40 Pouring

I remember that night so well.  I poured myself into the preparations; there was so much to get right – so much that could go wrong.

“Damn!  Look at the rain, Mother.  It’ll ruin the whole evening.”

“I think it’s rather appropriate,” I said.

We stood next to each other, watching the rain settling into a steady downpour.  Dull and heavy, it suited my mood perfectly.

My son, however, was determined to be upset about it.  “But we won’t be able to enjoy the outdoor entertainments.  Four hundred people cooped up inside all night…”

“We can move the jugglers and fire eaters and people of that sort indoors to mingle amongst the tables, Sedwin.”

“And we’ll line the dancing girls up in front of our table so we don’t have to see the rest of the rabble,” commented my daughter from the doorway.

Sedwin brightened a little at this.  “Sometimes, Diwens, you have some good ideas.”

“And don’t you forget it, little brother.”

He winced at this and whined, “We’re twins!”

I sighed.  “Behave, Di.  As long as the Crown Prince is alive, your birth order matters little.”

“And where is our beloved…”

“Right here, little sister.”  Wirras entered the room with his usual flourish.  “I was just looking over the banqueting hall.  Everything is just as it should be, Mother.  Polished silver, fine linen and the best wine.”

Sedwin frowned.  “The best wine?  Why…?”

“Because the best wine will smooth over any other unpleasantness.  Well then, children, let us prepare ourselves for our guests.  And remember, your best clothes, your costliest jewels.  I want them to fully understand where the true power lies, for as long as they are with us.”

I paused at the door of my apartments, leaning my head against the cool wood, enjoying the moment of peace.  Some decisions weigh heavily, even when they are the right ones.  Then, I took a deep breath and went inside.

Instantly, my ladies flocked around me, twittering and fussing.  When all the preparations were complete, I stood before the mirror and tried to identify the person looking back at me under layers of clothes, elaborate wig and sparkling jewels, but she was lost, buried beneath layers of tradition and politics.  I wondered who she really was.

A light tap on the outer door announced my chamberlain, who informed me that the guests had begun to arrive.

“Thank you, Chervai.  Please ask their royal highnesses to join me in the Hall of Statues.  We will wait there until all our guests have gathered.”

He bowed and left.  Two pages picked up the end of my train, four guards arranged themselves fore and aft, and my ladies gathered in a line behind me.  We met Diwens with a similar group on the way to the rendezvous, where my sons were already waiting.  There was some attempt at talk but Wirras and I were quiet and the twins soon gave up.  Thankfully, it was not long before Chervai told us that everyone was in place.

We arranged ourselves in our correct order; myself and Wirras, the twins, then our combined retinue trailing behind us, and went to meet the company.  Trumpets and heralds announced our entrance and we processed up the banqueting hall, nodding with regal distain to individuals who happened to catch our eye.  We placed ourselves in front of our seats but remained standing; so did everyone else.

“My lords and ladies,” I said, “I bid you welcome.  You will each find that a glass of wine has been poured for you as we were processing.  Please, take your glasses, for I wish to propose a toast.”

Before me stood the head of each of the noble families with three other representatives, mostly their spouses and eldest children, but in some cases heirs from a different branch of the family.  This night had been months in the planning and now that plan was come to fruition.  I glanced at Wirras, who nodded his encouragement.  We were doing the right thing, for the country, and for the crown.

“The toast I wish to propose is to the continued dignity and prosperity of our great nation.  I give you Sardovia!”

“Sardovia!” they all cried, and drank.