Chapter 31

Frederick had not planned on attending the dubbing ceremony, but that dramatically changed. He ached to see the look on Jonah’s face, when the news came that the king was dead.

Jonah would prove to be an utter failure and unworthy of knighthood, then all eyes would turn to Frederick.

He walked proudly into the temple, but kept an air of mourning humility. A difficult combination, yet he had mastered all forms of expression. An art he began honing as a child.

Notice of the ceremony had been posted around Basilia for weeks. Commoners poured in like hungering beasts. No doubt, they came for the food and wine that would be served immediately following.

Beasts craved feasts.

He chuckled inwardly at his own wit.

Every Basilian he passed bowed and curtsied, speaking the same words of condolence he had heard when returning from Thanwine.

He loved listening to the old women refer to him as a poor dear. They adored him, and he relished it.

While he strolled casually up the aisle to the front of the temple, he politely nodded to everyone who acknowledged him. He took a seat and faced the enormous round orb that had been crafted from stone—smoothed and polished to perfection. The full moon symbol of God, creator of all. It rested atop a high pillar and tall candles were kept illuminated day and night around it.

Tonight, God had smiled upon Frederick.

He caught sight of Jonah, who stood to the far right, conversing with one of the priests. Jonah wore a fine green tunic, bearing the king’s emblem. He held his head high and beamed like the sun. Occasionally, he would glance at the king’s sword that rested atop the altar in front of the giant orb. The ornate weapon used specifically for dubbing. Few men had received such an honor, and Jonah’s face radiated anticipation for the glorious rite.

His light would soon be snuffed out.

In Frederick’s mind, he had played out how he himself would react to the news, and what he would say following. If all worked as he hoped, the priests would act accordingly and fall right into his plan.

If only Angeline could be by his side to witness the glory. He would be certain to retain everything and relate it to her the next time they met.

Running footsteps turned Frederick’s head.

A young man sped along the outer aisle and hastened to the gathered priests. The oldest then followed the youth out of the temple. The priest’s eyes were wide with fear and worry.

Yes!

Frederick closed his eyes and prayed for his will to be done. Surely, God would grant it.

Mumbling grew in intensity, and when Frederick looked again at the priests, they were talking in depth to Jonah. If only Frederick could hear them.

The old priest returned and walked solemnly up the aisle, then turned and approached Frederick. He laid a hand on Frederick’s shoulder. “A word, Prince Frederick?”

“Of course.” Frederick displayed his best expression of concern.

The old man led him to the others.

Jonah had lost most of his color and all of his jubilance.

“I have confirmed,” the priest said. “Our king is dead.”

Jonah dropped to his knees and covered his face with his hands, then let out a wail the likes of which Frederick had never heard.

He refused to be bested by him.

Frederick breathed rapid heavy breaths and clutched onto the priest’s robe. “What say you? It cannot be true.”

“It is,” the priest said soberly. “I viewed his lifeless body.”

“No!” Frederick grasped the corner of his own garment and tore it wide, then fell to his knees and sobbed. Renting his clothes surely outshone Jonah’s wail.

His action sent gasps across the room, and the mumbling grew. The result of a flawless performance.

“Highness,” the priest whispered and knelt beside him. “You must be strong. Your people need you. I fear there is treachery amiss. The king was slain by the hand of a Crenian. The blade was thrust into the wood of the stall holding the king’s stallion, next to the very spot King Roland’s throat was slit.” He took Frederick’s hand and pressed an object into it.

Frederick stopped his tears and opened his hand. His uncle’s ring had been set within it. “No.” He stared at the magnificent high-king’s token and purposefully kept his voice low. “I cannot ascend on such grounds. I must first find who did this.”

Jonah had not stopped wailing, and it grated on Frederick’s nerves. He forced himself to ignore it, or he might react in a manner that would disrupt his ruse.

The priest leaned close. “Look about. Do you not see the fear spreading in the eyes of your people? They require a leader now. The moon is full, and the rite of ascension must be said. We dare not wait another month.”

Frederick swiped away his tears with the back of his hand, then as slowly as he could, rose to his feet. He forced himself to tremble and grasped onto another priest’s arm, making a play for sympathy.

The eldest priest stood erect beside him, nodding. He had played perfectly into the plan.

Frederick only hoped he himself had appeared distraught enough. He chose to sniffle a few times and shut his eyes temporarily for effect. Then, he faced the old man. “I will do this for my people. But I will not rest until I find who murdered my uncle.”

The priest gripped Frederick’s shoulder. “You have suffered greatly. I will address this gathering and inform them of their king’s passing, and then we shall perform the rite of ascension. I sent one of my brothers to speak with the queen, in order to retrieve King Roland’s crown for the rite. I expect his return any moment. Will you be sound enough to address the people upon completion of the ritual?”

“With God’s help, yes.”

The old man nodded, then motioned for his other robed minions to follow him to the altar.

There was something to be said for ritual, but the priests held an air of superiority that had bothered Frederick from the first time he had entered the temple. After all, they were mere men, and they were not royalty. Yet, they served a purpose, and as long as it stayed in accord with Frederick’s, he would not disrupt it.

“No . . .” Jonah moaned. “It cannot be. I failed him.”

Frederick bowed his head, excusing himself from the priests, then moved close to Jonah and bent to his level. “Yes,” he whispered with spite. “You failed your king, and you shall pay for your shortcomings.”

Satisfied, Frederick returned to the altar and stood tall beside the head priest. As if on cue for this splendid production, the young brother, whom the old man had indicated, shuffled up the center aisle and produced Roland’s fantastic crown.

“The queen is in mourning,” he quietly said and handed the crown to the senior priest. “But she willingly sent this with her blessings.”

The news spread warmth throughout Frederick’s body. The queen’s support should not surprise him. Even so, it felt like a victory in itself.

The old priest placed the crown on the altar, then faced the crowd and held both hands in the air. Silence fell across the temple.

“Evil has come to Basilia!” The priest lifted his self-righteous head high. “This very night, someone has slain our king!”

Loud shouts and crying erupted. The chaotic mixture of noises fell on Frederick’s ears like a blessed melodic gift.

The priest motioned the noise down again. “We will have time to mourn, just as Prince Frederick has been grieving these past weeks for his wife and child. They, too, were innocents slain by an unknown hand.”

“It was Sebastian!” someone yelled, followed by shouts of agreement.

“We know not for certain who committed either act!” the priest bellowed. “But we must move forward and remain strong as a people, having faith that God has put in our midst a savior. A man in whom we can entrust to carry out justice!”

“Prince Frederick!” a man yelled from the back of the temple.

Frederick did all he could to see who it was. If able, he would grant the man a decent position.

The priest gave a pronounced nod. “Yes! Prince Frederick, son of Ranen, brother of your dead king, Roland. Frederick is the rightful heir to the throne!” He lifted the Holy Scrolls from the altar and raised them high. “On this night of the full moon, God in Heaven watches us from above. Upon the passing of a king, an heir must be named.”

He bowed low and returned the scrolls to their place, then faced Frederick. “Do you, Frederick of Basilia, accept the title and vow service in the order appropriated by God? To serve God first, then your people, and look to your own needs at the very last?”

Frederick held a hand to his heart. “I do.”

“Upon your hand, secure the king’s ring I bestowed on you.”

Frederick wanted nothing more. He slipped it onto his finger and a rush of glory swept over him. God had surely sanctified it.

The priest lifted the crown from the altar and held it high. “Only the highest king in the land is granted this crown. Frederick of Basilia, you are charged with the defense of all peoples, not only those in your beloved Basilia! You are to govern every realm! You are the protector of peace!”

Frederick jutted his chin.

“Kneel,” the priest commanded.

Frederick went down on one knee, all the while keeping his head high.

The priest placed the crown.

Frederick shut his eyes, fearing for a moment this was all a dream. All his desires were unfolding before him. How could it be real?

“Behold King Frederick!” the priest shouted. “Long may he live!” He put his mouth to Frederick’s ear. “You may rise.”

Ever-so-slowly, Frederick opened his eyes, stood, and gazed out at the people.

Their faces radiated love and respect. “Long live King Frederick!” The words repeated over and over again.

Frederick shifted his gaze to Jonah, but the man was not to be seen. He had undoubtedly run off to wallow somewhere in self-pity.

“What say you?” a man shouted. “How will you carry out justice?”

The priest gently pushed Frederick to the forefront. “Speak to them. Give them hope.” He held his hands up and hushed the crowd.

Not a sound could be heard. Frederick took a deep breath, looked out at the people, and frowned. “On a day that should have brought joy, I cannot bring myself to smile. I believed no sorrow could be as great as what I experienced in losing my wife and child, yet I was mistaken. My uncle’s passing has me numb to the depths of my soul.”

“We love you!” some women yelled.

“Bless you.” Frederick patted his chest. “It is your love which will carry me through this trial, and I will grow stronger by the day. I will find the guilty parties and punish them to the fullest extent of our laws.”

“Kill Sebastian!”

Loud mumbling and affirmation followed the cry.

The words spoken pleased Frederick, but he could not reveal his glee and remained somber. “I understand your frustration! However . . .!”

The crowd hushed.

“However . . . proof beyond question has not been established. I love my cousin, and I find it difficult to accept he would harm my family. He certainly cannot be to blame for his own father’s death. I fear there is something worse at play, and there is proof the Crenians are at fault!”

Loud mumbling ensued.

Frederick held up a single hand. His uncle’s ring looked exceptional on his finger. “The Crenian people have always been our mortal enemies. King Roland was not merely slain by the hand of a rogue criminal, a Crenian blade ended his life!”

Frederick paused and took in the mass of anger and hate-filled eyes. They lifted him higher than any word of praise or condolence.

Discontented rumbling continued, but he once again held up his hand and silenced it, reveling in the power of his simple action. “I have not told all. I learned my wife was poisoned by the use of a plant called tannin root, which grows only in Padrida and its surrounding forest. Bits of the plant were discovered in Thanwine beneath the false-princess Olivia’s bed. I believe it was not my cousin’s hand that took Princess Marni from me. I am almost certain it was Sebastian’s Crenian bride who is responsible for her death!”

Nearly every head in the temple nodded in agreement.

“Olivia of Padrida is to blame!” someone shouted.

“Crenians are not to be trusted!” Frederick bellowed. “Hear now, my first decree as your king! All Crenian people living in Basilia are to be apprehended and questioned! Every Crenian! Man, woman, and child!”

He watched with pleasure as people turned on each other. Even in the temple, they took it upon themselves to seize those who had come from Padrida.

“What of Sebastian?” someone screamed. “He is not blameless! He chose the Crenian for a bride!”

Frederick raised his hand high. “Sebastian is to be permanently banished! If he or his wife leave Padrida, it will be taken as an admission of guilt and they will both be prosecuted!”

A woman standing close to the front of the crowd reached out to him. “You are too kind, King Frederick! Can you not force their return?”

“The loss of my cousin’s father will devastate him, adding to the pain he already suffers. Sebastian most assuredly knows of his wife’s guilt, and I pray she did not sway him to participate. As I stated before, his guilt remains in question. There are pains worse than death suffered by the guilty and the innocent. I choose to show him mercy, because of my love for him. God is the ultimate judge. If He sees the need for further punishment, He will bring them to us.”

Jonah trudged through the crowd and stood before him, looking as if he had been pummeled. Odd how devastating news alone could destroy a man. “Frederick, you know Olivia and Sebastian are innocent. This news of his father will crush him. He will want to be here for his mother. It is unjust to claim him guilty simply for desiring to come to her aid. How can you banish him?”

Frederick looked at him with pity, though he felt victorious. “I banish him by my right as king. Do you not see I am saving him? All he need do is keep himself absent, and his life will be spared, as well as that of his beloved wife.” He said the word with spite, to further enrage the people.

“But, his mother—”

“I will tend my aunt and love her as I would my own mother, God rest her soul. I will show the same consideration to my young cousins.” Hmm. Therein lies a wonderful thought. “Because of your devotion to Sebastian, I commission you to carry the news of King Roland’s death to Padrida and remain there for the rest of your days.”

“The rest of my days?”

“Yes. I hereby banish you as well. Your loyalty to Sebastian warrants it, as does your failure to protect the king.” Frederick waved a sentry forward from the back of the temple. “Escort Jonah to the stable. Show him where our king was slain, then put him on the king’s stallion and send him on his way. I do not care to have the beast left behind as a painful reminder of my dear uncle.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard bowed, then grabbed Jonah by the arm.

“Release me!” Jonah wrenched free. “I need no guard to see me gone!” He whipped around and sped from the temple.

“Follow him,” Frederick said to the guard. “Make certain he abides by my demands.”

“Yes, sire.” Another bow.

Frederick cast a slim smile, and the crowd cheered.

Being king brought about greater satisfaction than the feel of female flesh. Better still, he could now have both.

“Be brave, my people!” he cried out. “I vow to find who murdered King Roland! I ask that you return to your homes and pray for peace to remain! If it should not, I swear to protect you from those who wish you harm!”

“Hail, King Frederick!” “Long live the king!”

He had been born to rule, and now nothing would stop him from achieving all he had dreamed. His blessed new reality set in harder than stone.

He dipped his head to the priests, then strode from the temple with his head higher than ever.

The full moon beamed overhead as a bright tribute to his greatness.

He gazed skyward. “Of course, I deserved this, and You saw fit to see it through.”

He increased his pace and headed toward his castle. The large one that should have been his dwelling all along. His sweet aunt would need comfort, as would his beautiful cousins.

The delicious thoughts tumbling in his mind had to be dismissed. As Roderick had said, the walls had eyes. If Frederick satiated his hunger with his desirable relatives, he could risk losing everything. Having the wrong eyes behold his actions could cut short his reign.

That did not suit him.

He intended to rule forever.