SHORT STORY
INTRO
MAAN ' the successful king who overthrows the rightful king ( the rightful king is Vicky singh Chaudhary < COULDNT THINK OF ANOTHER NAME😆> and he has no sense of what is right or wrong and thus had to be replaced if not politely then forcefully)
GEET ' daughter of a famous landlord on the enemy's side
Ok so this short story is based during war times. And the feeling of a war where people are afraid of loosing their possessions and trying to live a rich life running away from the poor world.
PART ONE
My father is an English noblemen, a landholder and a supporter of the true kings of England. My mother descends from French and so carries the watery blood of the goddess Lasmina, a magnificient beauty or so they say.
With this contradictory parentage of mine : solid English earth and French water goddess, one could expect anything from me: an enchantress, or an ordinary girl. There are those who will say I am both. but today as I comb my hair with particular care and arrange it under my tallest headdress, take the hands of my two fatherless boys and lead the way to the road that goes to Northampton, I would give all that I am to be, just this once, simply irresistible.
I have to attract the attention of a young man riding out to yet another battle, against an enemy that cannot be defeated. He may not even see me. He is not likely to be in the mood of beggars nor flirts. I have to excite his compassion for my position, inspire his sympathy for my needs, and stay in his memory long enough for him to do something about them both. And this is a man who has beautiful women flinging themselves at him every night of the week, and a hundred claimants for every post in his gift.
He is a usurper and a tyrant, my enemy and the son of my enemy, but I am far beyond loyalty to anyone but my sons and myself. My own father rode out to the battle against this man who now calls himself King of England, though he is a little more than a braggart boy; I've never seen a man as broken as my father when he came back from the war saying 'this boy is a commander such as we have never seen before'. Twenty thousand men were cut down at this boy's command, no one had ever seen such deaths in England. The rightful king had fled to Scotland devastated by the deaths.
This boy king is on the throne and his supporters form the new court. we are defeated. However in the midst of all the sadness, I have to piece my life up together like a patchwork of scraps. I have to regain my fortune somehow, though it seems neither kinsman nor friend can make a head way for me.i shall have to be my own advocate, and make my own case to a boy who respects justice so little that he would dare to take an army against his own cousin: a king ordained. What can one say to such a savage that he can understand?
My boys Raj who is 9 and Prem who is 8, are dressed at their best and I have held their hands tightly. For these are true boys and they bring dirt to them as if by magic. If I let them go, one will scruff his shoes and the other rip his hose, and both of them will manage to get leaves in their hair and mud on their faces.as it is anchored by my grip, they hop from one leg to another in agony of boredom and only straighten up when I say 'Hush I can here horses'
It sounds like a pitter of rain drops at first, and then like the rumble of thunder, the jingle of the harness, and the chink of the chain mail. The sound of a hundred horses ridden hard is overwhelming and even though I am determined to stand out and make them stop, I cant help but shrink back. What must it be to face these men riding down the battle with their lanes outstretched before them, like a galloping wall of staves? How could any man face it?
Raj sees the bare black head in the midst of all the fury and the noise and shouts, 'Hurrah!' like the boy he is, and at the sound of his treble voice, I see the man's head turn, and he sees me and the boys and his hands snatches the reins and he bellows 'HALT!' his horse stands up, wrenched to a stand still, and the whole cavalcade wheels and halts and swears at the sudden stop, and then abruptly everything is silent and the dust billows around us.
His horse is silently moving and shaking, but the rider is like a statue on its high back, he is looking at me and I at him. And it is so quiet I can hear a thrush in braches of the oak above me. Oh how it sings, as if it were caroling happiness.
I step forward, still holding my sons' hands and open my mouth to plead my case, but at this moment, this crucial moment, I have lost my words. I have practiced well enough. I had a little speech all prepared, but now I have nothing. And it almost as if i need no words, I just look at him and somehow expect him to understand everything, my fear of my future and my hopes for these boys, my lack of money and the irritable pity of my father which makes living under his roof so unbearable, the coldness of my bed at night, and my longing for another child, my sense that my life is over. Dear god I am only twenty-four, my cause is defeated, my husband is dead. Am I to be one of many poor widows who will spend the rest of their days at someone else's fire place trying to be a good guest? Shall I never be kissed again? Shall I never feel joy? Never again?
And still the bird sings as if to say delight is easy, for those who desire it.
He makes a gesture with his hand to the older man at his side, the man barks out a command and the soldiers turn their horses off the road and go into the shade of the trees. But the king jumps down from his horse, drops the reins and walks towards me and my boys. I am a tall woman but he overtops me by a head, he must be far more than six feet tall. My boys crane their necks up to see him, he is a giant to them. He is black-haired, brown eyed, with a tanned, open, smiling face, rich with charm, easy with grace. This is a king that we have never before seen in England: this is the man that the people will love on sight. And his eyes are fixed on my face as if I know the secret that he has to have.as if we have known each other forever, and I can feel my cheeks are burning but I cannot look away from him.
Aami Daakini
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