The Gypsy Queen (30 page)

 
Yana
looked over Bastion as they stood and waited for the procession to arrive, hearing the music move through the streets. It was the song of the King, as Bastion had told her to expect, and it was lovely, if not somber.
Yana
had worn her finest gypsy clothing. It was not silken garbs of royalty, but her friends had jumped in to help her look her best.
Yana
wanted to look good for Bastion, and to look good for the people, in hopes that would be a help to him.

  Bastion looked absolutely regal, wearing a dark violet robe with silver trim. He was dressed as a King, but was not wearing a crown. That was yet to come, he had told her.
Yana
felt very small, among the dignitaries and people of office and import. Bastion’s grand attire gave him a very commanding presence. Even the look on his face added to it. It reminded
Yana
of the way she was afraid of him, just as
she used to be before she tracked
him into the gulley. Thankfully the fear was faded by the way she had come to love him. The way he kissed her, and made love to her... the way he dealt with people, even the way he fought- she loved the good things of him... and she loved the darker things of him as well.

  The procession approached them slowly, having given the people of the
kingdom
a chance to look on as they made their way up. The streets were packed with citizens watching the King go by, paying their respects or just watching curiously. The servants of the palace brought up the King’s ornate casket from its wagon to the platform, in front of the huge gathering. Obadiah stepped forth first, speaking boldly to them.

  Bastion was barely listening. He would grieve the King himself, later, after the transitions were past. Especially, he thought, when he fully assumed the burdens his father had bore so faithfully. Obadiah finished, and signaled for Bastion. Bastion came forth.

  “People of
Jedikai
,” he boomed as loud as he could, “Our
kingdom
has prospered greatly under our lost King’s rule. Yet I know that the prosperity has come from the hard work and character of each of you!” The crowd buzzed at his comments.

  “He served the
kingdom
well,” Bastion continued. “My father taught me that the greatest leader is also the greatest servant to those he leads. I will carry on his tradition, and work to serve you just as well.” The crowd reacted favorably, most of them regarding Bastion as a hero, well-known for his work defending the
kingdom
as Captain.

  “While I will carry on the traditions of my father, I will also work to lead us to brighter days. More safety, more provision, and more harmony. I will work for peace with other
kingdom
s, and peace for all the peoples within this
kingdom
.”
Yana
smiled. Bastion was an excellent diplomat.

  “The King always said that those who expect the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it. I call on each of you to carry on the King’s work with me, supporting the freedoms we all enjoy,” Bastion said.
Yana
was amazed at the way he sounded so powerful. His presence and his voice were nearly overwhelming to her. He was the same man in this moment as he had been as Captain, leading them all into battle... but his power and authority was amplified as he spoke. She found it hard to believe that the darling boy she had once saved had become so mighty. It suited him well,
Yana
thought.

  Bastion finished his short speech, and stepped back, letting Otta take over and speak for his departed brother, the King. Bastion had stopped listening. He didn’t want to be there. He understood the nature of a public figure very well, but beyond this formality, Bastion wanted to settle his feelings on the matter privately. It did not behoove a King to appear weak, so Bastion was content to offer the minimum to meet his obligation to the people, on the death of their King.

  The ceremony concluded, and the casket was moved into the palace, to be buried in the royal cemetery with his ancestors. Bastion turned to
Yana
, amazed at how beautiful she loo
ked in her flowing gypsy dress
.

  “Come,” he said, taking her hand, and leading her into the palace.
Yana
walked with him. She had never been much for taking orders, but she felt like she would do anything he asked, as she walked with her lover, the King.

  The Great Hall was humming with activity, as it was bursting with as many people as it could hold, for the funeral reception. Bastion would have preferred to skip it, but he could not bow out of these things the
way he once had as Prince. The H
all stood in appl
ause as Bastion walked in. They
came and sat at the King’s table, Bastion leading
Yana
to the seat next to him. There was a low rumble of murmuring that gave way to applause, as they sat. The King of
Jedikai
never sat next to
a woma
n at the King’s table in the Great Hall...

  unless she was queen.

 
Yana
was no queen, but was lauded as a hero, and those who were not hostile to gypsies were grateful, if not surprised, that a gypsy girl had accomplished such heroics for their city. The
freed
captives all
sung her praises, and many
who
were not fond of gypsies had
respect that she had fought for their King. Those who wanted to see her become queen were most enthusiastic of all. For whatever their bias, the people in the hall honored them harmoniously.

  Music abounded, as the band that had played in the procession set up, and opened with the King’s song. Food was brought, and conversations abounded into friendly chatter. Citizens shared stories of the King and his exploits, and not a table in the house could skip over the topic of Bastion and
Yana
, perhaps the future
queen.

 
Yana
looked up to see the servant girl from the galley, pouring her drink.
Yana
winked at her, and she blushed as she looked up in response.
Yana
motioned her closer.

  “What is your name
?”
Yana
asked as the girl approached.

  “Della,” she replied.

  “Bastion, Della here says that she would love to serve me as queen,”
Yana
said. “What do you think of that?” she teased. Bastion blushed a little himself.

  “I think that she just earned herself a raise in pay,” Bastion said, smiling at Della. Della nearly dropped her tray and pitcher in response, barely saving it and righting herself.

  “Thank you, Sire,” she said. “You are very kind.”

  “That will be all, Della,” Bastion said, smiling.

  “Yes, Sire,” she said, offering a quick and eager curtsy as she departed with some haste. Bastion looked at
Yana
.

  “She said that, did she?”

  “Aye. That and more,”
Yana
said, with mischief in her eyes.

  “That and more?”

  “The girls in the galley think that you love me,”
Yana
said.

  “The girls in the galley are more astute than I might guess,” Bastion said with a grin. “Perhaps they all deserve a raise in wages.”

  “Speaking of wages,”
Yana
said playfully, “wait till you see how much I charge for saving the lives of royalty!” Bastion laughed with her at that.

  “You mean a heartfelt thanks and a black cloak do not cover it?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Well, I do have something in mind,” Bastion said. “Something very special.” Bastion let that statement hang in the air just to watch the look on her face.
Yana
looked at him in anticipation and dread.

  “A fine pot of periwinkle.” Bastion said, bursting into laughter.
Yana
nudged him and rolled her eyes.

  “At least it’s not a hunk of bread,” she said, feeling relieved at the joke.

  “Behold!” The jester shouted, bounding out onto the floor in front of the King’s table. There was no dance floor tonight, and the music was more muted, for the occasion. But the young jester was affable and animated, as he came forth.

  “Today we bid goodbye, to a fine and noble King,” said the jester. “We come to celebrate him, for he inspired us to sing.” The jester moved about, speaking to the tables as he passed.
Yana
looked closer. There was something about this jester, who had seemed to be a gypsy, when she danced with him here before. He wore a different hat- silly, but much less ridiculous than his last one.

  “The efforts and the orders, of his highness we know well. But his dreams he held more closely, so I simply could not tell. He let me come to him one day, and ask of him the rest. And what he told me, what he shared, I simply could not jest!

 
“
And so I sing this song for you, the song of Kings gone by. The parting words he shared with me, the song of his goodbye.”

 
Yana
looked closer. She recognized his voice. The
bold
jes
ter began his performance
, as the band played.

The King of this, our humble home

The King of all that I have known

The King of all, so it would seem

I asked myself, what a King would dream.

Could it be wealth, of shining gold

Could it be riches yet untold?

Could he dream of conquest, in far off lands?

To conquer
kingdom
s by his hands?

Could it be a queen, a son to bear?

A queen, to give the King an heir?

Could it be love, of hearth and home?

Could his dreams be yet unknown?

I thought and thought

what he might dream

but then I thought

to ask the King!

The jester played to the
crowd, expressing emotion
as
he went.

It be not wealth,

The good King said

it be not gold, or rubies red

for riches do not warm my soul

and riches always take their toll.

It be not land and hills and spoil

It be not worth the painful toil

and how could land help, in the end

I could not call that land my friend

A queen to love, I did once find

A son to teach the things of mine

A friend who always made me laugh

when life seemed much too hard a task

I hope my son will one day see

the key of life, will set you free

For wealth is but a beggar’s dream

to find love, is the dream of Kings.

  The hall erupted in thunderous applause, as the jester produced a scroll from his outfit, and presented it to King Bastion. Bastion took it and unrolled it, finding the song the jester sang written in elegant script, ‘The Dream of Kings’ inscribed across the top. Bastion nodded as his face trembled.

  “Thank you,” he said, as a tear trickled down his cheek.
Yana
reached over discreetly to wipe it away, as the applause dwindled. The jester bowed to Bastion. “My Lord,” she addressed him. “M’lady,” she addressed
Yana
, and turned to go.

  “Pardon me, dear jester,”
Yana
said. “You sing so beautifully. May I sing with you one day?”

  “It would be my honor to sing with you, m’lady,” the jester answered. She had friendly eyes, and it gave her away.

  “Mille!”
Yana
realized happily. “You are dressed like a boy! I knew you were familiar,” she said to her new friend. “From where I was sitting, you looked like a boy!”

  “From where the rest of us sit,” Mille said, “you look much like a queen.”

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