Read Online A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online
Authors: Morgan Rice
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you a true son. But the laws of our kingdom prevent me from passing
the kingship to anyone of less than true legitimacy.”
Kendrick bowed. “Father, I had
not expected you would do so. I’m content with my lot. Please do not let this
confound you.”
MacGil was pained at his
response, as he felt how genuine he was and wanted to name him heir all the
more.
“That leaves four of you. Reece,
you’re a fine young man, the finest I’ve ever seen. But you are too young to be
part of this discussion.”
“I expected as much, father,”
Reece responded, with a slight bow.
“Godfrey, you are one of my three
legitimate sons—yet you choose to waste your days in the ale house, with the
filth. You were handed every privilege in life, and have spurned every one. If
I have any great disappointment in this life, it is you.”
Godfrey grimaced back, shifting
uncomfortably.
“Well, then, I suppose I’m done
here, and shall head back to the ale house, shan’t I, father?”
With a quick, disrespectful bow,
Godfrey turned and strutted across the room.
“Get back here!” MacGil screamed.
“NOW!”
Godfrey continued to strut,
ignoring him. He crossed the room and pulled open the door. Two guards stood
there.
MacGil seethed with rage as the
guards looked to him questioningly.
But Godfrey did not wait; he
shoved his way past them, into the open hall.
“Detain him!” MacGil yelled. “And
keep him from the Queen’s sight. I don’t want his mother burdened by the sight
of him on her daughter’s wedding day.”
“Yes, my liege,” they said,
closing the door as they hurried off after him.
MacGil sat there, breathing,
red-faced, trying to calm down. For the thousandth time, he wondered what he
had done to warrant such a child.
He looked back at his remaining
children. The four of them stood there, waiting in the thick silence. MacGil
took a deep breath, trying to focus.
“That leaves but two of you,” he
continued. “And from these two, I have chosen a successor.”
MacGil turned to his daughter.
“Gwendolyn, that will be you.”
There was a gasp in the room; his
children all seemed shocked, most of all Gwendolyn.
“Did you speak accurately,
father?” Gareth asked. “Did you say Gwendolyn?”
“Father, I am honored,” Gwendolyn
said. “But I cannot accept. I am a woman.”
“True, a woman has never sat on
the throne of the MacGils. But I have decided it is time to change tradition.
Gwendolyn, you are of the finest mind and spirit of any young woman I’ve met.
You are young, but God be willing, I shall not die anytime soon, and when the
time comes, you will be wise enough to rule. The kingdom will be yours.”
“But father!” Gareth screamed,
his face ashen, “I am the eldest born legitimate son! Always, in all the
history of the MacGils, kingship has gone to the eldest son!”
“I am King,” MacGil answered
darkly, “and I dictate tradition.”
“But it’s not fair !”
Gareth pleaded, his voice whining. “I am supposed to be King. Not my sister.
Not a woman!”
“Silence your tongue, boy!”
MacGil shouted, shaking with rage. “Dare you question my judgment?”
“Am I being passed over then for
a woman? Is that what you think of me?”
“I have made my decision,” MacGil
said. “You will respect it, and follow it obediently, as every other subject of
my kingdom. Now, you may all leave me.”
His children bowed their heads
quickly and hurried from the room.
But Gareth stopped at the door,
unable to bring himself to leave.
He turned back, and, alone, faced
his father.
MacGil could see the
disappointment in his face. Clearly, he had expected to be named heir today.
Even more: he had wanted it. Desperately. Which did not surprise MacGil in the
least—and which was the very reason he did not give it to him.
“Why do you hate me, father?” he
asked.
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t
find you fit to rule my kingdom.”
“And why is that?” Gareth
pressed.
“Because
the kingship to anyone of less than true legitimacy.”
Kendrick bowed. “Father, I had
not expected you would do so. I’m content with my lot. Please do not let this
confound you.”
MacGil was pained at his
response, as he felt how genuine he was and wanted to name him heir all the
more.
“That leaves four of you. Reece,
you’re a fine young man, the finest I’ve ever seen. But you are too young to be
part of this discussion.”
“I expected as much, father,”
Reece responded, with a slight bow.
“Godfrey, you are one of my three
legitimate sons—yet you choose to waste your days in the ale house, with the
filth. You were handed every privilege in life, and have spurned every one. If
I have any great disappointment in this life, it is you.”
Godfrey grimaced back, shifting
uncomfortably.
“Well, then, I suppose I’m done
here, and shall head back to the ale house, shan’t I, father?”
With a quick, disrespectful bow,
Godfrey turned and strutted across the room.
“Get back here!” MacGil screamed.
“NOW!”
Godfrey continued to strut,
ignoring him. He crossed the room and pulled open the door. Two guards stood
there.
MacGil seethed with rage as the
guards looked to him questioningly.
But Godfrey did not wait; he
shoved his way past them, into the open hall.
“Detain him!” MacGil yelled. “And
keep him from the Queen’s sight. I don’t want his mother burdened by the sight
of him on her daughter’s wedding day.”
“Yes, my liege,” they said,
closing the door as they hurried off after him.
MacGil sat there, breathing,
red-faced, trying to calm down. For the thousandth time, he wondered what he
had done to warrant such a child.
He looked back at his remaining
children. The four of them stood there, waiting in the thick silence. MacGil
took a deep breath, trying to focus.
“That leaves but two of you,” he
continued. “And from these two, I have chosen a successor.”
MacGil turned to his daughter.
“Gwendolyn, that will be you.”
There was a gasp in the room; his
children all seemed shocked, most of all Gwendolyn.
“Did you speak accurately,
father?” Gareth asked. “Did you say Gwendolyn?”
“Father, I am honored,” Gwendolyn
said. “But I cannot accept. I am a woman.”
“True, a woman has never sat on
the throne of the MacGils. But I have decided it is time to change tradition.
Gwendolyn, you are of the finest mind and spirit of any young woman I’ve met.
You are young, but God be willing, I shall not die anytime soon, and when the
time comes, you will be wise enough to rule. The kingdom will be yours.”
“But father!” Gareth screamed,
his face ashen, “I am the eldest born legitimate son! Always, in all the
history of the MacGils, kingship has gone to the eldest son!”
“I am King,” MacGil answered
darkly, “and I dictate tradition.”
“But it’s not fair !”
Gareth pleaded, his voice whining. “I am supposed to be King. Not my sister.
Not a woman!”
“Silence your tongue, boy!”
MacGil shouted, shaking with rage. “Dare you question my judgment?”
“Am I being passed over then for
a woman? Is that what you think of me?”
“I have made my decision,” MacGil
said. “You will respect it, and follow it obediently, as every other subject of
my kingdom. Now, you may all leave me.”
His children bowed their heads
quickly and hurried from the room.
But Gareth stopped at the door,
unable to bring himself to leave.
He turned back, and, alone, faced
his father.
MacGil could see the
disappointment in his face. Clearly, he had expected to be named heir today.
Even more: he had wanted it. Desperately. Which did not surprise MacGil in the
least—and which was the very reason he did not give it to him.
“Why do you hate me, father?” he
asked.
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t
find you fit to rule my kingdom.”
“And why is that?” Gareth
pressed.
“Because
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