Jemlar smiled as he watched his little son’s clumsy attempt at imitating him make a bed, by crisscrossing the extra pine boughs he had cut earlier. “Jesmal, let us go look for some firewood!” he called. His boy popped his head up, pleased that his dad had asked him to do something. Jesmal trotted along after his father, trying to match his steps. As Jemlar stooped to collect up an armful of firewood, the boy looked around and gathered up smaller sticks, kindling size to add to his own small pile. Later, after small Jesmal had long since fallen asleep, Jemlar continued to gaze into the rising flame. As he watched the twisting forks shoot sparks into the cold night air, his mind wandered.
Jemlar looked up and smiled as his wife entered the room from the adjoining nursery, closing the door softly behind her. He was struck by her beauty, as he had been innumerable times before. Her dark mahogany hair hung delicately around her shoulders, framing her face. Oh, that face. Fairer than many had ever seen, or would see. She returned his smile as she walked gracefully over to where he was sitting, and joined him on the deep red settee. She leaned against him and sighed.
“He’s asleep. I had to read three stories to him tonight before he finally nodded off. He likes the ones about battles best. What were your favorites as a child?”
“I’d probably have to say the battles.”
“What is with men and boys and battles? They are gruesome affairs that cause pain and heartache for all of the women and children who lose family members.”
“Yes, I suppose so. When I was small, I always wanted to be hero like my father and my uncle who helped defeat the Galkuss. And if it weren’t for battles and wars my dear, the women and children you spoke of would all be dead or enslaved. It is a man’s duty and greatest desire to protect those he loves, no matter what the cost.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating the reality of those statements. Finally Amra broke the silence.
“I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you something, and I believe this is a good one.”
“Oh?” Jemlar raised his eyebrows slightly and waited patiently for her to continue.
“Let’s just say that little Jesmal will have a new baby brother or sister in a few months.” Amra’s eyes sparkled with joy.
Jemlar sat bolt upright from his former somewhat slouched position, as he turned to face her. “Are you certain?” His eyes concernedly searching her face.
“Quite.”
Jemlar’s eyes bespoke his joy as he gently kissed her inviting lips.
Each was then lost once more in their own thoughts. After a while Amra decided to retire for the evening.
“I’ll go notify the guards that they can have the night at home with their families.” Jesmal said, “Then, I believe I shall retire as well.” I shall return shortly.” With another quick kiss, he departed.
As Jemlar was in the hall, returning to the room that he had just come from, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. He broke into a run. Down the hall he flew, and then, through the door. There he froze. On the floor, not three feet away, lay Amra, a silver dagger through her heart. Amra, who only moments before had been so full of life, so blissfully happy was dead at his feet. After quickly looking around the room to make sure the murderer was not still there, he gathered her up in his arms. Her blood soaked his shirt but he didn’t care. He crossed the room and laid her body on the couch where, was it only minutes before, they had sat together. He kissed her forehead tenderly, one last time. Then suddenly, he remembered Jesmal. His heartbeat quickened as he strode quickly to the nursery door. It stood ajar. His heart full of fear he entered quickly. Jesmal still lay sleeping where his mother had left him. He let the child alone and returned to the (parlor) looking for any evidence, anything that might show who had done this evil. It was then that he noticed the letter placed atop the book of history that he had been reading prior to Amra’s entrance. He quickly broke the plain, unmarked seal. Written in blood were the words:
‘This is not the end. You cannot hide from me, I will find you. I will kill you and your son.’
The letter was unsigned, in an unfamiliar hand. He realized that he must get his son to safety before he could challenge this foe. Before he could avenge Amra. If he died trying there would be no one to protect young Jesmal. He must take him to a trusted friend, far away. With that resolution firmly in place he hurriedly dressed in his hunting clothes and returned to the nursery and gathered up his small son, not daring to leave him alone, even for a few minutes. He carried Jesmal to the castle’s kitchen and there filled a cloth sack with provisions. Jesmal sat on the counter where his father had set him, blinking his eyes sleepily in the semi darkness.
“What are you doing Father?”
“We are going on a trip so I am getting some food for us.”
“Where are we going??
“I don’t know son.” Jemlar replied as he found some string and tied together everything that they would need for a week’s time. Hopefully by then, they would be able to hunt.
“Is Mama coming?”
Jemlar tried to keep the tears from his voice. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh.”
After Jemlar had acquired everything he thought they would need, including his bow and sword, they left the castle by way of the servants’ entrance.
“We must be very, very quiet, do you understand?” Jemlar whispered to Jesmal.
Jesmal nodded his small head. Jemlar picked Jesmal up and held him close. Staying in the shadows, they made their way out of the city.
“Daddy?”
Jemlar started. He hadn’t noticed that his son was awake.
“Why are you crying?” Now at Jemlar’s side, he placed his small hands on his father’s knee.
Now, in addition to the tears which streamed down his face, he tried valiantly to hold back the sobs that were trying to overtake him from his son’s eyes. He pulled the child to himself and hugged him, hard. But also gently. Jesmal snuggled into his fathers embrace, content without an answer.
