The Trials of Alar

Epilogue

Adam lovingly tamped down the soil over the newly planted seeds. In a few weeks, with a little water, sunshine, and care, this year’s plantings would show themselves above the surface. A few weeks after that they would be in full bloom, putting a dash of color back into the world after the bleakness of winter. He sighed and closed his eyes with contentment, thankful that he had survived to see another spring: his favorite time of year.

He looked over to the barn, where Alar was hard at work demonstrating to Tuck how to care for the structure and the creatures within. The young squirrel had taken to life on the farm like a bear to honey, and under the guidance of his parents and Kendrick, had become very adept at work around the house and grounds. Alar had decided that he was still a bit too young for field work, but in household chores and horse-minding, his extra pair of paws were a great help, tiny though they were. And of course, any spare time and energy he had went to exploring the vast estate—now even greater in size than the previous year.

For in addition to receiving the thanks of the king and queen, they had received other rewards for their services as promised. Alar and Adam were now officially Barons Alar and Adam of Red Fields, and the acres around their estate to the west and north had been added to their holdings. Thus, they were now nobility as well as landholders. The thought that a simple tailor’s apprentice who had grown up in an impoverished neighborhood without even knowing his real parents’ names could have come so far so fast made his head spin. Perhaps even more than usual today, he thought as he heard some kind of far-off clopping.

As he saw Alar pause, though, he realized that it wasn’t just in his head. Someone was coming. A solitary rider, approaching from the north. They carried on working, though it was clearly on their minds. They moved slower than before and paused frequently to listen. The sound was still far off, but approaching fast. They tried to be rational about it. This might have nothing to do with them. There were other estates and settlements farther south that this rider might be making for. But somehow this one felt different. Somehow they knew this had everything to do with them. It was about the right time, they reckoned, and in the back of their minds, they had been expecting it.

Oh, please let it be good news! Adam thought. The rider was getting close now. His galloping sounded just around the other side of the trees, and they could see the outermost fringe of the dust cloud his horse’s hooves kicked up. At last he hove into view, by which time Alar was practically standing beside the road to receive him. As he slowed to a stop in front of their estate, Adam wiped his paws off on his ragged gardening tunic and rose to go and stand beside his mate.

“Daddy, who’s that?” asked Tuck, pointing to the dismounting royal rider.

“A messenger from the king and queen.”

“What’s the message say?”

“We’ll find out when he gives it to us, sweetheart,” said Adam, smoothing out a little lock of fur that stuck out the wrong way on his head tuft.

The messenger did not remove his hood right away, but instead reached gently into the pack he carried on the back of his horse after dismounting. From it he withdrew a small bundle of dusty white cloth. He cradled it gently in both arms and kept looking down at it even as he moved toward Adam and Alar. Only when he was practically within arm’s reach did he look up, revealing the smiling face of Trellon.

“Greetings, my good barons,” he said in a quiet voice. “I hope you are well this fine day.”

“Good to see you, Trellon,” said Alar, likewise keeping his voice down. “But why so quiet? And what’s in the blanket?”

“Have a look for yourself,” said Trellon, smiling even more broadly than before.

They leaned in to see that protruding from beneath the layers of padding was the tiny, sleeping face of a baby red squirrel not more than a month old. Adam gasped with delighted surprise, Tucker’s tail twitched excitedly, and Alar stared wide-eyed into the little face.

“Is that…?”

Trellon nodded. “It is one of the litter born to Queen Ambrosia and King Fagan just three-and-a-half weeks ago.”

“One of?” repeated Alar, not removing his gaze from the infant.

“Indeed. The queen gave birth to triplets. A girl and two boys. This is the second of those boys, and if you desire it, you may have him to raise and nurture as your own. Their Royal Majesties are well aware of your desire for children, and though they know you have one already, they thought that you might want another. One that is of your own blood, and who might make a fine companion for your current offspring.”

“Ooh, a bruvver!” exclaimed Tucker, though keeping his voice down.

Alar understood the third, unspoken reason for having them raise the third child: so that if anything befell the other two, there would still be a legitimate heir to the throne. But that did not lessen his desire to accept, nor the unconditional love he felt for this babe. His babe, he had to remind himself. He was a father now not just in spirit, but in deed as well. This was his son, born of his seed! And apart from the simple joy of beholding the beautiful little boy, he felt an immense wave of pride surge through his blood as well.

“Yes, of course we’ll take him,” he said.

“Then I give him over to your care,” said Trellon, holding the little bundle out. “May you raise him with all the love and devotion you have shown for your country, your queen, and each other.”

Alar took the bundle into his own trembling arms. He was almost afraid he would drop the babe with all his shaking, but he didn’t. He held fast his darling son and gazed into his sleeping face, fighting back tears of joy all the time.

“The little fellow endured the ride with remarkable patience,” said Trellon. “Didn’t cry once on the whole journey.”

“Well, we know where he gets that,” said Adam, sliding his gaze toward his mate.

“He’ll need a name as well,” continued the royal aide. “The queen did not wish to impose a name on him that might be unsuitable to the two of you.”

Adam and Alar regarded each other in puzzlement.

“We may have to think on that,” said Alar.

“What are his siblings named?” asked Adam.

“Princess Trina and Prince Ambrose.”

“Lovely names.”

“Hmm…How’s about Philip?” suggested Alar.

“It sounds like a fine name to me,” said Trellon.

And as though in answer to the new moniker, the little tyke yawned and halfway opened his eyes to look at Alar. They were the same bright blue as his. Alar wondered that his heart didn’t burst with the love he felt in that moment as he held his son close to his chest and nuzzled him tenderly.

“Yes,” he said in nearly a whisper. “Your dads love you very much, my dear little Philip.”