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Aunt Claray said, “Nephew, I am verra glad ye’re awake, twas frightening.” She dabbed at her eyes, everyone murmured in agreement.
The priest stepped up to the bed, in his hands was not a great crown of state, only a circlet of gold. It reminded me of the crown I had secured inside the sacristy of the Clackmannan kirk.
I regretted I dinna deliver it tae the father named Mag Mòr. Tae see a similar crown, here, doing the heavy work of crowning a king, when the other was locked away in a medieval church seemed as if I had let someone down.
The priest stopped at Max’s shoulder and bowed. “Your Majesty, I am Father Michael. I christened you when you were a babe. Your sister Alexandria as well. I was very fond of your parents, my heart breaks for you and our kingdom.”
Max nodded. “Thank ye, father.”
“Are you ready to begin?”
“Aye.”
“We are gathered as witnesses, that the realm will not stand without a king a moment more. Maximillian has taken his throne in battle. The usurper has fallen. King Normond and Queen Olivia have been avenged. What remains is to name him King before God and before those who will carry the record.”
No one knelt, there was no room. Instead we only bowed our heads. Max looked nervous, and weak. How many nights had we spoken of this moment — it was to have been a glorious ceremony in the biggest church of the land.
Father Michael looked tae the uncles. “You will speak for the house?”
Uncle Aenghus said, “As the eldest livin’ brother of King Normond, I speak for the family, I recognize him. He is our king.”
Uncle Ryan nudged Dylan, he questioned, “It should be me?”
“Yep, you’re the eldest.”
He stepped forward. “Then, as the eldest brother of Queen Olivia, I speak for our family. I um… I…” Aunt Claray whispered and he repeated, “I recognize him, my nephew, Maximillian, as our king.”
Father Michael turned tae Alexandria. “And the princess?”
She said, “I speak for my parents, Nor and Livvy, this is what they would have wanted, my brother, Max, to be the king.”
Max looked at me, standin’ at the end of the bed and raised his brow.
I nodded. And smiled. I thought, tis good.
Father Michael lifted the circlet and held it above Max’s head. “Maximillian, by right of blood and by right of victory, we set this crown upon you.”
Then he asked, “Maximillian, will you take this realm, and keep it in right and in peace, and defend the people so long as God gives you life?”
Max nodded, “I will. I will take it. I will defend it. I will keep it.”
Father Michael finished, “Then by this crown you are king. God keep you. The kingdom is yours. The line holds.”
We all said, “God keep the king.” He set the gold circlet on Max’s head with both hands, and repeated, “God keep the king.”
There were a few moments after, where everyone congratulated Max, and wished him a speedy recovery, and then Father Michael removed the crown and Dr Thornberry spoke to our group, “His Majesty needs his rest.”
And we were ushered from the room.
Out in the waiting room everyone embraced and congratulated each other. Relief was palpable — we had won. And the king was growin’ in strength. He would be well.
Everyone headed either tae the dinin’ room for another meal, or tae bed for much needed sleep.
I said, “Alexandria, would ye come for a walk tae the roof with me?”
“As long as there is coffee.”
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