The trumpets sounded from the castle parapets as Her Lady’s caravan descended the garlanded steps to the market. The crowds rejoiced in their finest livery, and lined the streets and alleys, windows and balconies, to bear witness to her procession. She sat on a cushioned dais carried by four of her most trusted guards; her two young sons, eight-year old twins and the last heirs to her kingdom, sat to either side of her with wide and wondering eyes.
Lilies and dahlias were scattered before the procession’s feet, which comprised twenty nobles on horseback and a hundred halberdiers in fore and aft. Each man in her guard wore a red velvet tabard with a golden lion emblazoned on the front. Marching between the halberdiers was the royal band, who set a lively rhythm with drums and horns. The crowd cheered wildly as the queen waved in passing.
They approached the wharf. The sky was clear and the day warm, and the flowers of the cherry trees lining the harbour were in full bloom. The procession formed a protective semi-circle around the queen, and the band softened its music. The dais was gently lowered, and her chief vizier – a grizzled man with a short, immaculate beard – opened her carriage door and knelt with his hand outstretched. She smiled at him, and with the aid of his hand descended to the cobblestones. “Her majesty,” the vizier said.
Her children were then lowered to the ground, where they clutched the tail of their mother’s purple gown. Her diamond tiara shimmered in the afternoon sun as she approached the captain of her vessel. He was dressed in an ornate naval uniform, with tasselled epaulettes and a half-dozen medals pinned to his left breast. He wore a crisp tri-corned hat, and bowed humbly when the queen approached. “Her majesty,” the captain said.
She took his hand and together they proceeded up the red-carpeted walkway to the great ship Furiae that waited in the harbour. The entire ship’s crew stood at attention on the deck, and saluted the queen when she came aboard. She smiled and nodded at them, and then turned to face the adoring crowd gathered outside the ring of her soldiers. Laying her lily white hands on the rough wooden banister of the ship’s edge, she turned to look at her vizier, who had come aboard to wish her farewell.
“Please reconsider this, your majesty. This is your home,” he said, one last time, looking her in the eye. A soft, quiet laugh escaped her lips, and she gently touched his arm. “My dear vizier. Your solicitation has always been dear to me, but alas, you worry for nothing.” She laughed again and her cheeks blossomed rosily, “I am the queen! What ill can befall me?”
Bowing his head, the vizier nodded, “Of course, your majesty.” He knelt and kissed her hand, “We will await your return.” She took his hand and squeezed it softly, then turned to face the expectant crowd. “My beloved subjects,” she announced in a clear, unbroken voice. “I love you all. May you prosper in my absence! God’s blessing be with you, until we meet again!” She removed the white silk scarf that had been wrapped around her neck, and threw it into the wind. The crowd roared, applauded, and cheered, and the band struck up a triumphant song. People danced and threw their hats in the air. The vizier solemnly stepped down from the ship, and the walkway was withdrawn.
The ship severed its moorings and unfurled its clean white sails. The regal queen’s lion embroidered into the canvas caught the sun and shone brilliantly. With a final wave, the queen bid farewell to her people. The band kept playing until the ship, carrying the monarch and her only heirs, dwindled to a point on the horizon. And then it was gone.
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