Page 39 of Enamored
The king sat forward, his forehead furrowing and his voice bellowing with consternation. “What is the meaning of such a request?”
I had to explain myself quickly before he squelched the idea. “Your great-great-grandfather, King Stefan the Worthy, was the last king to free the sword. He wielded it with such power his enemies could not defeat him.”
King Ulrik’s response stalled.
Rasmus bent in and spoke calmly. “Your Majesty, the princess is correct. The Sword of the Magi can give the bearer the strength to defeat the unjust, the unfaithful, and the untruthful.”
As my declaration, along with Rasmus’s, began to penetrate the room, the protests fell away. Rasmus straightened and beckoned toward the door. Two priests moved forward carrying a long case draped in black velvet. Maxim followed at a measured distance.
Silence descended, this time so heavily that each pound of my heartbeat echoed in my head. Had I made this decision wisely and for the well-being of my country? Or had I done so selfishly, with ulterior motives?
As Maxim drew nearer the dais, I wished for him to look up and reassure me as he had earlier at the Stavekirche that this was indeed the right path to take. But he kept his focus on the sword, once again securely locked in the case.
He’d masked any and all emotions so that whatever I’d witnessed on his face moments ago was gone. He was as unreadable as a blank parchment.
When the priests reached the front of the room, a servant waiting in the wing rushed forward with a pedestal table. The priests carefully pulled away the velvet covering and arranged the red cedar case on the narrow table before stepping away. Maxim positioned himself beside it and bowed to the king.
One thing was clear. Rasmus had expected my declaration to use the sword and had been well prepared, which meant Maxim was working closely with his father. Should that concern me? Did they truly long to help me, or was this something different altogether?
Part of me wanted to analyze their partnership in this effort. But the other part of me needed the sword and the promise it seemed to be holding out.
King Ulrik stood, descended from the dais, and circled the case. “While I cherish this sacred relic, it has remained an enigma to our country and church these many years since the time of King Stefan the Worthy.”
“It has indeed been an enigma, Your Majesty.” Rasmus didn’t move from his position next to the throne. “That is why I have prioritized studying it these many years as your Royal Sage, so that should such a time as this arise, I would be ready with wise counsel.”
The king bent and examined the long wooden box. “No one has succeeded at opening the case in my lifetime. If we cannot open it, how can the sword do its choosing?”
Rasmus nodded at Maxim. “It took me many days to solve the mystery of its opening. But Maxim discovered how to unlock it in two minutes, eighteen seconds.”
The king paused in his perusal of the case to regard Maxim. “Can you open it now?”
Maxim bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The king stood back and waved at the case. “Then I give you leave.”
With another bow, Maxim stepped up to the cedar box. He fingered the edge as I’d watched him do at the church. Seconds later, the lid lifted.
Murmurs and gasps filled the air.
The silver sword with its jeweled pommel rested against a faded crimson. It glinted with an aura of mystery, as though it had yet to reveal what it wanted us to know.
The king gazed upon it as though viewing the Christ child himself, and the queen joined him, standing by his side. Finally, the king spoke to Rasmus. “The engraving on the blade? Have you translated it?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It’s an ancient language, no longer spoken or written. While I made a study of the language over months, Maxim learned it in four hours.”
My pride in Maxim only increased with each new revelation. He was a genius. I’d already known that. But his intelligence was exceeding Rasmus’s. That should impress the king.
King Ulrik cocked his head at the relic. “Maxim, I give you leave to read it to us.”
Maxim made a show of looking at the engraving, although I was certain he had it memorized. “It reads: ‘For a worthy king.’”
“Please explain for us what that means.”
Maxim straightened. “The sword will not come loose, not until the man worthiest of becoming king takes hold of it. Only then will it free itself to allow the bearer to defend himself from those who would do him ill.”
I half-trembled at the prospect of such a man coming forth and being able to wield the blessed sword to protect us against our enemies. Who would be able to accomplish it? Was the feat another riddle to uncover, or would only the worthiest truly wield it?
The king was silent a long moment before narrowing his eyes upon Maxim. “Since you know so many secrets about the sword, perhaps you should be the first to endeavor to free it.”
