Previously: The Prophecy about the succession has everyone worried, confused, or both! You can read this bit here.

While Orydia is absolutely livid with regards to the Prophecy, she feels the potential enmity of her brother Andrion just as keenly, if not more so.

He on his part also has some things to get off his chest…

 

 

XI Song of Orydia –Evening Lament

 

The brother of my heart has become my enemy

My elder brother, my rock, no longer wishes me well

Not by my choosing

Not by his wishing

My beloved brother, who used to protect me

Who made me safe always

Who filled my days with laughter

With tremendous adventure

Who helped me to bear the great task awaiting

Who now takes it away

Not by his wishing

Not by my choosing

When we were children not a day went by

Nay, not an hour, that I was without him

We ran through the Palace together

And all the gardens

We fell out of trees

We fell into ponds

We played in the Temple

We were punished together

We ran off again after

When we were children

We were as one

Where one ended the other began

We are children no more, my brother, my loved one

Those days are long gone

Not by my choosing

Not by your wishing

But I remember them still

I remember them still

 

XII Meditation – Midnight

 

My walls hear whispers

My floors feel tremblings

My windows are tearful

 

My rooms fill with anguish

My halls fear the darkness

My gates feel it coming

 

Great conflict is growing

Peace will be abandoned

No singing but mourning

 

I will soothe my people

I will end their nightmare

I who am growth and love

 

I will reconcile them

I will flood them with love

This brother and sister

 

XIII Song of Andrion – Morning

 

Morning sun has barely started

To fill the courtyards with warmth and light

But already there are shouts and a clatter

And laughing sounds in one of them:

Prince Andrion and some of his friends

Are practising their sword fighting skills,

Wrestling and stick fighting as well.

His dark hair neatly clubbed, his smooth

Olive back gleaming with youthful sweat,

Andrion is beating his companions. And they

Are not even letting him win. His temper is

Too short for that these days. But for now he

Smiles, parrying their every stroke, breaking

Their defenses, and maybe some small bones.

Just when his friends try to surrender, laughing

And Andrion starts toweling down, a hush

Surrounds him, and looking up he sees approaching

Falchion, the wise Vizier that he has always trusted.

He smiles in welcome, but his eyes are wary.

His friends don’t need a warning: they slip off

As dogs at an approaching thunderstorm.

Falchion, as always, sees him with affection,

Not tall, but well-built, with beautiful smooth skin

And a winning smile, that now seems to be fading.

 

Andrion leans against a sunlit wall, his arms crossed,

While Falchion, after bowing, is permitted to sit down

On a nearby fountain rim. Even so, he barely has to

Look up at Andrion, he is so tall, his back so straight,

As is his gaze. The prince is not disconcerted by this,

He no longer is the child that used to hide

Spiders and fire ants in the Vizier’s boots, or mislaid

His scrolls or writing tablets. But they both remember

Those days, and this is a power between them.

 

So Andrion speaks to him respectfully, in words

Such as follow: “O Falchion, I know that you have come

To speak to me about the Oracle our Mother has received.

And I think you know already what my feelings are

Regarding this matter. I have been happy enough

Being my mother’s son, my sister’s brother, doing

Whatever needs to be done. I have my place here at

The Palace, working hard an learning many skills

To be someone the House and Land can count on,

To be someone in my own right, valued for who I am.

But now it seems that I am of no more consequence

Than a fine breeding stallion, a young bull, to be

Useful in his offspring only.” He frowns, for he

Did not expect to feel quite so angry suddenly.

 

He struggles to regain his composure. Falchion

Raises his hand, and speaks soothingly: ”My Lord,

Permit me to speak freely. I know that this is a sore

Point for you, and always has been: the question of

Your perceived unusefulness, you being a man

And not a woman. This Oracle has shocked you

And has shaken your confidence. But Highness,

You and I both know that it was just a matter

Of time until the serpents would sing words

Amounting to the exclusion of your sister.

What is new is the great honour that could be

Bestowed on you.” Andrion looks at him mockingly:

“What honour could this be? A new ceremonial function?

Keeper of the Royal Stables?” Falchion smiles patiently.

 

“My Lord, what I mean is the fact that in your case

The Blood could be passed on in the male line. This is

Unique, and will likely cause complicating precedents.

Since custom does allow family names and possession

To be passed on by sons by lack of daughters, this will

Not be so revolutionary, speaking in general. But the

Royal Priestess Line has never before continued

Without direct descendence to a daughter. The Goddess

Who guides us must have seen in you a possibility

There never has been before. Some unique quality that makes

You -possibly- a portal for the new Mother Queen to arrive.

This will require sacrifice, as sacred duty always does. Your mother

Knows all about that. It is why she never could speak about these

Matters to you and your sister before- “ But Andrion is furious.

 

“So my sister is so inadequate, is she, that even a man could be considered

A means, if needs must be, to save the Line? Please do forgive me

For taking no pleasure at my sister’s misfortune, she who has always

Been more than fully dedicated to her future task, only to have her sacrifice

Flung back in her face! And forgive me I am not much

Honoured at being a possible portal for a fabled incarnation

That won’t be due for many years! I was right, the Royal

Stables it is- oh pardon me, the Sacred Royal Stables.” He fumes.

 

Falchion slightly clenches his fist, but retains his composure.

“Highness, please. Believe I do understand. Things are as they are.

You have to admit that at least you would be permitted to acknowledge

Your princess daughter, as no other Royal father ever has before.”

Is there a tiny glint of pain in his eyes? No, it is nothing.

“And other than a breeding stallion, who has his brood mares

Picked for him, you will choose your own bride, just as a Queen will

Choose the father of her children. You are indeed in a unique position.

Spirit Herself will guide you to be the key to her will. Permit yourself,

My Lord, to become used to this new task. It is not the least, but very much

The greatest that you have been given, even if it is not what you

Have ever expected.” Andrion turns white with rage. His voice however

Is low and even. “What is this, Falchion? Why do you want to see

Me and Orydia pitted against each other? Why do you, her tutor,

Suddenly seem to be on my side? Is it her, my scheming sister, who

Has always known how to enrage me? Or is it my mother, who is

Less subtle, but just wants you to get me courting seriously, like the

Grown up she never took me for? To see me encumbered with a pregnant

Girl already? What does she know, that Orydia will fail? Or is this a ploy

To have us both start rutting like mad, a breeding competition?”

 

Falchion rises. Through clenched teeth he manages: “Not at all. I do

My duty by you: to advise your best course of action.” Andrion laughs

Scornfully, already leaving: “Best for whom? I did not ask for your counsel.”

He turns, stands still: “And for things being as they are: all things that live

Can be changed. Anyone living in this Living Palace understands that.”

And he is off, shouting for his chariot and dogs: another hunting day.

The High Priest-Vizier can only shake his head, and slowly walk away.

 

Next week: Andrion makes up his mind, while the approaching Full Moon awakens longings & dreams…