The Death Knell...
Thaddeus
felt the pall of death when he entered Stephen's chamber. The somber and hushed
tones of the Death Knell played throughout the castle corridors—minstrels
preparing those within the castle for Stephen's impending demise. Thaddeus
would have ordered them quiet, ordered them to stop playing were it not for the
fact their music would inform those who cared about the fate of their precious
prince that he was gone.
At
Stephen's last breath, a signal would be given to the minstrels from the
chamber window. The final notes would drift away and the music would stop. The
people within the castle and the surrounding courtyard would then know Stephen
was dead.
Off
to the side, as he had seen her many times before during this last year,
Lieutenant Pemura stood at a podium recording in scrolls what was happening for
the Caldysian chronicles. Her elfin-style face looked haggard with sorrow and
weariness. How many times had she recorded Stephen being so close to death?
Thaddeus had never asked her, and she probably had lost count, but the effects
showed on her face. Her round brown eyes were heavy, clouded.
Her
long auburn hair was pulled back only in a tail, the standard Rashule Braid
forgotten for the sake of haste. She lifted her head to exchange a sorrowful
look with Thaddeus for only a brief moment then returned her attention to the
scroll.
In
that one instant, Thaddeus saw a tear fall down her cheek, reflected in the
soft torch light just above her station. How hard it must be for this woman,
this scribe, to record all things of significance for the Royal Chronicles. How
difficult it must be for her to divorce herself from her emotions. This time,
however, though she fought bravely to control her composure, it was all too
clear she was losing the battle. Thaddeus did not envy her.
He
turned to the canopied bed, where he had shared every night this last year with
Stephen, holding him, monitoring his breathing. Though the act of sexual
connection could not be performed due to Stephen's illness, there were other
things they did to express their love. The holding, the touching, the kissing…
in Thaddeus watching over Stephen like a dragon guarding a valuable treasure,
and in Stephen playing his harp for Thaddeus, his music as beautiful as Shevna
waking up to Spring. In these things they had made love time and time and time
again.
The
bed had been their safe harbor in both sickness and in joy; a source of comfort
when Stephen battled against the breathing attacks that sought to steal oxygen
from his lungs and body. It had also been a shelter for them at the end of those
long days after taking care of affairs of state, or Stephen's lessons and
dealing with Megar and Folon. It was a place where they could rest in each
other's arms and love each other simply by touch.
Thaddeus
could not help but think how fitting it would be for Stephen's final moments to
be in Thaddeus's arms… in this bed.
Both
Benesh and Kinarr hovered over the dying youth, hidden from Thaddeus's eyes by
the red velvet curtains that made up the canopy and served as a small means of
privacy for Stephen.
Tamor
sat by Stephen's side, holding his son's limp and pale hand between his own
pale and shaking ones. He looked up at Thaddeus through a slit in the curtains
and gave his son a smile.
"He
has come, Stephen." Tamor eased Stephen's hand to the bed and stood,
reaching out, no doubt, to brush the blond hair away from his son's face. "I'll
send him over." He then turned and slowly walked up to Thaddeus. His
stride was burdened and heavy, his stature slumped in the pending grief and
obvious sickness coursing through his body.
"Thaddeus,"
he whispered, and took the younger man by the shoulders. The two gazed deeply
into each other's eyes. Thaddeus did not bother to hide how he felt, his
inability to accept what was happening.
Tamor's
soul revealed his acceptance of this moment from years of preparation. This
time, however, there would be no reprieve. Stephen would not make it through
the night. It was clear in Tamor's face, written there like some noxious decree
no matter how much Thaddeus wanted to deny it.
"We
have been prepared for this since the healers told us of his sickness,
Thaddeus," Tamor said. "You have only been with my son for a little
over a year. You knew of his sickness, but you have had so little time to
prepare for the outcome. I fear more for your heart than I do my own."
Thaddeus
worked his jaw as he fought to bite back his tears. "Majesty? What are you
saying?" He knew what Tamor was saying, but as with all cases of denial,
to hear the words spoken rather than conjectured upon was a necessary evil.
Tamor
gripped Thaddeus's arms tighter. "He will not live to see the sunrise,"
he whispered, the threat of tears choking his voice.
And
there they were—the final words on the matter. No conjecture this time, no room
for error or miscalculation of symptoms. Thaddeus tensed, and the need to weep
defeated his attempts to hold back the tears.
"I
can't accept that, Majesty. I won't accept that." If he kept faith in his
denial, if he gave power to it, perhaps his belief would merit another day for
him to bask in the love of his heart and soul.
Believe Stephen will live and he
will. Believe it, believe it… believe it!
"You
must accept it, Thaddeus," Erik said as he stepped closer and reached out
to tenderly, firmly squeeze the tense shoulder. "You must be brave for
Stephen's sake. Let him see your strength. He so fears leaving you behind. It
is the one thing breaking his heart. Draw on that reserve of stubborn pride you
harbor within you."
Thaddeus
took in a few deep and shaky breaths and quickly brushed a hand over his eyes. "I
wish to see him alone, if it would be permitted me?"
"It
is permitted," Tamor said, his tone of anguish ripping into Thaddeus like
a merciless sword cutting his heart in half. "I have said my farewells to
him many times over the course of his life. He has asked for no more medicines.
He is tired and wishes to sleep."
Thaddeus
knew what Tamor was really saying. He needed assurance. "I will ease him
into the next world, my king. I swear it."
Tamor
lovingly put a hand to Thaddeus's cheek. "I know you will. Come to me when
it is over. We will grieve together."
Thaddeus
nodded, and a few tears escaped his eyes once again. He knew what this was
doing to Tamor—what Stephen's death would mean to both the king and the land of
Caldys, but neither were important to Thaddeus. He did not care for politics or
family or any other thing in the world but the dying youth in the bed before
him.
Nevome, Nevarie… my soul, my heart.
To be parted from you will be death for me. But I vowed to protect you. I vowed
to ease any pain inflicted on you. I vowed to hold you as dear to my life as my
own breath. But you are my breath, you are my heartbeat. I live and breathe and
will myself to feel because of you. Oh, I shall not tarry long in your wake,
Nevome. Would that I could heal you in some way, but you shall not go into the
next life alone. I know you will want me to live on, but without you I have no
life.
Benesh
and Kinarr approached, carrying away with them their bags of herbs and oils.
Outside the rain fell in torrents as lightning flashed and thunder ripped
through the sky. The elderly healer gazed out the window, his body weary, his
spirit tired.
"The
rain seems to know when shadows cross over a loved one's soul, as though coming
to wash away the pain such shadows always leave behind." The comment was
made possibly more for his own pain than that of the others around him. He too
had lived with this burden since Stephen had become ill. He took in a deep
breath and approached Tamor with reverence and compassion.
"It
will not be long now, my king." He turned to Thaddeus. "Go to him. He
needs you more than ever."
Benesh
lowered his head, his face streaked with tears that glistened in the glow of
the chamber's lit torches, but the torches were bitterly dim now, in the
presence of impending death shadows.
Outside,
the minstrels played on.
Kinarr
drew close to Thaddeus, taking the warrior's arm. Thaddeus saw the tears
streaming down the lieutenant's face, the soft green eyes full of pain. Kinarr
loved Stephen. He had been the one who would have taken up the position of
Stephen's warrior guard had Thaddeus not returned to Caldys. Now he and Shumway
were back together, lovers in spite of their differences in rank. Kinarr would
need his captain in more ways than just military focus now.
"Go
to Shumway for your comfort," Thaddeus leaned in and whispered in Kinarr's
ear, putting a comforting hand to his friend's neck. "You've done all you
can for Stephen, Kin. Now it's my turn." A small kiss to Kinarr's cheek
sealed the request.
Kinarr
only nodded, trying to speak but unable to. He gave Thaddeus's arm an
affectionate squeeze and followed Benesh.
The
healer, Kinarr, and Pemura, who left her writing materials on the podium,
slowly walked to the door, followed by General Erik, who turned to Thaddeus. "I
will inform the other guards. The burden of telling them will not lie on your
shoulders."
Thaddeus
inclined his head in gratitude.
Tamor
took his arm in a gentle and compassionate squeeze. "You were his hope, my
son," he said. "When you entered Stephen's life, he saw a chance to
live. You opened up a world for him he never was allowed to be a part of
before."
Thaddeus
nodded. The tears steadily flowing now, and he would not stop them. It would
not be what Stephen wanted, but he could not deny them. They were as real as
his pain, and he could not run from it or ignore it.
"As
he did for me, Majesty," he choked.
Tamor
pulled Thaddeus into a warm embrace, only for a brief but meaningful moment.
Then he released him and hurried after Erik, Benesh, and Kinarr.
The
door closed behind them and Thaddeus felt the weight of death hovering over the
room. He turned to the curtained bed and feared what he would see, but it was
Stephen who laid there. Thaddeus's soul.
"Thaddeus?"
Stephen's
voice, weak yet full of need, broke Thaddeus out of his grief-stricken
paralysis.
He
ignored the threat of impending death and stepped closer to the bed, unbuckling
his armor and setting it on the floor as he neared. "I am here, Nevarie,"
he said. "And I will never leave your side."
He
undressed to his tunic, pulling out the rainbow cloth given to him upon their
bonding ceremony from the pouch hooked to his sword belt. He let the belt drop
to the floor, uncaring of the sound it made, for all sounds now, even the music
of the minstrels that filled the air with their soft notes, were as dead to him
as his spirit, dying in the presence of this merciless horror.
He
opened the curtains and gazed upon the still, pale youth on the bed, propped
against the headboard to allow more ease of breathing. His normally brilliant,
golden hair was now dimmed in the moisture of feverish sweat.
Stephen
opened his eyes, and even in the presence of a death patiently waiting for his
body to expire, the prince was able to smile. "I am not afraid… Thaddeus.
You taught me… not to fear."
Thaddeus
stepped onto the dais where the bed was stationed. He slowly moved to Stephen's
side, pulled back the covers as Stephen held out his arms. He slid in between
the sheets and pulled his charge close to him, easing the prince's head onto
his shoulder.
"Are
you in pain?" Thaddeus whispered, tenderly kissing the sweat-covered brow.
Stephen was warm, the fever engulfing his body. Thaddeus reached over to the
table at his side and lifted a rag from the bowl of water. He wrung it out and
used it to wipe the sweat from Stephen's hair and face.
"My
body… is numb now. Benesh said… this would happen. It hurts to breathe… but
that is… normal for me." He spoke haltingly, struggling to find what
little breath he could pull into his lungs between the words.
Thaddeus
gently ran the cloth over Stephen's pale features, combing it through his hair.
"I will keep watch," he assured. "Rest now."
Stephen
eased into Thaddeus's hold, placing his trembling palm over his heart. Could he
feel the maddening beat under the flesh and ribs? Thaddeus fought to control
it, but it was a losing battle.
"Before
I sleep… I wish to… speak my heart," Stephen whispered.
"Then
speak, Nevome."
"I
want you to know… how much… I love you."
Thaddeus
choked back the tears. "Such things we have said to each other time and
time again, shown each other through action every day. I have never doubted. I
have always known the depth of your love."
"Have
you?"
"Yes."
"Still,
I wanted to… voice the words… one more time."
Thaddeus
kissed him again. "I love you as well, Nevarie."
"I
wish I could… play for you… one more time."
Thaddeus
looked up to a cloth with its swirling rainbow colors nailed to the wall above
them. He positioned himself and pulled it from the wall, spreading it over
Stephen. The youth reached out to grip it.
"Warriors
burn the bodies of their dead, do they not?"
"Yes.
To release their spirits to the heavens or to join with their lovers in soul."
"I
would ask… such for me."
Thaddeus
shut his eyes, forcing the stinging tears back. He choked down the sob that
threatened to escape. The burn was preferable to the actual shedding of tears
before this youth. A few minutes ago he needed the tears to flow. Now all he
wanted was for them to vanish.
"As
you wish, Nevome."
"And
this will be… wrapped around… my body." Stephen gripped the cloth. "And
the music… will fly into the wind… and surround you, Nevarie. And I will… never
leave your side."
"Yes,"
Thaddeus whispered, unwilling to trust his voice to not quiver if he spoke
louder.
"Take
a piece of… this cloth for yourself… and carry it with you."
"I
will. I will always carry you with me."
Stephen
smiled as he rested his head one last time over Thaddeus's chest. "I
remember the day… you gave me this cloth. The day after… our joining of souls.
I played for you again, and… you told me how the music… reminded you of the
birds in the jungle… you traveled through… with Jetar. How their mixed song…
filled the air… and you were in wonder… over the different colors… of feathers
that greeted… your eyes."
Thaddeus
smiled as he wrapped his arms tighter around Stephen. "You carried the
cloth with you for months afterward. Then finally we had to nail it above your
bed when you saw how dirty it was getting."
"It
was more… than just a piece of cloth… to me, Thaddeus. It was a symbol… of our
union."
Stephen's
voice faded off as his breathing grew more labored by the conversation.
Thaddeus pulled him closer. "We need not speak anymore, Nevome. Ease your
breathing. Let sleep come to you now."
"I
do not wish… to leave you. I know if I sleep… our time here together… will be
over."
"You
will always be with me, Stephen. It is as you said. We have joined. How can I
but believe you will always be with me? Now please, Nevome. Ease your fear for
me. I will be fine. I promise."
Stephen
wrapped his arm around Thaddeus's chest and tightened his hold. "My life…
my soul… my heart, all these things… you made… better this last year, Nevome.
Never… forget that."
Thaddeus
nuzzled his cheek against Stephen's brow. "I won't. Not ever. Sleep, my
prince. Close your eyes. I'll be with you… forever."
And
with those words, Stephen closed his eyes. "Forever," he whispered.
Sleep
took him into its peaceful realm quickly.
