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CHAPTER 12
The throne hall was cramped with lower noble families and knights. An orchestra played music that filtered through the mild chatter. The crowd had lined up along the sides of a wide path that led from the enormous, wide-open doors to the golden throne I was sitting on. I was still wearing the heavy crown, my neck cramping painfully beneath its weight. My arm was so tired from holding the scepter, but at least I was able to sit. I couldn’t help but smile when I thought of my father complaining about the weight of the crown and how much he hated it. For a moment, it almost felt as if he was here with me, grinning in relief that I was the one who had to wear the damn thing now.
Wimfred was standing to my left, that awful rod in his hand. Dieter was to my right, dressed in formal military attire of red and silver.
“King Algar will be one of the first to be announced,” Wimfred warned me.
I had already tried to prepare myself for that, yet I was still worried about what I might do. I hadn’t spotted Alrick yet, nor any of the other rebel noble families. I thought I would at least remember the ones I had insulted, like that man who looked like a tree branch or the one who was eating the entire time, drooling at me as if I was some delicious chicken leg. But not one of them was in sight.
“Let him come and grin to my face,” I said to Wimfred in a calm voice. “I will deal with him later.”
Loud trumpets announced the beginning of the greeting ceremony. People eagerly stared at the doors to catch a glimpse of the kings and queens from far and near. One of the footmen, a tall, skinny man with a boyish face with a long paper roll in his hands, rushed over to Wimfred and took his place next to him.
“His Holiness the Vicar of Christ followed by His Grace Gunther Brunswick,” the footman said to Wimfred, who straightened his back in his colorful outfit and knocked his golden rod loudly onto the marble floors.
“His Holiness the Vicar of Christ followed by His Grace Gunther Brunswick!” Wimfred announced. All heads followed the fragile man in his golden robe, a man who was most likely the most powerful creature in the Christian kingdoms, including both the South and West. Gunther was following him, smiling at the crowd as if he was the man everybody was looking at.
“How much have we donated to him to make him appear and bless me in person?” I asked Wimfred as the two men walked toward us, followed by mutters and cheers.
“One large gold bar,” Wimfred answered without looking at me.
His Holiness and Gunther stopped several feet in front of me. Neither of them bowed. I narrowed my eyes at Gunther; that rat was ignoring protocol once more. He had a faint smirk on his face. I lowered my head in His Holiness’s direction, ignoring Gunther completely.
“Your Holiness,” I said loud and clear. “To have you bless this day and unite my crown with God as you did for my father is the greatest honor.”
The skinny man smiled. “God will shine upon you, child.”
I smiled back at him. “As our guest of honor, please enter the hall of the feast first.” My face tilted toward the wide-open doors of the ballroom hall that had been transformed into a room of the largest feast this kingdom had ever seen. No costs were spared, not for the wine, nor for the food. Even the plates and cups had golden decorations on them.
“You are too kind, My Queen. May God bless you.”
He drew a cross in the air in front of me and then walked off in that slow trot of his, Gunther right behind him. I watched him for a moment.
“I’ve heard rumors about His Holiness’s love for gold and young men,” I said to Wimfred as I looked back at the entrance doors to greet the next guests.
“They are true, My Queen.”
“Good. Gift him a precious stone and ask for a private audience.”
“Very wise, My Queen.”
The trumpets blew again, but this time the crowd’s excited chatters did not stop.
“His Majesty King Louis the Great,” the footman said to Wimfred, who, in return, knocked his rod on the floor again and repeated the words loudly.
The rumbling of the crowd grew as an elegantly dressed man walked in with a young, pretty woman by his side. Both were dressed in the finest silver silk with modern twists in their cuts, priceless jewelry dangling from their necks and wrists. Everything about their appearance was stunning. The West truly was the center of fashion and arts.
King Louis was younger than I expected. Better looking too. He was maybe in his late forties. While a few silver strands of hair gave his age away, he was still in immaculate shape. He reminded me of a cheetah for some reason. The young woman by his side had brown hair put up in a tight bun, a golden tiara glittering and matching her sparkling green eyes. She was beautiful with fine facial lines and a tall, slim figure. Both of them smiled confidently, revealing straight white teeth.
“His wife or mistress?” I asked Wimfred. I felt unprepared for all of this. I’d been lost in grief, battles for power, and the quest to find my father’s killer, all while preparing for my crowning.
“Daughter,” Wimfred was able to say before they both halted in front of my throne.
Daughter?I repeated in my head and almost shivered. She was the one betrothed to Yutrik of the North. How could anybody marry this angelic creature to that snake of a man?
“My Queen,” King Louis said, lowering his head. His daughter curtsied with her head bowing deep.
I gave my own small bow at King Louis, then smiled at his daughter. She must have been my age, maybe even younger.
