Holy City: Chapter Eighteen

V showered for the second time in less than half a day and once again dressed in the civilian clothes provided for him. He waited in his locked room for hours.

The junior military man returned. There were several men and women behind him. The junior military man seemed agitated, nervous as he approached V. He spoke in fast clipped words.

“You must prepare for your audience with the King.” He said.

“The King?” V had not expected this. The junior military man prompted V to stand and ushered him quickly to the door.

“We don’t have much time. We must hurry.”

He walked fast. V tried to keep up. He had little choice because the group behind pushed him forward with their pace. The junior military man’s words trailed off from several paces ahead of V, the words passing through the air like a fast moving wind. V caught most of those words but sometimes he missed a few.

“When meeting the King, there are rules. After you enter the room, you will wait for the King standing. A minute before the King enters the room, a protocol attache will enter the room. She will place herself on your left side. Do not speak to the protocol attache. She will remain on your left side until the King dismisses her. The King may not dismiss her. She will ensure all of your actions with his highness are proper.”

The junior military man was two steps ahead now as they made their way through many winding corridors and into a great courtyard. They were passing through the courtyard and about to enter another building. A building that was very different from the military base that stood guard over the fences of the desert. This building was much older, a castle from many centuries ago, probably what guarded the border of Lyonesse many centuries ago.

V had to do a half-sprint to catch up to the junior military man, the group pushing him from behind not doing their job ensuring his pace. When he finally caught back up as they made their way up a wide staircase that could accommodate several teams of horses, V was sure he had missed some of the junior military man’s speech. Only he didn’t know what he had missed and there was little hope of trying to stop the junior military man’s momentum and ask him to repeat his words.

“You are not to turn your back on the King. You will address him as your highness. You look him in the eye when he addresses you. You do not interrupt him. Never interrupt him. Don’t sit until he sits. Don’t eat until he eats. Never touch the King. The King will not touch you. Shake his hand if he offers his hand. It will be the right hand.”

They reached grand doors that matched the grand staircase they had just climbed. They entered a less grand room. The junior military man led V to the center of that room. There was a table laid out for tea a few steps away. Two chairs were at that table. V did not know if that table was for him. The chairs looked comfortable. The group that had been chasing from behind moved into the back of the room, into the corners of the room out of V’s vision. The junior military man looked V in the eye with the directness of a junior military man.

“Do you understand everything I have told you?”

V did not understand everything the junior military man had told him. He nodded anyway. The junior military man turned around and left the room with the speed of a sprinter. The grand doors to the not so grand room closed again. The room was quiet. V stood still in the center of it. Every now and then, there was a cough or a shift in movement from one of the chasing group who stood in the corners of the room. V wanted to turn his head to look when he heard such noises, but he wasn’t sure if turning his head would violate one of the junior military man’s rules. V kept his stare on the closed doors and waited.

After some period of time, the doors opened and as the junior military man said, a young woman in formal clothing entered the room and walked over to V placing herself on his left side. She was holding a folder in the manner that one holds a clipboard. The doors stayed open. A short time after she placed herself by his side, two strong military men entered the room. They wore formal military clothes but the look in their eyes said they had seen much of the war. They walked behind V and stood several paces behind him. Once again, V did not think he was allowed to turn to look at them. His eyes stayed on the open doors. His ears heard the King. There was a loud voice and the sound of many footsteps. They were coming up the grand staircase. V’s body tensed as if he was about to enter battle. He did not understand why his body did this. There was no reason for him to prepare for a fight, but his body wouldn’t listen to his mind. The footsteps drew closer.

The opened doors were pushed open further by a large man with a beard, a robe and many beautiful coats. His energy was contagious and made the air of the room vibrate and hum. A half dozen courtiers were behind the King listening to him, engaging in the silent side of a one-way conversation. The King was finishing a story but V could not make out what story the King’s final sentences could possibly be attached to. The King laughed at the end of the story so the courtiers laughed as well. That’s when the King noticed a man standing in the middle of the room. This man had been placed there and presented to the King for a formal meeting. The King smiled a smile the size of a great lake and reached out with both arms and embraced V with a giant hug. V kept his arms at his sides. The junior military man had mentioned nothing about hugs.

After the hug, the King kept hold of V’s shoulders with both of his hands and had a good look at V.

“So you are the man my friend told me about? The prince of the desert.” The King laughed at his last line. V realized the King was the man green-eyes referred to that morning. Harold was not just some friend of green-eyes. He was the man who ruled this entire Kingdom.

The King removed his strong hands from V’s shoulders. V, trying to remember his earlier instructions, offered his right hand for a formal handshake. The King had moved on. He twirled his body to the table full of tea and cakes.

“I hope you are hungry. We laid out a service.” The King walked over to one of the comfortable chairs and sat comfortably in it, his robes and vestments draping over the back. Courtiers ran over to the chair to ensure they draped properly. V quickly followed and rushed over to the other chair. He was worried he had made a faux pas by not sitting down at the exact same time as the King.

They were now on opposite sides of the tea setting. The King did not wait and poured tea for himself and his guest. He took a sip from his tea without waiting for it to cool and then took a rather large cake in his right hand and took a bite. V, trying to mirror the King’s movements, took a smaller cake in his hand and placed it on a small plate on the table in front of him next to his tea. By the time he had done this, King Harold had finished his cake.

“I know that you survived the desert,” the King said. “But I do not know where you are from.”

“I walked from Alexandria.” V said.

“I see.” The name of the city bore a visible weight with King Harold. His mood shifted at its mere mention.

“It is a beautiful city.”

“It was.”

“Full of miracles.”

“It was.”

“You speak good Lyonesse for someone from Alexandria.”

“I try.”

The King laughed a laugh that came from the belly. “You do not seem to be one with much concern for small talk.”

In order to prove the King right, V stayed silent.

The King took a small cucumber sandwich from the setting and sat back in his chair, the tiny sandwich disappearing through an opening in the whiskers of his beard. The King looked at V again. This time he was looking at him differently, assessing him.

“My friend tells me you saved his life in the desert.”

“I found water.”

“And that you healed another man’s leg.”

“I know a few tricks.”

“I was told these were not things a normal man could do.”

V didn’t say anything, unsure where this conversation was going. “I was also told he saw you bring a baby back to life in a refugee camp.”

V’s eyes showed surprise. He forced himself to stay silent.

“Are these things true? Did you save a child that could not be saved? Did you heal a leg that medicine could not heal? Did you find water where none could be found?”

V kept his tongue still, waiting for the King. The King took another sip from his tea, keeping his eyes on V, whose eyes were now slants as if he was thinking hard, but he showed no sign of saying those thoughts out loud.

The King put his tea back down, proudly inflating his chest. “That is the answer I would expect from a true prophet. You cannot admit to these acts, these miracles, because that would be boastful, an affront to God, but you cannot lie either because that would be an even greater insult to the Lord.”

“I do not claim to be a prophet.”

“I would expect you to say that as well. I will not ask your name because I do not want to know your name. If what I have been told is true and I know that it is, my friend has never lied to me, I love him like a brother, he would never lie to me. If what he says is true then you are a messenger from God and we have been blessed by your presence. I am a religious man, I pray every day, not like those heathens in Vitesia or those blasphemers in Damasia. I am a true believer of the true God. That is why we fight for Alexandria, that is why we will win, with God’s favor, and you are a sign of God’s favor.”

“I am not a sign.” V said coldly.

“Let me be the judge of that.” The King was sure in the way only a king can be. “The prophet is not always aware of how God works through him. How I have prayed to feel the gifts as you have. How I have prayed to hear His word directly, to feel His powers. I am honored to be in your presence.”

Politeness would normally dictate that V should say he was honored to be in the King’s presence. But he wasn’t feeling polite at that moment. He was feeling tricked.

“Was your friend sent to Vitesia as a spy?”

The King took another cake from the rack. “He was on a mission, yes, but I don’t expect you to concern yourself with such unimportant military matters. You are a religious man, you should concern yourself with the more important matters of the soul.”

“I think your unimportant military matters will determine the fate of many souls.”

“Ridiculous. You worry about the saving of those souls, I will worry about the losing of lives.”

V sat back in his chair and took measure of the King, whose full lusty beard reminded him of the beard he had shaved off in a cell not so long ago. V touched his cheeks as if on impulse, before he even realized that he was doing this because of his memory.

“We will have a feast tomorrow night. We have won a great victory along the Sarmatian border. You will be there as an honored guest. I want you to see my generosity, to partake of my generosity. To see how we treat those that serve my kingdom.”

The King rose from his chair so V did as well. “Your accommodations will be nicer tonight. I have told my staff to give you every blessing you require. We shall meet again. Now I have other less important matters to attend to.”

The King patted V on the back and then gave him a full hug for a second time and held him by the shoulders once again. The King looked V straight in the eye so V looked back straight into the King’s eyes. The King smiled and released his grip and turned and walked out of the room, the courtiers and soldiers and protocol attaches who had been in various parts of the background following closely behind. V was left alone, a cake without a bite in it and a full cup of tea in front of him.

V did not know what to do. It had all swept by so fast, this morning of meetings, of comings and goings, and now he had been abandoned in a not so grand room in a grand palace with no one to tell him what to do or what not to do.

V sat back down in his chair in front of the table with the tea and cakes still on it. He looked at the food and drink. He did not have long to look as servers came in and removed the leftovers and the place settings they were placed on top of. V watched as all of this food was dumped into a bin and then taken away. After a few minutes, he was left alone again, still seated in his chair, now an empty table in front of him. He closed his eyes and continued to wait. He could not say how long he waited before he heard footsteps. The head of the junior military man peered around the door. As V opened his eyes the head of the junior military man disappeared back behind the door. V could hear whispering, then footsteps away, then footsteps back. The full body of the junior military man appeared with a different protocol attache than the previous one.

“This is Ariadne.” The junior military man said. “She will take care of you.” And this she did.

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