♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝
[Rough Draft] Chapter 73: A Misleading Diversion
The distant rumble of thunder greeted the dawn. An overcast of gloomy clouds, sagging with repressed rain, gathered over the Capital and Cathedral square, where the populace of Lafeara had gathered at first light on this holiest of days.
Holy Saint’s Day was usually divided into two parts. A morning of public prayer, during which the monarch entered the Cathedral’s inner sanctum and prayed for the first six hours of the day, followed by a public celebration that began when the monarch and Pope reemerged.
However, whenever a royal coronation was involved, the holiday was stretched across three days instead of a mere twelve hours. The first day, named Prayer Day, was the most tiring of the holiday duties for each future sovereign. A full twenty-four hours of fasting, praying, and reflective isolation. The monarch was joined only by the Pope and occasionally their spouse.
This Prayer Day saw the Cathedral glittering beneath Zarus’s tapestries of white and golden silk, cords, and ribbons. Rose petals rained down from basket bearers seated on the rooftops and filled the air with such a sweet fragrance as to chase any hint of filth or immorality. The simple commoners shivered as they gathered on the cobbled streets below, pressing towards the large white balcony off the Cathedral’s western wall. The courtyard quickly filled as families, neighbors, and even armed merchants gathered while maintaining a respectful distance from the witch hunters in the scarlet armor, who stood in a semi-circle around the balcony.
Most of the crowd gathered around the two large water fountains in the courtyard grounds. Those who arrived too late to grab a spot directly beside the fountains laid their blankets on the ground close by to reserve their place. The most prepared members of the group were silently scoffing down their breakfast before the hours of prayer and fasting began.
Bishop Murdock followed his constitutes through the side cathedral door out onto the balcony and eyed the crowd still pouring in through the three arched doorways covered and spiraling wreaths of flowers. If there was one thing Bishop Murdock had observed during his brief stay in the Kingdom of Lafeara, it was the never-ending supply of flowers that adorned nearly every holiday and social occasion. Lafeara’s ability to grow almost every kind of grain, tree, and flower had certainly made it the most attractive alliance upon which to maintain a strong grip.
‘Ventrayna is but a wasteland of sand and sun. Without Lafeara’s exorbitant grain tax, the Emperor’s Army of Witches would have starved years ago.’
The fact that the Emperor had leaned added weight upon Lafeara’s young monarch to cut supplies to the Pope had not gone unnoticed. While the Holy City was no desert, it possessed more stone than soil, and what crops its determined farmers could yield were limited in number and species.
Bishop Murdock adjusted his long white robes as he moved to the front of the gathered Cardinals to greet the assembled commoners. The golden rings of precious stone on his hand glittered as he lifted it over the balcony to compel the crowd to silence.
“Children of the Faith, I am touched to see so many of you here on this blessed day. Your faith and loyalty are humbling to behold. My brothers and I offer you our gratitude and ask that you assemble as peacefully and uniformly as possible. Please maintain your distance from the witch hunters. They are easily provoked and may mistakenly assume that you are a threat. I would also ask that you take your seat once you have found your comrades and family. Once the Prayer Bell is rung, no disturbance will be tolerated inside this square, so if you must leave, do so quietly.”
Murdock paused for a moment to let the warning sink in before finishing his speech. “For those of you joining your holy brothers and sisters in fasting, please know that we have priests on hand to tend to any who should faint from the heat or hunger.”
Satisfied that he had completed this simple task, the Bishop retreated to take his place beside the Cardinals, then frowned as a few members of the audience below glanced up at the gloomy sky with doubtful murmurs. ‘Perhaps I should have left that last bit out.’ Murdock folded his hands and ignored the pointed look from Cardinal Halstone. ‘Nevermind. I’m certain they will have forgotten by the time the Pope performs his little trick.’
As two trumpeters entered the balcony through the side door, the Cardinals and Bishop swiftly turned their attention to the wavering white curtains in anticipation. Murdock could feel a tingle of the Divine Heir’s power wash over him as the jubilant music bounced off the cathedral walls and surged over the crowd, who fell to their knees like dandelions bent beneath the wind.
Two priests stepped out and parted the curtains to reveal Pope Jericho I, who glittered from head to toe in ceremonial robes of gold adorned with seemingly endless lines of pearl and several eye-catching rubies. Jericho’s holy crown was fashioned of similar silk and jewels, but Murdock’s gaze fastened onto the star-shaped yellow sapphire which dominated the headdress.
A matching sapphire also adorned the holy staff held in the Pope’s right hand. And it was this gem that flickered as if lit by the holy flame itself. The clouds above the Cathedral’s courtyard scattered in an instant as the sun poured down over the building’s resplendent stained glass windows. Still, it was the Pope himself who shown like the sun as he moved to the edge of the Balcony and smacked his holy staff against the stone floor firmly.
Murdock turned his glistening eyes away from his Master and huffed in quiet protest. ‘Is such displays of deviant magic necessary for such a simple crowd? Surely it would be better to save what divine energy remained in the holy artifacts for our battle against these Witch Covens.’
“My devoted children,” Jericho began, his words booming like a quiet storm over the silent crowd of bowed heads and backs. “Be at peace. The Saints are here with me today. They see and hear everything. They know you are suffering, and they have sent me to root out the source of your misery.
“You know why you have gathered here. I ask that you open your hearts as you pray with us today. Pray for your kingdom, which has fallen to vice and immorality. Pray for your young prince who will soon assume both crown and scepter and all responsibility therein for your sake. Pray that his vision is cleared of all enchantment, his heart purified from wayward temptations, and his mind purged of all deceit.
“My children, let the Saints hear your prayers so that they may strengthen your resolve and safeguard you from the calamity that poisons the air, water, and land. Oh, my foolish children, remember your history. Your kingdom was purged of evil witches long ago. Your ancestors were liberated from their cruelty and tyranny. Oh ye sinners, pray for forgiveness and redemption, for you have turned blind eyes to the witches who hide among you. Oh ye faithful, pray for deliverance and strength. Pray to the heavens to send another Saint to avert the coming disaster and guide us all to a brighter future. Pray and hope that is not too late.”
A heavy silence reigned over the courtyard after the Pope fell silent. Not a single man, woman, or child stirred among the crowd below as Jericho turned his back to them and returned to the Cathedral.
Murdock swallowed down the lump of emotion that had built up in his throat. The Bishop quickly dried the corner of his eyes and tried to ignore the ringing in his ears as he focused on the crowd. Beyond the arched doorways, hundreds more commoners were kneeling in the streets. They and the congregation inside the courtyard were all silently praying in one form or another. Only their tears and the occasional sob disturbed the morning breeze as rose petals continued to fall through the golden rays of sunlight.
‘Well, it would appear that Jericho has successfully won the support of the people. Now we just have to get the Crown Prince in line.’
***
Nicholas couldn’t help but feel a tad underdressed as he took in his reflection in the full-size golden mirror. The simple ash-gray robes with the hood pulled back covered him from neck to feet. “I look like a commoner or priest,” he muttered with a glance towards his valet.
“It is the customary attire worn by all monarchs on this holiest of days,” the valet replied as he offered Nicholas his family ring, the only adornment the Crown Prince was permitted to wear with his robes. “All men, king or commoner, are equal in the eyes of the Saint.”
“And yet the Pope and his Cardinals are dressed as splendidly as ever,” Earl Hawthorne commented from his seat by the window.
“My, how quickly your spies pass word of his Holiness’s movements to you,” Earl Coldwell countered cynically as he brushed a speck of dust from his lapel.
“Must my feet be humble too?” Nicholas demanded, ignoring the rivalry between his counselors as he lifted the low him of his robes to reveal the simple straw footwear.
“I’m told that sandals are more comfortable to wear while praying for hours at a time, your Majesty,” Coldwell replied soothingly.
“Ha! And yet the nobles accompanying me outside the inner sanctum will be dressed as usual.”
“None of us run the risk of speaking to a Saint face to face,” Percy responded with a hint of cynicism. “But we will all show our humility tomorrow when we bow before our sovereign and king, your Majesty,” the Earl added with a submissive bow.
“I am not King yet, Lord Percy,” Nicholas growled but then quickly relaxed into a smile. “Although the sentiment is appreciated.” The Prince fiddled with the simple cotton strings of the robe and flicked them over his shoulders with a sigh. “Will your cousin be attending today’s ceremony, Earl Hawthorne? I feel certain that Marchioness Serilda will get a kick out of seeing me dressed like a priest.”
Earl Coldwell shot the young earl a look of disapproval. Lord Percy feigned ignorance as he forced a smile and replied. “Yes, your Majesty. The Marchioness and most of the Noble Party are already inside the Cathedral, eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
“Good,” Nicholas muttered as he adjusted the front curls of his light-auburn hair and then turned away from the mirror with a grunt of irritation. “I suppose I might as well head over then. Has the Crown Princess arrived yet?”
“Not yet, your Majesty,” Coldwell answered so swiftly that the Crown Prince paused halfway to the door and turned around to study him.
“Eleanora is preparing herself but has fallen behind due to lack of sleep,” Percy amended stiffly as he rose from his chair, pointedly ignoring his political opponent.
“Earl Hawthorne shouldn’t mislead his Majesty over the severity of the problem,” Coldwell replied with a somber shake of his head. “Her Highness is most unwell. It would be unwise for the Crown Princess to force herself to attend to your Majesty during such long hours of prayer.”
“Is this true?” Nicholas asked sharply as he glanced between them. “Has my Crown Princess expressed any desire to withdraw from the ceremony?”
“Quite the contrary, your Majesty,” Percy answered with a warning glare in Coldwell’s direction. “Eleanora is determined to fulfill all her duties as Crown Princess.”
“Determination and ability are not the same things, Earl Hawthorne, as you well know,” Coldwell responded bluntly as he met the young Earl’s glare.
“Perhaps Earl Coldwell could clarify his meaning,” Percy replied coldly, His hand tightening around the heirloom cane he carried to nearly every public event. “I should very much like to see if he is capable of insulting my cousin directly to my face.”
“Is that a threat, Earl Hawthorne?”
“Enough!” Nicholas snapped and then pinched his brow as he closed his eyes and sighed. “If you cannot be civil, then leave our presence. This day will be arduous enough without the added bickering of two grown men.”
The two nobles hastily turned and bowed alongside each other as they murmured their apologies.
“Lord Percy, I suggest you send someone trustworthy to check on the Crown Princess. Ascertain if she can truly perform her duties from beginning to end without incident or harming her health. If Eleanora is unwell than I would prefer that she rested as tomorrow’s ceremony will be even more important for us both.”
“Perhaps Earl Hawthorne should check up on his cousin personally if he is so worried,” Coldwell suggested with a coy smile.
‘With you suggesting it, of course he’ll refuse to go,’ Nicholas thought wearily. “I can attend the prayer ceremony on my own. The presence of my wife is optional, especially since Eleanora cannot be crowned Queen until after my coronation.”
Lord Percy nodded and moved to the bedroom door, where he had a whispered conversation with Marquess Winifred, who waited outside.
Earl Coldwell studied the pair for a moment, then moved closer to the prince as he cleared his throat discreetly. “Your Majesty, could you not consider an alternative partner for today’s ceremony?”
Nicholas raised both brows in disbelief and then snorted. “You can’t possibly be suggesting—”
“Royal Consort Priscilla is a notable servant and follower of the church,” Coldwell interrupted boldly and then stepped forward with a nervous glance towards Earl Hawthorne. “The Royal Consort is also much recovered from the traumatic accident of the Royal Hunt.”
‘I was told that Priscilla had burns across her entire body, and now she is recovered?’
The Crown Prince turned as Earl Hawthorne rejoined them, dramatically clapping his hands.
“It would seem Earl Coldwell wishes to substitute one patient for another,” Percy observed with a chilling smile. “How inappropriate to even suggest replacing the rightful Crown Princess with a mere consort. Since the incident, Lady Priscilla has been horribly scarred and unable to show her face in public. I’m not sure whether to view this suggestion from her guardian as a cruel joke or a sad attempt to garner sympathy for the daughter of a traitor.”
“You!” Coldwell’s voice cracked with fury as he spun towards the young Earl. “You go too far, Lord Percy!”
“I speak only the truth!” Percy countered with a dismissive wave and a faint snarl. “It was you who went too far by daring to make such a blatantly outrageous suggestion!”
“Silence!”
The pair of nobles flinched beneath the deafening voice, then turned with matching bewildered grimaces towards the Knight Captain, who glowered at them from behind the Crown Prince.
Nicholas removed the hands pressed against his ears and nodded his thanks to Captain Beaumont before turning to regard the hotheaded Earls with a glare of disapproval. “My Lords, I warned you once. I will not do so again. Lord Coldwell, your suggestion is extremely absurd, so I will pretend that you never mentioned it. Lord Percy, perhaps you should be more concerned with your cousin’s health rather than pointless arguments with your political opponent for the seat of Prime Minister.”
Perch exhaled slowly as he composed himself and bowed his head towards the Crown Prince once more. “Lord Alastair has been visiting Eleanora regularly, so I am aware of my cousin’s recent troubles with sleeping. Still, I feel strongly that her Highness’s wishes should be respected in this matter. Please allow the Crown Princess to decide if she is ready and able to perform the ceremonial tasks.”
Nicholas frowned at the mention of Lord Alastair Kensington. ‘Yes, I should at least let Eleanora make the decision herself to appease both families supporting her.’
Ironically the news of his engagement to Royal Consort Priscilla had drummed up a great deal of support for Crown Princess Eleanora among the noble families of Lafeara. Most of these supports were also backing Lord Percy in his run to become the next Prime Minister.
But Lady Priscilla’s support among the Royal Faction had been present since the beginning when she had first been engaged to Nicholas. The uproar from Borghese and his supporters when Nicholas was asked to marry Eleanora in place of his brother had the kingdom in a state of agitation for months.
‘And those bastards still regard Priscilla’s father as a martyr despite the mountain of evidence I obtained against him.’ Even now, it was apparent that Earl Coldwell and his party were eager to support Nicholas’s marriage to the Royal Consort, despite her physical ‘disadvantages.’
“Your Majesty, I must protest,” Coldwell said stiffly. The Earl straightened his spine beneath the Crown Prince’s warning gaze as he continued, “Please consider the fairness of my request. If you are willing to permit the Crown Princess to join, regardless of her physical or mental health, then the Royal Consort should be given a chance to show she has recovered as well.”
“Recovered?” Percy echoed with a note of disbelief.
“The news of Lady Priscilla’s injuries have spread far and wide and damaged her reputation and standing as your wife considerably. Although I cannot determine the source of those rumors—” Coldwell shot a pointed look at Percy. “I only ask that Lady Priscilla be treated with the respect and kindness her position deserves. She has lost so much already in the last few weeks.”
“Perhaps Lady Priscilla’s misfortune is the result of her own actions,” Percy countered critically. “She did withhold evidence of her father’s illegal actions. Even if she thought he was doing them for the benefit of the Crown Prince as she claimed, why hide the matter from his Majesty?”
“Careful, Lord Percy,” Coldwell snapped with sudden fierceness. “By that logic, everyone who suffers misfortune and even death does so due to karma, including the late Queens.”
“Ha!” Nicholas turned sharply away from the quarreling lords and focused on Beaumont’s patiently concerned expression. ‘If I asked you to throw them out of the window, would you do it?’
The Knight Captain raised a brow questioningly as if he had somehow read the Crown Prince’s thoughts.
“Lady Priscilla does not deserve to be the victim of such malicious gossip that carries not the slightest weight of evidence!” Coldwell continued passionately. “However, if your Majesty is intent on abandoning her, then we, the Royal Party, request that you cancel your engagement before your coronation tomorrow and allow the lady to pursue a marriage of her own choosing in the future.”
‘What?!’ The Crown Prince stared back at the determined Earl in dumbfounded silence. ‘After nearly two weeks of internal fighting in the House of Lords to make our engagement and marriage ligament, now they want to backpedal and ask that I release her to marry another?’
“Lord Coldwell, you seem absolutely determined to test my patience today,” Nicholas commented dryly. “Have you even consulted with Lady Priscilla on the matter?”
‘There was no way Priscilla would give up so easily, especially now that her face and body are ruined.’
“It was the Royal Consort’s suggestion, your Majesty.”
Nicholas blinked and stared back in dumbfounded silence. ‘Oh. Perhaps the rumors of Priscilla’s cracked sanity were more true than I originally thought.’
“If that is your Majesty’s only objection, then please meet Lady Priscilla today and end the marriage,” Coldwell pressed stubbornly.
“Is the matter so urgent?” Percy interjected with narrowed eyes.
“The procedures to divorce a King are more stringent than that of a Crown Prince,” Coldwell replied reasonably with a dismissive shrug. “As Lady Priscilla’s guardian, I am merely acting in her best interest. She is young, and since the marriage has not yet been made official nor consummated—she still has a chance at a happily married life.”
‘A happily married life? Does such a thing even exist?’ The Crown rubbed his stiff neck and contemplated the request, unable to shake the feeling of disbelief that Priscilla would ever let him go. ‘Coldwell must have a reason for pushing this so last minute. Still, his request is not unreasonable. As long as I have a legal document drawn up showing that it was Lady Priscilla who canceled our engagement, this should stir up any further discord in the Royal Party.
‘But—if I accept this proposal and cancel the engagement, will Priscilla Borghese’s supporters turn against me? Perhaps they are bluffing. Perhaps they think that by demanding an immediate response, I will instead make the engagement public instead?’
“I will meet with the Royal Consort,” Nicholas answered slowly. “However, time is limited—”
“Lady Priscilla is already waiting for you inside the Royal Chambers at the cathedral,” Coldwell responded promptly, drawing another look of suspicion from Earl Hawthorne.
“And why would the Royal Consort who has been secluded inside your private home for rest and recovery suddenly come to the Royal Cathedral?” Percy demanded sharply.
“Did I not say that the lady is a notable servant and follower of the church?” Coldwell replied innocently as he spread his hands. “The Pope himself sent a carriage inviting her to join the ceremony.”
Nicholas glanced from Coldwell to the equally stunned Earl Hawthorne and gripped his hands tightly. ‘Why would the Pope go out of his way to invite an invalid to the Cathedral? And why would that invitation coincide with Priscilla’s sudden request to be free of this engagement?’
There was only one reliable way to determine what game was being played here, and that was to question the Royal Consort himself.