The Regent Pageantry

Chapter 1: Duke William William Forehouse sat at his dining table and drank from his favorite silver cup. It was actually the only silver cup he had and it was his favorite cup. Back then in his days of youth, he would not drink tea from anything else but his silver cup. He could remember how his mother would always complain to his father about this attitude of his. William’s father did not really seem to care. William did not expect him to anyway. He was the one who gave him the cup at his thirteenth birthday. William could still remember the day vividly and how all the events played out. His father had called him to his study and had presented the gift to him. It was wrapped in brown paper. “Thanks, father,” he said simply when he received the gift, not knowing if he was supposed to open the gift then or some other time in his own room. His father helped him out. “Open it, son,” he said. William relaxed in the study, a room filled with books and parchments of all kinds and unwrapped the gift. It was a bright silver cup, shining in the sunlight that penetrated the room from the open windows with their drapes apart. “Thanks, father,” he said with bright unbelievable eyes. It was not as though he did not expect his father to get him a present for his birthday. He expected it and he knew his father would not disappoint him. But then, he had not expected a silver cup. This was a real silver cup he was holding in his hands. Or was it not? “That is a silver cup you are holding, son. It is made of and from silver. Silver is a precious metal. You know that right?” “Yes sir,” he said calmly. “This is a present to you, son. Don’t lose it,” his father said then and that was all. William did not know the value of the cup until his mother told him years later, after his father had died and he had become the duke, that the cup was a family heirloom. It belonged to his grandfather and his father before him. Its history could be traced to the very day Forington was founded, the day the king demarcated the land and gave it to the Forehouse family as a possession. That silver cup was the same cup the first Forehouse drank from as he and the king enjoyed a toast. The Forehouses that followed the first did not use the cup. They did not drink from it. They kept the sacred silver thing in a corner in their chamber or treasury and only brought it out at special occasions and when they wanted to pass it to their son. The same happened for William’s father. But not William. He would hear nothing of it. The moment he got the cup, he put it to use. He drank from it daily and used it as though it was just a normal cup and there was nothing significant about it. Now that he was in his last days, he still drank from it. He was sitting at his dining table, his eyes focused not on the cup but on the portrait hanging on the wall before him. It was a portrait of his wife, his late wife. William had always thought he was going to die before his wife, Emma. It was what he wanted and he always told his wife so and even the duchess believed it for as long as she could until it became obvious that the opposite was going to be the reality. Emma died two years age of sixty-two. She had lived long and even at sixty-two, not for once did William’s love for her diminish. He had been telling his two children, Henry and Catherina ever since that he still loved their mother as though she was still alive. It was the reason he did not give himself to the brothel. He was never one to have concubines and mistresses even before he married Emma and ascended the throne and he did not take up this practice after her death. Instead of the brothel, he however gave himself to the bottle. William was a heavy drinker. He sat at the dining table now, his eyes focused on his late wife and he was thinking. He was thinking about the last things she told him and how he was living in them now. “Take care of Henry for me…and Catherina too,” Emma had said in her last days. “I will, Emma. Save your strength,” William would answer impatiently. “Promise me, Will, promise me,” she would persist and he would have to promise and then still her mouth with a kiss. It was already certain at that point that she would die. She was surrounded and attended to by multiple maids and nurses. The doctor had come from the king to treat her but it was all to not avail. “The sickness spreads faster than anything I have ever treated before, my Lord,” he explained to William. “Is there anything we can do?” William asked then, over and over again. The answer was always negative. “Not that I know of. This is a new pestilence, I presume and I have never seen it before not to talk of curing it. I have given her syrup to reduce her pain. I however cannot guarantee that it would keep her alive,” the doctor explained. And then they looked at Emma and said, “The duchess has lived a fairly long time.” “Not long enough,” William said and dismissed him Emma died the next day. As the doctor had promised, it was a painless and silent death. William was in his dining room waiting for the news. When it came, he did not mourn like the peasant. He braced himself and called on his servant. “Get me my cup,” he told the servant who bowed and left. William did not need to explain which cup. Even the workers in his estate knew which cup William loved to drink from on special occasions and even every other day. As he sat at his dining table thinking, his mind drifted back to his son. It was his son that he was thinking about initially when his thoughts digressed to his past. He was not initially thinking solely about his son. Instead, he was thinking about the duchy. Forington had always been his home. He could not look back and remember a time he was not living here in the castle. He loved the castle. During his father’s reign, the castle underwent a massive transformation. When the royal family gave Forington to the Forehouses, it was a period of austerity and so there was no great or unusual show or spending of money. The only thing spectacular about the castle was that it was a castle. There was no gold, no silver, nor diamond. The designs were pretty common and the castle did not smell of royalty. It did not smell of wealth. As time went on, the various dukes that reigned gave the castle a touch of wealth; gold here, diamond there. But then, those were just touches. None of the former dukes really went out of his way to make sure the castle looked as grand as it was supposed to look. They contributed their tidbits to it during their reigns but still, Forington castle did not meet up with its fellow castles in the North. William’s father however did not die without doing what his ancestors refused to do. In his first ten years as duke, he called for a total renovation of the castle. It was so complete and overall that they had to evacuate the castle for a whole week. They lived in the small houses in the estate during that one week. It was William’s first time living outside the grandeur of the castle. It felt strange and it was though he was living on the streets. He did not know how to respond to it. He would cry and cry but then, his mother would keep telling him they would soon go back to their real home. William could not wait for that to come to pass. He used to think then that someone had attacked them and had taken away their castle and left them in these cubicles to live in. Eventually, they returned to the castle and really, the castle they returned to was not in a way like the one they had left. The castle they returned to was royal, regal, and imperial. There was no denying the fact that the duke really spent a huge sum of money renovating the castle and that the one week they lived outside the castle and in the small houses in the estate was worth it. Living away from grandeur for one week gave them this majestic house to live in. Gold was everywhere. There were golden cups and goblets. The doors were plated with gold. The pillars were adorned with sculptures of various sizes depicting various topics. The drapes were also changed and so were the cushions. There was a glass table with a golden stand in the middle of all the sitting rooms. It was wealth and majesty beyond measure. There was no one who saw it and did not marvel. Everyone expressed their awe for it and worshipped the duke for the great job he did. It was in this castle that William grew up in and when the time came, it was this castle and the whole of Forington that he was made duke over. And now that he was approaching old age, he could not help but think about the castle. He sat at his dining table thinking. He emptied his silver cup and filled it again from the wine in the golden goblet. Everything in the house always reminded him of the dexterous work his father did in this castle. Even the goblet that held his wine came into the house during the Great Renovation, as the people called it now. It was indeed a great renovation. William gulped down his wine and began to think about what would befall the castle after his death. He had not really given this a proper thought before and he knew that was inappropriate. It was not that he did not care about the castle. William loved this castle more than anything else. He loved Forington beyond measure and this castle was center of authority in the dukedom. If this castle fell, there was no more Forington. Of course, William was not so much concerned about the physical wellbeing of the castle as much as he was concerned about the administrative wellbeing of the castle. William knew nothing but the end of the world could bring down this magnificent castle that he lived in. But he could not say the same for the duchy of Forington. And it was not because he had been a bad duke or anything of such. It was because of his son, Henry. More times than he could count, he had been brought to the thinking table because of his son. What worried should not have been a thing of concern at all. What worried him was what was supposed to be worrying a duke who was not man enough to give birth to a son who would take control of the dukedom when he died. But William had given birth to a son. He had given birth to Henry twenty-five years ago and so he did not have to worry about that. But still, he was not certain the future of Forington was secured in the hand of Henry. And this was not really because he did not trust Henry or because he was not a good man but rather because Henry, the heir to the throne of Forington, the future duke of this grand duchy, was without a wife. If this alone was the problem with his son, perhaps William would not be sitting here draining every drop of wine in his silver cup, thinking. But that was not all. aside the fact that Henry was not with a wife, he was also a lover of many women and he was given to the brothel. This was unbefitting of a duke. William was not really against the idea of having whores but what he could not stand was the whole duchy knowing about it. He had told his son countless times to satisfy his s****l fantasies within the walls of the castle but he never listened. Of course, William knew this was not the reason his son did not have wife. He knew if Henry was ready to get a wife, all the ladies in the duchy would come chasing after him. The reason his son was without a wife was because he wanted to remain without a wife. He did not want to be accountable and responsible which was not a good thing. William had thought this over and over and he knew it was time to talk to his friends. The duke was not just sitting there drinking and thinking. He was actually waiting for one of his friends whom he had invited to the castle. This friend, Dickson Reinhard was a wealthy merchant who traded with royals. Dickson had been a merchant for as long as William could remember. Dickson was the second son of the duke of Abington and so he could not inherit the dukedom. But instead of him to sit back and enjoy the wealth that a dukedom provided, he decided to be a merchant, trading in gold and other precious metals with royals, dukes and barons. William had known him since they were kids. Then, William and his father would go to Abington and spend days there. William was still a small boy and would spend time playing with Dickson and his brother. His brother was not their peer so it was difficult to be attached to him. But William did get attached to Dickson Reinhard and even after they had both grown up, they remained in communication. Dickson was around for Henry’s name day and even for William’s only daughter, Catherina’s too. Once in a while, William would leave the comfort of Forington and travel down to Abington just to spend time with Dickson and say hello to the duke. And so, now that he needed help and contacted his friend, Dickson, he knew he was going to get a favorable response. And he already did. Dickson had replied his letter through another, with the seal of Abington stamped on it. He informed William in the letter that he would come over to his place today. William looked at the heavy wall clock standing tall on the wall. Abington was just five hours ride from here. If Dickson had left Abington early in the morning, he should be here already. It was noon already. William emptied his goblet of wine and was about to call for another when one of the serfs walked in. “My lord,” he said and bowed. “What is the matter?” the duke asked in a firm voice “Your guest, Lord Reinhard Dickson, is here, my lord.” William smiled. “Bring him in, quick!” “Yes, my lord,” the serf said and disappeared in a jiffy. The duke rose up to receive his guest. The tall doors of the dining room soon opened and Dickson walked in, flanked by two servants. “Dickson Reinhard!” William shouted for joy as he got out of his seat and went to welcome his dear friend. “The great duke!” Dickson shouted. That was what he always called William. William laughed loudly as he embraced his friend. “How was your journey?” William asked as he led his friend out of the dining room straight to the guest study. “Oh, it was a long one. Never been I have been away this long until I sat in the carriage and waited on end for us to get to Forington,” Dickson said and laughed. “Well, here you are now. May I tempt you with some fine wine?” William asked, smiling. Nothing gave him more joy that being with his friends, those he could really confide in. “Please do, William! I am opened to temptations of all sort today,” Dickson said. They entered the guest study and shut the door behind them. William turned to the servant behind them and told him to bring in some wine. Dickson spent the time looking around the study. It was a big one though not with many books. There was a shelf standing beside the window. There were several books on it but most of them were about the grandeur of the Forington castle and the administration of the dukedom so far. There were also a couple of books on the history of Forington and the Great Renovation that happened years back. The fame of the renovation reached Abington and it was so great that his brother, the duke of Abington wanted them to undergo the same process. Dickson had advised against it. They did not have the money Forington had. Why do more than their ability? “You have a nice place for a guest study, William,” Dickson said. “And great books that say all the good about the duchy,” he teased and laughed. William laughed too. “Thanks, friend. It was made for guest like you.” “Oh, well, thanks then,” Dickson said. William laughed. Dickson cleared his throat and was about to talk when the door opened and they were no longer alone. The servant walked in and placed the goblet of wine on the table and left. William took from the silverware on the stool by the side and served the wine. He gave Dickson a cup and took one himself. Dickson took a sip of the wine, gave William a knowing smile and emptied his cup immediately. “You sure know where to get the best wine, William,” Dickson said, shaking his head in admiration. William laughed. “Anything for you, friend.” “Oh, thank you, then,” Dickson said and then cleared his throat and sat up. “Your letter sounded like an emergency, William,” he began. “Well, it is in a way, Dickson,” William said. “Really? What is the matter?” William sighed and looked up. “It is my son, Dickson.” “Good boy, Henry? What is the matter with him?” “He is still without a wife,” William said. Dickson was surprised. “Really?” “Yes. If he was getting married, you would have attended his wedding ceremony, wouldn’t you? My son is still without a wife, Dickson,” William said in a low gruff voice which expressed his immense grief. “That is not a good thing, William,” Dickson said. “Have you spoken to him about it?” “Many times. He would not listen. The boy is given to the brothel, Dickson,” William explained. “Oh,” Dickson sounded and sat back. Not just interested in marriage was an understandable thing. But given to the brothel was not something simple or understandable especially for a man of nobility who would one day rule a dukedom. Dickson himself had not been one to be attracted to women. He had lived more than sixty years on earth and he was not married. He could even count the number of the times he had slept with a woman. He wished he had the grand answer to his friend’s problem but then he did not. And he did not see the reason why he should fool him into thinking that he could provide a solution to his problem. “And my strength is failing, Dickson,” William said frailly. “I am approaching the end, Dickson. I don’t want this duchy to go into the ground because my son is not man enough to control his urges and get a wife. This could be the end of the Forington.” “Don’t say that, friend…” “Remember Pink Rock? The duke drank the duchy to the ground,” William said. Dickson smiled a knowing smile. He could remember Pink Rock. The case of Pink Rock was one that shocked the world. Although the duchy was not one of the richest in the North, it was still a duchy and that meant there was enough money. But then, a rogue duke came up and could not control his desire for the bottle. He had wines from the royal brewery brought to him in his castle. He bought the most expensive wines, wines made only for royalty and for men of special wealth. Soon, his economy began to crumble. His servants began to grumble. His treasurer gave him an austerity budget to help pass through the phase. The duke tore the budget in anger. He would not reduce himself. More wines were bought, more than he could ever drink in a lifetime even if he spent every minute of his life drinking. He dedicated a whole warehouse to keeping his wine collection. The duchy fell one month after the duke threw a party that shocked the whole North. Even the king heard of it and was alarmed at the way money was spent at the party. He was going to issue a warning but his advisers told him wait. They were right. After a week, the staff at Pink Rock revolted and ran away to towns and cities. Some took work in other duchies in the North. The duke was left with an estate he could not farm. He tried to hire workers and promised a ridiculously high pay. No one turned up because they knew it was a lie. The duke did not have that money anywhere. After a month, the duke was bankrupt. He had nothing left. He ran to the king for help. Instead of helping, the king took hold of hid duchy and gave it to another to manage. The whereabouts of the duke are known to no one. It was not until six months after that his body was found on the sea shore. He had drowned himself. “I don’t want my son to end up like the duke of Pink Rock. He has to get his life together. He has to have a wife and stop sleeping around,” William said. This could be the end of Forington. If his son continued this way, then when he became duke, all the whores he slept with would start coming back, claiming they had a son or two for him. If eventually, he evaded them all and still died without a wife, without a rightful heir to the seat, then that would be the end of the dukedom and the king would have to give the duchy to a capable family to man. This, just this, was William’s fear. He had reached an age where he knew it would only be folly to not acknowledge what was true. What was true was that he was now an old man and would die anytime soon and if he did not ensure that his son was settled before then, it would be the end of the duchy and his name would go down in history as the last good duke of Forington and also the one who did not train up his son. All his legacy would be dwarfed by that one reality and there was no escaping it. The only thing he could do was what he was doing now: save the duchy before his demise. They remained in the study for hours, thinking. And then, a smile suddenly crept up on Dickson’s face. William did not understand what his friend was trying to do. Was he trying to mock him of his condition and tell him how doomed he was or what? Why the smile? He was about to confront him and tell him to not make light of his predicament when Dickson looked at him and said with glistening teeth, “I think I might have a plan to save your duchy.”