The Song of the Stars, Part 1
Alessi gazed into the sky at the border between night and day, where the rising sun chased away the stars. Watching them fade always felt like saying goodbye to a dear friend.
As a girl, Alessi would gaze at the night sky. Without a formal education, she did not know the names of the stars, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of them. She imagined that they were singing to her, a whispered song of what they wished to be called. The stars filled her with purpose and guidance. She couldn’t have explained why or how, but she knew that her life had been laced with destiny.
She sighed and continued her count of the crop. She and her husband, Harrough, were bringing their parsnips, carrots, and radishes to sell in town.
Though open to the elements, the air in the market plaza hung stagnant from too many vendors crowded too close together.
Harrough, a hulking and pot-bellied man, gnawed on a small radish. Alessi tried in vain to get the attention of the downtrodden passers-by.
A sudden tumult, the sound of chaos from the far end of the square, piqued Alessi’s interest. She looked up to see the great mass of tinkers and fishers, farmers and cheesemongers parting to make way for a shrouded figure who scrambled away from guards.
Alessi shook Harrough from his torpor and gestured to the commotion. “Do something!”
“Stop that thief!” called out one of the armsmen.
Harrough stepped into the narrow aisle created by the pressing of bodies together, a wall of flesh. The rogue, whose attention remained behind him, slammed into Harrough; the satchel he carried spilled open, jewels and coins clattering across the cobbles. Quick as a lizard’s wink, Alessi gathered up the treasure while Harrough held the scoundrel fast in his bear-like arms.
Moments later, the guards fought their way through the throng of people. Their faces fell when they saw the empty satchel. They looked around at the crowd, an ocean into which the treasure had surely sunken.
“I have them here,” said Alessi, ignoring her husband’s glower. “While my husband detained the rogue, I secured the stolen items.”
The thief scowled and the guards collected the valuables. As they turned to leave, Alessi spoke up once more.
“Perhaps, if it is not too much to ask, we might meet your lord or lady, the one from whom these precious stones and golden coins were taken.” The guards looked at one another warily, and she continued, “You see, we alone had the wisdom to step in and stop the criminal, just as you alone had the bravery and perseverance to keep up the chase when it seemed he might lose you in the crowd. Should not your employer hear from us of your value, and from you of ours?”
The guards shrugged at one another. “I suppose even a peasant’s good word is better than none,” said the shorter.
Inside the palace, the corridors wound and crossed, and the farmer grumbled to his wife. “You fool woman! Had you kept your mouth shut, we could have kept the treasure. We’d be more wealthy than we ever dreamed!”
Alessi smiled serenely. “You think too little of me, my dear. I promise you that I have dreamt of more than the handful of gems and gold we returned today. If you trust me, perhaps I’ll carry you with me as I rise.”
Harrough thrust his hands in his pockets. He hung his head but couldn’t help but chuckle at his beloved’s brazen attitude.
Soon, the two pairs stood before the Queen herself.
“Your majesty,” stammered the taller of the two guards, “we stopped the thief and secured your property. These two honorable subjects assisted us in the process, at great personal risk.”
The Queen examined the guards. “You have done well. Please return to the barracks and send for the Captain. I wish to ensure he knows that you have found favor in my sight.” She dismissed the guards, then her gaze drifted to the farmer and his wife. “There are many who, in your position, would have done nothing to help. I would not have faulted them for their inaction. And yet, you put your lives on the line to serve your Queen.” She paused, staring.
Harrough averted his eyes, but not Alessi. A bit of starlight seemed to twinkle in her eyes as she held the Queen’s gaze.
“I assume you were hoping for a reward. Ask what you will, and I shall give it, if I can.”
The farmer moved as though to speak, but his wife gently squeezed his hand. He froze for a moment, and then deferred to her, closing his mouth.
“You’re majesty, forgive my forward candor, but to promise us anything we might ask is too generous. We are humble farmers. Perhaps you should only offer what is in your best interest to give?”
The queen raised an eyebrow. “And what, may I ask, would that be? Take care with your next words, as you tread on precarious ground now.”
“I apologize for my wayward speech. I only meant to say that if we requested great riches, such a request would benefit us to your detriment.”
At this, the farmer slumped, groaning at the opportunity slipping through his hands.
His wife continued, undeterred. “Instead, we request two things—quite small things when compared to your matchless authority and wealth.
“We request a sum of silver equal to half the value of everything we returned to you today—”
The Queen smiled in a confused sort of way
“—and the right to purchase land in your kingdom.”
Her smile collapsed.
“We would use the reward to buy the land we already work. We know the land better than the lord who owns it. We could increase its yield if we had the right to improve the land and the motivation to do so. You would soon earn back in taxes what you give to us today.”
The queen smiled again, brow still half-cocked. “There is wisdom in your words. Unexpected wisdom, but wisdom still. Let it be as you have said. The silver shall be delivered to you tomorrow.” The Queen motioned for the steward to escort Alessi and Harrough out.
The steward, a lanky fellow in his middle years, led them from the throne room and instructed guards to take them the rest of the way off the palace grounds
Before the midday sun could chase away the mist, a royal courier arrived at Alessi and Harrough’s farm. A simple one-horse carriage, driven by a gruff-looking gentleman. Four guards clambered from the carriage carrying a small chest.
“Her Majesty, Queen Fasilla Hawkra, sends her regards.”
Harrough stepped forward to receive the ornate box. Despite a mighty itch to peek inside, Alessi had forbidden him to do so. Thus, he clutched the box to his chest until the coterie had left, lost to sight in the rising dust from the road.
Rushing into the small hut they called home, Harrough flung open the lid to see glimmering silver coins neatly arranged on a bed of velvet. On the obverse, the Queen’s profile had been struck. The reverse bore the head of an eagle, hooked beak agape and eyes smoldering with ferocity. Ten rows of twenty. Harrough’s eyes gleamed greedily.
Alessi approached from behind and wrapped her arms about her husband. She only had eyes for the writ of commerce, rolled neatly, sealed with wax, laying across the bottom of the box. “Shall we pay the landlord a visit?”
