for fun. Then, I will find my mother and leave this town forever.’

*      *      *

Gilbert was determined to lash Brabber upon his return from wherever he went. It was dark and he hadn’t come home. Where could he have gone?

He took a seat, crossed his legs and sipped his mead. Just a child he needed as an addition to a life he already hated. He had attempted suicide once, but the rope had failed him. When he found himself seated on the floor that day, the rope severing, he couldn’t resist the laughter. The reason he was still alive, he knew, deep down in his heart but only wouldn’t admit it, he couldn’t leave his boy. He hated that bastard, yes, but if he left him, would the brat be able to take care of himself? Would he not grow into a drunkard like his father? Gilbert wouldn’t want that. He wanted a better Penners.

Gilbert was a farmer and as well a smith but more of a soldier than both. He could have volunteered to fight in the ongoing civil war, but violence had become unjustifiable for him to live with. He wasn’t called Gilbert the Gorilla for no reason; he was one of the best fighters Freewill had ever drilled, but that was the past anyway, the present Gilbert was the one who complained, foamed, cursed labourers who worked on his farm, knocked his son in the head, drank and despised anything red except wine. Aside from his entire ill predisposition though, he was at heart an honourable man. Brabber was his only son. His friends had teased him once that Brabber was a girlish name, and he had replied through a mouthful of berries, Can you blame a drunkard? Everybody had laughed.

Brabber learnt early that every child should have a mother, and so had pestered his father on being shown to his, but the truth which Gilbert did not care to hide, was that he wouldn’t be able to recognize Brabber’s mother even if they met again. Unfortunately, it was the truth; Gilbert would not recognize Brabber’s mother if he met her again. He was dead drunk when they copulated, the memory of which was only a flash from a forgotten dream. Anyone would ask; if Gilbert couldn’t recognize Brabber’s mother and they had only met while he was drunk, how did Brabber end up with him? Brabber had asked the same question himself, and Gilbert had gazed at him for a while, stroked his hair and told him, Whoever she is, she knows me… knows where I live, and if she ever remembers she had a son, she knows where to come find you.

That’s not my question, Brabber had protested. How did I get to you after my birth? Did you cover your eyes while she gave birth to me and so you didn’t see her face?

Ah-ah, clever one! Gilbert had laughed. But no, I didn’t know about her pregnancy or how she had given birth to you. She dropped you at my door when you were three years old. I almost threw you away but a friend… he educated me on your identity and… well, here you are.

If that friend of yours has enough knowledge about my identity, shouldn’t you just point me in his direction? I want to know what my mother looks like.

Nonsense! Am I not taking care of you enough? Is that why you want to meet her?

Of course, you’re not, Gilbert, I’m the one taking care of you. You’re always—

Drunk? You incongruous brat! Did you realize you’re talking to your father? Haven’t you noticed younglings like you call their fathers daddy and not by their first names?

But… aren’t you always drunk, Gilbert?

Then, like always, Gilbert had knocked him in the head and locked him up in one of their rooms. Prison is the comfiest abode for mad souls, he had cracked through the keyhole, grabbed a cup of mead and sauntered out of the house.

Brabber would never stop asking about a mother Gilbert himself did not know. So, anytime Gilbert wanted to avoid the questions, he would lock him up and leave the house. Before Brabber would find his way out of the lockdown as he had always managed to, Gilbert would’ve been on his farm, and Brabber wouldn’t go there.

A cup of mead spilling on Gilbert’s thighs spurred him back to life. He had dozed off on the chair. He staggered onto his feet and swept the liquid off his thighs with the back of his hand. ‘Where could this boy have gone? What breed of a son have I been yoked with? So he came home late like this once, incongruous brat, saying he had gone to save my life. So many things are wrong about him but… can I complain?’

How do you mean you saved my life, fool? he had asked Brabber that day.

And Brabber had absently shrugged, saying, Well, you can’t understand.

The day that subdued that night had brought Brabber out of bed early and Gilbert had taken him to a healer. The boot-nosed healer had sat Brabber down to ask him a series of psychotherapeutic questions, which Brabber had blankly answered with growing eagerness to leave. After the examination was declared over, Brabber had asked the healer what the questions had been about and the healer had told him frankly, that his father wanted to know if he was mentally healthy. He had then asked, And… aren’t I? and the healer had shaken his head and said, Seriously, I couldn’t conclude. And so he was discharged.

No sooner had Gilbert resumed his seat after brushing his thighs than he fell asleep. The ray of the next day’s sun which had set on his face woke him up. He lurched out of the chair swearing to kill Brabber. His stomach burnt from within and he felt light-headed as he lumbered about in the house. His friends had advised him, times without number to find a wife but getting married, according to him, was not a wise idea. I’m too selfish to share my life with a woman, he had told Albert, his friend once.

The horses were calm outside, someone must have fed them. He nodded to a thought that he must have had either too little or too much alcohol the other night. His head throbbed.

As he crossed the parlour towards his room, something caught his attention; it was an aroma of food, a seemingly familiar one. He brushed the curtains that led to the dining room aside, and there, neatly served with wine was ful medames, one of the Nile foods that the people of Freewill would never cease to revere. It consisted of lava beans served with oil, garlic and lemon juice. It was even served with tomato sauce and fried eggs. Gilbert pulled back the chair, sat at the table, lugged the wine’s cork off and after having a gulp started to eat the food. He did not ask who placed it there and he had quickly forgotten about Brabber whom he had sworn to kill.

Outside, behind the windows, however, Angela and Brabber laughed quietly as they tiptoed away.

You lost to me! Brabber screeched after they had gained distance from the house, throwing himself sprawled out on the grass and laughing at the sky. I said he will go for the wine before he touches the food.

Really! beamed Angela amusedly. Your father is quite a strange man. How he looked at the food like a child he had lost since the year before the seven kings!

They both laughed and as Angela gazed down on the fourteen-year-old Brabber, with his wavy fringed hair and his smile; she could not help but wonder how an eighteen-year-old girl like her had become so enamoured of a boy of this size and age. He was totally innocent, funny and intelligent. He had childish ideas that Angela had found rather entertaining, like the way he had brought her home the other night to watch how he would drug his father’s mead so that he could sleep. Again, as if that was not enough, he had made her sneak food out of the palace’s kitchen to bribe his father so that he would not be scolded that morning. It was not up to twenty-four hours that they met and it felt like they had known each other for many years. On second thought, Angela had brought the wine which to her surprise had later become a cause of intriguing entertainment. Now, there they were, mirthful.

Although Angela feared she was staying too long away from the palace, she had already framed excuses to get Nuesa off her hooks. She couldn’t run from a moment as pleasurable as the one with Brabber simply because a notorious Head Cook would be mad. They continued to laugh.

Now that his throat is washed with wine, said Brabber mirthfully, my sins are forgotten, I can bet on that.

I don’t know why— Angela bent across his view of the sky. Men seem to love food more than the women they’re married to. Could you know why?

I couldn’t, replied Brabber. Foods digest in a matter of hours, people we love last lifetimes. Why else would we eat if not to attain the health to last years with people we love… with women we’re married to?

Angela’s laughter melted. I have to go, she suddenly announced.

Why? Brabber rushed onto his feet. Did I say something bad?

Angela feigned a smile. No! Not at all! Just that… if my absence is noticed at the palace, I might be hauled over the coals.

Oh, you better get going then.

I’ll see you again.

When?

She had turned already, running back to the city.

When can I come to help you? Brabber shouted after her.

She only waved her hand in the air in response and Brabber wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

When Angela was no more in sight, sluggishly, Brabber turned homewards.

Gilbert was still at the dining table when Brabber entered. Expectedly, Gilbert looked up with a squeezed face which had lost its previous anger. He belched and farted simultaneously. Where have you been since yesterday? he asked, drinking directly from the bottle. Who was that girl?

Which girl? Brabber grimaced, surprised Gilbert saw her.

The girl I saw you with, through that window you punk!

Ah, that one? he feigned innocence. She was looking for her horse… said the horse came around this way or something.

Did she find it?

I wouldn’t know. He shrugged. She must have, definitely.

Gilbert resumed eating.

When Brabber saw that Gilbert would not be asking any more questions and was not interested in where he had been since the day before, at least for now, he thought he should play with him a bit.

Gilbert, he barely mentioned when Gilbert jammed his fist against the table so violently that Brabber almost fell backwards.

Call me daddy! he barked.

Brabber nodded spontaneously, finding justification in what he was about to do.

Daddy, he said, unblinking with his mouth cornered, that food… why are you eating it?

Gilbert looked up and yapped, Get out of my sight!

Daddy, the food is mine and I didn’t mean to eat it, Brabber rapped. I meant to take it to that healer you once took me to.

Gilbert hushed for a while. Which healer? he later asked.

The healer you took me to when you thought I was sick in the head. I meant to take the food to him so that he could eat it and die.

What? Gilbert’s forehead was rippled fearfully now.

Yes, daddy, I’ve poisoned it. I didn’t put much though, maybe it won’t work.

Gilbert found himself suddenly on his feet, shivering with fright. You did what? he rumbled. Why would you do that?

I’m so sorry, daddy. He feigned regret. I didn’t expect you to eat it.

Brabber fled when Gilbert lurched at him. He wasn’t chased beyond the front door though. Gilbert returned indoors quickly and began to rummage through the house.

Brabber crawled back into the house almost immediately. Once he heard the noise, he knew what Gilbert was looking for; a bottle of antidote Gilbert had bought once, in his presence months earlier. Unfortunately, Brabber had emptied it into the horses’ water five days after Gilbert bought it, out of boredom.

Brabber couldn’t end the smile on his face. As Gilbert’s pointless search went on, he took Gilbert’s seat at the dining table and grabbed the bottle of wine Gilbert had been drinking. He sipped proudly from it.

After his fifth sip from the bottle, he began to fear he had gone too far with the prank. Gilbert was wailing loudly from within his room. He obviously feared dying. So, Brabber concluded, the sooner he ended the prank, the lesser would the harshness of the consequences be. He stood, placed the bottle back gently, sighed heavily and then walked timidly to his father’s room. He brewed up a plan instantly.

Happy birthday! he clapped, standing at the door.

Gilbert whirled around to look at him, askance with bloodshot eyes and his jaw loosened as if he could no longer breathe through his nose. He perspired profusely and breathed hard.

Happy birthday, daddy, Brabber repeated, this time shakily as the miserable figure of his father stood rigidly timid before him. He had gone too far on this one. He imagined the worst punishments.

Gilbert didn’t say a word. Although he felt suspicious already, he also felt delayed, like he had to find the antidote before the poison eats him up.

I didn’t poison the food, Brabber gritted, prepared to run lest Gilbert charged at him. Last night, I came home late truly but, I slept in the house. The food… the recipe was special and the items were scarce. So, I cooked the food this morning and— he searched for words, I got the wine from my savings. The poison prank was only meant to make the birthday more… fun-filled? Many more years, dad… I love you.

Gilbert’s profile didn’t change immediately. It was like the gradual melting of snow, his tension lessened albeit he still could not find his jaw.

I love you, daddy, Brabber repeated watchfully.

But today is not my birthday, Gilbert mumbled almost incoherently, like a helpless little child, close to tears.

You said today is. I mastered the date.

No, I didn’t.

Oh no, I must have miscalculated! All my efforts! Are you sure it’s not today, daddy?

Gilbert glanced back at the mess he had created searching for the antidote. He shook his head, sighed, found his jaw, wiped his face and packed his hair backward with his hand. He moved.

Brabber’s ears rose, but he didn’t flinch. When Gilbert got to him, to his relief, no kick was thrown; Gilbert only brushed past him and dawdled off, muttering From his savings, ah-ah. Brabber did not leave the spot for another two minutes. He knew he had messed the old man up, really, and it was regrettably intense. He sighed and walked.

Back in the living room, he found Gilbert back at the dining table, finishing the food.

Brabber scoffed, ‘Look at this man.’

Thanks for the effort, son, Gilbert uttered through the mouthful, but today is not my birthday. When it is, please, don’t use the poisoning prank again, okay? Now, go get my room tidied up before I whack your ass.

Brabber smiled, At once, daddy.

He had escaped chastisement on this one. The birthday ruse had saved him; strange father, mad son.

2

As Varys looked out through the widely opened windows, the whiff of the dining room mahogany, which now and then was punched by the natural hint of autumn, hit him. He sighed heavily after skating an apple’s flesh down his throat. He so much loved being the king, but he was afraid, the queen had only born female children, no male yet, and he couldn’t be alive forever. Three of them, beautiful creatures as they were, Varys feared, being female, would not be able to succeed him as rulers of the rebellious country.

Interrupting his thoughts was a servant who entered, bowed and reported that General Tyler was around.

A brief gust of air lifted Varys’s hair and he closed his eyes, inhaling slowly as if to enjoy it. After that, he turned to the servant and asked, Alone?

No, sire, responded the servant. His comrades are with him.

Where do they wait? Varys asked.

In the throne room, Your Grace, answered the servant.

Varys picked another apple and bit at it. After swallowing the hunk, he muttered through his teeth, Bring him here alone.

Understood. The servant nodded and bowed out.

Varys was old but notwithstanding, a willful king. The uprising could have subjugated the Shannons if he wasn’t the one on the throne. Freewill was the name of the country. Years back, it was ruled collectively by seven warriors who had established it; Alexander, Monsurrieau, Shire, Lucaso, Faggo, Leonardo and Shannon who was the only female among them. Shannon outlived all of them, and at one point, she became the only ruler since the passing kings weren’t succeeded.

When she died, Varys, the strongest among her sons proclaimed himself king, against the petitions of the other six entitled families. The civil war erupted. Varys wouldn’t share his authority, and most unjustly, was not willing to let another family take the throne even after his reign. This was the reason his lack of a male heir boggled him; he wanted the Shannons to solely rule forever.

He is here, sire, reported the servant as he bowed in.

Let him in, Varys waved without looking up.

The servant reversed out, and then briefly, returned with Ralph, the Army General; a man who had never been caught smiling. Even when laughter breaks out at the convergences of people who matter, Ralph would only nod, never laugh. As stern as he was, however, his kindheartedness was meritorious. Ralph Tyler was the strength in Her Majesty the Queen’s arm, and now in her son’s. After the duo bowed, the servant withdrew, leaving the General and the King alone.

What is the news? Varys beckoned Ralph to a seat.

Ralph only took two steps closer but did not sit. Sire, he said grimly, Alexandria is now in cahoots with the rest of them. They have taken a treacherous bend too and attacked our soldiers on their soil. Now, I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before Shire and the Leonardes join their campaign. After all, their seals appeared on the petition as well.

Boys also call themselves men when they’re allowed marriage, don’t they? Varys munched the apple in his hand. They attacked you in Alexandria? How much wings they have grown too! He chewed on the apple noisily and Ralph stood akimbo, calculative.

Ralph had sworn to protect Varys and the Capital, and he couldn’t renege on his oath even though he knew the other families were clamouring for what was rightfully theirs.

My mother showered the whole lot of them with gifts and love, growled Varys. Is this how they’re supposed to repay us? Do they think they have the right to question the new model of installing kings here? All the devils in hell! How foolish they are!

Your Grace! Ralph cleared his throat and Varys looked up at him. Since the throne is their right too, I’d advise we make peace with them. It is most sensible we allow them the rights to rule with us as Her Majesty had done with their fathers. The country is—

Enough! Varys yelled so loudly his voice travelled the entire castle and raised people’s heads, causing Ralph to bow contritely. Have you a buff of filthy impossibilities become too? He smacked the table. Share my throne with some—all the devils in hell! You are joking, aren’t you? You better be! I trusted you because my mother did but now, what have you become? An enthusiast of the enemies?

I do not—

Stop right there! snarled Varys.

Ralph bowed again. He had loved Varys since they were both young because unlike the other sons of the queen, Varys had shown interest in the military arts. He would sit among soldiers and listen to their tales; he would ask questions and laugh with them. Ralph’s father was a ranking soldier in the Freewill Army and so was how Ralph had gained entry into the Army at adolescence, by influence. He was four years older than Varys but Varys, being a prince had enjoyed sending him on foolish errands. The first person to teach Varys how to hold a sword was Ralph. Varys learned quickly. Although always losing, he was always challenging Ralph to combat. Her Majesty the Queen was surprised the day she saw Varys fight on the practising ground when she passed in the company of the other kings. Ever since then, Shannon the Queen had granted Ralph Tyler access into the inner chambers of the palace, as a personal trainer of her son. She was not bad at swords herself. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have found her way into a circle of warrior rulers.

It is too late to do that now, said Varys huskily. Let them protest till they lose the strength for it. With time, their wounds will either heal or kill them. Whichever one it is, peace will reign again. And if they do not wish to be part of Freewill by then, well, I’d bid them farewell.

The Seven would not have wanted that, grumbled Ralph. Her Majesty, Shannon the Queen would not have approved of that.

Will you hold your tongue if you have nothing wise to say? How could you know what my mother would’ve wanted, or approved of? She held you in such high esteem and I can’t even see what you are worthy of exactly.

Her Majesty loved me because she could smell the future and trust my opinions on it.

Ah-ah, Varys laughed. Hand of the Queen, what kind of future would that be, if I may ask?

She knew I could advise you when you become like this. She knew I would not applaud vile violations.

Vile violations, Varys scoffed. And did she smell the future where I could have your tongue cut to shut you up?

Your Grace, have my tongue cut if you wish, there is a civil war going on and we’re losing. Now that Alexandria has joined them, they have an advantage of two-to-one on us.

Threatening to cut Ralph’s tongue was empty; the only man capable of overhauling the rebellion was Ralph Tyler and even Varys knew that.

Silence…

I will recruit more soldiers, said Ralph. I’ll arrange for a peaceful meeting with Shire and Leonardia. If they cannot support us, they must not join the enemies, and then we shall—

What would you offer them? interrupted Varys. You cannot tame a hungry lion with wine.

Yes, sire. About that, well, I do have a plan. Ralph sat now. You will get married to a direct daughter of the late King Shire. Marriage is the bait I have on them, and we all know the Leonardes go where Shireans go.

Varys exploded into laughter, slapping his knees and coughing at the same time. Oh no, aren’t you so hilarious? he raptured. Late King Shire had only one daughter, Bedelia and she’s widowed. A king doesn’t marry a widow! What is wrong with you?

Sire, a king does not marry a widow for fun but to buy peace, he could. May I take my leave now, sire?

Wait! Varys smacked the table and three apples rolled off. My wife will not like it, he whispered.

Your wife did not bear you a son, sire.

Nobody ever did.

Nobody?

Yes, Ralph, nobody ever did. I have touched a couple of women outside the palace, also, whores from Shire yet none has borne a son.

Seven! What were you thinking sire? You were sleeping with whores? None of the Seven ever—

Shut up now. Does it seem like I have many choices now? I need an heir!

The Seven will give you a son if they find it necessary. Besides, your mother did not have a cock when she ruled, did she? Get Her Highness to accept a new queen in the palace. That is what’s important now, not bearing a son.

And what makes you think Shire will accept the proposal, and more importantly, Bedelia will agree to be a Shannon wife?

Because she’s a widow who would want a man’s touch again. Most importantly, she would be given a chance to correct history.

Correct history?

Yes, correct history, Your Grace. I wouldn’t underestimate my perceptual power. Didn’t you love Bedelia when she was here? I bet she would’ve also loved to marry you but things went south and here’s a chance, after all, to reunite with you in a more sacred way. Even if Shire declined, I doubt she would.

You fool! You are so… he cleared his throat to whisper, okay, what if she does not bear a son?

A son? We’re not asking for her hands in that regard. We’re marrying her to keep Shire to our side, that’s it. Your Grace, I’m afraid I must leave now.

Wait, said Varys thoughtfully. Ralph waited but Varys couldn’t find his words. You may go, he finally said. Silence this uproar for me, Ralph, you cannot afford not to.

That was it. Threats were what he knew how to control people with. He was more of a soldier than a king, unapologetic and unrighteous, but Ralph loved him.

Ralph bowed out.

*      *      *

Ralph returned to the throne hall to give the orders he had lined up on his sleeve before the conversation between him and the king. George Garland, his deputy, with whom he had discussed his plans, was also expectant. George, in fact, could not resist lurching out of the crowd to intercept the outcome of the meeting but Ralph, who was older and more time-conscious couldn’t spare much time to dally.

Vincento, Madulla, Stone and you Jamie, he pointed at his commanders, holding out a scroll, go get the people whose names are on this scroll informed of their calls back to arms. The King of Freewill mandates that they get back into their old military garbs and rejoin the army to restore peace and order to our country. Reenlist them. He handed over the scroll and faced another group. Sir Rawn and Victor shall make it known throughout the city that the army is mandatory for all men between the age of eighteen and forty-five. The Island, Lucasia is grooming and initiating the other silent cities into the armed insurgency, every able-bodied man of Freetown must pick the swords. You’re dismissed.

When all were leaving, George stayed behind. What did the king say? he asked, frowning.

He is mad, said Ralph, shaking his head. He wants to subjugate the other families and make Freewill Shannons’ alone.

What baloney! muttered George, following Ralph curiously. The throne is their right too! Why would he be so imprudent? Didn’t you educate him?

You know the way to his chamber, don’t you? Why don’t you go tell him he is imprudent, eh? Go. Educate him and have your tongue trimmed, fool.

Oh! George sagged and swallowed hard. Besides the fact that he was a deputy, Ralph was as old as his father.

There were seven thrones in the hall even after the death of the last male ruler, said Ralph. Her Majesty, Shannon the Queen did not do away with them. She worshipped those golden chairs. Nonetheless, whose fault is it that things are happening this way? Shouldn’t she have placed the rightful heirs in their fathers’ thrones before she passed?

Hmmm… George smacked his lips. Since you were her Arm, why didn’t you advise her to do that? All these crises now, we could say it’s your fault too, you know?

Ralph’s face was like a lion’s, terrifying. He was a fire to be wary of as was often whispered among his soldiers. George was the only one close enough to realize that like every other man, Ralph had his soft spots, and although he could roar like a lion, he couldn’t bite indiscriminately like one.

Indeed it is, Ralph nodded passively, I had always thought I knew Varys, but man is such a piece of work, isn’t he? He looks perfect no matter how close you look, yet he isn’t. We grew up together. I trained him. He used to be reasonable and sensible. Who could’ve guessed he would grow into the Varys of today, dismantling what the ancestors have built?

Can’t we just have him killed and install one of his daughters in replacemen—

What! yapped Ralph. Is he the one going crazy right now or you? You want to murder the king we swore to protect? George, for how long have you been thinking about this? Tell me!

General, I do not feel very sorry to have said that, but I apologize. After all, I didn’t say it in your absence, which is the more reason my loyalty cannot be questioned.

Ralph walked closer to him, his face almost touching George’s. Do not only talk about it again, he growled. Never, ever, think about it again. Do you understand?

George nodded frantically and stepped back from Ralph’s face. He dared not look up at his eyes, which he knew would be blazing by then. They remained like that for a while, standing before each other and not talking before Ralph finally sighed and withdrew. George followed him. They were at a war they knew they didn’t have the material to win, yet couldn’t draw back.

I have relayed my plan to the king and he has accepted, Ralph told George as they marched back to where they had tied their horses.

Well, I’m not surprised. You think for him all the time.

Yes, that I do, but you don’t have to state the obvious, what’s your point?

No point certainly, just the obvious.

Shut up now.

There were salutations from guards here and there as they scampered through the passages. Ralph responded by permanently keeping his left hand up.

I still think the plan is ridiculous, whispered George.

Unless you have a better one, stick your tongue up your ass.

George scoffed and looked away.

Bedelia of Shire was enamoured of Varys when both were young, Ralph told George in hushed tones. It was mutual. Unfortunately, since none of them was bold enough to voice it, time robbed them of the chance. Now, since Bedelia’s husband is deceased, I don’t see why it’s ridiculous to bring her back here. Their old desires would not only be realized, Shire will be bought. And when Shire is bought, their army will be ours and Leonardia will also be on our side. You know the saying, where Shire goes, Leonardia goes? With those forces combined, Lucasia won’t stand a chance and will surely get tired of rousing the rabble.

George nodded repeatedly. He still kept nodding after Ralph had finished talking.

What do you say to that? Ralph poked him.

You’ve solved the puzzle, General, he responded, shrugging. There can’t be a better idea although… I feel it may not work, just as simple as it sounds.

Hun… Ralph groaned. But it will work. Bedelia will accept the proposal.

Isn’t she too old to remarry? She has children almost as old as I am.

A woman is not old as long as she can still make babies. Bedelia had sons and daughters. She would probably give King Varys a son.

But General, George mused. After all the crises are subdued and the rebellion is silenced, the other families will still not forget they have thrones that belong to them here, will they?

Ralph’s mouth cornered into a frown. The future cannot be altered, he said, but we have the strength to delay it, so let us do that. Pretend you do not see beyond the present and you’ll do just fine around here. You get it?

Absolutely, General, I get it.

Good. Summon the royal couriers. They must leave for Shire before sunset today. We have a marriage to prepare for.

At once, General, at once, George heaved.

Both mounted their horses and went separate ways.

3

The second day after Brabber had served his father ful medames and wine; he went to the palace hoping Lady Kathy would run into him and drag him to the kitchen again but no luck. He waited for Angela to pass, but no whiff of her either. He grew sad. He needed to be familiar with the inner chambers and these ladies were her tickets; he had a treasure room to rob.

The third day now, he lay on his bed thinking. Only if he knew Angela’s house off-palace, he would have gone there to check on her, but he didn’t, so he thought perhaps he should give her time. Five days. If Angela hadn’t reached out after five days, then he would have to go in search of her.

There were raps at the door. He went for it, and there, regarding him rigidly were three men in military garbs, seemingly impatient.

Where is your father, kid? one of them asked.

With a nod, Brabber reversed into the house to fetch Gilbert. He called thrice before he realized Gilbert would have gone to the farm. Brabber was always the only one at home. Manosa would only show up with her basket of food in the evening, unlike the days when Ruth was still around. How much Brabber had missed Ruth, their housemaid who used to live with them. She would cook now and again to keep Brabber’s mouth busy. She had left for an academy in Shire. Brabber couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of going to a school. What hadn’t he known already that the school would need to teach him? He had mastered how to pick locks; he had known how to steal; he had also known how to make his father angry, what else would anyone need to learn?

He has gone to the farm, that way, pointed Brabber.

The three soldiers exchanged brief looks and nodded