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Succession

Posted on July 2, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

To so few does the thought even occur – is this all I was meant for? And fewer still seek a different answer than a resounding affirmative. So an uneasy slumber comes and we sleepwalk through the daytime of our lives, as the world gently turns to shelter us from the sun’s unforgiving glare.

But what of those that dare to try and plot for themselves a different course? Would not it make sense that those people at least be honoured for trying? One would think so, especially if one were part of the tribe that tried. Fortunately for all and unfortunately for some, no medals are given for attempts made and trophies were never granted to those who turned up on the appointed day and fought an admirable battle. To the winners go the spoils and so it should be and if those who lose think they deserve the same opportunities as enjoyed by the winners, it is the loser’s responsibility to come forth and win.

Mortimer Felch suffered no such concerns.

Undaunted by the greatest responsibilities thrust upon his young shoulders by approving elders in power and an adoring populace, he lived each day like the champion he was.

And a champion he most definitely was.

At the tender age of eleven, Felch had bested the town’s reigning dueller. In an epic battle that had lasted three hours, for two-and-a-half of which Felch had done battle with a broken leg and three fractured ribs, the scrappy boy held his own against a hulking beast of surprising speed and agility. His name was Borwanka Clef and he had been the town’s reigning duel champion for seven years. He had won the previous year’s duel by killing his opponent using toothpicks and an elastic piece of catgut. In the year before, he had killed his opponent with the opponent’s wife. He had used the woman to batter the man to death and tossed her bloodied remains aside like most warriors discard broken weapons. He was a monster and there was no one who could stop him. Save for the neglected urchin unwanted by everyone in the town.

Before Felch brought Clef down in a thunderous crash of muscle and bone that shook the town’s square, he blinded him in both eyes, ripped three fingers off his right hand using a homemade guillotine fashioned out of three sheets of sandpaper glued together and shaved to a razor’s edge. When Clef died the crowd cheered and that was the last sound the dying behemoth took with him to his afterlife.

By the time he was fourteen, Felch had remained undefeated duelling champion for four years. He abdicated his throne in favour of two new combatants because he felt that he had more important things to do. By age fifteen he had earned favours from more than half the women in the village and what seemed to upset the men most about that story was if their women were part of the half that hadn’t yet tasted the pleasures of Felch’s company. While still fifteen Felch slew a beast that had threatened several townsfolk travelling on business. Or so he said to the people he lived among.

In truth Felch led the beast away, far from prying human eyes and in the deepest jungle where few dared to go for fear of being consumed by whatever fearsome beasts had made the jungle home, and continued to raise the beast. Upon his first encounter with the beast Felch recognised a cornered creature. It didn’t mean harm to anyone other than those that threatened its life.

By age twenty-one, Felch had been entrusted political power; the mayor had offered him his daughter’s hand in marriage and the street urchin from a decade ago had already amassed more wealth than most others could dream of spending.

Six months after he had wedded, bedded and impregnated his new bride Felch became mayor by succession when his father-in-law died unexpectedly one cold winter’s night.

Laws were passed by members of the town council that gave unprecedented powers to the new mayor and by the time he was twenty-five, Mortimer Felch had been crowned King and the town, which had been steadily expanding its reach over the surrounding geography declared itself a kingdom, independent from the rule of the land it originally belonged to.

Minister Leanna Clef accompanied her king into the conference that was requested by the ruler of the rest of the land. Her presence raised a murmur of disapproval through the sumptuous room that served as a meeting place for no more than ten people. King Felch had travelled with three ministers including Clef while the ruler of the rest of the land, King Royston Aquinius was flanked by seven men, each of a more regal bearing than King Felch himself. When they were seated, a minister from Aquinius’s court stood up to make a speech and when it was clear that the speech as well as the man were pompous and long-winded Minister Clef got to her own feet and said, “Pardon me Minister but our King has travelled long to be here. Perhaps we can dispense with the formalities and approach the business at hand.”

The jowls of the pompous minister, a man named Thaddeus Phinaeus wobbled with rage as his eyes widened and he rumbled, “I will not take instruction from a woman madam. There is a procedure and it shall be adhered to.”

When Felch spoke up, the steel in his voice was immediately apparent, “If masculinity were the only criteria for any office Lord Phinaeus it may serve the people well to know that their King’s trusted lieutenant prefers the lustful company of men. In a submissive position. If you cannot address Minister Clef as a woman perhaps you can be persuaded to address her as a minister.”

It was the first time in as long as anyone could remember that Phinaeus was at a loss for words. He looked to his King for guidance and was instructed to sit down with mere eye contact. Felch leaned in to Clef and said, “That is a good trick, we must learn it.”

King Aquinius got to his feet and every one of his ministers vacated their seats in accompanying chorus. Felch consulted his own people and stood up as well until there were twelve people standing in anticipation of the first words to leave Aquinius’s lips.

“You have laid claim to the mantle of King and yet there is no evidence of a royal bloodline. How are your people to follow your lead when it is not clear if you inherited a leader’s blood?”

“Marybeth Winsmore.”

“I know that name.”

“As indeed you should.”

“It is the name of a chambermaid that once served at the royal palace.”

“And what was the name of the other chambermaids that served with her?”

“I’m not sure I understand Felch.”

“So let me ask the question another way, Your Highness. Did you only know the names of the chambermaids you engaged in sexual congress with?”

Thaddeus Phinaeus seemed to find his voice again, “How dare you sir!”

To him Felch said, “I am the sworn ruler of the Kingdom of Wrathshead. If you ever speak to me like that again I shall be forced to allow my sword a taste of the cowardly heart that beats within your breast.”

And to Aquinius he said, “It is impolite to avoid a direct question Your Highness.”

But it was as if the King’s entire person had delivered the answer his lips hadn’t yet spoken. With quivering lips and trembling hands he searched Felch’s eyes and said, “How do you know that name and the story that goes with it?”

“Marybeth Winsmore was my mother sir. A virgin before she fell under the spell of her handsome king and an outcast at childbirth she died when I was ten but not before I knew how I had come to be. When a boy chooses his destiny at so young an age Sir, he is hard-pressed to do anything other than fulfil it.”

King Aquinius was forced to seek his chair, to sit down and cower in fear for it was a well-known fact across the land that his own Queen had been unsuccessful in bearing him an heir.

Felch took a single step forward and said, “Perhaps one day, Father, it will be my destiny to rule this entire land but until then, I would appreciate the cessation of all meddling by this kingdom in the affairs of Wrathshead. If that be difficult I encourage you to send what army you have, under the flag of an impotent king, to try and defeat the warriors of Wrathshead. For I promise you, our violence upon your men will be swift, unexpected and total.”

With those words he turned on his heel and left.

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