Uprising in Gonjolard (Part 12) | A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

Part 11

Alone in his bedchambers with his son, Prince Gawdawfel, King Hartfelt studied the rebellion plans by the SOB to use the annual Festival of Gonjolard as a diversion. Then he listened quietly in shock as Gawdawfel spoke of killing his own bastard son, Alphonse. For the good of the Kingdom was the reason given.

The king forbade his son to kill not only Alphonse but the other prisoners as well. He also forbade his son to lead the army against the rebellion.

Gawdawfel refused on both counts, stating the deaths would be for the good of the Kingdom.

As Simon secured Alphonse's release into the hands of Foucant and Toleranz for safety, then protected Lauryn, the king and prince were unaware of this development that could alter their plan.

Meanwhile, Lord Foucant of the Eastern Rune Village and Lord Toleranz, of the Southeastern Squire Village, put in place their own plans to assist the SOB.

Across the sea, allies waited for instructions from Foucant and Toleranz as to the timing to sail for the Kingdom of Gonjolard to assist in their rebellion.

Gawdawfel, defiant of his father, left his bedchamber to ponder the king's last words. Surely, the king was only postering to suggest any ill will to be acted on toward me, he mused. Still.

And the annual Gonjolard Festival was only a few hours away as both king and prince prepared for this historic event.

Now, Part 12

Alphonse was free thanks to Lords Foucant and Toleranz. Off to safety in the night they road away from the castle leaving behind false plans of rebellion that the king and prince were in all likelihood studying and devising a counter offensive. At least that was all they could hope to achieve.

Those events were exactly what occurred as Prince Gawdawfel left his father in a fit of rage. How dare he threaten me with death, he fumed.

By the time Gawdawfel reached his own chambers, he summoned his new guard, Umaldo, who he'd chosen to replace Arnaldo. Having one's head removed after an unacceptable response from the prince didn't bode well for family members of potential replacements.

After first swearing fealty and secrecy, Umaldo fetched the Mirror of Secrets, then helped Gawdawfel disrobe. Umaldo left the room, unsure whether his new position would be a good fit or for how long it would last. Thus far with the prince's subdued countenance and the rumors swirling at court, he couldn't predict.

Alone, Gawdawfel rushed to summon Izorah. He sat, waiting for her appearance. Minutes later, anger overtook him. He grabbed the mirror and hurled it across the room. Shattered, the Mirror of Secrets would no longer provide him guidance.

Leaning back from the edge of his bed, Gawdawfel devised a new plan. Of course, he would follow through with his orders to execute the prisoners at dawn. Saliva dripped as the image of Alphonse hanging from the gallows rushed forth.

And my father will die in battle. Of that, he was certain.

However, he couldn't play his hand too soon. He'd never tell his father, but had to admit that his idea of him remaining in Gonjolard to oversee the Festival was an opportunity to spread the word of his commitment to the Crown, its subjects.

If I stand between both ends and promise submission of each to the other, I'll watch them destroy one another. A civil war. The Kingdom will be none the wiser. Then I alone will be seen as the one who brought peace to the land. A clever plan, he surmised as he smiled wickedly, clasping his weapon.

From his bedchamber, King Hartfelt devised his own plan.

An idea surfaced. Promising to make him heir instead of Gawdawfel for the sake of peace in the Kingdom should suffice he hoped. I must speak with Alphonse alone immediately and reason with him, he thought.

Twenty minutes later, Sir Gollett, King Hartfelt's hand, reported to him that Alphonse had not been returned to the dungeon as ordered by Gawdawfel to await hanging. Although he'd ordered Gawdawfel not to execute the young man, that he allowed the leader of the rebellion to go free he didn't believe.

Only one other course he could envision transpired. Traitors at court have betrayed us and returned Alphonse to the rebellion. Suddenly, he remembered Gawdawfel's words.

"Yes, I would kill Alphonse, father. He is a threat to our Crown. He means us harm. I could see he has no fear in his eyes. A man who has no fear is to be greatly feared and removed from this Kingdom before he gathers an army behind him."

I wished he might have been a trustworthy fellow to be reasoned with, he thought, but I know that no man wants his life to end on the gallows. "However, I can't and won't allow him to gather an army in opposition to the Crown," the king whispered.

FREYJA'S DAY

The long awaited midsummer day of celebration for the annual Gonjolard Festival had arrived. Every year for two days, villagers as well as townspeople set aside their hardships and differences to celebrate the Festival of Gonjolard. The official date of the festival was originally celebrated on one day, but villagers weary from long travels to the town initiated the tradition of spending the night. Of course, the morrow brought fresh opportunities to celebrate. No food and drink would be wasted.

Numerous preparations and much decorative creativity is poured into this holiday steeped in ancient roots in the Kingdom. Traditional dances, songs, food, drink, games, bonfires, candle lighting, theatrical plays, and competitions are enjoyed by all who attend.

The day dawned cloudy, not as expected. But still a festive atmosphere spread over the Kingdom.

Despite the rumors in recent years of the Crown's troubles laid at the feet of Prince Gawdawfel, foreigners on amicable terms arrived from across the Kingdom's western shore to participate in the event.

They came in hopes of unity. Language was no barrier where fun and games for all ages were waiting. Many romantic gestures and bonding of houses near and far took place. Of one thing the visitors were assured, the townspeople and villagers in the Kingdom of Gonjolard were hospitable.

A bizarre scene if one didn't know the the happenings in two-week long ordeal in Gonjolard.

On one end of the town near the castle, preparations by the townspeople were underway with nearby villagers volunteering to help. Jesters ordered by the King to entertain the crowd arrived early.

On the other, villagers and townspeople alike brought food and handcrafted items to sell and share for the town market. Others strolled through the square trying not to think of the gallows above their heads. Rumors spread throughout the Kingdom these subjects convicted by Prince Gawdawfel were innocent of any wrongdoing.

^Source-2...

The significance of the Festival of Gonjolard his grandfather declared evidencing their heritage was not lost on King Hartfelt.

In his quest for some measure of peace, at the first hour of daylight, Sir Gollett reported to his side to accompanied him. Although still feeling ill, his mission was clear; to intercept the rebels and lead them away from the Festival. That way, the villagers would be unaware of any uprising.

Off to battle King Hartfelt rode, confident he and his army would return victorious.

^Source-3...

On horseback and foot, the King's army marched though Gonjolard. Peasants had already gathered in the square, but paid no attention to the familiar sight of soldiers following their king to battle. The army made their way through ready for the task ahead.

King Hartfelt glanced up toward the scaffold where the gallows hung to see several prisoners with their feet dangling only inches from the platform. Alphonse was not among the dead.

That meant he would undoubtedly face him in battle. A sickening feeling rose in the pit of his already ailing stomach.

So be it, he thought and proceeded toward battle.

^Source-4...

Prince Gawdawfel woke with renewed confidence certain his plan concocted the night before would succeed. Smiling broadly, he entered the balcony seat from which he intended to preside over the festival.

^Source-5...

Umaldo announced the prince's presence. A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Prince Gawdawfel stepped forward and raised his hand.

"Welcome to the annual Festival of Gonjolard, my good people. I'm honored to be in your presence and that your loyalty to the Crown brought you here today. Let's all enjoy this wonderful gift from our forebears."

He signaled, and the buisines sounded. The Festival of Gonjolard had begun.