Cursed Blessings

Chapter Seven

Chapter 7
              The announcement of my return rang through the streets all the way to the fortress before I had even entered the city.  I had only been gone for two days, but the parade of people who welcomed my return made it seem like months.
                I rode Grani all the way to the stables where I fed and watered him.  After this I turned him loose in the pasture where he seemed comfortable.
              The smell of cooking meat tickled my nose as I walked toward the great house.  The meal that I knew I would find there would certainly rejuvenate me.  As I climbed the steps the doors opened seemingly on their own.  When I reached the top I saw the two servants standing in the stoop, but it was the sight inside the hall and at the far end that captivated me.
                The light from the sunset created a golden pathway before me leading to the opposite side of the room.  The man I had always called my father sat upon his throne enshrined in such a light as to make of him a golden statue, behind him to his right stood my mother.  Were it not for her black hair I would have mistaken her for a statue of marble.
                In spite of the fact that the room was filled with people who were noble, common or servant, the only two that I took notice of were my parents.  I had never seen the King and Queen in such a dress as they wore.
                My father stood and all became silent.  As he walked the length of the hall the sea of people parted.  He came to me and embraced me as a proud father would a son.  The coolness of his armor shocked my brain back into thinking mode.  It told me that something important was happening and then he spoke.
                “We welcome back my son who left here a boy and has returned to us a man.  Hail to Prince Sigurd.”
                “Hail, Prince Sigurd,” the crowd cheered in unison.
                It was then that I understood why my mother had waited until she did to tell me her story and give me the broken sword.  She knew that my rite of passage was at hand, but she had no idea of what my life was to become.  The thought that troubles me from time to time is this; if she had known, would she still have told me?