different expressions in each. The bastard looked resigned, knowing he would not be picked. The deviant’s eyes were aglow with ambition, as if expecting the choice to naturally fall on him. The drunkard looked out the window; he did not care. His daughter looked back with love, knowing she was not part of this discussion, but loving him nonetheless. The same with his youngest.
“Kendrik, I have always considered you a true son. But the laws of our kingdom prevent me from passing the kingship to anyone of less than true legitimacy.”
Kendrik 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
“Kendrik, I have always considered you a true son. But the laws of our kingdom prevent me from passing the kingship to anyone of less than true legitimacy.”
Kendrik 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
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