Chapter 3
“The arrow would have pierced my heart.”
My assignment as royal bodyguard is nothing like the punishment I feared. Granted, it is also not the sensational experience I once thought it might be, either.
On the one hand, I live in the castle. I never believed I would be a royal anything or ever see the inside of a castle unless it were somewhere on either side of the locked door of a dungeon.
On another hand, as a personal bodyguard of the Princess, I take care not to stare at the beautiful princess. I need to focus on the surroundings.
I have spent many hours in the throne room. Once, at a ball celebrating the king’s birthday. No other military men were there, not even my former commander.
My current commander, the commander of the royal guards was there, and he even got to dance with his wife and eat at the feast. Of course, he is the king’s cousin.
I, as Makeda’s guard, was only able to watch being careful to never make eye contact with Makeda, King Abati, or any of his other daughters.
At times, I am present when landowners, Lords of huge estates and military commanders are in discussions with royalty.
Makeda has more influence than most women of court, most of the military, less intelligent royalty, and lords. I know I am not to listen, but I hear enough when Makeda talks to know she can stand her ground, make a good argument, and frustrate and change the minds of men.
I feel something akin to anger or frustration whenever a younger lord or high-ranking military officer engages freely in conversation with Makeda.
Today, I am back at the garden. My former troop is there, also. My lieutenant is now in charge. I do not think they really notice me as their eyes are watchful.
I never realized until today how distracted I and only I was. Giving in to my natural male instincts could have resulted in injury coming to anyone in the garden or in the vicinity.
I look up to find that most of the soldiers that served under me are watchful and dutiful soldiers. That I was the most insubordinate. I shudder from my shame. It was if I betrayed my country to satisfy an improbable desire.
An arrow flying in lands inches from the very spot where Makeda bends down to pick another crocus.
I hear the lieutenant shout, “Watch out, your highness,” as I fling my whole body between Makeda and a second arrow.
I land atop of her. Her basket of flowers flies from her hand. I feel the sting of an arrowhead just above the middle of my shoulder blade and just below where my neck meets my shoulder.
Makeda is frantic, embarrassed, and angry. I hear her shout at me and strike me several times before she notices the arrow in my back.
We lay on the ground. She on her back staring up at me. I lay across her chest. Our faces nearly touching and I make eye contact.
Her face is flawless even this close. Her body soft and warm. I scramble to my feet, totally opposing my human instincts but fully rushing into my military identity.
When I rise, my sword is in my left hand and Makeda pressed tightly against my body in my right. I am dragging her amid protest to safety.
I watch as soldiers scramble from their positions to form a semi-circle around us with weapons in their hand. Two soldiers have mounted the wall of the garden, bows drawn with arrows pointed scanning the landscape.
“They’ve captured him!” I hear one archer shout as he leaps from the wall and disappears on the other side.
We reach inside the castle in the corridor leading to the garden. I release Makeda who pushes me away. I stand between her and the exit.
“Are you injured, your majesty?” I ask sword still in hand.
“You are, Emon,” Makeda responds with a slight tremor in her voice.
She reaches toward the arrow thinking about whether to pull it from my body. She stops and quickly draws back her hand as if it is a snake about to strike.
“Let’s get you back to your chambers as far away from the outside of the castle,” I command.
Makeda says nothing but hustles back to her chamber. The guards at the door see us coming. They quickly assess the situation and rush out with spears drawn past us to guard our retreat.
Once through the large double doors, Makeda stops to try once again to withdraw the arrow still protruding from my back. I drag her through the curtain into my little chamber.
“Go ahead and pull it,” I suggest as she reaches for it, again.
She touches it and withdraws, “I don’t … won’t it hurt you?”
“Not at all.”
She grabs it. I wince making every willful effort not to cry out from the tearing of muscle, sinew, and flesh I know goes with detachment of arrow from my body. I have seen it happen to others.
She gasps and then yanks it from my back. The pain is more than I can bare, so I let out a yelp. Makeda whimpers and drops the arrow to the floor.
“Get inside your chamber, your majesty,” my eyes fixed on the closed entrance in the curtain separating my chamber to the larger one beyond the double doors and my sword drawn and trembling in my hand.
“You have my permission to enter my chambers with me.”
“I must not, your majesty. Not until I know we are not followed.”
“You’re bleeding badly.”
“I’ll be alright for a while.”
“I refuse to go to my chambers without you,” Makeda’s voice takes on her normal noble air.
I feign following her inside. Once I know she is inside her chamber, I rush out to the larger chamber and through the double doors.
The two guards are returning and give me a sign that the threat is over.
“You need to go take care of that wound,” one of the guards suggests when he notices the bleeding.
I can tell I have lost much blood as I begin to feel fainter and my heartbeat begins to slow with the drop of the adrenaline.
“I cannot abandon the princess.”
“I’ll go get a nurse or physician,” the smaller of the two decides.
I go back to my chambers. It is always dark there between the two curtains. I sheath my sword and head to light the lone candle in my snug little space. The room appears to wobble and then blur until everything suddenly goes black.
When I open my eyes, I am lying on what feels like a cloud would feel. For a moment, I wonder if I am still on the physical side of life or passed into the spiritual. There is much light all around me and a canopy covers me. With this thought, I realize where I am, and I try to scurry out where I belong.
“You need to stay put, Captain,” a gentle voice and soft touch to my naked arm delay my retreat.
I continue to roll out of the canopy bed defying the voice and touch. My head suddenly swims and I reluctantly fall back. Even as soft as this bedding is, there is pain when my back lands against it. I grimace.
“Your majesty, I am sorry for this intrusion,” I apologize when I see her face.
I turn my head away remembering my instructions not to make eye contact with a member of the royal court. It is this gesture that provides me with the knowledge that the voice and touch belong to a nurse who is also a servant of the house. I can look her in the eye.
“If you will help me, I belong in my chambers,” I plead with the nurse.
The nurse smiles, “Her majesty insists that you stay here until you are stronger. I will not defy her majesty.” The nurse looks across to the other side of the canopied bed.
I turn toward the other side. The movement causing some pain, but it is not intolerable. Makeda stands there. Of course, I do not make eye contact.
“I think I will be more comfortable in my chambers, your majesty.”
“Nonsense. I can see the furrow in your brow even now as you speak. You will stay where you are. That is my wish and command.”
“Where will you sleep, your majesty?”
“In that chair,” she points to the larger of the two chairs in the sitting area.
“I will return in the morning with her majesty’s permission to check the dressing and the wound,” the nurse reports.
Makeda nods and the tiny nurse shuffles out of Makeda’s chambers.
The thought occurs to me that at one point after seeing Makeda for the first time in the garden that I dreamed of being in her bed. This is not as I dreamed it, though. I also did not feel this uncomfortably awkward in my dream. In my dream, I was bold and in command. I recognize how little control I have over my libido.
Makeda sits gently on the edge of the bed near my feet. The room is always well lit but because of its position near the center of the castle, it is difficult to figure out what time of day it is. I know the attack happened early while we were in the garden and did not take long to settle. I have no idea how long I lay unconscious or how long it took to address my wound.
“If I could have permission, I have a few questions, your majesty.”
“You have my permission to speak freely tonight.”
“Tonight, your majesty? Does that mean I have been unconscious all day?”
“You lost a lot of blood, Emon.”
That is the second time today that I notice Makeda dropping the “captain” from my name. I will try not to make more of that than I should.
“I am sorry for my forwardness this morning in the garden. My reaction, I assure you was for your safety. I meant no disrespect.”
“You saved my life. If I calculate correctly, if you had not acted as you did, the arrow would have pierced my heart.”
Makeda’s hand moves and it touches my hand. It was accidental but not quickly removed.
I make sure I do not make eye contact. It is so exceedingly difficult to not want to look into those eyes. She is so close and too tender at this moment.
Categories: Adventure Arts & Entertainment Parable
Douglas Knight
Struggling to surrender “my right to myself” and identify completely with Christ.
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