I looked down at the kneeling former prince at my feet. He was holding a sword, but it was outstretched towards me as a presentation rather then a threat. This was how things should be, I decided, as I motioned for one of my guards to come forward and take the sword from him. I wasn’t such a fool as to let him approach me with the sword himself. After all I was the one who took his title away from him; I couldn’t imagine that he was found of me no matter what gestures he made.
I could hear the people in the court whispering. Most of them were my own people that I had brought with me, but some of them were still the original courtiers who had been around before I took over the country. I found them very valuable, as hostages of good conduct. They were from good families every one of them and their families could be made to bow to my wishes as soon as I reminded them that I had great-aunt so and so in my clutches. It wasn’t as if I didn’t hear the whisperings of the original palace inhabitants, they called me a barbarian, I was a barbarian invader sitting on their throne, filling their castle with my smelly and uncouth men. I didn’t really care what they thought though, culture hadn’t gotten them anywhere except easy to overrun when I had decided that I wanted their pathetic little country.
“I thought it only right that you carry that sword your majesty,” said the former prince, still bowing low at my feet. “It has always been carried by the king of this country so it is yours by right.” By right of conquest I added mentally as I took the sword from my guard and looked it over. Not to mention the fact that this man in front of me was the son of the last king, and therefore was handing his father’s sword over to his father’s killer. That pleased me. It meant that I had finally caused enough fear and earned enough respect that people were willing to betray their family to make me happy. That was as it should be, I would have to remember this man, he would go far in my government, maybe not a prince again, but I would see my way to give him some worthy position.
I stood and made a show of fastening the sword onto my belt for the court. I could tell who was among my people, and who was among the conquered, even if I couldn’t tell by clothing, by their expressions at that moment. The people who had always been a part of this court looked more defeated then they had before, and my people looked more triumphant. I liked the way it felt on my hip, no matter what I could say about my people, these people did have better craftsmanship then ours did. This sword was nicer looking and had better balance then any I had ever worn before.
“As I thought, that sword’s rightful place is on your hip, your majesty,” said the kneeling had-been prince. “It becomes you.” I smiled down at the man, yes, he would go far indeed. Any man willing to throw aside his feeling to the extent he was willing to flatter me after all I had done to him deserved promotion.
I grew to love that sword, I took it everywhere. It truly was a sign of power, no matter where I went people who had refused to look at me out of hatred before now went out of their way to praise me. “That sword becomes you, you’re majesty,” I was told or, “that sword is very becoming, very nice indeed.” Even my queen, the daughter of the former king I had married as a gesture of peace to the populace, became friendlier now that I was wearing the sword.
“You’ll take care of that sword so our son can wear it some day?” she asked me one night, stroking my cheek. I smiled at this, the promise that our union would become warmer indeed.
To be continued...
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