Kared's Children - Chapter 4

"We understand there were no survivors." This was from a gaunt-faced man with graying hair to the Chairman’s left.

"That’s as we feared, friend Withegood." Shaerden looked at Gerald and his friends; they seemed stricken, as if absorbing the truth of what they’d feared. "If it pleases the Council, then, based on what the Councilman has just told us, I should, for this last time in my life, ever pretend the right, with the forgiveness of my former friend and now most honorable sovereign, introduce to you the rightful heir to the throne of Alfred, our new King Gerald."

Gerald glanced at Shaerden self-consciously, then looked at the members before him; abruptly he stood.

. . .

"By what right-" Degellion sputtered.

"The King?" another asked.

Then everyone spoke at once, incredulously, inquisitively, overwhelming each other with noise and filling the room with the bumpy thunder of voices.

The Chairman let them do it, still seated, waiting patiently in the middle of the tempest, perusing Gerald, examining Shaerden, particularly carefully considering Benjamin. Gerald, too, waited, on his feet at the side of his oldest friend, appearing more embarrassed than eager to pursue the claim Shaerden had made.

As the outbursts began to fade, the Chairman gestured calmingly, and as the others quieted slowly, their protests spent, he nodded formally but noncommittally toward Gerald and the group before them. "You understand we’ll need verification of such a claim."

Dox stood and bowed his head toward Gerald. "Begging my liege’s forgiveness."

"Will you stop that, please?" Gerald demanded.

Dox tilted his head in acquiescence, and when he straightened, his head almost brushed the beams of the room’s low ceiling. "Council-members, you know me. You have known me many years. You may not know that I was honored to serve as a member of the Royal Guard. In fact, I was fortunate enough to serve in the King’s Personal Guard. King Alfred himself commissioned me to seek and find this son of Stefan, brother of Alfred, and to protect him until and if the time were to come when he would be called to ascend the throne."

Disbelief twisted Degellion’s soft features. "This man?"

"We remind Councilman Paird that this Council follows structured Rules of Order," the Chairman said.

Degellion, steaming, clamped tight his mouth.

"We appreciate what you say," the Chairman said gently to Dox. "But you must realize that if we were to accept anyone’s word at all, it would be the word of he who claims the throne."

"And his would be the word we’d want to hear," said the ruddy-faced man who’d spoken before.

"That’s right, Archibald," said the gaunt-faced Withegood. "And still we’d need verification." He added, after a thought, "With all due humility."

Gerald, nodding, cleared his throat nervously.

Dox sat down; Shaerden followed.

The others waited.

"I must admit," Gerald said, after a moment, "That all of this comes as as much a surprise to me as it does to you. Chairman, Archibald, Withegood, other Council-members, as Dox says, we’ve known each other as businessmen, neighbors, citizens. We’ve known each other most of our lives. I can understand why you might have trouble believing it.