The book of Jilahd. Primary author: Eric.
Rurik stood on the narrow balcony and looked over the city to the distant mountains. Snow still covered the peaks beneath a clear, blue sky. He thought about his father. Sturl had been dead for some eight years now, yet it seemed like only yesterday he stood on this very spot with him. He still missed him.
“Sire,” Edgtho said, emerging from the doorway. “You have a son.”
Rurik grinned, clapping his friend on the back. “His name shall be Nils. Inform the people the throne has an heir, then return here to me.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Soon, the sound of the crier drifted up on the Onebron breeze. Edgtho returned to stand next to him at the railing. Rurik turned to him, glaring.
“What, you think yourself equal to the king, now?”
“That depends,” Edgtho said, “on whether we are talking or hunting.” He turned and smiled. “When I hunt, I at least remember who's hunting who.”
Rurik broke into a wide smile with the memory. “Remind me to have you executed for sedition.”
Edgtho produced a pipe from inside his surcoat and began stuffing it.
“You're getting brave.”
“Getting? Feh. Herdis will be in bed for several days at least. Besides, I'm not actually in the palace, am I?”
“You let one of her maidservants see you, and none of that will matter. She'll make sure that you're remorseful long before she's done with you.”
The two men grinned and stood in silence for a while, enjoying the cool breeze after the long months of snow. Soon they were joined by an elderly woman, who walked up to the railing with the same familiarity Edgtho had shown. Both men watched her as she closed her eyes and lifted her head as if to drink in the fresh air. Though obviously much older than her two companions, she showed no sign of frailty. Long, platinum hair that had once been blonde and the inevitable wrinkles were the only clues to the many winters she had seen. After a long while, she lowered her head and opened her eyes.
“Grimnir smiles on your son, Rurik. He will be a great warrior, legendary among your people. He will see the kingdom through great trouble.”
“That is great news indeed, Hismena,” Rurik replied.
“Such success does not come without a price, though. He will cause you great personal grief to mingle with your joy.”
Rurik sighed. “Very well. If that is his fate, I will see it through.”
“We don’t usually have much choice,” Edgtho said.
“Nils! Nils! Where is that boy? Anna, have you seen Master Nils?”
The small voice drifted up from behind a tower of bed linens, “No ma’am, not since yesterday. Shall I tell him you’re looking for him?”
“I’m sure he already knows. Thank you, Anna.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
As the grown-up walked off to continue her search, the tower of bed sheets moved down the hall and up the stairs. There had been a time when Anna disliked having to service the upper chambers of the palace. However, she found that climbing the stairs became easier over time, and her chances of running into someone – literally or figuratively – were slim. Very few people ever had reason to come up here when there were no guests staying in the palace, and she found the solitude to her liking.
She began working her way through the chambers, changing the linens, dusting, and checking the fixtures for needed repairs, though with a slightly relaxed pace. Another benefit of working in the south tower was that if she were gone slightly longer, no one would come looking for her.
Moving down the hallway to her left, she came finally to the last chamber – and her favorite. Larger than the others, it usually slept those of great importance who needed the extra space for their comfort and ready defense. Its windows also commanded the best view of the countryside and the mountains in the distance. Like most seven-year-old girls, Anna dreamed of being rescued from her life of drudgery by a handsome prince, who would carry her to his castle and make her his queen. “This room,” she thought, “would be perfect for a princess.”
She sighed. At least she had one out of three. From what her parents had told her, they had been carried off to the castle, though it was in the years before she was born. Not by a prince, but by one of the Varangian dukes, who gave his king a handsome gift – two prisoners from Aargau. The king, though a fierce warrior himself, treated them with kindness and made them servants in his household.
She entered the room, lost in her thoughts of the homeland she had never seen, and ran right into the prince. “Oh! Excuse me, m’lord. I didn’t know you were here.”
He had been studying something closely through the window, for he spun now to face her, obviously startled. Anna was always surprised by how much shorter she and her parents were than the Varangians, but with the prince it was considerably more pronounced. Though only two years older, he stood almost two feet taller; he might even be taller than her father, she thought.
“What are you doing here,” he demanded.
“I'm sorry, m’lord. I'm servicing these chambers today. I didn't know you were using this one; I can come back some other time.”
He paused for a moment, before his face softened. “No, that won't be necessary. Please continue.”
He moved to provide more room between the bed and the window, allowing Anna to begin working with renewed vigor.
As she neared the window, she began hearing a commotion from the courtyard below. Shouts and grunts of great effort lifted on the breeze. As she finished with that side of the bed and turned to move to the other side, the scene through the window caught her eye.
Below, within an area walled off and forbidden to almost everyone, stood a grove of trees and several large boulders. Two men stood within the private courtyard, their red shoulders marking them as members of the royal bodyguard. One man grasped a tree around the trunk as if he were trying to uproot it bare-handed. The other stood, stooped in front of a gigantic boulder that he was trying to push across the small space. Their efforts were the source of the noise.
She apparently took too long with her glance, for her impromptu supervisor abruptly commented, “that’s none of your concern.”
“My apologies, sir.”
There was a long silence during which Anna continued her work and the prince continued his scrutiny. Was it her imagination, or was he studying her?
“You don’t look like a Varangian girl.”
“No sir. I was born here, but my parents are from Aargau, in the Astaran Empire.”
“Your father lives here?”
“Yes sir. He is James Emory and my mother is Glenda. They also serve my lord.”
“How did they come to De Haan?”
“My father says they were captured in a raid that Duke Buliwyf Greldson carried out about twelve years ago.”
“He’s not a warrior then, or he would not have been captured,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“No, he’s not,” she returned hotly. “He’s a tailor, one of the finest anywhere in the kingdom. Who do you think made those clothes that you wear so proudly? As if all that mattered was the ability to kill another person! Oh!” Anna could feel her face burning with her anger, but had suddenly realized who she was chastising. She quickly took a knee. “I’m sorry, my lord. Please forgive me for my outburst.”
The prince, taken aback by the sudden, verbal attack, just stared at her. For a moment, he looked down, inspecting the stitching and fine needlepoint on his jacket. He had to admit, this girl had an inner fire that was quite different from the other girls he knew.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever been spoken to like that by anyone but Durla before this. You are forgiven. We shall not speak of it again. Please tell your father for me that I enjoy his work very much.”
“Yes sir. Speaking of Durla, she was looking for you earlier.”
“I know. I'm sure she still is. But I command you not to reveal to anyone that I come to this room. Understood?”
“Yes sir. It will be our secret.”