Chapter 7: Roland
Smoke is coming from Roland's pen as he's writing out a documentation of what the cobbler did to be locked up in the dungeon. As he comes to the part to list what she did, his quill pen comes to a screeching halt and the smoke dissipates. He puts his pen down and leans back in his chair. At least we'd be together. The little girl's words from yesterday ran through his mind for what seemed like the millionth time that day. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to think of a reason for her to stay locked up in that dungeon, to be punished. But every crime he thinks of, just doesn't seem to fit her insufferably kind character.
At least we'd be together. The words play over and over in his mind. Those light blue eyes pierced right into his heart. It's when he looked into her eyes that he realized what she meant. He saw the pain that he had inflicted upon this child by locking her mother up. He saw her determination and the love she has for her mother. It was then he knew that he tore their family apart. Now, he has to do something about it. Roland lets out a sigh as a knock sounds at the door.
"Enter," Roland grumbles.
Baileywick walks into the room, poised as ever. "What do you want?" Roland growls.
"I want you to free that poor cobbler who's locked down in that dungeon."
"I'll let her out."
"Y-you will?"
"Sure. When hell freezes over! Now get out before I have to make you!" he yells. Baileywick doesn't seem to hesitate to leave the room. Roland gets up and paces his office, still trying to think of what he can charge her with.
Flashback
"Dad, dad!" young Roland says flying through the castle. He finally comes face to face with his father.
"Junior, what have I told you about running through the castle?"
"I'm sorry dad. I'm just so excited about my paper."
"Paper?"
He shows his dad the paper he wrote on diplomacy. On it was a the big red letter A.
"I got an A, dad!" he said excitedly.
"It looks like you did." He handed the paper back to his son. "I'm very proud of you, son." A young Baileywick approaches, as if on cue. "Baileywick," Roland the first's voice boomed as he slapped his back. "My son got an A. We'll celebrate with Jiggly Wiggly pudding! Please have the chefs make some for after dinner tonight!"
"Of course sire," Baileywick replies. "But first, there in an urgent matter you are needed for in the throne room."
"Right away. I'll see you at dinner son," Roland called out to Roland the second. He then turned and kept walking.
Roland the second got curious and followed them. He ducked behind the curtains as his father and Baileywick entered the room. there was a woman already standing there. Baileywick gestured to the woman.
"This woman has come to you today to ask you to stop taxing the village so heavily."
"We have nothing left to give you, your majesty," the woman says. we've given you all we have. We're already working our fingers to the bone. Please, your majesty. Have mercy on the village."
"You show great courage coming in here, old woman. Luckily, you caught me in a good mood. I will lift some of the taxes you can work with peace of mind." Roland looks at Baileywick. "Write a proclamation, Baileywick."
"Yes, sire."
Roland looks down at the old woman from the top of his staircase. "Oh thank you your majesty. Thank you so much."
"You may go." She curtsied as best she could and left. "See that she gets home Baileywick. She looks frail."
"Yes, sire," Baileywick says.
Present
The next day, Roland is doing more paperwork. In the back of his mind though, he still can't think of what to charge that irritatingly friendly demeanor. He hears a knock on the door and tells the person to enter. Roland looks up at the person and rolls his eyes. "What is it now, Baileywick? The cobbler again, I assume?"
"Actually yes. But before you lose your temper, please just answer a question."
"This better be good," Roland says crossing his arms.
"Your majesty, what has the cobbler done to deserve being thrown in the dungeon?"
"That's easy. She insulted me. She's in there for a good reason. It's justice served."
"It's easy to confuse justice with vengeance, your majesty. Besides, if you free her, she won't annoy you because you won't have to see her again," Baileywick says before leaving the room.
Roland huffs and goes back to his paperwork. He doesn't stop for the rest of the day until late at night. He stands up out of his chair and stretches his sore, achy muscles. He goes down the the kitchen and grabs a bowl of grapes to munch on as he walks upstairs, since he missed dinner. He pokes his head into James' room to find him lightly snoring. Roland smiles. He leans down and kisses his head.
"Goodnight, son," Roland whispers as he leaves the room.
He travels down the hall and pokes his head in Amber's room. Roland fights back a chuckle when he sees her tangled mess of blond hair around her head. Roland leans down and plants a soft kiss on Amber's forehead.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," Roland whispers.
His shadowy figure slips quietly out of the room and down the hall some more. He comes across the third door in the hall and traces his fingers along the wood. He sighs and presses his head against it. I wish you were here more, Tilly. You'd know what to do, Roland thinks to himself.
With his bowl of grapes still in his hand, he walks further down the hall to his private chamber. He opens the door and walks inside, shutting it behind him. A shiver runs down his spine at the unfamiliar cold. Has it always been this cold and I just never noticed? Roland thinks to himself. He shakes his head and heads for his closet. He changes into his night wear and picks up the bowl of grapes. He looks down at his bare feet and thinks about the slippers that the cobbler had made him.
No! I refuse to wear those! I refuse! He looks over where the maids set them by the side of his bed, and then looks down at his bare feet again. He growls and finally relents, racing over to slide his feet into them. He lets out a sigh of relief as the slippers begin to warm his feet, and to his surprise, his whole body.
Roland sets the bowl of grapes down on his nightstand and looks down at the blue slippers. He begins to march in place, feeling how the slippers seem to be molded to fit his feet. He starts walking around his large master bedroom, as his smile grows larger with every step he takes.
Suddenly not hungry anymore, he slips into his bathroom and brushes his teeth. He leaves the bathroom when he's done and dances around his room, like a child on a fresh summer day. When he's out of breath, he flops down on his bed and puts his arms behind his head with a smile. Okay, I can't stand that cobbler, but I do love these slippers, Roland thinks to himself. He shakes his head and kicks the slippers off of his feet. He slips under the covers and lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling. It's easy to confuse justice with vengeance, your majesty. Baileywick's voice echoes in Roland's head.
The next day, Roland wakes up. He throws the covers back and sits up. He gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom to brush his teeth. He dresses in his usual blue tailcoat with tan pants. He puts a gold crown on his head and heads down for breakfast. After seeing the children off to school, Roland goes straight to the dungeon.
"Your majesty," the guard bows.
Roland nods once. "Take me to the prisoner," he demands.
"At once, your majesty," the guard replies and he does. He gestures to the cell and bows.
Roland puts his hands around the bars of the cell and peers inside. He looks around and he can't see anything. Roland has to guess it's the darkest cell in the entire dungeon. A sudden wave of guilt washes over him for locking her in there but he pushes it down.
"Widow Belthazar?" Roland says.
He hears his own voice echo off the halls. He watches the cell and finally sees two piercing blue eyes appear. He turns around to see the guard behind him stand at attention. "Unlock this cell at once," Roland says with a scowl.
"Yes, your majesty."
The guard unlocks the cell door and opens it. Roland steps inside and walks in the direction of her eyes. The guard remains at the entrance of the cell. Roland turns around.
"Leave us," he demands. The guard bows and leaves the cell door open.
Roland leans down and offers his hand. He sees her look at his hand, then at him. He stays there for several seconds before she finally takes it. Roland feels his heart leap in his chest, but ignores it. There is a sliver of a window several feet above Roland's head. It's the only light in the cell, and he's partially standing in it, feeling one tiny spark of warmth in the dark, cold cell.
"Why have you come here, your majesty?"
Her voice sounds hoarse and shaken to his ears. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He closes his mouth, not knowing how to answer her question.
"D-did you come h-here to torment me further?"
Her voice is shaking, like she's shivering while talking. He pauses and realizes how cold it must be in this dungeon without a blanket, or a jacket of any kind. He snaps himself out of his thoughts and opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, replaying her question in his mind again.
"Torment you? What do you mean?"
"You t-took me away from m-my home and my one and only ch-child, my baby girl, not to mention my b-business that I run by m-myself. What more do you w-want from me? H-have you come here to-to hurt me f-further than you a-already have?"
Roland raises an eyebrow and pulls her gently into the light. She stumbles against him and ends up in his arms, not used to her own feet. She looks up at him, putting her hand up to her eyes. Her eyes finally adjust to the light and she looks into his eyes. She stands there for a moment. They both do. She looks at him; he looks at her. It is over as soon as it starts. She shakes her head and looks down. She pushes him away from her body and pulls her hand out of his. He fights back a gasp when he sees her face. Her hair is a mess and her face is red and blotchy. Her eyes are red and her expression is solemn. He fights the urge to wipe away the tears from her face, remembering he caused the pain that put them there. She wraps her arms around herself, still shaking and looks at him again.
"Why h-have you come here?" she asks again.
Hearing her repeat the question, he realizes her voice sounds broken. It doesn't match her gaze. Roland hangs his head and sighs as a shutter racks through his body. It must be the cold, he reasoned. He looks up at her once again seeing her broken, sad eyes. Sad though they were, he could see the courage shining through.
"I'm letting you go," he mumbles.
"You're…what?" she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm… letting you go."
"Why?"
"It doesn't matter why. Do you want your freedom, or not?"
"Yes, thank you, your majesty," she says.
Roland stands at the narrow cell door. She walks toward him, then stops. She looks at him questioningly and he responds by gesturing. She hesitates for a moment, then walks past him. He feels her brush her shoulder against his chest. He watches her lithe body walk away. Once she's out of earshot, he lowers his head and groans.