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The Ugly King Chapter 2, Part 1- A Matter Of Heart
17 March, 2007
Author: Ing Twi Demalah

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“Four years Emma, four long years since ye last spoke to each other. Four years since anyone was hearin’ from him. He’ll not even present himself to High king Alric at the summer fest.” Bealdaeg said almost pleading with his wife.

“Aye, four years….” Emma began softly as she stared out of one of the small windows in the Mead Hall. “….but if there be anyone what can ask his aid now tis me. And ye are knowin’ this as well as I.”

“I’m knowin’ yer daft, that’s what I’m knowin’…” Bealdaeg shot back at her “….Quinlan, the mountain lord! Quinn ‘The Mighty,’ he and his men bare the scars of hundreds of battles and have ne’r lost. Yet he was brought to his knees by his love fer a woman. Emma, do ye not see? Ye did with words what sword and arrow could not. Tis madness to go to him now, he’s as likely to spear ye as speak to ye.”

“Aye, he might, but tis a risk I’m willin’ to take.” Emma spoke evenly as she packed for the three day ride.

“What if I’m not?......” Bealdaeg said half under his breath “…..damn ye woman, are ye tryin’ to put me in an early grave from worry; is that what yer wantin’?”

“No,….” Emma said solemnly “….. I want to grow old with me husband, to see our children grow and our grandchildren born. I’m tryin’ to ensure that happens, by findin’ a way fer us to keep our family safe; and if the Saison are back, havin’ Quinn and his Cavaliers at our side is the best way of doin’ just that”

They argued late into the night but in the end Bealdaeg could not argue the benefit to having such renowned warriors to add to their defense. For if indeed the Saison were back, then this first attack was only a forerunner to all out war. Himself knew that they could not last the near twenty days it would take for the royal army of Alric to lend their swords to battle. Even if he could have found a suitable argument to dissuade her, Emma’s mind had already been made up. She was going to ride to the Pike’s Peak Mountains and sue for Quinlan’s aid. All Bealdaeg could do was hope Quinn would receive her as an old friend and not as the woman who had broken his heart.

The chill wind bit at her rosy cheeks and stung her blue-green eyes, the sun’s golden rays offering no relief from the harsh winter air. Two day’s and half ride they had gone and the cold and the snow were taking a heavy toll on the small band of riders. Emma looked about taking visual survey of the condition of each of her companions. Bealdaeg had insisted that Hunlaf and Eorpwald go with her, as well as three more from their already thinly spread little army. The sun beamed brightly, reflecting off the snow causing her to close her already stinging eyes.

Emma’s mind began to wonder, drifting in her thoughts back to when she had first met Quinn. Not so long ago it had been, yet seemed now part of a long forgotten past. She began to forget about the snow and wind around her and was riding again in that oaken carriage five years earlier. Cupwine had taken ill from wounds he received in battle and had sent her to the summer fest as his ambassador to High King Alric. The rains had been heavy that year and travel was slow as the earthen roads became mud. She had been given dresses of fine linen and a velvet cloak bearing a silver wolf and a Carp, the standard of Cupwine. Three months she had been married and already she and her husband were at odds with one another. So when Cupwine had asked her to spend a month in Midlan she had jumped at the opportunity. For the next few weeks she would be afforded a position of nobility, with all its rights and privileges. Temporary though it was, Emma allowed herself some indulgence in the perks of newly acquired station. As they neared the city of Midlan, Emma noted a small band of soldiers walking their horses just off the road to avoid the mud. “Commoners” she thought to herself, smiling at the absurdity of such a thought. The carriage had gone not twenty meters before its wheels be came stuck in a patch of especially deep mud.

“Ye there, soldier…” Emma said sternly to the lead cavalier, with such authority in her voice as she could muster. A strand of his raven hair draped across his face, a jagged scar ran above his left eye, from his forehead to his eyebrow and picked up again on his cheek. He looked up slowly, his dark eyes meeting hers. His expression seemed carved of stone, emotionless, save only for his eyes which seemed to smile even though his mouth did not. Emma, For a moment became lost in those eyes and as she began to speak again her voice was somewhat diminished. “…me carriage is stuck, would ye get behind and push while me driver spurs the horses to pull?”

“Me lady…” The dark eyed warrior began in a soft melodic tone, a crooked, half smile crossed his lips“….I have not the time to stop and lend ye aid, but….”

“What ever errand yer lord has ye on can wait…” Emma interrupted, her voice finding it’s hard edge once more. “….I’m emissary of King Cupwine and cannot be held up.”

The young warrior conceded the point and walked through the mud to the back of Emma’s carriage and began pushing, his strong arms straining against the weight of the carriage; as the horses began to pull. With a sudden jolt the carriage broke free of it’s entrapment and the dark eyed warrior fell forward, his cloak and armor became covered in mud. Emma hid, as best she could, her slight chuckle.

“thank ye noble soldier…” Emma said still half laughing. “….if yer lord is wroth at yer appearance, tell him he may take it up with me, for ye helped a lady of the royal court.”

Emma settled back into her seat in the carriage and mused silently on the humor of the scene. Here she was pretending to be royalty and had unintentionally caused an obviously proud soldier to fall to his knees before her. She hoped the rest of her stay would be as much fun and she hoped to see that soldier again.

King Alric sat restlessly as did the other kings and their wives waiting for Quinlan to arrive. Emma felt out of place seated next to such royalty, yet kept her head held high as not to let her nervousness show. Rumstan and Ceolwald the northern kings sat recounting tales of great bravery while Rumstan’s chubby wife Ashlin finished chewing on a turkey leg; at the same time wrapping her sausage like fingers around an unsuspecting honey-cake. The doors of the Hall of Meeting opened and there, caked in drying mud stood the same dark eyed soldier that had helped free Emma’s carriage from the mud.

“Ah, at last ye show yerself King Quinlan…” Alric said matter of factly “….though yer appearance is somewhat, unbecoming of royalty.”

“As it is alway’.” Rumstan said as his wife chuckled in agreement, then choked on a large bit of honey-cake still in her mouth.

“I beg yer forgiveness of me appearance me lord Alric….” Quinn said glancing around the room, that crooked smile showing again when his eyes met Emma’s. “….I helped a lady of the royal court and was told that ye may take it up with her.”

Emma slunk into her chair, her eyes wide in shock, her lovely face flush with embarrassment. She was so caught up in playing her role as emissary; that she had never even bothered to ask who she was addressing. She had treated a king as a common servant. If only the roof would give out and crush her, saving her from her embarrassment.

“What woman of me court would dare speak thus to ye?” Alric said his face red with anger

Quinn keep his gaze on Emma and kept smiling. “An ugly, withered, old hag she was me lord, her wits havin’ left her long ago from countless days under the unforgivin’ sun or from too much wine.”

Emma’s lips curled into a frown, her head cocked to one side as she gave Quinn an un-amused look. It took all the strength she had to hold her tongue. She wanted to either yell at him or burst into laughter, she could not decide which.

“Emma,….Emma,….Emma!” Hunlaf’s spoke, his voice snapping her back to the present.

“Emma, are ye alright?” Hunlaf asked

“Yes, I’m fine…” Emma said as she smiled “….guess I was day dreamin’.”

“Well have yer wits about ye now, for we’re insight of their mountains, not more ‘an four hours ride from Peak’s Ford now.” Hunlaf said evenly “Hope yer knowin’ this Quinlan as well as ye say.”

“Don’t be worrin’ Hunlaf, I know Quinn well, better ‘an he’s knowin’ himself.” Emma said

Her thoughts turned inward again, yes, she knew more about the mighty Quinn than most ever would. She knew him by heart, every lock of his raven hair, his stone stare; his brow always furrowed as if some heavy burden weighed upon it and why there was found, hope, ever in his eyes. Quinlan’s father died while he was yet young, in a war beyond Oure’s southern borders. Thus, Quinlan was raised by his grandfather, King Gilbert. Gilbert loved the boy, and perceiving in him wisdom beyond his years, ever was he hard on him; sending the young prince to till fields with the farmers, or toil long building walls and roads with the masons. When he came of age for the learning of war, he was not placed as a captain, but himself was a squire and earned his rank as a common man. Thus Quinlan grew thoughtful and would spend long hours contemplating life in all its aspects or reading the wisdom and philosophies of those before him. Oft he would sit beside his grandfather and inquire of him hidden or long forgotten truths.

As the days of his life neared their end, Gilbert called Quinlan to his bedside and spoke to him thusly: “Consider ye this me child as ye rule, that from the lowliest insect to the highest born king, all living creatures have a spark of divinity within them.” Again just before he closed his eyes for the last time, even as he gave his last breaths Gilbert spoke: “On commanding yer army me child, I would have ye remember this; to never condemn a soldier in yer service to a doom ye yerself would not face.” Of all things ever his grandfather spoke, these above all else Quinlan held in his heart.

It is said again, that of all men whether common or Highborn Quinlan knew most about love. For in his love for his people and those close to him he found strength un-failing and though romance evaded him always, ever he sought after it as tiger stalks its prey.

------- Author's Notes -------

Here is the first part of chapter 2. I hope it lives up to expectation. :-)

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Bipedalguy (4.156.51.84) -- Saturday, March 17 2007, 01:11 pm

I just finished reading this. "Outstanding"

This is creative writing, at its best, from start to finish.
I had planned to go for the mail before the lobby closed, but I started reading this, and the mail can wait until Monday.
Ing Twi Demalah (159.105.102.8) -- Saturday, March 17 2007, 06:38 pm

I am honored.....

That an writer such as you would speak so highly of my work. I hope that i continue to meet the standard to which you hold me. Thank you again for your encouragement Bipedalguy.
Terrie* (75.37.52.0) -- Sunday, March 18 2007, 07:05 am

Poetry in Demand..

Oh WOW !
Ing...This is...WOW! Hmmm i wonder if it is a crime to appreciate such breath-takin' Poetry? if so...then i am GUILTY as charged ~smile~ Ing my friend ya know me,in a heart-beat.thump--thump--
this maiden surrenders to such exquisite writin'..a delightful mural i encounter on a quiet stroll, within my own bein', that maintains my attention with such beauty...as i said B4---ya know how to keep ones mind fully charged and content enough..to come back for more... i promise i shall return..
PSSST great write!!
Meridian (151.199.134.18) -- Tuesday, March 20 2007, 03:43 am

time

I had to make time to read the second Chapter. I've been wanting to read it but I've been so busy. This was just as good as Chapter 1. Are you by chance going to submit your entire book up here, because if so, I wouldn't mind reading it...

Lovely Ing!
 
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