The Trials of Alar

5

They arrived at Parras late in the morning of their fifth day. The clean streets of the capital were already alive with a sea of twitching, twirling tails as squirrels of every kind went about their busy lives. The marketplace was positively packed, making it hard for even two mounted squirrels to navigate toward the palace at the city center.

“Looks like Ambrosia and Fagan have really done wonders for local trade,” remarked Adam. “I don’t remember it being this busy last time we were here.”

“A sure sign we’re at peace,” replied Alar. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Adam looked so excited that Alar decided not to voice his doubts just now, and instead simply nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They plodded along to the palace and halted at the main gate before a couple of guards.

“Alar and Adam of Red Fields,” Alar spoke for both of them. “I believe we’re expected.”

“Indeed, my lords!” The guards saluted smartly and stood to attention. “If you would come this way, we’ll guide you in.”

“Thank you.”

They rode on through the gate and crossed the stone courtyard, stopping at the bottom of a grand stair to dismount. One guard spoke hastily to another, who then scampered up the stairs and disappeared inside. A stable boy was called to take their horses away and have them tended. Thus left to themselves, the two stood in silence, looking around at the courtyard, which had not changed one whit since the time of their grandsires. As they were watching the activity on the street through the open gate, a voice hailed them from behind.

“Well now, here’s a fine sight to be sure.”

They whipped around and looked up. At the top of the stairs, dressed in fine green velvet to set off his flaming red fur, stood a bright-eyed buck about their age. His robes denoted him to be royalty, even as he made a most unkingly descent down the stairs.

“I knew you’d come, aye, so I did,” he went on as he neared the bottom. “Come here now, you rogues, and let old King Fagan get a good look at you.”

“Hello, mate,” said Alar with a genuine smile as he swept the young king up in a powerful embrace. “How is Your Majesty?”

“Fine, if you don’t go crushing him right off,” said Fagan, backing away. “Is it just me, or have you gotten even stronger since we last met?”

“He has,” Adam chimed in.

“Ahh, and if it isn’t the master of needlework himself!” Fagan took Adam in a firm but less painful embrace. “Her Majesty the Queen still loves that dress you made for her, you know. Wears it all the time, she does.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Oh, now where are my manners? Do come along inside now. You’re just in time for lunch, and Ambrosia will be wanting to see you as well. Come come!”

He scurried back up the stairs with the others close behind, exchanging looks as though to say “Same old Fagan.” They were led to the main throne room upstairs, where a solitary figure stood looking out the window. She turned around with all the grace and regal dignity befitting a queen of Kentros. Her gown was gold and green, her neatly brushed fur a deep russet, and her dark eyes shone with a light both warm and intelligent. Her face was solemn, but lit up with a radiant joy that enhanced her already immeasurable beauty tenfold as she strode toward the newcomers.

“Alar! Adam! How it does my heart no end of good to see you again.”

“And we you, Your Majesty,” replied Alar as they both bowed.

“You need not bow to me, my friends,” she said magnanimously. “Indeed, if anything, it is I who should bow to you.” She paused, her smile lessening a bit as she looked Alar earnestly in the eyes. “The Queen of Kentros has not forgotten what you did for her so long ago.”

“Your Majesty is too kind,” replied Alar.

“And you are still too humble.” She smiled again and embraced him warmly. “Truly a champion of the realm.” She stepped back and turned to Adam. “And of course, what is a champion without a mate to love and support him?”

“It’s wonderful to see Your Majesty again,” said Adam as they likewise embraced.

“Oh, so much formality! You’re like family to us. Just call me Ambrosia. I so rarely get to hear my own name these days.”

“I tried to tell them, my dear, but they’re just so darned polite,” said Fagan.

An elderly squirrel entered the room looking rather somber. He spoke in a low, lugubrious voice.

“Pardon the interruption, Your Majesties, but lunch is served.”

“Thank you, Cyrus,” said Ambrosia. “We’ll be down right away. And we’ll take it in the grand dining hall, I think.”

The saturnine squirrel retreated with a tilt of the head, and Ambrosia turned to her guests. “Come! It will be a merry meal indeed. We shall eat and catch up on the latest news together over some soup and roasted plaice.”

They headed downstairs. There they were met by a host of other squirrels. The first to greet them was Trellon, who shook their paws and expressed his pleasure at their reunion. Beside him was the captain of the guard, whom Alar recognized immediately.

“Arran!”

“It’s been a long time, dear Alar,” said the guard, whose whiskers had grayed some, but whose face was just as friendly as Alar remembered. “How’s life on the farm?”

“Everything I could’ve hoped and then some.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“And what of yourself? You’ve come up in the world since our last meeting, it seems.”

“Indeed. Captain saw fit to retire three years ago, and recommended me to succeed him.”

“Well, he couldn’t have chosen better, I don’t think.”

Arran gave a modest shrug, then stepped aside as Fagan introduced his two guests to the rest of the troop. Most were other members of the party that would be escorting King Fagan to Corallia.

“Alas, I shall be remaining behind,” replied Arran when Alar asked if he would be joining the entourage. “Along with a few others like Lord Halos. Someone has to stay behind to guard Her Majesty and generally keep things in order here. Besides, my knee has been giving me trouble lately, so riding is a bit tricky these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Alar as he realized just how much had changed in ten years. He remembered a much sprier, redder squirrel who would have gladly joined in such an endeavor before, given a chance. “No squirrel, however fast, can outrun time,” Ruskin used to say. It hadn’t meant much to him in his youth, but now here it was illustrated before his very eyes.

They took up their seats shortly after: Fagan and Ambrosia at the head of a long table, and Adam and Alar to either side of them. Normally these spots would have been occupied by Trellon and Arran, but the monarchs wished to converse more freely with their visitors for this occasion.

As they were served their drinks and first courses, they began to talk of old times and everything under the sun. Alar and Fagan drank their ales and spoke of the rigors of daily life in their respective abodes as Adam and Ambrosia discussed the latest court fashions while sipping daintily from goblets of vintage red wine. From there things progressed to the trading of fabrics and fine wines. Finally, as the main course was served, they turned to the subject of why the two were there.

“And what exactly are the terms of this vaunted treaty?” asked Alar. “Aside from promising not to kill each other?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” answered Fagan. “Just a few measures that ought to see both kingdoms in a much stronger position than before, right Trellon?”

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” said Trellon. “There are three main points. Firstly, we reduce our tariffs and they reduce theirs, thus promoting better trade between our nations. Secondly, we keep our roads clear of troublemakers and so do they. And finally, should either of us be attacked by another kingdom, we shall come to one another’s defense.”

“Isn’t that more to Corallia’s advantage, given how they’ve got a smaller army and all?”

“In numbers alone, perhaps. But there aren’t any neighbors threatening them at the moment. And once everybody knows we’ve got their backs, there aren’t many who would be foolish enough to try, I think. And of course, it only works in the case of an unprovoked attack. Should Corallia get it in their minds to invade one of their neighbors, we would be under no obligation to assist them.”

Alar nodded approvingly. “Good. There’s nothing that will turn folks on their ruler faster than sending their young bucks off to die for someone else’s war. That’s what old Rus used to say.”

“And a wise old squirrel he was,” said Fagan wistfully. “Fine smithy too. Sure, ‘tis a sad thing he was called away so soon.”

“Aye.”

“At least he found his happiness before he left us,” said Ambrosia. “And he got to see his only son find his as well.”

“So he did.”

“Well, at any rate,” spoke Fagan after a moment, “we don’t foresee any real difficulties on the road. This should be a fairly easy task all told. Yours is more of a ceremonial position than anything, but we’re glad you could come. It puts my heart at ease, I can tell you that.”

Alar nodded, though a mere glance at Ambrosia told him she was worried. As with Trellon several days before, there was something even his old friend Fagan wasn’t telling him, and he was determined to find out what one way or another. With lunch at an end, the royal couple invited their friends to take a tour of the gardens, which had grown in size and splendor under their reign.

“I do a few of the plantings myself,” Ambrosia explained. “The flower beds by the hedges and the window boxes inside the reception hall.”

“They’re gorgeous!” remarked Adam. “I’ve tried my paw at raising flowers, but the displays are nowhere near as nice.”

“Perhaps we could send our gardener out to help with your planting next season.”

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!”

As the two walked on, Fagan held Alar back gently by the arm.

“Say, Alar, would you mind if we had a private word later, just you and me? There’s uh...something I need to talk to you about.”

“Of course,” said Alar, a little surprised. It wasn’t like Fagan to be so hesitant about discussing something. He wondered briefly what it might be, but Fagan instantly became his chipper self again.

“Great! I look forward to it.”

They took a few quick steps to catch up to their mates and continued their walk.

And so the afternoon went. Eventually the two visitors got around to seeing their room, where their belongings had already been placed. Adam immediately seated himself on the edge of the large, luxurious bed and smiled at its springiness.

“Just as soft and bouncy as I remember,” he said. “We’ll sleep well the next few nights for sure.”

“For sure,” replied Alar with a mischievous grin. “And maybe some other things too, eh?”

Adam merely bowed his head bashfully and twitched his tail flirtatiously. Alar smiled and promptly seated himself in a large chair by the window.

“Well, nothing to do but rest up before dinner, I guess,” he said.

“Good idea, hon. I could use a bit of freshening up after all that riding this morning.”

So, they rested for a couple of hours, Alar dozing in his chair and Adam reading more from his book. They then washed up and dressed in more formal attire before heading down to eat with the king and queen again, this time in their private dining room. Once more they ate, drank, and made merry conversation until well after the last course had been served. As they rose from the table, Fagan placed a paw on Alar’s shoulder.

“Would you mind if we had that little talk now, just you and me?”

“Of course not, mate.” Alar nodded to Adam. “Go on, hon. I won’t be long, I don’t think.” He looked questioningly to Fagan.

“Not at all!” replied the king jovially.

So, Adam and Ambrosia retired, leaving the two former comrades alone. There was a brief silence, then Fagan sighed and began.

“There’s no hiding anything from you, Alar. I expect you know by now that this upcoming mission of ours isn’t the only reason we called you here.”

“I suspected as much, yes,” Alar admitted coolly.

“Mind, I’d be happy to invite you two up here anytime just for a friendly visit now and again, but I know how busy you are with the farm and all. This escort service was just a good excuse to finally pull you away from all that, frail though it might seem. But there’s another thing. Something Ambrosia and I have discussed quite a bit over the last couple years.”

“And what’s that?”

“Well, you know how the kingdom’s in desperate need of an heir.”

“I do.”

“And I’m sure you’ve heard all the talk. That having been married for ten years now, people are starting to think we’re unable to produce one.”

“Aye.”

“Well…They’d be right, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Alar’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Aye. Sure, it’s not like we haven’t tried! I do enjoy me time with the wife as well as any fellow. And Ambrosia’s had no complaints about my, er…abilities either.”

Alar nodded sympathetically.

“It’s just not happening. I…I can’t do it, Alar. No matter how hard I try.”

Alar’s heart nearly broke on seeing his friend so downcast. He feared Fagan might just break down and cry for a moment, but he held himself together.

“I’m sorry to hear that, mate. But you’re sure it’s you and not Ambrosia?”

“Oh, I’m…pretty sure, aye,” said Fagan, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze in embarrassment.

“And why do you need me and Adam? What can we do?”

“Well, mostly just you, actually.”

“What can I do, then?” Alar was on his guard now. He had an inkling—just a notion—of what it was, but he waited until he heard it to be sure.

“We’ve talked it over, me and Ambrosia, and, well…” He sighed again. “We decided that, if I can’t give Kentros an heir, then maybe you could.”

“WHAT?” Alar could scarcely believe his ears. It was worse than he had feared.

“Now I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but…”

“You do realize what you’re asking of me, right?”

“Sure, and I…”

“And you do realize I’m a fag, right?”

“Now, I know it’s not exactly your cup o’ tea, but we’re desperate, Alar. We need an heir. Kentros needs an heir. And that’s something we can’t give them.”

Alar shook his head. “Why me? Why couldn’t you ask one of your guards or ministers to do it for you? Someone who isn’t married and doesn’t have an aversion to does.”

“Because you’re our best friend, Alar. And if I must ask someone else to have it on with me wife, I’d rather it be someone I love and trust like a brother than some stranger. Besides, you come from good stock. You’re strong, brave, true, and not half bad-looking under all them scars, if I do say so myself. Ambrosia certainly thinks so.”

“Does she?” Alar looked positively nonplussed.

“Well, not quite as good as me, of course. But pretty handsome, for sure. I know that between you and Ambrosia, at the very least my son or daughter wouldn’t be hard on the eyes, and that’s important for a royal figure, you know.”

Alar couldn’t help twitching a smile at the king’s irrepressible spirit as he stroked his whiskers pensively. “And I suppose Adam’s not to know about my infidelity?”

“Now don’t talk like that, mate! You wouldn’t be untrue doing this, and of course you can discuss it with him first. All I’m asking is that you consider it. Please. For your country’s sake. And for ours.”

Alar took a deep breath as he stared at his old brother in arms, then let it out slowly.

“I’ll talk to Adam about it,” he said at last, looking away to the side.

“Oh, thank you thank you! I knew you’d come through for us.”

“I haven’t come just yet,” said Alar, cracking a smile at his own unintentional wit. “But just for reference, when would this…act take place? Before we leave?”

“Oh, no no no. This’d be after we return, o’ course.”

“Right.” Alar nodded slowly. “Well, I’ll go discuss it right away, then. In the meantime, I’ll bid you a good night, Fagan.”

“A very good night to you and Adam as well. And thank you again for even considering it. I don’t know where this kingdom would be without you.”