The Son of Alar

Chapter 9

A vigil was held over Alar as he lay in state in the reception hall at the palace. Every noble squirrel from the king and queen down took part. The line of squirrels saying their goodbyes stretched out the door, across the foyer, and into the courtyard. At the head of the line were Philip, Tucker, and Adam. Tears flowed openly down Adam’s cheeks as he bent over to kiss the brow of his beloved husband one last time and whisper, “Thank you for all our wonderful years together, my love. Skiouros keep you.” Philip did his best to comfort his father despite the heavy ache in his own heart. He had to be strong now, he kept telling himself.

The following morning, a great procession carried the baron to his final resting place. Tears were shed and words spoken, none of which Philip would remember afterward. His eyes watered up several times at the realization that this was it. Never would he see his father again for the rest of his days on this earth. Only the memories would remain—the good, the bad, it didn’t matter. All were priceless, and he would hold onto them more tightly than the most precious of his possessions. This he solemnly vowed. For himself, for his father now gone, and for his father who remained.

Amid the deep sorrow, he tried to remember that there was a small ray of hope. Present at the funeral ceremony was Lord Athos. Though still weak, he had recovered strength enough to stand with the help of a cane and the support of his beloved Princess Trina. Philip felt a sharp pang in his heart at the knowledge that his brother had done that, or at least was responsible for it. Just as he was responsible for the death of his own father. Their father! The more he thought about it, the more his blood boiled. He knew it shouldn’t—not on this of all occasions. But one glance at Rory, who also leaned upon a walking stick, put him over the edge and made it impossible to concentrate for the rest of the service.

When, at the end, everyone went up to cast flowers upon the casket, Philip silently prepared to make a vow of vengeance upon his accursed brother for all the evil he had wrought. Diana was every bit as evil if not worse, but to have murderer and a traitor related to him by blood still living and breathing? Unacceptable! He would wash out that stain on the family tapestry if he had to kill the wretch himself!

His turn came at last, and he stepped forward with a fire in his eyes. But as soon as he reached the grave, his rage suddenly vanished. It was as though a force beyond his control or understanding had simply reached into his heart and pulled all of his dark feelings out, leaving him calm and almost empty.

“Let it go, Philip,” a voice whispered within. “You are young. Live out your years in the peace and prosperity that others died for; not for vengeance and death.”

Though he knew not whence it came, Philip knew the voice spoke true. He closed his eyes and sighed as a single tear trickled down his muzzle, then opened them and held out his rose.

“I love you, dad,” he whispered, then let it fall among the rest and turned away.

The carriage ride back to the palace was a quiet one. The pall of loss still hung heavy in the air. But it was not an impermeable pall. The day was bright and warm, and with it came hope: the reminder that more days would come. Days without one parent, a husband, a friend for some, it was true, but days of endless possibilities nonetheless.

There was a subdued feast in the great hall afterward, during which King Fagan offered a final toast “To Baron Alar of Red Fields!” Rarely in its history had the hall resounded so robustly with an answering toast. Philip’s ears were ringing for some time afterward, though he had recovered enough to hear Fagan recite a poem about Alar that he had written “long ago when I had wrongfully believed my dear friend to be lost.” He had modified several verses and hastily added a few more over the last couple of days. At the end of the lengthy recital, everyone clapped, and many were once again in tears. But eventually those tears dried up as the food and drink emerged from the royal kitchens, and the queen announced that the wedding of her daughter to Lord Athos would take place in one week’s time.

“It is, we believe, what Lord Alar would have wanted,” she said. And Adam, who had been consulted in private before, nodded approvingly.

Several heartfelt cheers went up from the assembled guests, particularly when the queen invited them all to remain in the palace for that week. Even Philip felt a tingle of excitement at the prospect of seeing his sister married. Yes, life would go on. For others, and for himself, he realized as he cast a glance across the table at Rory. What would become of the handsome gray after all this? He had revealed himself an accomplice to Ambrose and Diana in their plot, but in the end he had redeemed himself, risking his own life to do what was right. His father had even given Philip his blessing to be with him with his final words. But then, Philip had also promised to look after Adam and the estate. How could he possibly have it both ways?

Oh well, he thought. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out with time. For now, however, the young noble was content, and would do his best to stay that way for as long as possible.

And so the week passed, a period of calm and healing after the fearsome storm of troubles. Every now and then Philip or his father would relapse into their sadness, but with each other’s help—and the help of Tuck—they pulled through. Philip occasionally saw Rory around, and would inquire after his leg, which ceased to cause him pain thanks to some simple elixirs made by Lord Halos. Neither of them brought up the days after, as though merely talking about it would put some kind of curse on them.

The morning of the wedding found Philip in high spirits. The air of excitement was contagious, and seeing everyone dressed for a grand occasion somehow brightened his mood. It even felt good to have Adam fuss over him again. Once everything was ready, they made their way down to Saint Andros Cathedral with the rest. They took their seats right beside the royal family and waited as people filed in. Philip could scarcely believe how long it took to fill the pews. Squirrels kept pouring in, yet it seemed there was always more room. He was pretty sure half the city had packed into the cathedral by the time the great doors closed. Shortly thereafter, everyone rose and the choir began to sing.

Philip thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle. From the beautiful harmonies of the choir echoing off the hallowed walls to the sermon on the healing power of love, and of course the grand setting itself. He did his best to soak in every detail so the impressions of this happy day would last him the rest of his life. Lord Athos looked quite splendid standing at the altar dressed in his regal finery. His white silken shirt shone spotlessly beneath his ruddy brown vest, which was decorated with all sorts of medallions and ribbons. The whole was set off nicely by the dark green velvet cloak draped across one shoulder and thrown jauntily back over the other. His paw rested easily on the hilt of his sword, which had been polished to a more brilliant sheen than Philip had ever thought possible.

But even this was outshone by the spectacle that revealed itself when the doors were flung open again. The chamber was flooded with daylight, and in strode Princess Trina, escorted by her father. She was positively radiant in her gown of pure white, and seemed to glow as she glided down the aisle. The colorful patterns of light cast through the stained glass windows reflected every which way from the brilliant gown. Philip hated to admit it, but so lovely did his sister look that he couldn’t remember how King Fagan was dressed afterward. And nor could anyone blame him. This was Trina’s day. Lord Athos was all smiles too, of course, as he beheld his bride-to-be approaching. But clearly Trina had been looking forward to this moment longer than anyone.

As she arrived at the altar, Fagan stepped to the side and the ceremony began in earnest. It was all very formal and proper, the way weddings were supposed to be from everything Philip had heard. He even half expected Ambrose to rise up when the priest asked for objections from the audience. But of course, he did not. No one did. The two were pronounced a wedded couple, kissed, and turned to face the congregation. For all he had been told about weddings, Philip was not prepared for the deafening cheers and applause that followed. The choir resumed its singing as the newlywed Crown Princess Trina and Prince Athos filed down the aisle toward the exit, each row of pews emptying out and joining in the procession as they passed.

More cheering citizenry awaited outside, and the procession continued on horseback or in carriages back to the palace, where the guests filled the reception hall. First came various entertainments, ranging from dancers and knife throwers to jesters and minstrels. Philip particularly liked the fire eaters, who had come from the southernmost reaches of Corallia to perform. They were a gift from King Basil and Queen Helen of that land, who had been friends with Fagan and Ambrosia for years beyond count. Afterward came the dancing, which was kicked off by Trina and Athos. Fagan and Ambrosia joined them after a moment, followed by other couples such as Tuck and Rosalina. As much as Philip would have liked to invite Rory onto the floor, he knew how much his father liked to dance. And so, he cleared his throat and turned to Adam.

“May I have this dance, sir?”

“Why, I would be flattered, young sir,” replied Adam, offering a paw. “Lead the way.”

And so, the two danced and twirled about the room. Adam was far better, of course, and made Philip look twice as good as he was. At the end of the second dance, Adam bowed to his son and allowed him to join Rory at last. Adam was not long without a partner, though, as he was immediately swept up by Queen Ambrosia. Together the pair glided gracefully across the floor. A few squirrels stopped mid-waltz to simply stand and admire their sheer elegance. Philip only wished that he could move so beautifully, and vowed that someday he would learn to dance properly. But right now, that didn’t matter. He and Rory were thoroughly enjoying themselves, and that was all that counted.

At last came the grand feast, which involved nearly as many toasts and speeches as there were dishes on the table. Sitting between his father and Rory, Philip made a point to sample everything and share his opinions with the gray.

“What do you think of the apple tart, mate?”

“Pretty good, but too sweet for my liking,” answered Rory.

“Really? I thought it needed a little more sugar.”

“Now, this custard cake is just right.”

“Agreed.”

“And these candied acorns are perfection.”

“They are pretty good,” agreed Philip.

“Even better than mine?” spoke Adam with surprise.

Philip smiled. “Not quite that good.”

The evening was so lively, so enjoyable that Philip didn’t want it to end. But eventually Adam reminded him that their carriage ride back to Red Fields would begin early the next morning. And so, reluctantly, Philip bade Rory a good night. He was halfway tempted to bring Rory along for a little bedtime fun, but knew that simply wouldn’t do when he was still staying in his father’s quarters. So exhausted was he that he fell almost immediately asleep after lying down anyway, barely remembering to say his prayers first.

The sun shone brightly and the birds were twittering in the trees around the courtyard as Adam, Tucker, and Philip stood beside the carriage to bid their goodbyes to their friends and families. As Adam spoke to the king and queen, Trina stepped up to Philip.

“Farewell, brother,” she spoke. “I am sorry we got to know each other so little over these last few weeks.”

“Yeah,” said Philip. “I’m sorry so many things turned out the way they did. But I am happy for you and Athos. I promise we’ll see each other again soon, and when we do, we’ll make up all the lost time and then some.” He wished he could sound more eloquent in the presence of a princess, even if she was his sister. But she simply smiled that beautiful smile of hers.

“I look forward to it immensely, Philip.” She embraced him firmly. “Thank you for all you have done for us both, and have a safe ride back to Red Fields.”

“Thanks.”

She stepped back, curtsied politely, then moved on to Adam and Tuck. Next came Lord Athos, who shook his paw firmly.

“A pleasure to meet you, young baron. And thank you again for your gallant actions the other day. “

“Of course, sir.”

“We are peers, Philip. No need to call me sir.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Your fathers taught you good manners, at least. That is something all too often missing from our nobility these days.”

“Too true, Athos.”

“Well, Skiourosspeed on your homeward journey, Philip. And my condolences once more for your loss. Lord Alar was one of the finest squirrels I’ve ever met. I feel you will grow to be just as fine.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, Athos was gone. All that remained was the young gray squirrel who had been waiting patiently to the side for his turn. Philip had been anticipating this moment—planning for it—for so long now. And yet, now it was here, he was at a loss for what to say. Both of them just stood there awkwardly looking down at their paws for a moment. They then looked up and tried to speak at once.

“You first,” Rory said.

“Well, it’s been fun.”

“Yeah.”

“A lot of other things too of course, but…Well, it’s been nice…getting to know you.”

“I suppose this is it for us, then?”

“I don’t know,” replied Philip honestly. “I think…I think we both need time to sort things out. Right now, my dad needs me.”

“And I’ve still got my apprenticeship to finish.”

“But that doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again,” Philip added hastily. “We’re both young. Who can say what the future might hold?”

Rory nodded. “Right.”

Philip took Rory’s paws in his, and they looked each other straight in the eyes. “You’ll write me at Red Fields, right?”

“Of course!”

“Great. Well then, I guess it’s farewell for now.”

“I guess so.”

They kissed. It was long and passionate, as befitted two lovers soon to be parted. The well of emotions stirring within Philip in that instant excited and confused him. He suddenly wanted to stay here with Rory, perhaps even become an apprentice mage himself. He wanted to run away with him to some faraway place and face whatever fortune might throw their way together. But he knew he couldn’t, and as his mind returned from its wistful wanderings, he broke off the kiss.

“Safe travels, my love,” bade Rory.

“Thanks. Same to you.”

He wanted to say more, but could think of nothing. And so, he let Rory’s paws slip from his grasp. They maintained eye contact as he stepped back. Then, with mutual smiles, Philip turned and joined his father and brother beside the carriage door.

“All ready, dear?” asked Adam.

Philip nodded, the smile gone. They clambered into the carriage silently and took their seats: Adam on one side and his two sons on the other. Philip immediately turned and looked out the window as the carriage driver took up his post. There stood the royal family, Trellon, Lord Halos, and at the very end Rory. His heart ached as he watched the young gray hold up a paw and try to smile. He waved back, doing his best not to cry as the carriage pulled away. Once they had reached the street and pulled out, Philip stopped waving and slumped down in his seat. Adam reached over and threw a comforting paw across his shoulder.

“You all right, dear?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll see him again someday.”

“Of course you will.”

“But in the meantime, I promise that from now on, I’m going to be a better son. And brother,” he added, nodding to Tuck.

“I believe you, Philip. In fact, you already are.”

He smiled at Philip, whose features lit up at the remark. He sprang forth to wrap his father in a firm embrace. Nothing more needed to be said. Adam hugged him back. Then Philip turned and looked out the window as the carriage rattled and bumped its way out the city gates into the world beyond. His tail twitched with excitement as he saw that southern horizon beckon. Yes, he decided, the future looked bright indeed. He would return to Rory someday, he knew. But for now, he was going back to Red Fields. Back home where he belonged.