Marcys: The Announcement

February 15,

            Today I stood before the entire city of Bathum and listened to Ardythe lie to them. Hundreds of people now believe Kaplan is Ardythe’s legitimate heir—a great nephew or something like that. Though I am not the one to speak the lie, I know I am just as guilty for not saying a word to contradict the king. But what good would that do? Ardythe would have had me beheaded and the people of Bathum would still believe his lies. Soon the entire nation will believe that there is an heir and therefore nothing to worry about.

            For many weeks now, essentially since the real prince’s death, there had been heavy grumbling among the landed gentry. Many of them had once known someone who had lived through the war with Odrar; they have heard the horror stories. They feared, rightfully so, the idea of a civil war between likely candidates for the crown. Ardythe’s announcement will calm these fears, even if it isn’t true.

            Of course, no one but a few select people know that Prince Kaplan is no relation what so ever to Ardythe; even the other adopted children believe it’s true to some extent or another.

            I can’t help but wonder when Ardythe will explain to them what he intends to do with them. We expect a letter from Mallawi any day now, meaning we will be sailing soon.

            But I digress. I’m sure you are wondering how Ardythe has lied so successfully to so many people, because of course just announcing it is not enough. Papers are required. Lords meet and discuss. It is a complicated procedure to claim an heir that is not your own child.

            Well, four days ago Ardythe called me down to a small, half destroyed room in one of the lowest basements of the castle. If I recall correctly the damage was done in my youth at the hand of an earth quake. One corner of the room is half collapsed, supported by extra beams that had been put in place after the quake. We never use it, in fact we haven’t used it in decades.

            Ardythe stood just outside the door way when I arrived. I frowned into the room. It was just as I remembered it to be from the last time I’d seen it, probably seven or eight years ago.

            “I need you to get this room cleaned up a little. Someone will be staying here.”

            “Here?” I asked, dumbfounded.

            “They cannot be seen. There is a private exit down that hall.”

            “Am I allowed to know who?” I asked, cautiously.

            “Two scribes. I need new paper work created for Kaplan.”

            I nodded, understanding what he needed. If anyone found his scribes they would know that Kaplan wasn’t really his heir.

            I did the work myself, not trusting a servant to not get suspicious and start asking questions, or worse sharing the experience with the other servants. The next day I opened the small door and lead the two scribes to their new quarters. It wasn’t much and I was ashamed to have them staying in this dingy room with nothing more than cots to sleep on. In the corner near a break in the wall, which allowed natural light to filter in, I had placed a large, collapsible work desk. I also gave them two foot lockers for their scanty belongings and a third that held rations for them. Of course they couldn’t join the others in the great hall for meals.

            Two days later I joined Ardythe and the scribes in the small room. They had drawn up the necessary documents—family trees, new patents of nobility and some other documents I didn’t take the time to look at. Ardythe glanced over them with a knowing eye before handing them to me.

            Before I could react, the king had drawn the short dagger concealed under the folds of his tunic and thrust it into the stomach of the nearest scribe. The second scribe stared in wonder for a moment before trying to bolt towards the door. Ardythe was faster. Like the first, the scribe was soon sprawled on the floor, slowly bleeding out.

            Ardythe knelt to wipe his dagger clean. “Deal with the bodies,” he ordered as he stood up. He took the papers and left the room.

            That night I enlisted Alek, my nephew, to help. I didn’t want to expose him to the acts of the king, especially since he already had many very real doubts about our mission, but I didn’t know who else to call upon. Jehan was spending his time before our journey with his family on his estate and Haddock couldn’t help me carry a body with his bad leg. This left Alek.

            The sailor didn’t say a word when I showed him the small room that smelled of death, blood and dust. Instead he simply took hold of the first man’s shoulders and waited in silence for me to take the feet. I did and we hauled the body out to a hidden corner in the enormous bailey, where I had already dug two deep holes.

            I cannot even begin to express my grief and uncertainty. What have I gotten myself into? I should have resigned the minute Ardythe’s son died. But once, long ago, Ardythe had been my friend. Or at least I thought he had been. Maybe I’ve been wrong all these long years. Either way I’m stuck now. I must see this through to the end, even if it is just to keep these innocent children safe.

Marcys