Chapter 45

  July thirteenth.

  Filled to the rafters, the throne room was in all its glory. The standards unfurled, the regalia raised. Every lamp and chandelier illuminated. The marble polished to a mirror shine, the windows and stained-glass crystal clear. Statuesque bannermen in gleaming uniforms positioned ornately in formation across the floor.

  The glistening hall was filled with glittering people. All of them upright and dressed in their best, their attires tastefully formal and respectful in matching of the occasion. A polite hum of conversation shared the air with perfume and the tinkling of refinery and wealth.

  The rich and the powerful were in attendance. All of north Ithica was fervently represented. Those who were unfortunate enough to be absent had their kin attend in their stead. Though less diligent, the southern territories had sent their envoys as well, with even a prince and princess making the trip from the Capitol.

  At the far end of hall, on a raised floor were the two vacant thrones of aged stone. A ceremonially dressed attendant in Faymoren regalia climbed halfway up the steps. Upon noticing his presence, the crowd gradually quietened.

  The herald puffed his lungs to announce in a clear and crisp volume, “Presenting Her Grace, the Duchess of Faymoren, Sabina Ashworth. And His Grace, the Duke of Faymoren, Reginald Farley.”

  From behind the thrones emerged the duchess and duke from opposite sides. They synchronized their approach to meet front and center to face their audience.

  The men performed salutes, while the ladies dipped in curtsy.

  The duchess and duke returned an acknowledging bow of their own, before taking to their thrones. Once seated, the crowd became at ease. Without any spoken instruction, the audience shuffled to organize themselves in lanes, dividing further into halves to the left and right. Vacating the middle, they left open a walkway traced by a unique design of marble, stretching across the hall from one end to the other.

  Once the jostling abated and the guests organized, at a silent signal, a herald made his appearance known at the main doors by snapping his heels. “Presenting, Master Hektor,” he announced promptly.

  Heads turned as the doors opened inwardly to reveal Hektor standing at attention, dressed formally in a dark blue jacket suit with bronze highlights.

  On cue, Sabina arose from her throne and stepped forward to stand centrally, aligning with the unimpeded walkway straight through to Hektor at the opposite end.

  With everyone watching, Hektor marched down the aisle. His steps firm and his stride measured. He mostly looked to the Duchess, but his eyes did brighten up when he spotted his favorite people amongst the crowd.

  At a steady pace, he reached Sabina and gave a full salute with his right palm on his left breast followed with a sweeping bow.

  “Son,” Sabina acknowledged, her voice carrying as Hektor stood straight. She looked beyond him to address the audience.

  “Today is my son Hektor’s sixteenth name-day,” she began ceremoniously. “And it is my right as his mother, as Sabina Ashworth, to bequeath upon him a name to carry forth his legacy. Kneel, Hektor,” she commanded.

  Hektor went down on one knee and Sabina came to stand in front of him.

  She placed her right hand on his head and enunciated, “And arise, Hektor Ashborn. From the line of Ashworth, first of house Ashborn. Let all bear witness.”

  Hektor arose and Sabina embraced him as the hall burst into applause and cheers. Hektor turned and gave the crowd a grateful bow paired with a smile.

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  As the crowd had their fill of exuberance, Hektor and Sabina reclaimed their positions. A raised palm from Sabina was enough of a gesture for the people to obey and lower their volume.

  “On this day, we induct another amongst our nation’s custodians. Hektor Ashborn, take a knee,” Sabina chanted solemnly.

  Hektor obliged.

  “Hektor Ashborn. Do you swear fealty to Ithica? To become an agent of our nation and our people? To answer the call of duty, abide by our laws and conduct yourself in accordance of the Three Graces?” Sabina spoke with a ceremonial cadence.

  “I do and I will,” Hektor committed.

  “Hektor Ashborn. Do you accept the obligations of nobility, of governance and the responsibilities therein? Will you stand for your land and for your peoples? Will you defend them against harm? Put their needs before your own and guide them to prosperity? Will you lead by wisdom, compassion and integrity?”

  “I do and I will,” Hektor pledged.

  “Hektor Ashborn. Do you swear to be fair and just? Will you strive to be courageous and do not what is easy, but that which is right? Will you be incorruptible? Be a bastion of goodwill unto your fellow man? Are you prepared to sacrifice? Bear the burdens? Will you be strong when you can’t fail?”

  “I do and I will,” Hektor vowed.

  “The oaths have been observed,” Sabin proclaimed. “By the Crown’s decree, in service of Ithica and its people, and by my own authority and sound judgment, I, Sabina Ashworth, Duchess of Faymoren, by Royal Writ, anoint thee, Hektor Ashborn, of the line Ashworth, Lord Hektor Ashborn.”

  Hektor remained kneeling.

  “By the same Writ and purpose, Lord Ashborn is bequeathed the territory of Roheim and made Count in service of Ithica, to govern and tend to at the behest of the nation. May he prevail and his flock prosper.

  “Arise Count Ashborn of Roheim. Let all bear witness.”

  Hektor rose slowly and Sabina held him by the arms. She leaned closer to kiss each of his eyes, before anointing him with a kiss on the forehead.

  The hall erupted in celebration once more and Hektor turned to give a shallow bow to show his appreciation.

  This once, Sabina waited patiently for the audience to quiet down at their own leisure. Once the hall was receptive to her, she voiced, “We are to be thricely blessed on this auspicious day. Please join me in welcoming the Croft family.”

  An announcer’s voice echoed, “Presenting, Mister Samuel Croft, Missus Eleanor Croft and their daughter Miss Gwen Croft.”

  The doors opened to reveal the Crofts awaiting their turn down the aisle. With Samuel chaperoning Eleanor with an extended arm, the Croft couple retraced Hektor’s march and walked across the length of the hall, but at a much slower pace. While Samuel donned a stern yet agreeable demeanor, Eleanor strutted beside him, preening to the crowd and stopping frequently to share fleeting embraces with her lady friends, waving to others and whispering thank yous.

  A dozen or so paces behind them, maintaining the distance, Gwen followed.

  She wore a couture gown that looked to be fashioned out a single stretch of sensuous red ribbon. She wore a simple necklace and studded earrings, but ones made of the shiniest diamonds that glittered like liquid starlight.

  The Crofts prolonged their moment, but eventually arrived at the steps to the throne. They greeted the Duchess and as rehearsed, went on to stand by Sabina’s right as Gwen remained beside Hektor.

  Scholar Hiram of the Church of Three Graces appeared from the background in his Scholarly robes and came to stand at Sabina’s left.

  With the actors assembled, Sabina orated, “The betrothal of my son to Gwen Croft, daughter of Samuel and Eleanor Croft is known to all present. And today, our families strengthen that bond with their engagement.”

  The crowd had turned bolder by now, rowdy even with a few whistles and hooting thrown in good naturedly. It even brought a laugh out of Sabina.

  “Yes, with our blessing,” she indicated to herself and the Croft parents, “and the endorsement of the Crown, we shall turn to the next chapter in the union of Hektor Ashborn and Gwen Croft.”

  Sabina extended her hand towards Scholar Hiram who intuitively presented her a flat rectangular box.

  Taking the box, Sabina directed the youngsters in front of her. “Hektor, Gwen, step closer.”

  Hektor and Gwen did so in tandem, with Gwen ending up on the side of her parents and Hektor symbolically by the side of a Scholar of the Church.

  “Face one another,” Sabina presided, conducting the ceremony. As they turned, Sabina opened the box and held it between the two. Resting on purple velvet were two unadorned silver rings.

  “Lord Hektor Ashborn, do you take Miss Gwen Croft to be your fiancé?” Sabina intoned.

  “I do,” Hektor spoke the words he had repeated so many times already.

  “Miss Gwen Croft, do you take Lord Hektor Ashborn to be your fiancé?”

  “I do,” Gwen spoke clearly.

  “Witnessed by kin, by Church, and by those present,” Sabina declared. “The rings,” she spoke softly to the pair.

  Hektor placed the designated ring on Gwen’s left ring finger. After which, Gwen did the same to him.

  “By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you engaged,” Sabina barely got the words out that the loudest cheer drowned her voice.

  Hektor and Gwen faced the crowd and raised their ringed hands together to an even louder ovation.