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The Ugly King Revised Chpt. 2 A Matter Of Heart Part 1
9 May, 2008
Author: Ing Twi Demalah

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“Four years Emma, four long years since ye last spoke to each other. Four years since ye was hearin’ from him. He’ll not even present himself with the other kings 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 “….Quindlen, 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 The Knights of Fen Ruen at our side is the best way of doin’ just that”

They argued late into the night but in the end Bealdaeg could not deny the benefit to having such renowned warriors to add to their defence. For if indeed the Saison were back, then this first attack was only a forerunner to all out war. He, Himself knew that they could not last the near thirty days it would take for the royal army of Aldric 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 would ride to the Fen Rond Mountains and sue for Quindlen’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. Four day’s and half ride they had gone, 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 Quindlen. 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 Aldric. 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 her 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 past them before its wheels became stuck in a patch of especially deep mud.

“Ye there, soldier…” Emma said sternly to the lead knight, 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. For a moment Emma 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 its hard edge once more. “….I am emissary of King Cupwine and cannot be held up.”

The young warrior nodded, silently conceding 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 young knight fell forward, his cloak and armor becoming covered in mud. Emma hid, as best she could, her slight chuckle.

“Thank ye noble sir…” 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 Aldric sat restlessly as did the other kings and their wives waiting for Quindlen 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. Stigand, 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 plump 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 knight that had helped free Emma’s carriage.

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

“As it is alway’.” Rumstan said, his wife chuckling in agreement, before choking on a large bit of honey-cake still in her mouth.

“I beg yer forgiveness of me appearance me Lord Aldric….” 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. She wished the roof would give out and crush her, saving her from further embarrassment.

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

Quinn kept 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 in unforgivin’ winters or mayhaps 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 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 Fen Ruen now.” Hunlaf said evenly “Hope yer knowin’ this Quindlen as well as ye say.”

“Don’t be worrin’ Hunlaf, I’m knowin’ Quinn 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 yet found hope, ever in his eyes.

Quindlen’s father died while he was yet young, in a war beyond Ourai’s southern borders. Thus, Quindlen was raised by his grandfather, King Hygelac. Hygelac 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 he himself was a squire and earned his rank as a common man. Thus Quindlen 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, Hygelac called Quindlen 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 Hygelac spoke: “On commanding yer army me child, I would have ye remember this; to never condemn a soldier in your service to a doom ye yerself would not face.” Of all things ever his grandfather spoke, these above all else Quindlen held in his heart.

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

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