Once an Enemy, Now a Prince

To Lupita Smith the smell of a library was heaven. To Sir Danielle Longbow it was a sharp reminder that she’d spent most of her life illiterate. It was also a reminder that she sneezed in dusty places.

            “Welcome to my humble commode,” said Carl Northman brightly, arms spread with a book in one. “No, wait. Wrong word.” He flipped the book open again. “Abode. My humble abode.” He frowned.

            “You don’t live here, this is the library,” Lupita said.

            Shrugging with the irreverence of a teen and the posture of a thirty-year-old, he sighed. “It feels like it recently. I made the place look pretty and was I thanked? No, I wasn’t.”

            “Ordering the books by colour wasn’t helpful Carl.”

            “Well, it seemed like a good idea after whiskey and opium. It looked incredible. It was the dullest, heaviest rainbow I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged again, then had to crack his back because slouching was doing him no favours.

            “Have you put all of the books back yet?” Lupita asked the prince consort.

            “Almost. It should only take me another week or so.”

            “CARL.” Lupita groaned. If there was anything she loved more than Danielle, it was books. She picked up four from a stack and thrust them into Sir Longbow’s giant arms. Looking at the stack she added four more. “Come on, we’ll help.”

            “I promise I would have had it done by now, but people keep asking me to read to them.” Mister Northman hurried after them. “Children keep bringing me the epics and asking for my stirring recitals. Recital means reading it out, doesn’t it?” He gave Danielle a questioning glance. She shrugged.

            Tall and strong as she was, Sir Longbow was no more use than for carrying books as Lupita gently arranged them back on the shelves by subject and author then title. Carl threw the books up after the briefest glance at their leather spines.

            “Why were you trying opium?” Danielle asked Carl as Lupita removed another book from her burden.

            “I was curious. And high. Very high. And drunk. Actually, I was drunk first. Being drunk led to being high. Well actually, being drunk led to the acceptance of the pipe and that led to being high. Very quickly. Being drunk and high led to me climbing in here through the window and deciding I knew better than the regular librarian.” He said it all at lightning speed, always wary that someone would tell him to shut up. It happened a lot.

            “If you’re looking for a book recommendation,” Carl said.

            “I’m not,” said Danielle. She hoped the quick rebuttal would cut him off. If only.

            “Well you’re in luck. I just so happen to know of an excellent new novel in the works as we speak. It’s by a new writer. She’s talented.” He looked at Lupita. “Ferocious.” She frowned at him. “Underappreciated.” She nodded. “Curvacious and-” Lupita smacked him with a book about the flora of the continent. “Violent. A very violent author.

            The story is the typical heroic mythology with a modern twist. The hero is in fact a heroine. Not born of traditionally noble heritage, she nonetheless has a claim to knighthood. She proves herself with acts of valour and bravery against man and monster.

            The script is penned beautifully. The illustrations are the real draw though. The artist is a humble-” Lupita laughed. “Also underappreciated genius whose works will one day be recognised for the slices of divinity they are.”

            With her arms empty Danielle wandered back to the desks piled high with random tomes and picked up more. “I’ve seen it, Carl. The drawings-”

            Carl cut her off. “Illustrations. When they’re in a book they’re called illustrations. And some of them are painted.”

            “You’ve put on weight,” Sir Longbow said to change the subject.

            “I’ve gained muscle,” said the royal consort in hurt tones.

            “That too. It’s good. You were skeletal. I was starting to worry you’d never recover. Can you lift a sword now?” She looked at him, knowing that his fragility had been a point of shame for him.

            “High enough that it really hurts my foot when I drop it.” He winked.

            “That’s a good start.” She passed him another book.

            “Author, subject, title.”

            “NO!” Lupita yelled. She glowered at him. “Subject, author, then title.”

            “That’s one way to do it,” said Carl. He recoiled from Lupita’s fury.

            “It’s the correct way to do it. Where is the librarian?” She looked around.

            “You’re looking at him,” Northman pinched his elegant tunic. Crann Oaks covered it front and back. The britches beneath were black of a quality only royalty could afford.

            “Explain,” said Lupita. She aimed a deadly finger at him.

            “The last librarian quit after my, renovation. I took on the job as penance.” He smiled. “I’m a librarian. I have all the books I could ever read, and I get to talk to people constantly. The bodyguards help with putting the books back as well.” He waved to two knights. The two nights bowed low with scowls on their faces. “They love me really.”

After hours of arranging books, the shelves were almost full. Three children rushed into the continent of Tiruile’s first public library. They bowed to Carl and looked at him with wide, glittering eyes.

            “Will you read us a story, King Carl?” The children were between Danielle’s knee and waist height. She couldn’t guess their age.

            Northman held up a finger to correct them. “I’m not a king. I’m a prince consort. Which is better. All of the husband’s duties, attire and grub. None of the responsibilities of running a kingdom.”

            “Thank the gods,” said one of the knights stacking shelves in his green Crann tabard.

            “I heard that Sir. As punishment you will stack these shelves until it’s done. Let that be a lesson to you.” He looked at the eager street rats. They were filthy. “First I want you to wash your hands in the basin by the door.”

            The children ran screaming to the basin, splashing water on their soil crusted fingers. They returned dripping, bumping into each other in their haste.

            “Take a seat my dears and I will regale you with the tale of…” Carl looked at the stack of books in Danielle’s arms. He picked the top one, frowned and took the next. “Aha. Today you will hear the story of Sir Aldebricht of Crann. Sit, get comfortable. It’s a long one. I’ll have to speak quickly.

            Are all your chores done?” He looked at them all with a warm flash of teeth, a wolf seeing his own among the sheep. They nodded, innocent angels with dirty faces. Wide eyes drank up Carls words with insatiable thirst. As he hit his stride, sat on a stool made of a woodworm’s leftovers, the crowd was rapt. With a flick of his hand and a snarl he had them jumping out of their skin.

            Before she knew it, Danielle had been listening to Carl’s tale for an hour with seven books in her arms.

            “Are you there?” Lupita waved a hand in front of the knight’s face. Sir Longbow returned from the battle of Cedric’s Moor with a snap of her lover’s fingers.

            “The two generals lunged with their swords. One missed by a hair. The other plunged into the heart of the warrior. Blood ran down the blade. The dying man gasped his last.” Carl snapped the book shut with a bang that made the children scream. “If you want to know who died you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

            “Awwww.” What had been three urchins had become twelve.

            “I know.” The storyteller hung his head and closed his eyes. “I’m brilliant, it’s true.” Placing a sombre hand on his chest he bowed to them. “For now, you must return to your mothers, fathers, or whoever feeds you. I bid thee good day. Farewell my dears.”

            Groaning as the children left, Carl stretched. His back gave a dry crunching sound. He scratched grey hair. A smile lingered on his face.

            “It suits you,” Danielle told him.

            “I thought I should practice before my seed bears fruit.” His eyes creased with a wistful grin. “My mother always told me stories about the way things had been, before the empire. I wish she was here to see me now. My child will be the heir to Crann.” His eyes went wide as he wiped a veiny hand over stubble. “Life is full of surprises.”

            “You can say that again.”

            “Nah, I don’t like to repeat myself. You should go and see your mother though.”

            Danielle sighed. “You’ve said that before.”

            “True. But I’m a liar. I love to repeat myself. I love to repeat myself. I love to repeat myself. I-”

            “Shut up Carl.”

            “No.” He wagged a finger. “Shut up, Prince Consort Carl. Get it right.”

            “What is it like? You’re married to the queen. Isn’t that weird?” Danielle asked.

            “Nothing confuses me more than the fact I’m not dreaming right now,” he admitted. “I always knew I was meant for great things. I had assumed the great things were leading a rebel army of imperial soldiers against the empire. Alas I was a mediocre soldier and an abysmal leader. Someday though, I will have a scribe say I did. Who could argue with me now?”

            “Your wife,” said Danielle, bringing him down from the clouds. His smile collapsed.

            “Ah. There’s always one.” He looked at her with his head tilted. “What do you like about me?”

            It was one of the odder questions he’d ever asked her. “Your frequent bouts of brooding silence.”

            Carl’s eyebrows converged, trying to crawl down his nose. “I don’t brood silently.”

            “No, but a girl can dream.”

            “A jest. I see. I should depart. My lovely wife the queen will be missing me. I should take my merry men and be on my jolly way.”

            “Merry men?”

            “Sir Galagad. Sir Petris. Attend me, sirs. I have neglected to introduce you. It must be remedied.”

            One was younger than Danielle. He couldn’t have seen his twentieth year. Scars on his arms and face told of battles. His brown eyes were dark with irritation. His arms were a match for Danielle’s, thick as tree trunks.

            Knight two was ragged, scarred and straight backed. He stood to attention with the posture of a spear. The scar on his lower lip meant the man couldn’t shut his mouth. The effect was a permanent grimace at odds with his professional demeanour. His nose had been a dozen times if once, swollen in the middle.

            “Allow me to introduce Sir Galagad.” Carl fluttered a hand at the younger one. “And Sir Petris.” He nodded to the veteran. “Or as I like to think of them, Sir Smiles a Lot and the Once and Future Friend.”

            From both men Carl received incredulous raised eyebrows. Northman winked. He clapped them both on the shoulders. “Something tells me you’d both like a beer?”

            “One would be good, Prince Consort.” Sir Galagad gave a hopeful flash of yellowed teeth.

            “We should not, while on duty, my lord.” Sir Petris spoke to the air by Carl’s shoulder. He was too well trained to look a superior in the eye without prompt.

            “Fine. Walk with us, Sir Longbow? Sir Galagad is a big fan of your exploits.” The young knight blushed. “Sorry. Was I not supposed to tell her?”

            “I would love to walk you to the castle, just in case you’re waylaid by any glass ghosts, red angels or loup gerous.”

            “Don’t forget squid folk,” said Carl.

            “After being in the river with them, how could I?” Danielle asked.

            “I still have nightmares about them holding me down at the bottom of the river.” Northman’s face was grim as he remembered. “If it wasn’t for Sir Longbow, I would have drowned on the way to Sliabh.” He tried to smile but his lips wouldn’t commit to it. “The nightmares. Their faces.”

            “We all have nightmares,” Danielle said. She thought of Minister Qian Jo, who she’d murdered to cover the tracks of a mission that had taken her across the world. “No one comes out of war clean.”

            “Bloody hells we need a drink.” Carl exhaled a long sigh. “One pint each? On me. I say me, I mean the royal coffers.”

            “Fuck yes.” Sir Longbow surprised herself, but she needed a distraction. “Come on Lupita, put the books down. We’re going for a drink.”

            Lupita slammed a pile of books down on a desk. Even with her dark complexion she looked flushed. She was sweating, her hair out of place. “Fine,” she said. “Some of us earned it.”

            The library’s first shiny new key clicked in a heavy lock. A second key turned in the other lock. The keys fell on the chain around Carl’s neck. He shivered as the metal came to rest against his skin.

            “Come on then. Let’s get rat arsed.”