Lord Darin's Bride
A Short Story by General Luigi
Based on The Tsar's Bride by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov
Part I
Leo Dakar gazed out the window at the girl in the distance. At such a distance, most people would not have been able to identify her, but Jennifer's beauty stood out like a tree in the plains of Sacae. She was more beautiful than anyone he had seen, and they knew each other well. He asked Basil Samara, her father, for her hand in marriage a few weeks ago, but he responded that Jennifer had already been promised to another man—John Luton, who recently returned from Pherae. It was true that Leo was older than Jennifer, but fourteen years was not an especially notable amount. There were couples that were much farther apart in age—Lord Darin himself had been known to marry girls a little over a third of his age.
In his younger years as a Laus colonel, Leo and his troops had almost no restrictions when it came to love. If he so desired, he could barge into the home of whatever girl caught his eye and take her to his mansion, no matter how much her family offered as a bribe. He deprived many a girl of their honor in those days, but now, he hardly knew himself; he was a mere shadow of the dashing young falcon he once was.
He could only dream of the possibility of being with Jennifer. John was a handsome and kind gentleman; even though he had just as much power as Leo did, he loved only Jennifer. He and Jennifer would regularly talk about each other; they had known each other since childhood, and it was obvious to all who saw that the two were meant for each other. For Leo, the mere thought of his beloved being in the arms of another was a greater torture than even Lord Darin could devise.
There was hope, though. Ellis Blackpool, that heathen half-breed, was an expert with potions and spells. Surely Ellis would have a way to deliver Jennifer to him. Heathen or not, half-breed or not, Ellis was Leo's only hope for a cure to the torture that was crushing his sinful soul. The mere thought of John walking around the altar with Jennifer was more horrible than a mock execution.
A loud knock sounded at the front door that echoed through the mansion like a bass drum made of thick iron. "Ah, they're here," Leo thought as he put on his robe. He hastened to the door and opened it, seeing a crowd of Laus soldiers on the other side.
"Welcome, welcome, my friends!" he said with pride. The soldiers responded with a cacophony of different greetings as they entered. A young man of about seventeen with a small beard—John—walked in among the last of them.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Leo," the man said.
"As it is to see you, my friend," Leo responded.
Two more men followed. One was a rather tall and thin old gentleman with a long grey beard that reached just past his chest. His robes alone identified him as a member of Lord Darin's court. The other man looked about Leo's age, but he was considerably shorter and his dark green hair was a blatant indication of his mixed descent.
"Sir Lars, it is an honor to have you here," Leo said to the old man. "And you, Ellis—it's wonderful to know you have taken the time to see me."
"I had heard there was a party here, so I thought to give my old bones some amusement," Sir Lars said.
"Hey!" Leo called to his servants. "Bring out the drinks!"
"Now you're talking!" Sir Lars exclaimed.
"Please be seated, everyone."
"Of course, Colonel," several of the soldiers responded as they pulled up chairs to the large table in the foyer. "Even if the mead may take a moment, they say that a tender word is sweeter than even the sweetest honey."
Leo joined them after a brief moment. As the servants came out with several bottles of mead, wine, and other drinks, Sir Lars looked to John.
"Tell me, John, since you've been to Pherae, would you please tell me what it is like? How do the Pheraens live, youngster?"
As he was handed a goblet, John stroked his beard for a brief moment before speaking up.
"It's certainly different—the people and the land are not very much like our own. To start, the regular floods we get from the rain are unheard of there, and in the winter, everything is covered in a beautiful layer of snow. The mountains to the east are so high that one cannot take them in with a mere glance and the tallest ones extend beyond the clouds. As for the towns, they are immense and built of stone. The houses are all fabulously decorated and upholstered. Many of the Pheraens all walk around in fabulous attire, accompanying their beautifully dressed wives rather than keep them at home for fear of soldiers abducting them like us. The people are incredibly patient and have an incredible zeal for their work.
"Indeed, I am very pleased to know that our dear Marquess wants us to learn such things from our sister territories. Long live Lord Darin, who cares for his people like a father!"
"Amen!" Leo agreed, raising his goblet, which was almost out of wine. "To the health of our father and Marquess! Long live Lord Darin!"
"Long live Lord Darin!" the soldiers exclaimed in agreement.
"My dear host!" Sir Lars bellowed over the crowd. "You should have your servants sing a song in praise of our beloved Lord Darin!"
"Indeed, my friend!" Leo responded. "Hey, bring out the choristers!" he called to his servants.
"And the dancers!" some of the soldiers added.
The chorus entered the foyer and bowed to Leo and his guests, then taking up a position near the stairs.
"My friends, let us hear my favorite song in praise of the Marquess," Leo requested of the chorus. One of the drummers up front lightly—almost silently—tapped his foot to set the tempo. The string orchestra on each side of the chorus opened the song with a fanfarish melody, followed by the choristers beginning their part of the song.
Glory to the great sun high in the heavens,
Glory! Glory!
And to our great Marquess, Lord Darin,
Glory! Glory!
None can ride the backs of his swift horses,
Glory! Glory!
None can wear his brightly colored crown and robes,
Glory! Glory!
"And his soldiers and courtiers never grow old,
Glory! Glory!" Leo and some of the soldiers added.
And his soldiers and courtiers never grow old,
Glory! Glory!
Glory! Glory!
Glory! Glory!
The song ended.
"Indeed, how can we age with a Marquess like Lord Darin!" Sir Lars demanded of no one. "Even before he was born, his genius was known. The old bishop himself prophesied to Lady Maria, 'Your child will be a man even greater than Roland himself!'"
"Even an infidel would praise Lord Darin!" Leo bellowed.
"No, not everyone praises him," John interrupted, his displeasure at the fact evident. "It grieves me to repeat such horrible words, but many say our Marquess is a monster!"
"Hah hah! A monster, they say!" Sir Lars exclaimed. "Well, it is the monstrous side of him that his foes fear! His enemies all flee in terror at the mere mention of his great name!"
As the chorus dispersed, sensing that they were done, Sir Lars suddenly gained a look in his eyes that suggested he remembered something important.
"Leo!" he called. "Tell me, where's my goddaughter? I hope you're not keeping your dove under a lock. She will not fly away, my friend."
"Ah, forgive me, Sir Lars," Leo responded. "I have no idea why she has not shown herself yet. One of you—go get Shiri!"
"Sir Lars, who is Shiri?" Ellis asked.
"Why, she's Leo's mistress—a lovely girl! She could outsing a nightingale, her face is as perfect as St. Elimine herself, her eyes sparkle like dew on a rose, and her hair is as long as it is dark.
"She came here from a village in Sacae. I called her my goddaughter because I christened all the citizens of that village with my lance on her account, but she was brought here to live with my dear friend Leo."
At that moment, Shiri entered.
"Good afternoon, Goddaughter," Sir Lars said.
"Good afternoon, Godfather," Shiri responded drowsily. Her pine-green eyes were devoid of their usual sparkle, and wrinkles had formed at the bottoms of her eyelids.
"My dear, what is the matter?"
"I've had little sleep as of late, and my head aches because of it."
"Oh, come now. Just sing us a good song and the pain will be gone like magic!"
"Very well, Godfather. What kind of song would you like?"
"A love song—you know, a slow one that tugs at your heartstrings."
"Very well," Shiri said with a sigh. She then walked to the bottom of the stairs and stood up straight.
Mother dear, quickly,
adorn your dear daughter
in her white wedding attire.
I have vowed to
never anger you again.
I have renounced my beloved.
Let down my silky hair
and lay me on a bed of boards.
Throw a shroud over my white breasts,
and cross my pale arms beneath it.
At the head of my bed
light a white wax candle
and summon my old groom.
Let the old man come
and admire my maidenly beauty.
"Beautiful!" the soldiers exclaimed when Shiri lowered her head in a bow.
"Now that is a song!" Sir Lars bellowed. "I would stay for more, but Lord Darin is probably stirring soon, so we must go."
"Of course," Leo responded. "Please do not let our Marquess grow angry."
The guests proceeded to leave, but Leo pulled Ellis aside.
"Could I have a moment of your time, Ellis? I need to speak to you about something important."
When the guests had all left, Leo closed the doors and turned around. Shiri had disappeared—probably back to bed, considering that she was tired.
"Ellis, please tell me," Leo started, "is there a way to win a girl's love by means of potions or magic?"
"There is such a means," Ellis responded distantly.
"Really? Is this some sort of joke?"
"No joke, sir."
"Very well. I have a dear friend who has fallen for a lovely girl, the poor fellow. Is there a way for me to help him?"
"There is. I'll give him a powerful charm. If he gives it to the girl in her drink she will fall in love with him."
"It must be a drink?"
"No, sir. The charm is a powder that must be sprinkled into her wine. Your friend must sprinkle it himself, or the girl will instead fall for whoever sprinkled the powder."
"Wonderful! But wait—what if she somehow resists the powder?"
"Why would I lie to you?"
"I'll call you over when the time comes. If the powder works, I will give you enough gold for you to bathe in."
"I assure you that she will fall in love with your friend."
"Excellent. Shall I see you out?"
"Please go ahead."
It was too good to be true. There was a way to take Jennifer from John and bring her to him. Through the aid of Ellis, his dearest wish was to be granted, the most beautiful girl in existence was to fall in love with him! He could marry his beloved Jennifer and live happily with her!
When Leo returned in, Shiri wandered out from a side door as he sat down at the table and placed his head in his hands, thinking of his future. Shiri stopped behind him and simply hovered there.
"What do you want?" Leo asked roughly, without turning his head to face her.
"I was wondering…" she started, "if I had… through some foolish act… angered you. Why… Why do you not speak to me?"
"Leave me, Shiri."
"Oh! So that's it? Do I bore you? Well, I should have known! What did you expect, you silly girl? He's had his fill of you, your trysts are boring to him! There's a better girl in his sights now!"
"Go to bed, Shiri!" Leo demanded angrily, turning around.
"Oh! Oh, my dearest, it seems you no longer love your Shiri. My cheeks are no longer cold from your countless kisses… you no longer visit me in my chambers… Was it so long ago that you fondled me with endless passion? I've spent entire nights waiting for you, weeping until dawn."
"Love is like a bowstring, Shiri. When it snaps, nothing can mend it. I have found another girl."
"No! It cannot be!" Shiri cried, tears forming in her eyes. "It must be out of anger! I must have somehow angered you! Leave her; she does not love you! I alone love you, Leo! For you I forgot my shame, my family, my people, and my home. It was all for you! All for you! Please…" she fell to her knees, her eyes covered by her hands. "Please, my love, do not crush my fragile soul…"
A bell rang in the distance.
"Matins…" Leo said. He got up and took his hat from the rack near the window he had gazed out of earlier.
"Wait, my love! Please… tell me I'm raving… that you still love me… Please… say something!"
"Goodbye," he said as he went out the door.
