SUMMATION (14 page)

           And she saw that her belly was never seen, by
anyone. Not by her maidservants. Not by anyone in the royal family. Not even by
her husband, to whom she only opened herself in the dark of night, under cover
of blankets. Not even by the Royal Physician who delivered her first and only
son.

           Her son grew tall, strong, and intelligent; a
worthy successor to the throne. He was comfortable with his power, and moved to
ever increase it. His mother had been proud of his early successes, though she silently
voiced concerns over his tendency to reach those successes with ruthless focus,
and little concern for those around him.

           From early on, too, his mother kept his birthmark
hidden. It was a source of fear to her- how to explain the tiny mark behind his
ear that mirrored her belly. All those years she kept her own body hidden, and
now, her son's. It was not until shortly before her own death, shortly before
he ascended to the throne, that she took him aside.

           She shared no details, nor showed him her body,
but told him only that there was a greater purpose, unknown to her, that he was
meant for. His birthmark would be his destiny. Although she told him not of her
sign, she made it clear to him that this was no ordinary birthmark - it set him
aside. She told him of the warning and of the promise. She also made him swear
an oath to never, ever show it, for it would put him at risk. Beyond that, she
knew no more.

           He took this information quietly, absorbing it
all, agreeing to the promise, and never discussing it. At first, he thought it
might have been the ramblings of an old woman nearing the end, but the more he
pondered it, the more he wondered. There was a strange intensity in her
warning. She spoke clearly, without any doubt. She spoke as if it were fact.

           She had never led him astray growing up. He
trusted her council. She was more than his mother, more than a queen merely
sitting beside her husband. He knew that she had known far more, yet seldom
spoke.

           He chose to follow her directions. No one ever
saw his birthmark. He had always known he was meant for more, and only now,
with his mother's late warning, did he have it confirmed.

           He was confident in who he was. His secret gave
him strength. No one locally would dare challenge, and between his
intelligence, upbringing, and ruthless command, he became very powerful. He
demanded and expected absolute loyalty, and he had his most trusted lieutenant
supervise an inner circle of security. The men answered only to this man, and
they, and their families, were well cared for. He was moving quickly, and
nearby kingdoms rarely hesitated to join him. Word had traveled fast about
those that hadn't.

           Soon, he was worshiped not only as a king, but
as a deity, a practice he found advantageous, and encouraged. Truly, he
thought, his mother had been told the truth - he would rule. As far as there
being another - that part must have been a mistake. He was not a precursor. He
would be the one. Nothing would stop him now.

* * *

           Especially a bent over, toothless, crippled old
man.

           What happened? Tell me - this is too important,
and we are too close." Gerhard was turned sideways in the back seat, getting
little response from his son. "Listen to me. LISTEN!" He was becoming
frustrated, and angry, now that the initial fear was past.

           It was almost as if the unbelievable events of
the past few minutes had never happened. As if the boy's car wouldn't start,
and his father had simply picked him up. Both father and son should have been
struck with wonder, but somehow, neither were.   

           His son had had a good life, a life of privilege
and power. A life knowing he had a destiny, a destiny that would not, could
not, be taken away. A life of knowing that there were others, some seen, others
unseen, that were always working to protect him, support him, working quietly
to advance their Master.

           Perhaps this was too much for a child, any
child. How many spoiled children of powerful parents make the tabloids each
day? Why should he be any different?

A young man, filled with an unbelievable power within,
having financial and other assets - without the maturity that he did not yet
have, was a terrible risk.

           And now, even after this, he sat petulantly, as
if just another child caught shoplifting penny candy.

           The father sat back against the seat. So close.
SO CLOSE. There were signs that it was almost time. The power had been
transferred, as it always had been, generation to generation. And it was
stronger, as it always was, generation to generation. With the
responsibilities, and the organization, and, yes, the risk of failure, always
increasing, generation to generation.

           Yet this one sometimes seemed oblivious to his
gift. His GIFTS. His POWER. All that previous generations had worked for, he
seemed to simply take for granted. As many children, he supposed. His anger and
frustration were tempered by that little bit of fear - the knowledge that he
had indeed transferred the gift; the responsibility, the honor, and most
importantly, the POWER, which, at a whim, the son could turn on him.

           Truly he was, in effect, powerless now. Wealthy
beyond comprehension, with tens of thousands employed, it seemed incomprehensible
that he could feel this powerless, yet here he was. Because he knew. He could
see that in the eyes of his son.

           Yet, he would try. He had to try. To fail would
mean hundreds of years, thousands of lives, wasted. It would mean He won. And
that could not, would not, happen.

           "Please, son. Help me understand."

           Finally Hans turned, and his father noted, with
surprise, was that a little fear in the corner of his eye? Was that a little
shakiness in the always confident, even cocky, voice? Was something more
perhaps actually going on inside there?

           "I'm, I'm not sure, Father. It was like
before, only worse." He looked down, hands fidgeting. "I had been
with Andrea, the one from school - you met her. We were together over the
weekend. Everything seemed to be going fine. Then, Sunday, she said she wanted
to break it off. Needed some space. Felt too restricted. She wanted to break up
with me. With
ME!

           "Who does she think she is? Telling ME she
wants to break up. I was angry, so angry, so insulted, so, so..."

           "What did you do - did something hap-"

           "No, no, no. Nothing happened. It wasn't
like that other girl. Andrea's fine. Besides, I couldn't do much with her
friends all around, but I sure wanted to.

           "And I still may."

           "STOP THAT," Gerhard commanded
sharply. "Stop that talk. That's all you would need. So, what happened?"

           "Well, kind of like before. I was driving
back, thinking about it, and I was getting angrier and angrier. I was thinking
about what I was going to do, and then, and then, well, I don't remember."

           Still angry, Gerhard was still frustrated, but
at least -

           "Alright, son. We've talked about this. A
lot. You are now The One. I can only advise you, and I have, since long before,
and will, as long as you have me. The fact is, you are still too emotional. It's
time to grow up. By now, you should have been past that. You know our family's
history. How easy it is to fall. You know all too well that, tracing our family
back, we are born of rulers, had not one of our family not lost it all in a
moment of weakness. We would be rulers now, if not for that. Don't let that be
our fate again. We have taken a very long time rebuilding."

           Hans looked sharply back at his father.

           "Hans, I'm sorry, but this is true, and you
know it. You've got to get your emotions contained. Me, I think this is it,
this is the time. Everyone always thinks that
this
will be the time,
that
they
will be the one, and I did too, I
prayed
that it would
be, but here we are. Still, the signs - they're all here, and it could very
well be up to you. You, and I truly believe this, YOU will be the one to usher
Him in. You will open the doors. However, your emotions - you have to focus. You
MUST focus.

           "Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Take any woman
you want. They are here for you. Eventually, you will need one to bear a son -
you may still have to pass this on to YOUR son, so it will be required, but
take whom you will - just don't get involved. Have your pleasure - you owe no
one else. They are here for you. To serve you, as they have served me. For your
pleasure, as they have pleasured me." He paused. "But..... you see
the cost when you get emotionally involved."

           He continued, more quietly, with an
uncomfortable look on his face.

           "I understand, I really do. I've never told
you, and no one who
was
around then would ever mention it, but this has
happened before. And it was also here, not so far from the compound, by
coincidence. In fact, not far from that little town we just drove through. Beloit.
And it was by me. Some thirty years or so ago."

           The son turned toward him, a puzzled look on his
face.

           "No, it wasn't a woman. It was a man. A
trusted man. A man who knew much, and could have been a danger. There have been
defections in the past, but few. You can count them on one hand. But never
someone at this level. I
trusted
him. You know how few men have my
trust. Well, he was one. When I realized what he had done, I... I just lost it.
I exploded. I don't even remember what I did.

           "We were both in the back of my limo, and I
just, I just totally lost control. The bastard had betrayed me, after all I had
done for him." He shook his head, remembering. "What I
do
remember is after arriving at the compound being taken back to my room, and
seeing myself in the mirror of the bathroom. I was covered in blood. Soaked. At
first I was terrified, but I was told that I was okay, the blood was his. I
went to the window, looking down on the drive, and saw them cleaning out the
car.

           "They removed him, but I wouldn't have
known who "him" was - no one would have. There was no way to
recognize the pulpy mess they dragged from the car.

           "No one said anything. No one ever even
mentioned it. It was never discussed. The car was cleaned, scrubbed, shampooed.
Then, after it was as clean as possible, it was taken out back and burned. No
evidence, no DNA, no chance of any mistakes.

           Our people are good. They take good care of us.
They knew that as well as they may clean, there was always the
possibility
of being found out. That wasn't acceptable, so they took the necessary steps. So
I understand what can happen. Our people are here, now as then, to help.

           "I understood it better then. I was deeply
ashamed."

           "Ashamed?"

           "Not of dealing with the traitor, of course
not. My shame was my loss of control, the resulting public display of power,
and the risk of exposure. All my fault, and all unnecessary. All due to my
immaturity, my emotional immaturity. My lack of self-control.

           "As a result, I vowed to never, ever let
anything like this happen again. I would never again allow myself to lose
control. To help prevent this, I resolved to never let any
thing
or any
one
put me in that position again. That new resolve has put me in good stead these
many years. I trust this may be for you as well."

           Hans sat silently for a few moments, looking out
the window. They were just passing through Beloit, cruising past the eastern
edge of the city on I-90. There were still dozens of vehicles with red lights,
blue lights, and amber lights flashing. The road was open, but only one lane. They
were still cleaning up the mess from the night before.

           Hans could say nothing - it was true. He knew in
his heart of hearts he was right. His father was undeniably, irrefutably right.
And not only he knew it. He knew thousands of others were watching and waiting.
And many would know, or could probably guess, what had just happened. And a very
few would know why. A weakness. They would have recognized the weakness. This
was an embarrassment not only to him, but his father, and to the entire
organization.

           In a rare moment, he finally saw himself as
others saw him. As those who knew him saw him. As a spoiled rich kid. As
someone who was risking squandering all the work that those around him had so
carefully crafted and supported all these years.

           Looking outside, he caught the ghost of his
reflection in the glass. He wasn't proud of who he saw.

           Turning back, his father was still staring at
him. Not in judgement, but with concern, and fear. Not for himself, and not
just for him. For all of them.

           He looked down and away from his father,
embarrassed. Not because of the girl, not because of the previous ones, or what
happened after, but because of the weakness. It was true. He was now The One,
the Guide, the Welcomer, perhaps the Proclaimer.
His
was the
responsibility, the honor, the legacy. Almost disrupted by a girl. Silly,
childish emotions. His father was right.

           He looked up, straight ahead, then slowly
turned, and looked his father in the eye.

           "You're right," he said softly, looking
down. He waited a moment, then again looked his father in the eye. "I
AM
the One. It
is
an honor. And that honor reflects on you and those who
came before you. I have not respected it, or you, or those who have gone
before.

           "I was wrong. But I tell you this - you
will never again be embarrassed by me. You will never again fear my loss of
control. It will never, never happen again. You're right - it is time. I feel
it too.

           "I apologize, father, for this, and for the
past. But it is done. You're right. It's time for me to move on. I am no longer
a child. I am a man, and will act like one." He held his father's eye for
another moment, then turned to look ahead down the now clear road.

           Gerhard looked back, and thought he saw
something different in his son's eyes. Was it a
determination
? Was it
purpose
?
Whatever it was, he saw that his eyes had hardened, matured. They were
different,
something
was different. Perhaps, might it be that...

           During the ceremony, he had never really been
convinced that the transfer had been complete, not as when
he
had
received it from
his
father. All the steps had been followed, all had
been done correctly and at the proper time, but...