by Carl E. Mullin ©2020
“Who are you and what have you done with Willy?” a stern and familiar voice demanded.
The man in his highly decorated red military uniform turned to the voice with a quizzical look. “Well, blessed my heart, but could this possibly be one General-Marshal Percy Oakrod?”
“You’re damned right it is, sir,” the tall man answered with a deep frown. “Now, you cannot possibly be one Lord William Bradcock. He would never be caught dead with that paunch of yours.”
“Oh, I’m afraid the good life has proved too agreeable with me, Percy old boy.”
“Egad! You, the prince of heartbreakers? Surely not!”
“I was about to ask you about that rather broad white moustache you have on the back of your head. Rather peculiar place I’ll have you know.”
They glared at each other. Then they burst into laughter. “Now, there’s no saving us old fools!” Oakrod cried as they shook hands and slapped each other’s shoulder.
“Speaking of heartbreakers, at least I still have hair on my head, Percy,” Bradcock grinned as the beautiful music played in the background.
Oakrod’s proper moustache with sharp-pointed corners curved into a smile. He rubbed his baldness, “Oh, I don’t rightly know, Willy, seems quite a few ladies have found it irresistible.”
“And here I am, thinking it must be your ribbon and medals!” They laughed again.
“But, damnit, Willy, it’s damn good to see you out and about here in London. Why, we haven’t seen you in a good long while. Marcia has been pestering me after you for months without end.”
“Ah, your wife’s a dear, my dear Percy. We thought the world of her and of you. I’m afraid you must forgive my tardiness in attending to these social affairs of late.”
“Oh, never mind you, never mind. You need some time for yourself, Willy. I understand, we all do. You have been in our prayers after these unhappy events, old friend. But now with your presence here, the happiness of this gay affair is now completed.”
“Indeed, indeed,” Bradcock nodded. “Death himself cannot prevent my arrival here, no matter the swiftness of his silent wings.”
“Good man!” Oakrod slapped his back. “By all the Gods below, it’s grand to see you again and, of course, you of all people would not wish to miss this happy event.”
“Ah, you know me too well. But, I say, where is Marcia?”
“Ah, her aunt has taken ill again so she must send her regrets. Just as well. She would have made too much of a fuss over you and try her matchmaking skill with you and some luckless matron or some such silliness.”
“A little busy bee buzzing all day?”
“Precisely!” They chuckled together. “Just as well, the Great Hall is decked full with flowering maidens buzzing around most prettily.”
“I say, Percy, it seems that quite a few look alluring with their bare bosoms.”
“Ah, yes, the latest in the Minoan fashion from Crete. I was given to understanding that this bare-breasted dress is taking the civilized world by storm. Seems that Knossos is clashing mightily with Paris and Milan for the supreme affections of the silly little bees everywhere.”
“Most gayful silly little birds. We could do with more of their kind.”
“Indeed. They are the salve of any man in his life.”
“Particularly for us the graybeards. A pretty goddess of dawn to warm the heart of an old sun.”
“Aye, and pity her father for his lighter wallet.”
“The things a father must do to secure the future happiness of hoped-for progeny.”
“The poor boy will never see this coming,” Oakrod chuckled.
“Love. As deadly as war,” Bradcock agreed.
“The mirror will always outclass a sword least his heart be as steel. Observe how these fair maidens approach their rivals with a heartfelt smile. The better to acquire intelligence on their tradecraft, their list of choice targets and, perchance, an alliance of sorts against some luckless filly.”
“I do hope that some helpless boy will have prepared some proper buttresses against their wiles.”
The old men looked at each other with a quizzical look and smiled, “Nope!”
Oakrod sighed, “It is good that the intelligence of the youth has not improved in the slightest for we shall have hours of amusement at their foibles.”
“How true, how true.” He nodded at the girls cluttering together in mutual excitement. “Silly little birds displaying their breasts like that. It may be July but we haven’t had particularly warm weather in quite a few years. Thames had frozen solid until last April.”
“Indeed, Willy. A goodly number of nobles and the well-offs have retreated to the warmth of the southern Italia of late. But the chill reached even Naples, I’ve heard.”
“This far?”
“Now some have gone off in search of a villa in the northern Africa. I fear this old world may yet grow colder still in the years to come as had been in the days of Julian the Wise.”
“Leastways, we are better prepared than the Romans of old. These newfanged machines, the thorium power plants, they are providing unmatched heat and power even to the humblest of our poor at an affordable price. And the airships transported the choicest of tropical fruits from the far-flung India to prevent the scurvy in even the sorriest of our little lads.”
“Aye, and our militias shall be better positioned to resist any renewed migration than the Romans should the need arise.”
“You would know, being the Commander in Chief to our Queen. At least a little nip of frost make the nipple pleasantly rosy on the snow-white tit.”
“We all must make sacrifices for beauty.” They chuckled their quiet approval. “Even the ladies of the court have fallen victims.”
“Not the Queen too?”
“Even the Queen. She mourned still and she is young still. And strong. Well, in body at least.”
Bradcock sighed, “Still.”
Oakrod bent closer to his friend, “Don’t look now but here comes Robert.”
“Ah, Sir Robert Walpole, how good to see you here.”
“And the same to you, my lord. But, why, it is a happy day to see you here. She will be greatly gratified to have your presence here on this a joyful day for all of London and England.”
“Oh, I quite agree, I quite agree. And how is the famed orator of temperance? You are well, I trust?”
“Quite well but for a slight sorrow of an expanding grith,” Walpole answered as he pat his small belly with pseudo-graveness.
“Seems we have a common foe!” The men laughed together.
“True, I must resort to a bit more tea and crackers and less stock in cakes.”
“A capital idea! And a bit more fresh air too.”
“Ah, a delightful idea it is too, my lord.”
Bradcock grew serious, “I say, where is the Queen? I was given to understanding that this ceremony should have begun by now.”
Oakrod and Walpole glanced at each other. “Ah,” Walpole lowered his voice to a bare whisper, “an episode it seems.”
“The Crown Prince?” Bradcock whispered back, edginess creeping into his voice. “Is he well?”
“Not so bad. This time.”
“Thanks be to the Gods above and below. Still, the doctors should have found a cure for his sickness by now. Alexander’s what? Seven?”
“Five.”
He swore under his breath. “The poor mother’s suffered enough. The last one was bad enough, but a child!”
“Fate,” Oakrod said.
“Hang the fate.”
Oakrod looked around, “I agree but what can we do?”
“Find a better therapist at the very least. Or a volva. Anything.”
Walpole interrupted, “The Privy Council has been doing this very thing for years. What do you expect us to do?”
He sighed, “Forgive me, it’s just difficult to accept this train of life at times. Her Majesty has suffered a long time and I would like to see an end to this sorry affair, friend.”
“So do we all. I suppose we must sacrifice more roosters for a start.”
“Unhappy birds. I say, Percy, how are the affairs in Nicaragua?”
Oakrod answered, “We have an extensive debriefing with Marshal Popova.”
“Julia? I haven’t seen her anywhere here.”
“Back in Nicaragua. The matter’s not settled to the Privy Council’s satisfaction, or to the new king of Iberian Empire.”
He scoffed, “Poppycock. His Majesty should be gracious. It’s our blood and treasure that brought him his gilded rule over that tropical spot.”
“But he must appeal the native elite of Iberia if he is to secure his crown,” Walpole said. “He’ll need them to make their people fall in, being a Frank and all that sort.”
Bradcock sighed, “That war was a bloody mess. We shan’t need to waste any more men than we have to but some gracious act would be welcome, and not only by me, Robert.”
“Quite understandable,” Oakrod said before his face became sour. “Willy, that battle was on the edge all day. Most people don’t know this but our air superiority have grown doubtful over there. Those bastards were clever, dissembling those planes of theirs. They boxed them up for transport and marked them as food for Nicaragua. They then reassembled them, all two hundred of them.”
“What? So many?”
“They were trained for this adventure and for a good while too from what we can glean of any man we can lay our hands on before they suicided. Nasty business. Even now those uncounted for have fallen back into the jungles to stir unrest there. The very reason we sent Julia back there.”
“But. I say, how did our Ravens miss this intelligence? Our reports hadn’t an inkling of this. The number required to service this size of air force, why that would easily be two thousand in addition to their navy and the forts. How could they have slipped those fighters and crew under our noses? The Ravens are supposed to be our best.”
Walpole answered, “And they should be. I’ve taken the liberty of asking Lord Ulf to make an inquiry of his Guild and to see about the business of setting up a network within their Imperium.”
“Good man, that Ulf.”
Oakrod heard the tone in Bradcock’s voice, “You don’t approve?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt of his loyalty to the realm. He served the crown well for two hundred and forty years. It’s just…”
“What?”
“When he looks at you, you get a distinctive and unpleasant sense of being measured for a hearty meal. Unnerving.”
Walpole shrugged, “That is to be expected.”
“I accept the utility. I just find him discombobulating, is all. The Hermit Kingdom. Frightfully hard to get into.”
“Aye,” Oakrod nodded. “We have attempted to infiltrate many times before. And lost every one of our Ravens.”
“Our needs weren’t great before. This brazen filibustering of theirs has changed things now,” Walpole continued.
“This bad?” Bradcock scoffed. “We have enjoyed our air superiority for six hundred years since the Battle of Hastings when King Harold defeated Duke William with the help of a peasant girl and her dragon in 639.1”
“A story every English boy knows by heart. Every power since then seeks to acquire their own dragons and the girls to ride them. An expensive proposition,” Oakrod nodded. “The number of girls bold enough and able enough to control such temperamental beasts is exceedingly rare, the elite of elites with princely price.”
“Indeed, the dragons are semi-tamed in the best of times and possessed of a raw cunning equal to the most intelligent of our horses. They’re long-lived and difficult to breed, making them rare indeed. Only a lack of females peculiar to their kind have made them amenable to our girls’ control. Our girls have always enjoyed a high status and freedom compared to many darker nations, even in our common class. Their independence made possible by the months-long absence of men on their hunting or fishing trips in these colder regions. The land shaped their blood and their blood shaped the land. Only in these northern lands was it possible to discover that the dragons can be controlled by a womanly will of steel.”
“Quite right. For six hundred years, the dragons and their mistresses have been the mainstay of our might. But their rarity has forced us to pursue our ends by more mechanical methods. To accomplish what we cannot do with our dragons, we built trains, steamboats, and aeroships. We even built the aerocarrier to transport our dragons to far-flung sites, the better to conserve their animal strength. But no matter the power and reliability of the machine, they cannot hope to match our dragons’ speed and maneuverability. They are superior in every way but that’s changing now.”
“Eh? How can you say that, Percy?”
“The Purifiers have always disdained the dragons, you know that. Who knows why? Perhaps there’s no dragon in their parts of New Vinland. Perhaps, they consider the beasts evil. Or that they are against their women riding them. And they’re not alone in that. Many nations are resistant to the idea of a female auxiliary unit. But these atheists seem to have converted that into an advantage. Their planes are still deficient but they are improving with rapidity. They can stay in the air longer than the dragon’s allocated three-hour’s activity. They are tireless and relentless and men can fly them. They also have evolved new strategies now. Instead of contesting one plane against one dragon they have resorted to a swarm-style with a multitude of planes acting as a unit against a dragon. They’re trading quality for quantity, and I am unhappy to say that they have inverted our advantage neatly. A dragon can stay up five hours tops. Their plane can be up for six hours. It takes years to hatch and train a dragon. They can build a plane in a matter of days.”
“By all the Gods.”
“Indeed,” Walpole said. “I’m afraid a change is in order. The war has cost us a pretty penny. I thank our lucky stars that gold no longer has the value it once had a hundred years ago, thanks to the mining concerns up by the moon.”
“A mixed blessing, Sir,” Bradcock said. “Good for the carriers of notes, not so good for the pensioner or a laborer.”
“Ah, but the Fates have blessed us with a slow and predictable process of mining that extra-terrestrial gold. It takes months, years, to bring a new concern fully on-line. The new supply will be factored in by the trader long before. That should slow the inflation to a predictable rate unlike those infernal papers. Then the popular consumption of gold for decorative and medical purpose should limit the supply, assuming no fresh discovery for a while.”
Bradcock looked and said, “Ah, we have another company approach.”
Walpole looked, “Why, that is Sir Gaius Wren the architect. Good day, sir!”
“And a happy day to all of you, gentlemen! A happy event it is for I have been searching for you, Sir, Walpole.”
“You have found your man. What is it that you wished to see me about?”
“Money, of course,” Oakrod whispered into Bradcock’s ear.
Wren beamed and tapped his cane. “Capital! Well then, let me be the messenger of glad news. It gives me great pleasure to announce that I, Sir Wren, have been appointed to prepare the upcoming Games. I intend to make these games the finest games ever to grace the holy rites to the Father of Gods and men. This will resound to the glory of London and of the Five Kingdoms of England, and to Zeus himself. Alas! this bold venture will require a certain…” he thought for a moment in a flourish gesture, “…money.”
It was clear that Walpole already knew what was coming but his famed gracious manner carried the day. “How much?”
“Ah, my good man, I could name my figures but I am in a certain need to ascertain my budget before I can begin my noble work.”
“Ah.”
“And I came in a search of a certain Master of the Royal Mint.”
“Sir Invictus Newton.”
“Precisely. I have been seeking after that old crank for days now after my happy appointment. He is burying his nose in the Pythagorean theory of music being related to the hidden forces of nature or else the dusty details of alchemy. My lords, I must have answers to my inquires.”
“Well,” Walpole answered, “he is a priest of Apollo and Baldaeg in addition to the natural philosophy as well as the Royal Mint. I think I can assure you that he is quite a busy man even well into his seventies.”
“But I must have it and this man is hiding from me. Surely you would not have dingy games on your hands. Why that would be a national disgrace!”
“Oh, very well. Let us put this matter to bed while we have the time before the Queen is to come. Begging your leave, my lords.”
“Be well, good sirs!” Bradcock said.
Oakrod listened to the soft classical music filling the hall. He turned to his friend with a serious look, “Willy, old friend, I fear we must change our ways. A new kind of war is coming after the sacred games and we must make our preparations now.”
––––––––
At the other end of the high-arched hall, Lt. Hannah Morganstein slid past the great doors a bit and shut them behind her at once. She jogged a bit to join the line of her unit before assuming a proper stand at attention.
“Spitfire,” Captain Bree Waterbrook said.
“Skylark, sir,” Hannah answered with a grin as she caught her breath.
“About time you got here, Hannah. What’s been keeping you?”
“I have a hot hand, sir.”
“You couldn’t stay away on the night before this, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir.”
The captain made an annoyed face before she whispered, “Do you really think we wouldn’t notice?”
“Notice what, Captain?”
“The way you jogged to us.”
“I was in a hurry, sir. Don’t want to miss all the fun.”
“To the universal admiration of the boys here I would wager, Lieutenant.”
She flashed a broad and innocent smile, “I’m not quite sure how to follow you, sir.”
“Your ample assets. Shameless.”
“Oh. Did I?”
“Your plausible deniability needs work, Dragon Rider. As your superior, I do expect you to conduct yourself as an officer and a lady. Do keep this in mind for the duration of this happy event.” She heard the snickers from the girls in the lineup. She shot a stern look at them. They fell silent with their lips struggling to be still. She leaned over the diminutive rider, “And Hannah, the rest of us would like a shot at some of the prime meat too.”
“Ten-four, love,” she whispered back.
Waterbrook scoffed, “I really don’t see what Captain Mark sees in you. You two have nothing in common. She’s tall and dignified. You, short and common as a milkmaid. I’ve half-expected you two to kill each other a long time ago. You almost did.”
She shrugged a slight shrug. “I don’t know why. We just like each other. That’s all I can say, sir. But this is so exciting to be here. The Queen herself, the works.”
“So do we all. I do hope that Dagny’s not too unnerved by all this pomp.”
“Dagny? Oh, if there’s anything I know about that girl, she’s…how do you say it? Cool as cucumber,” she nodded with a cheerful finality.
––––––––––
Dagny paced down the great foyer from one end to another and then back again. The fingers of her white-gloved hands explored each with a restless motion. She stopped at one ornate end full of the paintings of the royal personages and spun around. Her boots paced in a brisk manner to the opposite end. She halted and spun again and retraced her path, her fingers dancing all the while.
She spotted herself in a large mirror on the wall. She inspected her fresh crimson wool uniform accessorized with her sidearm and her sword. She checked her tan corset and found its double belts in proper place. Three large brass buttons were snapped together on her corset. She tugged down the helm of her crimson jacket peeking out from under the corset. She licked her lips as she made sure that the three large buttons held her jacket flap in a proper order over her right breast. The embroidered large lion over her left breast suffered no frayed end. She turned to examine her backside and straightened the rear end of her brown leather loincloth over her bare buttocks.
She pinched them for any flabbiness and made a rueful face. That Hannah can be a bit much at times. She checked her small ponytail and puffed out her black silk ribbon holding it. She faced the mirror again and tugged up her gold-trimmed black collar embroidered with a golden pattern of olive leaves spouting from the front. She rolled her shoulders and winced at the soreness of her ribs under her corset.
She breathed deep and straightened her sword. She frowned at her image and bent closer to check her eyes and lips. She straightened and nodded to herself. She waited.
A minute later her feet were pacing the polished marble floor. She stopped at one end, spun, and retraced her steps, her fingers dancing.
With a huff, she stopped at the mirror again. She checked her face and lips again. She brushed her thick earlocks with her fingers. She scoffed and wiped her fingertip across the mirror.
The reflection darkened and in the middle of dark mirror a graphic video came to life, showing the palace high above the city. A voice emitted from the mirror, “… it will be a superb day today at the famed Buckingham Tower for the honoring of our very own Captain Dagny Mark. Already London has set many new records in the popular assemblies during her triumphant path through the towering skyline, an estimated two hundred-thousand souls lining the multitude of skybridges and terraces.” The video switched to herself standing over the two tigers as she waved to the people amid the shower of confetti and flowers. “’The Girl With Dragonfire Hair’, that’s the name bestowed on her by her adoring masses of good English boys and girls waving their patriotic colors. From the highborn to commoner, they united in a splendid display of pride for one of their own who has brought much credit to the true English spirit with her daring exploits. The worlds shall surely remember this excellent heroine in ages to come.”
She swallowed hard as she listened.
A female voice broke in, “For our foreign friends and neigbors who are just tuning in, welcome and cheers! You are observing the live image of our glorious London, the City of Clouds, and the future home of the famed Olympics Games to be held next July in honor of Almighty Zeus. This has been a very exciting month for all Five Kingdoms of England.”
“For those who might wish to know, London, the City of Clouds, began as a humble military fort for the conquering Romans in the year 48.4 near the sacred temple established by Brutus, the grandson of famed Aeneas, centuries earlier. It was named Londonium to garrison an important trade river, Thames. Over centuries it grew in importance, first with the Roman Britons, then with the independent Britons, then with the conquering Saxons who made it a vital city during the conquest of Britain.
A significant event came in year 449.4 with the death of King Edward the Devoted. From boyhood, Edward had devoted himself to the Lady Artemis the Huntress who he met one day on her sacred hunt on the hunting grounds near London. So deeply affected by the goddess, he took a vow of chastity and died childless despite being married. In his will, he left behind an extraordinary donation to Lady Artemis; a large span of virgin forests and hunting grounds ringing London. His will stipulated that these woodlands were to be left in the state of nature with minimal management and little to no development on them except those vital to the realm, such as security. It is to be enjoyed by both beasts and men alike with no respect to their class. With the Donation, the horizontal expanse of London was checked. It had nowhere to go but up and below.
In the year 595.2, in the later years of Queen Elizabeth I, a great fire was ignited in an unfortunate bakery and quickly consumed the great and crowded mass of six-seven storied tenement homes over a period of four days. The destruction of a good seventy percentage was due to a summer that dried out the timbered homes, illegal construction, corruption and inefficiency of the Lord Mayor. After the fire was put out, the good Queen ordered that rebuilding of London be done with brick and stone. And so began the meteoric rise of London. With inventions of the steam engine and elevating lifts and tempered steel, man’s mind began to soar to once-unimaginable heights. The cunning designs and brash muscle combined to build stirring testimony of steel and stone to the splendid English spirit, the City of Clouds that you now bear witness to. Over to you, dear Mr. Blackerberry.”
“Thank you, Miss Alderhouse, for such a delightful introduction to our capital city. Now, we are aware of the time. For reasons known only to the Palace, the Queen has delayed her entrance to commence the ceremonies. I have been assured in strictest of confidence that there is no cause for alarm. The Queen is quite well. She is merely being delayed by some certain state matter. Now, let us pay some visit to some of the cheering crowds lining the skybr–”
Dagny swiped her fingers across the miroir-magique in a quick motion. The screen fazed to its reflective surface showing her whitening face. She closed her eyes and mouthed a prayer.
––––––––––
Miles away and alone by the English Channel, Ziya mouthed her prayer.
A witch-bottle was in one hand. A hammer in the other. She set the bottle down onto a handkerchief dressing a rock. Her hammer fell. The tiny bottle was puzzled to dust.
She rolled up the cloth and stepped into the cold waters. Over the waves she scattered the dust and its imprisoned shade to four directions. The cloth she tossed into the waters. She watched it float away by the rip tide.
She closed her eyes and whispered another prayer to Lady Hekate to convey the wicked toadman to his justice in the Otherworld.
Then it was done.
She breathed hard and walked inland. Her legs felt weak. There will be an inquiry. She wasn’t sure if her answers would satisfy the Order. If so, she wasn’t sure what to do afterward. She turned to watch the handkerchief disappear into the cold waves.
––––––––––
Excitement waved across the gathered crowd. The Queen is coming! The orchestra switched from their soothing strings to a more upbeat tempo. The various ladies and gentlemen separated to their appointed places, forming twined lines alongside the walls and waited. Their eyes fastened onto the raised platform where her throne sat.
A door opened at the rear. The Master of Ceremonies thumped his decorative spear and announced in a loud voice, “The Queen of the Five Kingdoms of England!”
The trumpets played “The Gods Save the Queen”. The Queen’s Guard marched in, full of shieldmaidens in their court uniforms with their bear pelt cloaks hanging at a rakish angle. They carried their round shields red with a gold lion. Accompanying each of them were large bears. The crowd shrunk back at them.
Then the Queen entered the hall. A small woman in a beribboned black dress with an open top strolled in, followed by a boy. “The Crown Prince,” the people whispered as they saw the rarely seen boy of five. Behind him a sword bearer looked around as she cradled a sword. The captain of the Guard followed with two more shieldmaidens and large soldiers. The Queen ascended the draped platform with her son, the sword bearer and the Captain with her two aides. As she turned to face the audience, the shieldmaidens in the front knelt and landed their shields onto the floor with a deep thud. Their eyes watched with wariness. Their bears sat beside them. The master thumped his spear, “Hear ye, hear ye, the Queen Victoria of the House of Hanover, the Bretwalda of All Saxons of the Kingdoms of Wessex, of Essex, of East Anglia, of Mercia, and of Northumbria!”
“The Gods save the Queen! The Gods save the Queen!” the crowd cheered.
She smiled to the people, softening her heavy-lidded blue eyes. “Our friends, our people, our honored guests from afar. It is good to see all of you and we bid you welcome. Oh! but it is a happy day for England and for the world. Peace has indeed come at last on her swift wings, bringing happiness and plenty to all. We pray that peace may dash your sons and daughters to your hearths so that the happiness of your homes and of your nations may be completed. To those who have sacrificed the noblest of your blood to the last drop, hear this and treasure this in your hearts, that England weeps with you and that we remember the courage and the mildness of your sons and daughters with a fond feeling. Our prayers we raise to the Gods that they might see fit to bless your homes with fresh-born sons and daughters to succor your heart-wounds. May they come to you in strength and beauty and with gayness to wipe the tears of each and every one of you, friends and former enemies now our beloved friends. We sigh to know that a long war is ended and the hot issues settled well. We pray to all the Gods that this newborn peace may last us all our years ’til we go to the houses of our fathers. Again, we bid you welcome and we bid you to share our meals and to break the bread with us in happiness and peace.”
“Our friends, you all know that Zeus, the Father of Gods and Men, has appointed our fair city to be the host of his sacred games. We make haste to bid each and every one of you to come and share with us our happiness in performing our holy duty to the Gods. Bring your best and the brightest to the games. Let the sweat of your finest sons and your daring daughters be a good sacrifice to the pleasure of Zeus. Let us compete together, not in hate or blood, but with goodly zeal for the greater glory of Zeus and for the honor of our nations. Please, join us in holiness and excellence.”
“And now we come to the purpose of this gathering,” she nodded to the Master at the far side of the hall.
The Master bowed his head in a brisk manner. The double doors opened to Captain Mark standing smart at attention. He thumped his spear, “Hear ye, hear ye! The Captain Dagny Mark of the Royal Service! The victrix of Nicaragua!”
The music played again. Dagny breathed deep and marched forward. The eyes followed her with wonder, admiration and study. She wished to crawl away from the prying eyes but she solidered on. She spotted familiar faces. Skylark. Spitfire. The girls beaming with joy. Her men on the opposite side looked on her with a great pride. A small smile played at the corners of her lips but she kept her eyes forward on the Queen. The walk felt like a mile. She noticed out of the corner of her eye a German military representative in her uniform, Captain Adele Günther, who smiled a warm smile. She felt a small surprise at her presence. It had been years. Then she saw Lord William Bradcock standing with Marshal Oakrod at the foot of the stairs. She almost stopped but she kept on. Oh, but he has grown old! Yet his quiet pride restored youth to his face. Her mouth struggled to stay firm.
Then she made it to the step and made a small bow of her head to the Queen. The Queen smiled a faint smile, “Captain Dagny Mark.”
“M – Your Majesty.” There, she had said it. All the hopes of her yesteryears have come to this.
“You look well, Captain.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I try to be presentable, Sire.”
“Old habits.” Then she looked around.
Dagny frowned.
“And where is the Dragon Rider who aided you so ably?”
Dagny frowned again and waited a moment. Then she turned her head back. She caught Hannah’s beaming eyes and stared at her. Hannah’s smile fazed in puzzlement. Confused, she pointed at herself. Dagny gestured with her head to come.
Hannah snapped at attention with an “ahem!” She stepped out of the line toward the center and stopped with a click of her heels. She made a smart about face and made the click of her heels. She marched toward Dagny and the Queen. At Dagny’s side she grasped her field cap off and clicked her heels and bowed. “Lieutenant Hannah Morganstein reporting, Sire.”
The Queen smiled, “So you are the Dragon Rider.”
“That would be me, Your Majesty,” she answered, eyeing Dagny for approval.
“We see,” the Queen looked at Dagny with a crafty look. “You two seem to know each other well.”
“Oh, yes, Your Majesty! We – we go back a while, in the Iberian Campaign, with th – the Duke, I mean under Julius Templehill.”
“Indeed? How?”
“Uh…we – we’d rather not say. Just that we, ah, met cute… Sire.” Dagny tried to keep her eyes from rolling.
The Queen’s icy-blue eyes looked at the captain again and smiled a small smile, “Seems that you have a talent for picking up interesting friends.”
“Yes, my – Your Majesty,” she nodded.
“And have you the occasion to meet our son?” She gestured forward a shy and serious-looking boy. His eyes were wide with wonder.
They bowed their heads, “Your Highness.” Dagny eyed the Crown Prince with a soft look and a small smile. The boy smiled a small smile in return. The Queen smiled as well but her eyes weren’t. Dagny’s heart dropped.
The Queen faced the audience. “Our friends and our beloveds,” she began, stressing the last word, “we know that some of you have wondered at the lateness of hour in our arrival. Let us ease your hearts and know no cause for alarm. Before we came, we examined more closely the events that inaugurate this happy day. Not only has our appreciation for Captain Dagny Mark’s heroism grown, so do ours for her able ally, Lt. Hannah Morganstein who stands before us today. Indeed they formed a splendid pair who sped us to this glorious victory. One cannot do without the other.” She eyed Dagny as she said this. “Therefore, it seems good to us that Lt. Morganstein should receive honor and recognition along with the bold Girl With Dragonfire Hair.”
“Lieutenant,” she said as a retainer stepped forward and snapped open a flat case with his white gloves. Hannah stepped forward and struggled to contain her glee when she looked into the satin lining. The Queen held up a medal, “The Distinguished Dragon Order. Awarded to those who demonstrated heroism or exceptional achievement in aerial flight.” As the lights popped, she pinned its ribbon over Hannah’s right breast under her name pin. She put her hands on the shoulder straps and kissed both cheeks. The lieutenant made a smart salute and stepped back.
“Now for Captain Mark.” Dagny stepped forth. “For her extraordinary heroism and gallantry that made this shieldmaiden a worthy equal to any man on the bloodland, we decree that a great honor be bestowed upon her.” A second retainer stepped forth and snapped open another case. The Queen held up the medal with both hands on the separated ribbon. Dagny’s heart skipped a beat. “For her noble deed, we grant her the King Alfred’s Order of Ethandun, our highest honor. Ages ago, the king instituted this in recognition of bold men who gave their all in the defeat of the Great Danish Army and safeguarded the future of free England. ‘Tis a great honor and not lightly given.” She directed her eyes onto the shieldmaiden. “And she well earned it.” At a nod, stunned Dagny breathed hard.
Her hand on her sword, she made an about face. As the lights popped fast, the Queen wrapped the ornate medal around her neck. Done, she turned to bow to the Queen who kissed her on both cheeks in a chaste manner. A smashing of applause followed with the popping lights. The Queen held up her hand. “There remains one last honor due her.”
Dagny shot her a surprised look.
The Queen gestured and a young teenaged girl with brown curvy hair came forth and knelt beside her. She offered up a sword in her hands. Dagny then noticed the sword-bearer’s wide and worshipful blue eyes onto her. Her stomach felt uneasy. The Queen pulled it out and it gleamed in the sunlight. She rested it in her free hand and held it up. “This is the Excalibur, the sword once wielded by Owain Ddantgwy known to the world as King Arthur, ‘The Bear’.” She nodded to the bears guarding her person with their mistresses. “And our honored ancestor. This is the very sword drawn from the storied stone brought to this island in the misty past by Brutus, the father of all kings hence. The sword once kept by a wise nymph of an ancient lake in trust,for the king, promised by the goddess of this land. This very sword that made a legend of the battle of Mount Badon hard by the holy springs of Bath.”
“Captain Dagny Mark, kneel.”
Dagny’s eyes looked around and she swallowed. She knelt and looked up.
In a smooth movement, the Queen tapped the top of her head and then her shoulders with the blade, reciting all the while, “In the name of Zeus, Woden, and Teutates we name you a Lady of the realm, a knight in good standing. With this honor, we raise her to the rank of commander with all the duties and privileges it carries.” The blade paused before Dagny. She hesitated before kissing it with reverence.
The Queen smiled a small smile. “Arise, Lady Commander Dagny Mark,” she said with a quiet gesture.
She rose and made a small bow, her eyes searching the Queen’s for a clue. The blue eyes did not change. She and Hannah made an about face. The hall thundered with cheers and popping flashes. Hannah beamed wide. Dagny blinked hard at the lights. Hannah’s gloved hand took hers. Dagny stared ahead with mixed emotions.