The Coronation
The day had finally come. Greda’s was the head that would soon wear the crown. The thatch fences were detached and people were let into the palace to watch the coronation and enthroning of King Grerrededa. The servants ran up and down the premises, to and fro their quarters to create a ceremony that would please the Kingdom. Queen Shere oversaw the planning of the ceremony, pointing and giving instruction to the servants involved. She ordered the servants around and organized them into groups, sending them deep into the village to find decorative materials from plants. Fonjam, the new servant appointed by Prince Greda assisted the Queen, going on about it gleefully, putting up decorative leaves, perfume plants, re-organizing the fences, removing the unwanted grasses and plants from the compound, neatly sweeping and covering the sandy ground with hand-made mats.
Kanaka, after sending some guards to find some more bamboo for the fences, walked over to the kitchen where the women stood in front of life-sized pots cooking delicacies for the ceremony. They chattered away happily and mixed ingredients like witches in a coven, laughing at jokes and working at the same time. Kanaka ignored that for the sake of the spirit of the ceremony. He coughed a “well done” at the ladies pounding boiled yams and walked back to where men did real work.
Their conversation went thus, “Thanir, are you sure it was not you that he held that stare for?”
“Hmmm, Rekait, it’s you that knows best oh! Besides, you were the one that responded when he said well done!”
“Will you shut up you two?! He is already the subject of your discussion so why do you fling the accusations to and fro?”
Thanir and Rekait looked at each other and cracked into laughter, so hard that Moninde picked a mortar and raised it against their heads. If they stopped laughing, she would drop it back, and if not, she just might have to use it on their heads. She dropped hers when they both raised theirs against her. And they all laughed together, enjoying the joke.
Things went well for a while, then a little rowdy when market women came staring wide-eyed at the preparations, stepping on one or two toes in the process; Kanaka shooed them away and politely asked them to return when the king’s Announcer would make the announcement asking the whole village to come. Some children cackled up, down and around the entrance, maybe to provoke some of the servants; and it worked, since the servants had gotten aggressive and thrown stones at them from the premises. The stones nabbed one of the kids on his bare back and the rest hopped and broke free from aim, scattering away in different directions, screaming gleefully. The unending frivolity of children was amazing. Preparations went berserk about an hour to the start of the ceremony then gradually died down a few minutes to the actual commencement. The furniture had been set out in front of the palace for everyone to see; the throne elevated and set right in the middle of the semi-circle marked out for attendees, which of course comprised of the whole village though only a small quarter of them got to stand at the front yet behind the seated elders of the Kingdom. Bantaik the Spokesman sounded the alarm of his own arrival.
The first three lashes from the Spokesman’s whip brought the King, the Queen and the Prince out of the palace hut to the hail of the people. The King was as old and calm as he always appeared, the Queen as frail and happy as she always was, and Greda as vibrant and wide-eyed as he had always been. This ceremony would mark the last time the King would sit on the throne as King with his wife, and the first time the Prince would sit on the throne as King, with his choice men as elders. The rich men nodded, made side comments and held their scepters to the air with their braggart smiles; they were the ones seated at the front. Servants maintained a corner at the entrance to the palace where there was no longer a gate or a fence, for the time being. The fanners stood beside the elevated empty throne and fanned it as though someone sat in it. The atmosphere was tame with respect to the purpose of the day, as breezes ensured a silent clatter of the leaves of the nearby trees; somehow, the goats refused to bleat and chickens sat and clucked absent-mindedly, crowing only along with the cheering of the crowd as Bantaik stepped on stage. There was a slow calm.
“Gods of our land, goooods of our laaaannd! Before you we be stand and be mark today as the day when another generation will be begins its reign in your Kingdom as men sitting in your divine place to be rule…” Bantaik spoke on squinting and bulging his eyes every time he dragged a word in a semi-speech-semi-roar tone. The beads on his scepter and on his ankles jingled as he made gestures that suited his speech, digging the scepter into the ground periodically. When he spoke of the greatness of the land, he raised the scepter high and restrained from whipping, folding the whip and putting it in his belt.
“… and the glorious meadows beyond the three hills…” he paused like he was going to say more about the hills, but the expression on his face made it obvious that he had nothing more to say about them. “… the refreshing fruits you have be produced with your own blessed hands and be nurtured and be protected from the bruise of nature…” this part of the speech that had to do with the gods was an abstract that Bantaik alone could comprehend as the spokesman for the gods.
When he was done freezing the atmosphere and holding the silence, the crowd began to cheer again. The King stood up himself and in his slow gentle manner, he made his way to a corner of the crowd where the elders sat – still while the cheering was going on – and whispered into the ear of one of them, another slow old man, and the elder reached out behind his seat and picked something covered in a huge leaf. The King’s wrist slightly flexed as he took hold of the item and walked to stand beside Bantaik. King Mogg spoke, “I now summon before the people, the new King,” complete silence, “of Gardutkaaaarrrr! King Grerrededaaaaa! You may take seat in your throne and once you sit in it, you become partners with the gods to reign foreveeeeerrrrr!”
Greda swaggered smartly up the elevation faced the throne, then facing the people and looking around for a bit, he smiled and sat in his new throne. His subjects became uneasy, whispering in angst. “The covenant has be seeeaaaaled! And now, may His highness, father of new pronounced King now be perform the crowning…” Bantaik spat. Mogg, holding the wrapped item walked up putting both feet on each step before moving to another until he got to the top, and without bending his expressionless face to the slightest smile, he looked into his son’s eyes and searched. This was the son he had doubted would be born, and now that he was about to crown him King, the prophecy haunted him again, even though he had been powerful enough to shut it up for a whole generation. If Mogg was going to be alive while Greda was King, then two Kings was not a clear criterion for the prophecy coming to pass, as long as they both stayed alive. But at the age of 82, he was already entering into his years of recess and if the wind blew right, he would be dead in not more than 5 years, since his body was weakening by the day. If only Greda knew that there was more to face in this Kingdom than he was made to believe, which would of course serve him good for a peaceful reign…
Mogg, unprepared to let go of the pride of his reign, led Greda through a pre-orchestrated path so that his reign would continue through his son. For secrets to remain secrets, the forbidden must remain forbidden. The King had paid Bantaik a visit to find out what he had seen at the palace weeks ago on the day he had gone to visit the King. He discovered that the prophecy had come back through Bantaik. Even though he dismissed it, he came to terms with the fact that he could not stop the prophecy from eventually coming to pass no matter how anyone prevented it, but he could slow it down and prolong his reign of peace.
Greda was not ready.
He slowly disclosed the contents of the seal, untying the leaf and staring at the crowd as they became even the more unsettled with excitement but quietly. His eyes dangled around Bantaik, his loyal ally, for some time before he looked at his son and held the crown up for everyone to see. Then he placed it gently on Greda’s head and spoke as the crowd instantly became silent, “Long live the King!” Then there was a mad roar flying across the village from the palace as the people jumped and cheered and clapped and danced. The Queen stood up from her cane seat and danced by herself on one spot. She then trotted towards the throne and gently climbed the steps. Cutting a strand of the hairs on her head, she placed a hand on King Greda’s head and left the strand of hair on it.
“The gods will make you great, my son.” She said with tears in her eyes.
The dancers jumped into the middle of the gathering and flipped and showed off their routines, jabbing their hands and feet at the air like fighters. Bantaik with his sheepish smile joined in the dancing, twisting and turning and flipping and jabbing to the routine. He personally taught the dancers the dance and even though he was older than the dance permitted, he made the young dancers look obsolete. The servants came and served food to the elders first, then to the other people; whatever was left of it since it could not feed the whole village of almost a thousand people. It took a long while before people began to leave the palace and head home to rest and rejoice over the new Kingdom. Kanaka assembled his cohorts and made them clean up the palace after everything was concluded.
They took down the decorations, raised the fences back, and washed the dishes. Kanaka could not resist the urge to stop Fonjam from his idle wandering around the palace and give him a very difficult duty to carry out. It gave him pleasure to commandeer the boy.
“Did you hear me call?”
“No.”
“Get to work and help those two raise the fence.”
Fonjam swallowed the lump growing in his throat and did as he was told.
Greda sat in his throne after it had been relocated to the throne room, and even though he could not point out what exactly led to the decision, he knew he was to call for a meeting of the elders to tell them that he would be retaining them into his cabinet of ruler-ship, and that there would be no need to change anyone of them or bring in new elders to deliberate on issues of Gardutkar Kingdom with him. He was satisfied with the decision.
Something no one but Greda noticed from the moment his father crowned him, was that he felt a pinch in the middle of his head and he felt his face sag. He probably needed rest from the coronation, he thought, so after the meeting, he went to his room, took off the crown and lay resting his head on his feather bag. Then he drifted into the silent realms of sleep.
To be continued...
- Telsum Bini
Kanaka, after sending some guards to find some more bamboo for the fences, walked over to the kitchen where the women stood in front of life-sized pots cooking delicacies for the ceremony. They chattered away happily and mixed ingredients like witches in a coven, laughing at jokes and working at the same time. Kanaka ignored that for the sake of the spirit of the ceremony. He coughed a “well done” at the ladies pounding boiled yams and walked back to where men did real work.
Their conversation went thus, “Thanir, are you sure it was not you that he held that stare for?”
“Hmmm, Rekait, it’s you that knows best oh! Besides, you were the one that responded when he said well done!”
“Will you shut up you two?! He is already the subject of your discussion so why do you fling the accusations to and fro?”
Thanir and Rekait looked at each other and cracked into laughter, so hard that Moninde picked a mortar and raised it against their heads. If they stopped laughing, she would drop it back, and if not, she just might have to use it on their heads. She dropped hers when they both raised theirs against her. And they all laughed together, enjoying the joke.
Things went well for a while, then a little rowdy when market women came staring wide-eyed at the preparations, stepping on one or two toes in the process; Kanaka shooed them away and politely asked them to return when the king’s Announcer would make the announcement asking the whole village to come. Some children cackled up, down and around the entrance, maybe to provoke some of the servants; and it worked, since the servants had gotten aggressive and thrown stones at them from the premises. The stones nabbed one of the kids on his bare back and the rest hopped and broke free from aim, scattering away in different directions, screaming gleefully. The unending frivolity of children was amazing. Preparations went berserk about an hour to the start of the ceremony then gradually died down a few minutes to the actual commencement. The furniture had been set out in front of the palace for everyone to see; the throne elevated and set right in the middle of the semi-circle marked out for attendees, which of course comprised of the whole village though only a small quarter of them got to stand at the front yet behind the seated elders of the Kingdom. Bantaik the Spokesman sounded the alarm of his own arrival.
The first three lashes from the Spokesman’s whip brought the King, the Queen and the Prince out of the palace hut to the hail of the people. The King was as old and calm as he always appeared, the Queen as frail and happy as she always was, and Greda as vibrant and wide-eyed as he had always been. This ceremony would mark the last time the King would sit on the throne as King with his wife, and the first time the Prince would sit on the throne as King, with his choice men as elders. The rich men nodded, made side comments and held their scepters to the air with their braggart smiles; they were the ones seated at the front. Servants maintained a corner at the entrance to the palace where there was no longer a gate or a fence, for the time being. The fanners stood beside the elevated empty throne and fanned it as though someone sat in it. The atmosphere was tame with respect to the purpose of the day, as breezes ensured a silent clatter of the leaves of the nearby trees; somehow, the goats refused to bleat and chickens sat and clucked absent-mindedly, crowing only along with the cheering of the crowd as Bantaik stepped on stage. There was a slow calm.
“Gods of our land, goooods of our laaaannd! Before you we be stand and be mark today as the day when another generation will be begins its reign in your Kingdom as men sitting in your divine place to be rule…” Bantaik spoke on squinting and bulging his eyes every time he dragged a word in a semi-speech-semi-roar tone. The beads on his scepter and on his ankles jingled as he made gestures that suited his speech, digging the scepter into the ground periodically. When he spoke of the greatness of the land, he raised the scepter high and restrained from whipping, folding the whip and putting it in his belt.
“… and the glorious meadows beyond the three hills…” he paused like he was going to say more about the hills, but the expression on his face made it obvious that he had nothing more to say about them. “… the refreshing fruits you have be produced with your own blessed hands and be nurtured and be protected from the bruise of nature…” this part of the speech that had to do with the gods was an abstract that Bantaik alone could comprehend as the spokesman for the gods.
When he was done freezing the atmosphere and holding the silence, the crowd began to cheer again. The King stood up himself and in his slow gentle manner, he made his way to a corner of the crowd where the elders sat – still while the cheering was going on – and whispered into the ear of one of them, another slow old man, and the elder reached out behind his seat and picked something covered in a huge leaf. The King’s wrist slightly flexed as he took hold of the item and walked to stand beside Bantaik. King Mogg spoke, “I now summon before the people, the new King,” complete silence, “of Gardutkaaaarrrr! King Grerrededaaaaa! You may take seat in your throne and once you sit in it, you become partners with the gods to reign foreveeeeerrrrr!”
Greda swaggered smartly up the elevation faced the throne, then facing the people and looking around for a bit, he smiled and sat in his new throne. His subjects became uneasy, whispering in angst. “The covenant has be seeeaaaaled! And now, may His highness, father of new pronounced King now be perform the crowning…” Bantaik spat. Mogg, holding the wrapped item walked up putting both feet on each step before moving to another until he got to the top, and without bending his expressionless face to the slightest smile, he looked into his son’s eyes and searched. This was the son he had doubted would be born, and now that he was about to crown him King, the prophecy haunted him again, even though he had been powerful enough to shut it up for a whole generation. If Mogg was going to be alive while Greda was King, then two Kings was not a clear criterion for the prophecy coming to pass, as long as they both stayed alive. But at the age of 82, he was already entering into his years of recess and if the wind blew right, he would be dead in not more than 5 years, since his body was weakening by the day. If only Greda knew that there was more to face in this Kingdom than he was made to believe, which would of course serve him good for a peaceful reign…
Mogg, unprepared to let go of the pride of his reign, led Greda through a pre-orchestrated path so that his reign would continue through his son. For secrets to remain secrets, the forbidden must remain forbidden. The King had paid Bantaik a visit to find out what he had seen at the palace weeks ago on the day he had gone to visit the King. He discovered that the prophecy had come back through Bantaik. Even though he dismissed it, he came to terms with the fact that he could not stop the prophecy from eventually coming to pass no matter how anyone prevented it, but he could slow it down and prolong his reign of peace.
Greda was not ready.
He slowly disclosed the contents of the seal, untying the leaf and staring at the crowd as they became even the more unsettled with excitement but quietly. His eyes dangled around Bantaik, his loyal ally, for some time before he looked at his son and held the crown up for everyone to see. Then he placed it gently on Greda’s head and spoke as the crowd instantly became silent, “Long live the King!” Then there was a mad roar flying across the village from the palace as the people jumped and cheered and clapped and danced. The Queen stood up from her cane seat and danced by herself on one spot. She then trotted towards the throne and gently climbed the steps. Cutting a strand of the hairs on her head, she placed a hand on King Greda’s head and left the strand of hair on it.
“The gods will make you great, my son.” She said with tears in her eyes.
The dancers jumped into the middle of the gathering and flipped and showed off their routines, jabbing their hands and feet at the air like fighters. Bantaik with his sheepish smile joined in the dancing, twisting and turning and flipping and jabbing to the routine. He personally taught the dancers the dance and even though he was older than the dance permitted, he made the young dancers look obsolete. The servants came and served food to the elders first, then to the other people; whatever was left of it since it could not feed the whole village of almost a thousand people. It took a long while before people began to leave the palace and head home to rest and rejoice over the new Kingdom. Kanaka assembled his cohorts and made them clean up the palace after everything was concluded.
They took down the decorations, raised the fences back, and washed the dishes. Kanaka could not resist the urge to stop Fonjam from his idle wandering around the palace and give him a very difficult duty to carry out. It gave him pleasure to commandeer the boy.
“Did you hear me call?”
“No.”
“Get to work and help those two raise the fence.”
Fonjam swallowed the lump growing in his throat and did as he was told.
Greda sat in his throne after it had been relocated to the throne room, and even though he could not point out what exactly led to the decision, he knew he was to call for a meeting of the elders to tell them that he would be retaining them into his cabinet of ruler-ship, and that there would be no need to change anyone of them or bring in new elders to deliberate on issues of Gardutkar Kingdom with him. He was satisfied with the decision.
Something no one but Greda noticed from the moment his father crowned him, was that he felt a pinch in the middle of his head and he felt his face sag. He probably needed rest from the coronation, he thought, so after the meeting, he went to his room, took off the crown and lay resting his head on his feather bag. Then he drifted into the silent realms of sleep.
To be continued...
- Telsum Bini
0 comments:
We appreciate your comment and enjoin you to share our posts on social media. Thank you.