Cursum Perficio ("I finish the course")
Enya "Watermark"; Lyrics by Roma Ryan
Cursum Perficio - I finish the course
Verbum sapienti: - A word to the wise:
Quo plus habent, - the more [people] have,
Eo plus cupiunt - the more they want.
Post nubile, Phoebus - After the clouds, Phoebus
Iternum - Journey [My journey ends here]
My brother William's coronation is today. At 19 years young, I hope he's ready for the challenges of leading a country. Though I guess our mother was roughly the same age when she defeated the Evil Queen and began her 12-year reign. Maybe her youth is what led to her downfall? I shouldn't say that, for all I know are rumors. I hope one day my mother will tell me her story in detail, for whatever happened eight years ago will not change my love for her.
A knock on my door brought me ungraciously out of my reverie. "Come in." I spoke softly.
Anne, one of the older ladies' maids entered, my dress for the coronation draped neatly across her outstretched arms. The light peach fabric simmered with hints of pink and gold as the early afternoon light streamed in through the window. I nodded my thanks, briefly touching the softly flowing fabric.
"Thank you, Anne. Please lay it out on my lounge." I motioned to the chaise behind me. She obediently walked over and draped the dress across the end of the lounge, gently smoothing out any wrinkles. I saw her brief courtesy as she made to leave the room, but she stopped at the door and turned around.
"You don't deserve any of this, you know. You're just like the rest of us. Nothing." Nothing. The word echoed in my mind. She made a sign across her chest with her hands.
"Excuse me? How dare you talk your Princess in such a fashion! Leave this room at once before I have you dragged out." My voice had risen a few octaves as I tried to stand my ground once again. I hid one shaking hand behind my back.
"You are just like him. Arrogant. Stubborn. Willful. And above all things, common. You should be bringing the dresses to Princess Mary, and not me." She whispered spitefully.
She left before I had a chance to respond. My blood was boiling, and I knew if I looked in the mirror I would be redder than the setting sun. But I never acted on that anger, for I did not know what to do. I am, unfortunately, used to these comments now. I think back over what I remember of my sixteen years, and I realize it has always been this way. I looked back at my reflection in the mirror, my color slowly returning to normal, and remembered, all over again, the many hateful words spoken to me over the years.
When I was younger, others at court looked at me differently. William, almost 3 years my senior, has always been my protector. My brother and I could not be more different in appearance. His dark curls and cream skin highlight the beauty between my mother and father. My golden curls, blue eyes and freckles make me a shining beacon of dissimilarity next to William. Cruel things, like what Anne just said, were often said to my face even as a child, often questioning my parentage and pointing fingers.
Though many of my childhood memories have faded, I can remember their fateful cruel words with crystal clarity. Bastard. Whore's daughter. Common urchin. I never understood why people at court felt the incessant need to be hateful. My mother restored peace to the land, and slowly, the land began to flourish again. People had food on their plates, and warm places to lay their heads. Was that not enough for the nobility? Did they need some sort of scandal to lighten up their days? To keep them occupied?
William would always come to my defense. Either pulling me away from the situation, or directly speaking back to whoever uttered the hateful words. Unfortunately, the latter option was frowned upon by my father. King William knew what was being said around court, and though outwardly dismissing the rumors, I know now how deeply they affected him.
My harassment at court only would increase in the years to follow the birth of my sister, Mary, when I was three years old. Mary is the spitting image of my mother, and likewise, my brother William. My uniqueness continued to stand out. My mother would always say I took after her grandmother, but nobody else seemed to remember what she looked like.
When I was seven years old, and my mother had been Queen for almost 11 years, my youngest brother Thomas was born. Much to my parents' dismay, or at least my fathers', Thomas was born with shockingly blue eyes and blond curls. Being only seven, I was so excited, because I was no longer unique. To me, this was proof that the awful words the nobles at court outwardly spoke were false.
However, things did not improve. I was whisked off to the countryside with my brothers and sister, so we were not around court as things deteriorated. During that summer away from court, my mother visited as often as she could. But one day in particular, she was accompanied by the Captain of her Royal Guard. She explained to us children that she was ill, and that the remedy was to remove herself from the court and live in the country, with the fresh air and plentiful sunshine. She looked ill to me, and so we were happy to have her in the country with us, and promised her we would help her feel better. I still remember her weak smile, and how she briefly glanced back at her Captain, who truly looked more ill. In fact, I remember the multiple bruises on his face, and how he walked with a slight limp. Why I remember that, I'm not sure.
We spent the rest of the summer together as a family. Our father would visit periodically, but the tension between him and my mother was evident, even to us children. By the end of the summer, my brother and sister and I were called back to our life at court, and tutors were assigned to William and I. Since Thomas was still an infant, he stayed with my mother for awhile longer, until proper arrangements had been made for him. We were allowed to visit our mother periodically, but never very often. We were told frequent visits would disrupt her recovery. Her health appeared to improve with country life. Every time I visited, she looked healthier. More color appeared in her cheeks, and she acted happy and relaxed, though I imagined, once Thomas was taken back to court, she was lonely all by herself in the country cottage.
I begged father to let her come back to court since she appeared to be feeling so much better, but he always said her health would fail again if she returned. So, for the past eight years, I've happily visited her as often as I was allowed. It's been four months since I've seen her last, and the last time I unfortunately brought the news of my father's passing.
"Oh, my dear Sara Rose. It's so good to see your beautiful face." She said sweetly as my mother opened the door of the cottage. I walked eagerly into her open arms. "I've missed you too, Mother."
She pulled back from our embrace and studied my face. "What is wrong, Sara?"
"Oh, Momma," I began crying earnestly, "Papa's dead." I threw my arms back around my mother's neck and hung on tightly. My mother started to cry too, leaning against my shoulder. We stood like that for a few minutes before I heard footsteps.
"What has happened?" The deeply accented voice said. I looked up, surprised to see the Captain striding across the room. My father had said he returned home to his village many years ago. My mother reached out a hand and grasped his outstretched one, pulling him over to us.
"King William has passed away." She said slowly, turning her head back towards me as tears filled her eyes again. The Captain reached a hand up to her face, but she gave a quick shake no before looking at me again. He withdrew his hand, before placing a hand on each of our shoulders.
"I am so sorry for your loss." He paused, looking back at my mother, before turning to me, "How did he die?"
"About two weeks ago, he fell off his horse and hit his head while out riding," I stammered, trying to contain my tears enough to speak, "he never woke up. Oh Mama, they wouldn't let me come get you. I begged and pleaded, but they refused."
"He was too young to pass." The Captain said, "Are they requesting the Queen back at court for the funeral?" The last question came out as a whisper.
"No," I said confusedly, looking back at the Captain, "they know her illness will return if she comes back. The country air is much better for her. They wouldn't let her come back to see Papa before he passed and they won't let her come back now, even for a day," I paused, looking back at my mother, "William will be crowned in a few months time."
She nodded, and slowly sat down, placing her head in her hands. "I know they will be expecting you back soon, but please wish William my best. And tell him I miss him." I nodded.
"How is Thomas?" The Captain asked quietly.
"He's doing well, Captain. He is a rambunctious nine-year old boy. And Mary is fine, though no one seems to remember to ask about her." I did not mean the last statement to sound harsh, but my sister always seems to be forgotten. My mother winced at my words. "And your daughter, Ivy, is still wild at heart. I think my brother will have a hard time catching her."
I watched his eyes narrow at the mention of Ivy, his only daughter, who was born just a few days after me, and then a small smile graced his face. "Please send her my love." He added.
"Please send all my children my wishes, and love. Please ask them to come visit as well." She paused, trying to hold back additional tears, "I will pray for your father. He's been a great King, and I miss him greatly. I wish…" the tears started to flow freely down her face, and she reached a shaky hand out to the Captain, "I wish I could have seen him one more time. Tell him I am sorry, so sorry, for everything," she paused to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks, "I am blessed that you continue to visit, Sara. Though you may not see it, you bring me great joy, my daughter, and I love you."
I walked over and hugged my mother before bidding her goodnight. The Captain walked me quietly to the door, before softly speaking, "Please be careful at court, Sara."
I was shocked at his forwardness, and straightened myself up to respond. "Captain, please remember that you are speaking to a Princess of Tabor, and I should be addressed as such." I immediately regretted my words as his faced showed my words had wounded him. "I'm sorry, Captain. I did not mean to be rude. We are all on edge right now. And thank you for your warning. I am always careful at court."
"Thank you, Princess." He said and gestured to the open door. I quickly exited the small cottage, hurrying over to my horse to make my way back to the castle.
A frantic knock came at my door, and I startled away from my mirror, realizing I had a wasted a precious few minutes reliving the my unfortunate harassment at court.
"Please come in." I spoke clearly, and the door burst open with a flurry of activity.
Ivy, my best friend, came running in streaming glittering greens and golds all around her. We are only two weeks apart in age, and outside of my siblings, I've spent most of my other time with her. Many confused us for sisters, twins even, with our matching golden curls and rosy complexion.
"Oh Sara, my heart is racing! How do I look? Fit for a Queen?" The gleam in her eye was unmistakable. Her love for my brother William has been mostly kept secret around the castle, but now that his coronation has arrived, he may begin to publicly court her. Ivy can hardly contain her enthusiasm.
"You look beautiful, Ivy, as always." I smiled.
She graciously helped me into my dress, and we stood side-by-side admiring our new dresses in the mirror.
"My maid said something again today." I whispered. Ivy placed an arm around my shoulder and gave a gently squeeze.
"Please ignore the idle gossip. That's all it is…" She hesitated a moment before continuing, "but I have said it before, would it be so bad if you truly were my sister?"
"Of course it would be! It would mean my mother lied to my father, and me. It would mean this beautiful dream I have tried to believe in is just an illusion. It would mean, "I gasped for air, trying to fight back tears, "it would mean the man we have been mourning, our late King, is not my father. It means I am nothing!"
Ivy sighed, having had this similar conversation with me several times.
"Then this nothing, " Ivy pointed to herself, "might be your next Queen." She stated firmly, with her hands on her hips.
I could not resist laughing. Ivy always knew how to cheer me up.
"But really, Sara, put this behind you. Do not let it ruin this evening for you! I heard young Henry Charleston is practically dying in hopes of a dance, or two, with you tonight." Her eyes twinkled and she wiggled her eyebrow suggestively.
"Henry? Really? Well then I plan on having a splendid evening!" I winked, and Ivy squealed ridiculously.
"Wonderful! Well let us head down quickly. I want to make a grand entrance." Ivy started for the door, as I glanced at my reflection one last time. I lifted my chin resolutely and gently tossed my golden curls.
I am my father's daughter. Whoever that may be.