The Making of Fabian--Ch. 2

CHAPTER TWO
Not more than ten days passed when the announcement was declared throughout the Kingdom: the princess was to be married to the man of the king's choosing. Before the next new moon, all suitors were to report to the king to be interviewed and receive full instructions. Flashbacks of knights, lords and royalty, all dressed in their finest, came over Fabian. Before he had only won on the merits of his horse--and that not even first place. There would be no Noble to ride on this time. And, second place would do him no good. Only one man would have the privilege of taking Riana's hand. Insecurity rose within him. Fear and doubt preached their messages to his heart.

Every night Fabian looked into the sky and observed the changing moon. Every morning he rose to procrastinate again. How could be submit himself to such embarrassment? How could he open his heart to such rejection? It would be easier to not enter, then to enter and lose.

On the last night before the new moon, Fabian once again stared into the stars. He cursed his lowly upbringing. He cursed his smoke-laden clothes. He cursed his lanky frame. He even cursed his love for Riana.

"Why did I ever allow my heart to open so fully to her?" he wondered out loud.

He wrestled with his thoughts for some time and was about ready to give up and go to bed when a new thought entered his mind. How will Riana know that I truly do love her if I don't at least try? There is no way I'll win, but a greater loss would be to never again have the opportunity to express my love for her. I will go. I'll march into the contest like an innocent man before the guillotine.

The next morning he headed off to the palace. He would not win but he could not forfeit. He chose to take a side road. It would take a little longer but it was a road less-traveled and he was not in the mood for conversation with other travelers this day. He rode Noble at a slow trot passed groves of trees, small farm settlements, Old Widow Grayson's small home (he had made house calls there many times to keep her aging horse properly shoed), and finally into the edge of the city. The palace loomed on a distant hill. It's lofty elevation seemed to mock his lowly heritage. Fabian's apprehension grew as he made his way through the city streets.

As he approached the sentry at the palace gate, his path was suddenly blocked by another rider. Fabian was stunned to see that it was none other than Lord Elegante.

"It's the very last day to register," Fabian said. "I figured you would have been here weeks ago."

"Oh, I was," the Lord said with as much flamboyance as Fabian had ever witnessed. "I'm just hanging around to see who my competition is." This time there was a smirk in his voice that Fabian couldn't miss.

"Well, I don't consider myself much competition, but I had to come."

"You had to," Elegante repeated in a mocking voice.

"Yes," Fabian responded, "Now if you'll excuse me…"

Fabian was allowed entrance by the sentry and soon learned the rules of the "contest." This was the word that the representative of the king used and it disappointed Fabian.

The hand of a woman as wonderful as Riana to be taken in a 'contest.' How sad! Fabian thought.

The same representative asked him a few questions. Fabian guessed that this was the interview. When they were done the representative told Fabian to come back in two days as all the suitors were to be assembled.

Fabian arrived in a timely manner and once again was immediately aware that he stood out in the crowd. Not only did his height cause him to tower over most of those around him but his clothes set him apart as a different class. No one else from his social status had dared enter themselves in a contest such as this. He was alone and felt like a fool.

Yet, is this not what love does? He assured himself. Does it not willingly lay down its life for the one on whom it has set its affections? He only hoped that Riana would get one glimpse of him and know that he was here.

The crowd of a hundred or more suitors was assembled into a hall. The instructions were repeated. The first phase of the contest was a written test. This was to eliminate all those who were not learned enough to be married to a daughter of the king. Fabian could read and write but knew that he didn't have the education that came close to comparing to that of the nobility around him. But to his great surprise, the questions on the test were largely about the Kingdom, its countryside, and the king himself--his pedigree, views, priorities, concerns and plans--all things that he and Riana had experienced or talked about over their countless rides. Fabian had to wonder if Riana had her hand in forming these questions. Less than two hours after the test more than half the suitors were sent home, most of them grumbling about the unfairness of it all.

Next, fifty horses were brought out from the king's stables and the suitors were told of the equestrian contest that would be held. This contest was admittedly done at the princess' request. Her great love for horses should be shared by her mate. This was a surprising concession made by the king. Fabian easily scored well in all the events. One by one others were eliminated and the field was reduced to 12.

Immediately following this, the remaining contestants were brought into a room with tables, chairs, paper, quills and ink enough for each of them. They were instructed to write a love letter to the princess. They were to express their affection to her, but not sign their name. The king wanted to read the letters without bias of person. Fabian was amazed. Perhaps social status and wealth didn't mean as much to the king as he had assumed. Perhaps he really did want a husband for his daughter that truly loved her. Fabian was hopeful as he picked up the quill and dipped it in ink. Suddenly his heart sank. His mind went completely blank. He had so much to say, how could he reduce it to one page, and how could he speak of her without telling of their times together? He feared that if he revealed his identity in any way he would surely be disqualified.

Fabian squirmed in his chair, fiddled with his quill, gazed out the window and scratched his head. Time passed. His mind chased many thoughts but captured none. Some suitors were getting up from their seats and leaving for the day with the instruction that the letters would be read overnight and they were to return the next morning. Finally, like a dam bursting in his heart, Fabian wrote feverishly--speaking of her character, her beauty, her infuriating ability to be mysterious, her tomboy charm, and on he went filling the page margin to margin. He concluded by saying that nothing in life would make him happier than to share it with Riana. Out of space on his paper, he finally turned it in. He was the last to leave the room.

Lord Elegante was waiting for him as he stepped outside the door. "So, you had lots to say, did ya?" he said with his characteristic smirk.

"Maybe so," Fabian said, not eager to have this conversation.

"Face it. You don't belong here. Nobody with the name 'Bones' is going to marry the daughter of the king. You might was well give up right now."

Fabian turned red, from embarrassment and from anger. "How did you know my nickname is 'Bones?'"

"I've done my homework. I have my sources. Men like me have a way of knowing what's going on in the Kingdom." Elegante leaned in uncomfortably close to Fabian, "And don't think that just because the two of you took a few countryside rides together that you've got an inside shot. You don't have a chance." With each word his volume rose and his tone became more threatening.

Fabian decided this was a good time to take his leave. "See ya tomorrow," Fabian simply said and slipped away. He hadn't caught a glimpse of Riana, but he had survived the first rounds of elimination and he wasn't going to let the arrogant lord ruin his day.

The next morning Fabian again took the less-traveled side road to the city. He cherished the solitude and time for reflection that the quiet lane afforded. Old Widow Grayson was sweeping the front porch of her little home as he approached. They exchanged a friendly greeting as he passed, and Fabian promised himself that when this "contest" was finally over that he'd check in on the widow again.

When he arrived at the palace he was escorted into a room with the other eleven suitors. Lord Elegante gave him a condescending look but did not say a word. They were instructed to write out their names, title and family background on the paper provided. Four love letters had been chosen and were posted in the next room. The handwriting of each man would verify who the final four suitors would be. The others were to leave immediately. Some contestants filled their page with titles and respected names from their family tree. Fabian had little to write. Soon they were called into the next room. Immediately Fabian's heart sprang to his throat. There, posted with three other letters, was his margin-to-margin outpouring. He attached the paper he was holding to the love letter, verifying his handwriting, and was declared to be a finalist.

Eight men were excused and four were told to wait for further instructions. Among the finalists was none other than Lord Elegante. He stood reading Fabian's letter, studying it carefully. Fabian couldn't help but fear the lord's motive.

A representative from the king returned to explain the proceeding for the final round of the competition. The winner of this round would be awarded the princess' hand in marriage. He had proven to be sound in mind by passing the written test, sound in body by being able to score well in the equestrian events and sound in soul by being able to express love by way of the letter. Fabian questioned the validity of the representative's conclusions but waited to hear the final instructions.

"You will appear before the king and Riana herself in two days. At such time you will tell the king something he doesn't know. He will make his decision as to who will marry his daughter on the basis of the best presentation given to him. That is all the instruction you are to receive. Good day!" With that the representative disappeared, and the four men stood speechless looking at each other.

Finally, Lord Elegante broke the silence, "This will be fun," he said with his condescending smirk.

Fabian rode home in a daze. What could he possibly teach the king? Once again he felt the lowliness of his background. The king had received the finest education, traveled broadly, met with dignitaries, consulted with advisors and had at his disposal the brightest minds in the Kingdom. How could he tell the king something he didn't know?

Upon reaching home he absent-mindedly stoked the fire and began heating a piece of metal. For a moment Fabian thought he could teach the king the trade of blacksmithing, but then he discarded the idea as ridiculous. What was he to do, build a fire in the king's palace and show him how to shoe a horse? He would be a laughingstock to the other finalists. This was hardly the way to become the king's son-in-law. But how?