36II. ANY PORT IN A STORM
Zaron ordered Bors, his general second in command, to make sure that the army occupied the city orderly and following a strict discipline, that every patrol was at least accompanied by an Issian soldier and that the members of his government were moved to the palace. Then he went after the fallen king through the hallways.
Aborn had sent away the larger part of his entourage with orders to report his surrender and to greet the new masters with the most conciliatory attitude. He had wanted nearby only young Ostin and a couple of advisors who he considered good friends. He leaded Zaron through the palace corridors to the library, where Deja took shelter after their fight.
The hallways were deserted; Aborn could not blame the servants for hiding at the prospect of the foreign occupation. He reached the library doors and, forcing himself, he entered. He was sure the emperor was going to change his mind when he realized how absurd his proposal was.
The vast room was silent and apparently empty, but Aborn knew the maze of corridors made up of high shelves and the many corners and reading rooms could contain an indefinite number of knowledge seeking visitors. Nevertheless, right now, his daughter was its only occupant.
- Deja! Come out, Deja, my dear. I am here with the khan of Rakon. We need to speak with you.
The unique thud of a dropped book came from his right. After a couple of heartbeats, his only child emerged from behind a shelf.
He had always been proud of Deja, the daughter he and his beloved wife had wanted so strongly and his queen had given her life for. The healers had told her a pregnancy at her age was a risk, and she was putting her life in danger, but his beloved had been so enthusiastic for finally managing to conceive, she disregarded all warnings. Deja was the apple of her father's eye, she had a vivacious and precocious intelligence that amazed her tutors, beauty and grace added to a determined and stubborn character that never became arrogant or cruel.
Aborn felt satisfaction at looking at Zaron and finding him unable to hide the consternation that took him. The dress Deja wore was flattering: white, with embroidered pearls and golden tread decorations that recalled her headband. The long, flowing dress left her thin arms bare and emphasized her twelve year old flat chest and narrow hips.
Zaron was speechless and he couldn't come to terms with his own huge error in judgment. He never requested information of the specifics of Aborn daughter: in the rare occasions he thought about her, he imagined her ugly or old at worst, since Aborn was over sixty. How come his daughter, his first and only child, was so young? However, the blue eyes looking at him with uncertainty and a fear were the same as Aborn's. He felt nauseous. By the gods, how old was she? For he had to marry her, all his glorious dreams were based on it. If he wanted to conquer the minds and the hearts of the Issians he had to make their queen his, no matter how sickening the idea was.
Aborn had been mistaken if he thought seeing her was going to change his mind, he didn't take into account his determination. Zaron straighten his pose and came up to her, behaving as if her age was not a hindrance, ready to appeal to her honour as a princess and her sense of duty toward her people.
He presented her the crown that had belonged to her father and bend his head to look her into the eyes, trying to hinder the uneasiness their difference in height and built provoked in him. He had to think only about Issa and the advantages this marriage was going to bring him.
- Princess, your father renounced to his crown, yielding in front of my armies and surrendering unconditionally. From today on, Issa is part of the Rakon empire. Well, I offer you a solution for Issa to maintain its individuality instead of being absorbed. If you accept to marry me, becoming my queen, I will give you back your father crown. You will marry me as the rightful queen of Issa and you will keep on being its queen, maintaining your authority over your kingdom. It will not be an annexation but a joining between kingdoms of equal dignity and worth. Issa citizens will have Rakon citizenship and all the rights it brings. But only if you accept my proposal and become my queen. I will not force you to say yes, if you refuse I will respect your decision, but my armies, for the moment peacefully occupying your realm, will receive the order to attack. Nothing will be left of Issa. It's your choice.
It was not really a choice, Zaron knew this perfectly, but he had no intention to drag his bride down the aisle, kicking and screaming. She will have to come by her own good will, even if compelled by circumstances, just as by its own volition the whole kingdom had to follow, even if a little rebellious.
The princess blinked, confused. Once she realized the Rakian emperor was really asking her hand in marriage, her eyes become huge and moved from the crown in his hands, thrusted in her direction as if he was trying to get her to take it, to his stern face and then down to his scarred forearms before closing in desperation and helplessness. She brought a hand to her throat, as if it was difficult to find her voice to answer.
- But… I'm only twelve, I am not of lawful age yet… how can I marry you?
The emperor tried to reassure her at the best of his capacities.
- Your age doesn't count. Our marriage will be a political one.
After some endless moments, during which Zaron thought he would have to give the order to destroy everything, she give her consent with a feeble voice.
- Yes, I will marry you, for my people, for my city…
The face grew animated and her eyes hard.
- … and in exchange of my father's life.
From behind Zaron came Aborn grieving voice.
- No, Deja! Don't do it, you can't, I forbid it!
The princess looked at her parent with a stubborn expression and upping her chin.
- You are king no more, father, you cannot forbid me anything.
Then her gaze and the tone softened.
- Please father, let me save you. It is in my power to save us all. I have to do it, I want to do it.
Zaron admired the young girl's determination and the way she held her own against her father. He was amused by the thought they both had had, that he was going to have Aborn killed. The previous king suppression was the standard after a conquest, but Zaron has considered this an awful beginning for a marriage to present the bride with her father's head, so he already decided to spare the former king, but only if he didn't force his hand. Therefore it was easy for him to agree to her request.
- You have my word, princess. Your father is not going to die neither by my hand nor by my order, lest he commits some folly.
The young girl seemed relived while her father fell on his knees and covered his face, despairing, knowing how much his life costed his child.
- My lady, I have to go, to refer the happy news to my council and your people, our future people. I know the notice is short, but I wish your coronation as queen of Issa to take place before this day ends; your father already abdicated so I'm sure there are not going to be any hindrances.
He took his leave, after thrusting the crown that had belonged to her father into her trembling hands. Then he went away, walking with measured steps and followed by his entourage.
Once the library doors closed behind them, the princess threw herself into her father's open arms. Aborn held his shaking daughter tight.
- Oh father, I am scared!
Aborn was cradling his child while searching for a way out.
- Hush, do not worry, my dear. We will find a way, I am sure there must be something we can do to save you from this marriage.
However Deja was inconsolable.
- No father. If I can save the kingdom and you by wedding him, I'll do it. But... he is so old! How can I marry him? I am only twelve: the law…
Her father was scared and angry, but mostly angry.
- The law! What hold can the law have on that barbarian? You should not have to sacrifice yourself for us, you should not have to take such a decision. You are a child, I am your father, I am the king, I should be the one to pay for my mistakes, not you. I beg you Deja, please consider the possibility of escaping: I am sure we will be able to take you out of the palace and of the city. If you manage to flee, you could organize a resistance, something to give hope to our people!
The princess recoiled, freeing herself from her father's embrace and got back on her feet.
- No! Absolutely not! I will not abandon you! You heard what khan Zaron threatened: if I refuse him, he will destroy everything, he will kill you and enslave our people. I will not run. Never!
Aborn was proud of her, his princess, no: his queen since he had already abdicate. But he was afraid for his daughter, that child who gas going to become the bride of an unknown man, a foreigner, far too soon. The Issian law forbade arranged marriages, even if in case of noble families wasn't uncommon for a girl to be pressured in marrying a man chosen by her parents. But it was illegal to marry under fifteen and at twenty every Issian citizen, male or female, noble or plebeian, was free to marry whoever they wanted, without the their families' consent. That was why it was inconceivable, barbaric and outside every law for Aborn that his daughter was forced to marry that man. There must be a way to save her, to prevent him from harming her, from forcing her into something she was not old enough to face.
- I will speak with him. Perhaps he could be persuaded to postpone the marriage for some years, perhaps he will settle for a betrothal…
She seemed to brighten at the idea, recovering a little hope.
- It is a good idea, father, but I will speak with him, not you.
Aborn got back to his feet and smiled to Deja, putting his hands on her shoulders.
- No, let me do at least this for you as your father, since as your king I can do nothing more. Let me confer with him, from man to man. Please trust me with this, let me do this since I cannot protect you in any other way.
The princess took her father hands, kissing them with fondness.
- I place my trust in you, father. Just, please, do not anger him. Our lives and our subjects lives depend on him. And on me.
He nodded and held her tight to his chest.
- I promise you I will be tactful and I swear I will do my best to dissuade him. But now we have your coronation to arrange. My queen.
And Aborn, who that very morning had been king of Issa, knelt in front of his new sovereign, followed by Ostin and the advisors.
- Do not do this, father, I beg you!
Aborn smiled up to her, but he was sad and resigned.
- You are my queen now, and I kneel for you gladly. I am honoured to call you my lady and I will obey every order issued by you. I am proud of you, I will always be, whatever may come. I cannot imagine leaving my crown into better and more capable hands than yours.
Deja was unsure and nervous.
- I am not ready to reign. I can not do it!
Her father was of a different opinion.
- Nobody is ever ready, daughter of mine, but you are prepared for the task, you are going to be an extraordinary queen. A part of me is happy to be able to be present at your ascension.
The princess shuddered, realizing exactly what her father was hinting at: the death of her beloved parent would have had to pass before her coronation. Instead her father was still alive and, if the Rakon khan kept his promise, he was going to keep doing so, to help and advise her in her new position. She was going to be grateful to her future husband for this, if nothing else: sparing her father's life, he gave her a precious and unexpected gift and for that, more than everything else, Deja was determined to keep her promise.
§§§
The only maid who stayed at her side instead of running away to hide, sweet and loyal Larissa, was helping her into the dress she had intended to wear at the new year party two month later. Deja felt grateful her father persuaded her to leave to him the negotiation with the Rakon khan: she was torn between the immature desire to run and hide until the boogieman had disappeared and the responsibilities being the queen of Issa implied. The marriage to khan Zaron was not going to kill her, on the contrary it was going to bring many advantages to her people and to improve Issa conditions inside the Empire. Nevertheless, when you have to choose between an arranged marriage to a man you don't know and would have refused in any other occasion and destruction, it's not really a choice but a terrible coercion.
Not only Deja found it difficult to imagine herself with him, but the logistic of their marriage seemed absurd to her: where was the wedding going to take place, Issa or Halanda? Were they going to live together or not? If not, was he going to let her stay in Issa and reign undisturbed or was he going to expect her to defer to his authority? If he thought to make her a puppet queen and to reign over Issa through her he was sorely mistaken: Deja was going to defend her freedom and her people at any cost and on that point she was not going to recede. Once the crown would be on her head she was the one who was going to reign with full authority, without a foreigner's influence. Instead, if her worst fear came true and he was going to want a true marriage and to take her back to Halanda with him… Deja did not know what she was going to do.
- Larissa, please, put some music on. Something lively.
Her maid stop brushing her hair, went to the phonograph and selected one of the seven cylinders available, after a brief hesitation. She inserted it into the machine and started it turning the crank. A fast paced music spread out around the room and Larissa started to sing along softly while she braided her princess hair. The phonograph was a recent invention and in all Issa there were only a dozen pieces.
The music was pleasant and Deja forced herself to follow the melody to stop thinking, at least for a while, about her future life. In front of the mirror, she looked at her room, asking herself how long she was going to occupy the quarters that had been hers for all her life.
Her rooms were in the heart of the palace and, even if they were windowless, they were on the last floor and thus equipped with ample skylights, as per the princess directives. She loved her quarters to be full of light and only on the hottest months when the sun beat hard uncomfortably warming the rooms, she let the drapes to be drown on the roof from side to side, to create the shade and the coolness needed. By night, the drapes were always open so she could see the starry sky from her bed and fall asleep in the pale moonlight. The curtains were yellow, her favourite colour, just as yellow were the living room furnishings and the bed hangings. The walls and floors were white and Deja liked to think her rooms were made out of light and sun. There were books everywhere, because when Deja was caught by a project, she ransacked the library and kept the books at hands and then she simply did not to take them back. She attended the Academy on her free time, always presenting the lessons that caught her attention. The topic that interested her most was to understand how the world and the things around her worked, so she attended lessons in Earth science, engineering and mechanics, taking interest in the new inventions and discuss with the inventors how to use their creations to improve the day by day lives of the population. With less enthusiasm she approached philosophy, which her father favoured over everything, to feel closer to him and because he swore the study of it was going to help her reign. All over her room, on her bedside table, under the bed and in heaps over the chairs, there were books about engineering, astronomy and even botanic; there were copies of her favourite politic essays and social studies, everything that could help her be a better princess and prepare her in her future rule. Many times she told herself she was going to organize her collection into a private library, to make order inside her rooms and to make it easier to consult her books, but she never come around to it, putting it off for tomorrow. Now, perhaps, she was never going to have the opportunity to do it.
She smoothed over the beautiful lilac dress she had ordered for a different occasion and, laughing to herself, she considered she possessed more books then dresses.
The Issian fashion of the last years started to tend towards practical rather than majestic and women fashion showed it more than the men's did: dresses became more comfortable, soft and not so tight and rigid as in the previous centuries, they shortened and had more modest necklines. Brightly coloured and flashy buttons or broches kept dress shoulder straps together, the arms were left bare in the summers and covered by long, flowing sleeves in the mild winters of Issa. Broches and belts were the only decorative elements and Issian women used them to diversify their outfits since the cloths were monochrome and only the rich could afford to have their dresses embellished with handmade embroidery in silk and precious metals and pearls.
On the other side, nobility still preferred to use the traditional clothing during formal occasions and during festivities, still replicating the former century fashion. That meant the dress Deja was going to wear for her own coronation ceremony was tight on her torso, leaving her shoulders and arms bare and was equipped with an annoying bodice; the skirt stretched out like the petals of an upside down flower in lilac silk layers covering her shoes and continuing after her in a trail one meter long. The golden decoration on the corset had a flower design, accentuating the idea Deja was a flower herself. She immediately took a liking to that dress when she got it, perfectly responding to her directives, but now it felt strange on her and not suitable for the solemn occasion. Hair decorations came with the dress, mirroring it in colour and design, but Larissa could not apply them because tradition dictated she had nothing on her hair, so the maid plaited them into little braids, tight on her head, to sustain the crown. Larissa did a great job: her light brown hair were drawn back from her face but ran free from her head, loosely and straight on her back. Deja chose not to wear any jewel, not even the necklace with the blue topaz pendant that belonged to her mother and that she never parted with.
As the hours went by and the news of the coronation of the new queen started going around, coupled with the fact that the old king was not dead but he had simply abdicated, wary optimism spread around the city. There were Rakian patrols everywhere, that was true, but no lootings, nor killings, were reported. The population had been warmly invited to be present at the Proclamation Square, in front of the balcony where the king used to announce important news, to cheer on the new monarch and hear the good news. Which good news nobody knew, Aborn advisors had been judiciously silent about the emperor's demands in exchange for peace and the Rakian ones were not close enough to the population to let leaks slip by. Deja received caution felicitations from the people she knew and from her few friends. Her friends wanted to know how she was faring and wished good health to her father, the braver ones asked if she wanted their presence by her side for support and comfort. Deja felt grateful for their concern, but she had to request that everybody stayed at home and present themselves at the palace only if required to. An air of hanging trepidation hovered on the city; Issa avoided its condemnation for the moment but the conquerors could be capricious and the situation could worsen in any moment with very little provocation, especially if she changed her mind.
She knew the news about the treaty would relieve everybody, even if the imposed clause would horrify many, for sure. She was hardening herself for the pity and disgust of the court at the news of her forthcoming marriage, and for the relief because something so horrible happened to her and they were all safe. Deja kept repeating to herself that it was a normal, very human reaction, that even if her people was going to be shocked by her fate, it was obvious and logic for relief to follow it. Nevertheless she felt like she was inside a dark tale, like the sacrifice to placate the beast and, thinking that, she had to sit, bringing both hands to her mouth, felling her stomach rebel. She forced that thought out of her head: on that day she become queen, not wife, and perhaps her father was going to improve her situation, somehow.
§§§
Evening came, and the sunset painted the sky pink and light blue. When her father came to get her and escort her to the throne room where he was going to crown her himself, during a solemn ceremony, Deja was apparently peaceful and relaxed, her right hand laid on her parent's arm lightly, the other on her stomach languidly, elbow out, in a pose studied to appear calm and tranquil. Her father stoke fleetingly her hand and then assembled his face in what he called his "state expression": austere but open, peacefully neutral, and guided her in the walk to the throne room, escorted by a group of Rakian soldiers that, a vexed Deja thought, were officially there to protect her, unofficially to make sure she didn't run.
Father and daughter entered the large room greeted by the sound of trumpets, played by the band sat on a balcony over the main entrance that accompanied every public function of the court.
The courtiers organized themselves into two lanes leaving a central space between the doors and the golden throne placed over a base, at the back of the room. Many times Deja had stood at her father's right while he sat on what he called the most uncomfortable chair of the world; today she was going to be one to sit there. Walking with her back straight at the arm of her parent, she did not look at either the nobles bending their back respectfully nor at the red spots she could see from the corner of her eyes and recognise as the omnipresent Rakian soldiers. She tighten her grip on her father's arm, betraying her surprise and her disappointment at seeing, spread around the base of her throne, a group of men and soldiers with foreigner traits and Zaron himself, the only one not bowing since at her approaching even his men unexpectedly bowed, dressed in a ceremonial armour and with his hand placed on a sword that was not ceremonial for sure.
At least that arrogant killer was not smiling. His face was creased and serious, like it had been in the library, when they first met. They looked each other in the eyes and then his gaze moved down along her figure and Deja held tighter onto her father's arm, not being able to interpret that look. It seemed disapproving, as if he did not like what he was seeing, but after all it was exactly like he looked at her that morning, right before asking for her hand in marriage.
In front of the three steps to the throne her father stopped, took both her hands and then father and daughter faced each other, showing their profiles to the court. With a firm and loud voice, Aborn stated his abdication and then took in his hands a platinum circle, smaller but identical to his former one, from a cushion held by a young boy as tradition dictated during crowing ceremonies. He declaimed the ritual formula usually said by the High Priest of the goddess Lona, but that in such a peculiar occasion, peculiar because the former sovereign was still alive, he said himself. With a last blessing request to the goddess Issian people worshipped above all else, Aborn put the crown, apparently light and delicate, on his daughter's head and then, after taking a step back, he bend his head and knelt to show his submission and respect for her. All the Issian court followed him, even the Rakian nobles bend their heads, lowering their eyes. Afterwards her nobles burst in a joyful shout, whishing their new queen long life and good health. Aborn moved to take his daughter's hand, to accompany her to the balcony that watched over the square where the population was waiting, but the emperor was faster than him. He took Deja's hand and almost draggled her to the glass doors opening to the outside. The queen, surprised, nearly tripped on her trail; she looked in consternation at her father before recovering her balance and acquiring a dignified and serene pose, as if she was the one permitting that man to escort her and not him simply taking it as if it was his right.
Zaron took her out on the balcony and the clamouring crowd quietened at the sight of the conqueror beside their new queen. Then she smiled and rose her free hand in a triumphing sign, chin up and proud and the people shouted aloud their approval, acclaiming their queen, so haughty and regal, who did not let that demonstration of arrogance from the most powerful man of all the continent of Zabad unsettle her.
Zaron let the yells increase until the very air vibrated and then he rose both arms, showing his own hand wrapped tightly around the one of young girl at his side. The crowd fell silent abruptly, allowing him to speech.
- People of Issa,
The square conformation let his voice be refracted, increasing its strength and arriving loud and clear even to the people standing at the margins of the crowd.
- I am Zaron, khan of Rakon and emperor of Zabad. Your king, Aborn, this morning surrendered to me unconditionally. He abdicated, handing me his crown and this very day I give it back to his lineage, making his rightful heir, Deja, queen of Issa. Why did I do something like that? Because I want to unite the kingdom of Issa to the kingdom of Rakon, joining my dynasty to his. This morning, after accepting Aborn capitulation, as the clause of a peaceful unification to my empire, I asked for queen Deja hand in marriage and…
Deja stepped forward, putting herself in front of Zaron. She was not going to let that invader make her appear weak and submissive, above all she was not letting him speak in her place.
- And I accepted, thinking about the kingdom well-being and the advantages Issa is going to reap from this marriage. So today it is a doubly happy day for us all: not only Issa has a new queen, but a king too. So lets applaud Zaron, khan of Rakon, who came as foreigner conqueror and now stands in front of you as your rightful monarch.
That said, she turned to face him, not knowing what to expect from him, anger perhaps, but Zaron's face looked relaxed and calm and Deja thought he was a better politician then he looked. She bend lightly her head, something unpredicted and unheard of, since she was an absolute monarch and so she should not knee in front of anyone, but he was not going to be a simple royal consort, he was a king, an emperor, and during such a delicate transition time he had the power to destroy them all. All he needed was to give a signal to his soldiers, that now were skirting the crowd, safeguarding it, and they could still throw themselves at that very people, like hungry wolves at a helpless flock.
After some moments of uncertainty, tense silence and surprised whispers, the people of Issa seemed to realize that some manifestation of joy was expected from them, that this was the happy news they were told to await for. The acclamations started and as the screams grew in volume, stronger and stronger, the populace seemed to understand what the words of their young queen implied, what a great personal sacrifice she was doing to secure their safety and prosperity and her name was shouted loud, not Zaron's.
The khan appeared not to mind, he even smiled satisfied before taking his future queen back inside, letting go of her hand only when the rejoicing people outside could not see them anymore.
Seeing them coming back, Aborn nodded curtly to the orchestra that started to play, a signal for the court to start commenting what happened, as the waiters passed among them, serving calices full of cold sparkling wine.
Aborn stepped in front of the emperor, bowing deeply and gazing worriedly at his daughter who, ignoring both him and Zaron, kept walking slowly but decisively toward the throne and sat on it without hesitation, composing her limbs and face into a neutral pose to conceal the inner turmoil and the agitation that troubled her. She refused with an indolent hand wave the wine glass offered her, one that had never before been offered to her, and stared steady in front of her, to show she did not wish to be spoken to.