Ashaft of sunlight worked its way along the floor and up onto the face of a sleeping Czarsteward. As he rolled over to avoid the brightness he could feel a weight tugging at his wrists. He sat up, pulling his arms out from underneath the comforter and examining his Bracelets. Then he counted his links.
One, two, three.
Four. FIVE.
“Excellent!”
His shout brought a servant into the room. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“Oh yes, much more than all right.” He jumped out of bed and examined the chains in the sunlight. “Look at these new rings. They’re fantastic. I will surely receive more Elixir. You know what that means? Bigger parties, nicer clothes, and status…status, my little friend.”
The servant nodded and shuffled over to straighten the sheets. “Today is the Feast of Nines. Is it not a good opportunity to display your new blessings?”
Steward smiled in delight, rubbing his hands across his new rings. “Yes, I’d forgotten. Wonderful. I will get ready and leave at once.”
Steward left for his walk to the banquet hall and strode along the path, bearing with joy the weight of the chain over his shoulder. With this larger chain, he could acquire more of the Elixir of Mah Manon, with which he could build a greater palace, throw more splendid banquets, and become more powerful and famous. This was a great day. Surely, this proved that his destiny was here in Petitzaros.
As Steward passed an orchard, he heard a commotion just behind him. He looked back and his heart raced. Galloping out from the rows of apple trees was a huge figure driving his horse toward Steward at full speed. Steward screamed and began to run, but his heavy chains made each step a struggle. Before he could escape, the man grabbed him by the back of his robe and flung him up onto the back of the massive horse.
“Hold on to my armor or you will be thrown off and killed!” shouted the rider. Steward looked, and the ground was passing underneath him at such speed that he grasped the armor of his kidnapper with both arms to keep himself on the back of the galloping horse.
Steward looked up. To his horror, he recognized the armor and mail coat of the Black Knight. If he did not fall to his death from the horse, he would be killed by the sword that flapped alongside the great warrior, who drove them forward at breakneck speed through the streets of Petitzaros.
“I will not harm you,” the knight shouted as they came to a sharp turn. “Now hold on tight!”
Whatever fate awaited him at this journey’s end, being flung from a horse was not the way he wanted to die. So he held tightly as they rode through the city, out of the great gates, and up into the hill country. As the mighty horse climbed a steep path along the edge of a forest, it struggled for breath. The knight pulled the exhausted beast to a stop and jumped off. Steward jumped off as well and ran for the forest edge, but the knight caught him and pulled him to the ground.
“Do not fear me, Steward. I will not harm you. I was sent to help you find your way to the king.”
With that, he let Steward go, backing away.
Steward examined his options. He couldn’t outrun the knight. Even in full chain mail, the man was far faster than he. Even if he could, the great black horse had enough left in him to run Steward down. Besides, they were miles from Petitzaros with only a forest on one side and a cliff on the other. And so, for better or worse, Steward was a captive.
The knight pulled off his helmet and coat. His hair was black—as black as his horse’s mane. Steward thought of the warning about the Tohu Wa-Bohu.
The knight turned and looked at Steward, examining his face. “You’re afraid of me because I am black.”
Steward dropped his gaze then looked back up, his eyes fixed on his captor. “Are you really from the king? How can you prove that to me? Why should I believe you?”
The knight sat down on a rock and stretched out his legs. He motioned to Steward to sit as well. As the knight rubbed his neck he began to speak.
“Twenty-four years ago, I was sent by the king to a small village just beyond the edge of the upper kingdom. I was told that the village was to be the birthplace of an important man. I was never told what he was to accomplish or why the king was so interested in this man, but my mission was set, and I was not to fail at any cost. I rode to the village, dropping down into the lower kingdom and through the gray veil. There I met a young man grieving over his wife’s inability to have a child. As we spoke, I knew that this man’s wife was to be the mother of the promised one. So I pledged to him that the king would grant him a son if he and his wife would give him to the service of the king.”
Steward’s chest pounded. He had all but forgotten the story handed down to him by his parents, just as he had forgotten about the journey. Could it be…? Was this the knight his father spoke of?
The knight leaned forward, his gaze locked onto Steward’s. “The name of the village was Aiden Glenn. It was your father who received my promise. And every year I returned to be sure that your mother and father affirmed their pledge. Now do you believe I was sent by the king?”
What could he say? No one else could have known that story, not in that detail. Steward jumped to his feet. “You…you are the knight? My parents never told me you were black.”
“I don’t think it mattered to them.” The knight paused, and the comment hung in the air. The knight stood and came close to Steward. “Young Steward, the evil of the Tohu Wa-Bohu is not seen in color but in the difference between truth and deception. Watch for deception in any form or color.”
Steward nodded but his mind was racing between faith and fear. He wanted to believe, but the Phaedra, the Bracelets, the castles…they all called to him. He stepped away to collect his thoughts. He took off his coat and looked down at the chain that dragged on the ground and rubbed his wrists where they had become red and irritated under the increased burden of the six new rings. As he worked to get his coat off around the rings, the knight said, “I see you have new rings. That was a result of your rejection of my help.”
Steward stopped and turned toward him. “Why was I blessed for refusing to go with you, if you are really from the king?”
“Blessed?” The knight bellowed the word. “Why do you call the rings blessings?”
“They’re gifts from the king for those who prosper in Petitzaros.” Steward refused to be intimidated.
“Tell me, Steward, why do you have so few when you have been in Petitzaros for so long?”
Steward shifted where he sat. The last thing he wanted to talk about was the most painful time during his five years in Petitzaros. But he knew the knight would press him, so he might as well get it over with. “Two years ago, I was among the most affluent of the younger men of Petitzaros. I had built a large palace, and my kingdom was growing daily. At one point I had so many rings I had to drape them over both shoulders. Oh, I was so very wealthy.” Steward sighed.
“One day, I was on a hunt with five of my friends. Czartrevor led the party. We hunted farther out than we had ever gone, and as the hunt progressed we became separated in unfamiliar territory. I was close on the heels of the fox when my horse stumbled and threw me to the ground. I was stunned for a time, and when I woke a young woman the likes of whom I had never seen in all my years in Petitzaros was tending me. She wore plain clothes. She had no oil in her hair or makeup on her face. I saw too that she had a very different kind of bracelet on her wrist. It was not wide and ornate like ours, but very simple, small, and light—but gold nonetheless.”
Steward stood and paced. “She was joined by others, and soon I learned that I was in the village of Remonant. I had been warned that there was such a village inhabited by a sect of crazy people who believed, among other things, that our gold rings were a curse and not a blessing. I learned from them that they used their Elixir of Mah Manon to be sure everyone had their needs met, but no more. If they had Elixir left over, they went to other villages and gave it to people who needed food or shelter or clothes. No one had a lot, but no one had a little either.”
“What happened to your many chains?”
His chains? Ah, the knight meant his rings. “The people there helped me take some of them off, which was hard to do. They told me that the rings were signs that I had chosen to love things instead of people. They said that only those who are not generous, who want to get rich and become powerful, get these rings. They told me that they were a curse.”
The knight studied him. “Did you believe them?”
“Yes, at first. They helped me get almost all of them off. And as they came off, my back grew straighter, my face got warmer, and it filled with color. It felt wonderful.”
“What did they do with the rings?”
He turned to face the knight. “That was a most remarkable thing. They seemed not to care about them at all. Here they had these rings of gold, and they just left them there.”
“Go on.”
“I spent a week at Remonant. It was a glorious week—until near the end. They told me the time had come to remove my bands. I asked them why. They said the king did not desire that we wear such ornate bands, but simple ones. I didn’t see why there was a difference. They all wore golden Bracelets. Mine were just larger and clearly worth more. But they insisted. It was then that I realized all they really wanted were the bands and the rest of my rings.”
His hand fisted. The memory of their betrayal was as painful now as it had been back then. “I saw through their deception. They would wait until I had no bands or rings at all, then sell me as a slave. So that night I snuck out of the village with as many rings as I could carry. I ran all night, and only by great luck did I encounter a traveler on the road who took me back to Petitzaros.”
“What happened when you got back?”
What happened? Rejection. Humiliation. Did he need to relive this?
“It was terrible. My friends saw my damaged rings and ridiculed me. Without my rings, I had no power to keep my palace or my place in the order of things in Petitzaros. I had to start over with what little I had and build my kingdom all over again.” Steward bit his lip and looked at his feet as the memory washed over him.
The knight put a hand on Steward’s shoulder. “Have you forgotten how wonderful it felt to take off the chains?”
Steward pulled away and sat down on a rock outcropping near the edge of the clearing. How could he explain this to a stranger? He couldn’t even sort it out himself.
“Almost, yes, but not entirely. I mean, it still haunts me. I don’t understand how blessings like these rings can make one feel so good when they are discarded.” He was pleading now. His heart begged for some answers.
“Do you know the answer to that? Tell me, Black Knight, can you really help me?”
The man came and sat next to him. Neither spoke for several minutes. Then the knight turned toward him.
“I have many answers for you, young Steward. But you must believe who I am and who sent me. First of all, my name is Zedekai. I know you are searching for the true meaning of your name. Here is mine. It means ‘the justice of the king.’ That is my calling, to see the king’s justice reign throughout his kingdom. Your journey is part of his plan. He claimed you from birth and sent me to see that your journey will not fail.”
The knight leaned in toward Steward and pierced his soul with his gaze.
“Now will you believe my words to you?”
What else could he do? He’d come to see the king, and the king was not in Petitzaros. Questions were still pulsing through his head, but his heart found a moment of peace that he never knew in his little castle in the valley.
Mother, Father, if this was the one to whom you pledged your word all those years, I must trust him.
Steward met his gaze. “Yes, I will, good knight.”
The knight smiled. It was the first time Steward had seen him do that.
“Good.”
Leaning back, Zedekai gave a nod. “Then here is the answer to your question. The rings are not blessings but curses. They weigh down those who seek to use the Elixir of Mah Manon only for themselves. Didn’t the Phaedra tell you that part of the meaning of your name was to be generous with what you have acquired?”
How could the knight know of the conversation Steward had had with the Phaedra on the first day of his journey? “Yes, that’s what he said.”
“Then why have you done so little for the poor and those in need? I rode through the area where they live. You had so much. Why did you share so little?”
Heat filled Steward’s face as the answer came to him. “I…forgot about them, I guess. They were easy to forget about.”
Zedekai pointed to Steward. “Steward, your chains were burdens, punishment for choosing not to ease the burdens of others. The more you spent on yourself, the greater the burden of the chains became.”
Steward ran his hands along the rings making up the chain between his wrists. For the first time, they did feel more like links of a chain than rings of gold. Their weight had drawn Steward’s shoulders down and made his back ache.
His friends’ voices echoed in his mind. “That is the ache of power.” But as he thought about it now, Steward knew they were wrong. It was just an ache.
“I have spent every day in Petitzaros trying to acquire these rings, and now you tell me they are a curse, a sign of my lack of generosity and a mark of my guilt. How can I ever hope to see the king now?” Steward hung his head between his hands, and his face was buried in the fine silk of his tunic. How could he have been so wrong?
Suddenly, he felt a movement. He looked up to see the knight standing— and picking up his scabbard! Zedekai pulled the sword out.
What was he doing? Before Steward could pull away, the knight grabbed the chain, draped it over a rock, and lifted the giant sword high above his head. Steward closed his eyes and turned his head just as the knight brought his sword down in a mighty crash, sending bits of rock and rings flying into the evening sky. The sound was deafening, and pieces of the rings pelted Steward’s face. When he opened his eyes, he saw several rings lying in pieces on the ground.
His once long chain had been broken into two shorter chains hanging from each wrist and reaching to about his ankles. Steward rubbed his wrists where the large bands continued to irritate his skin. “Can you take these off for me as well?”
“That is all I can do for you.” Zedekai returned his sword to its sheath. “Only the king can remove the bands.”
Steward leapt to his feet. “So I will see the king?”
Zedekai tied a band over the hilt of his sword and secured it back on his saddle. “That’s up to you. I’ll put you back on the path, but you must make the journey yourself. Now come and take a last look.”
The knight motioned Steward over to the edge of a cliff. As Steward approached the precipice, he frowned. This place looked familiar. Had he been here before?
Of course! This was the very place he had slept the night before entering Petitzaros. And there it was beneath him—Petitzaros, bathed in the late afternoon sun. How amazing it all had looked to him that first night. Now, as the broken chains dangled from his wrists, all he felt was sorrow.
Zedekai stood next to him. “How does it look to you now?”
“Empty.”
Steward turned and walked away.
Zedekai followed him and pulled a bundle of clothes from a satchel. Steward changed out of his silk tunic and put on the simple clothes, clothes such as he’d worn in Aiden Glenn. Comfortable clothes.
The knight wrapped the chains around each of Steward’s forearms, tied a lace of leather to the top ring, then fastened each in a loop just above the elbow. The long sleeves of his shirt covered the chains completely.
“They’re heavy.” Steward lifted each arm above his head.
“They will remind you every day of the decisions you have made. Now, climb on and let’s ride a ways before it gets dark.”
Steward climbed on the great black horse behind Zedekai, and they rode for three hours until the sun disappeared from the sky. They stopped and made camp. The knight produced a large satchel of meats, bread, oils, and wine, and they feasted together by the fire. After a long silence, as the fire and wine warmed Steward, Zedekai began to speak.
“Tomorrow you will continue your journey. This path will take you through three more lands before you reach the throne room of the king. Listen now, young Steward. Each land holds a key to your destiny. There is much for you to experience and learn, but you must always be ready to continue your journey when the time comes to leave.”
Steward raised a hand toward Zedekai. “How will I know when that time has come?”
“There will be no doubt. You must trust me in this. It will not be like Petitzaros. The lure of Petitzaros is unique to that land. The other lands will not so entice you.”
“Will you go with me?” Even as he asked, Steward surmised the answer.
“I was sent by the king as one of your guardians. I will be watching, but this must be your journey. I can’t always be there to help you. But the king has more allies in the land. If you have trouble, look for his messengers. Remember, they’ll often come in unexpected forms.”
“And colors.” Steward offered a repentant smile.
The knight smiled back.
Steward worked up the courage to ask the question that had been troubling him the most. “And what of the Phaedra? Are they evil or good?”
Zedekai’s face tightened. “That is for you to decide. The king will likely ask you the same question, so seek the answer on your journey. It must come from you and no one else. Tomorrow, the path will be long and often steep. There’ll be water along the way and fruit trees to sustain you. Always keep to the path. You will have a full day’s journey to reach Ascendia by nightfall.”
“Ascendia? Is that the next land on my journey?”
“Yes, and when you arrive you are to go to the house of Bendor and announce yourself to the three sisters. They are expecting you and will give you food and lodging during your stay.”
Zedekai laid a hand on Steward’s shoulder. “You’ve learned a great deal today, but much more awaits you. Now get your rest.”
More what? Danger? Lies? Phaedra?
Despite the questions that pressed on him, the thought of returning to his journey danced in Steward’s mind. I’m ready for this. I’m ready to see the king.
Steward drew his cloak over him and fell into a deep sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Reed laid the book down on the coffee table, leaned back, and gave a long sigh. Walter remembered when Sam wrote that last scene.
“Will they hear the message?” he’d asked Walter.
Walter was about to learn the answer.
After several moments of silence, Anna reached over and pressed her hand on the book. “There’s a lot to digest here.”
Alex looked at Merideth. “A land of kingdom builders. That’s pretty descriptive of the world I live in.”
Merideth stood, stretching her arms and rubbing her neck. “I suppose that’s one way to depict greed. But there are a lot of questions the story leaves unanswered.”
Anna shot a look at Reed. “Well, as you said, we have a long way to go with our friend Steward.”
Walter watched as Reed walked over to his briefcase, opened it, and removed a large stack of papers.
“You want a modern-day version of what Dad is talking about? Here they are: financial statements, parts of a business plan for a new restaurant, bills, invoices, and investment prospectuses.”
Reed took the stack in one hand and lifted it up and down, measuring its weight. He spoke, mostly to himself. “Chains. Golden chains.”
Alex reached down and patted his briefcase. “My stack is bigger than yours.”
Reed gave him a slight grin. “The more you keep for yourself, the heavier the burden. The larger your own kingdom, the grayer life becomes. Dad couldn’t have been more clear.”
Thank God for their honesty…but Walter worried about Merideth. She stood and placed herself between her brothers. “I don’t know. Steward seemed pretty happy in that palace. Mom and Dad never cared much for the finer things of life. I’m not yet convinced that golden chains are worse than no chains at all.”
How did Merideth’s heart grow so hard? Dear God, open her heart to her father’s message. And to what is yet to come.
Sam and Lori had struggled with understanding Merideth. For all the love they had lavished on her, they couldn’t understand why, almost from birth, she fought them at every turn.
Watching Merideth now, a memory swept over Walter. Sam and Lori had been sitting at their kitchen table, rereading a letter Merideth sent them. She’d laid out her career plans and asked that they not speak to her again about what they thought of her choices.
“Why is Merideth the last one to accept anything we say?” Lori shook her head. “She meets every blessing with skepticism, as if there’s a shield around her heart that keeps anything from getting in.”
Sam had sat down beside her. “I don’t know, dear. But somehow we’ve failed her. We’ve prayed for her to find meaning and purpose in life, but she has become so driven by success that nothing tender ever seems to touch her.”
Lori grasped his hand. “We can’t give up. God hasn’t! I pray she will find her way to real happiness, apart from the power that seems to pull at her. I want her to find peace and love.”
Sam had nodded. “Lord, soften her heart toward others, and You.”
Walter echoed Sam’s prayer now.
As he watched Merideth’s defensiveness, he realized that, except for the moment when the four of them watched Sam’s casket lowered into the ground, he had never seen her cry. Even then, Walter wondered if her tears were more for show than from real emotion.
Lord, soften her heart.
He rose from his chair and walked toward the kitchen. “Perhaps we’ll find that young Steward has a third option. I’ve carried my share of chains in my life, and I was more than happy to lay them down.”
“Oh, Walter, you’re just too good.” Merideth’s tone made it clear she didn’t wish to argue with him.
Walter smiled and continued into the kitchen. When he returned, no one was talking. Silence seemed an acceptable refuge from the hazards of reflection and engagement. So be it. There was plenty more ahead. Plenty of time for serious soul searching.
“Alex, I think the reading duties are back to you,” Anna said.
Alex nodded and took his place in the seat in front of the open book. He waited for his siblings to settle then turned to the next chapter and read on.