SUMMATION (15 page)

           But now, he thought saw it. It was there. His
son was ready. He had prepared him well, and his job was done.

* * *

           He hoped.

* * *

           Gerhard Richter turned and sat back in his seat.
And smiled. Perhaps, now, finally, his son was actually ready.

           He certainly hoped and prayed it was so.

* * *

           The dark blue sedan was cruising north on Hwy
251. He knew he was getting closer. He also had access to some of fastest
computers available, and had a team who ate and slept with them. His latest
attempt was bearing fruit - after so many years, this may be it. It had better
be - he thought, time was running out. If he didn't find them, find
HIM
,
there would be Hell to pay.

           Literally.

           "I am here to see the King."                           

           The soldiers at the gate stared at the old,
bent-over, toothless man leaning on a cane as bent and broken as he was and
broke into laughter.  The Sargent of the Guard at the gate came back to the
entrance to see what the laughter was all about.

           "I am here to see the King," he
repeated, not the least put off by the laughter.

           The closest guard, with a wide, sweeping motion,
removed his helmet and bent at the waist.

           "And good sir, from what far-off country
shall I say you are the emissary? Bearing gifts of great value, I see." The
laughter continued.  The Sargent smiled - let the guards have their fun. It
always seemed to happen when the king and his army returned from another
engagement - all the lunatics showed up. Some with advice on how to win the
war, others with omens from God, a few offering daughters for a dowry - they
were all here.

           "I am here to see the King," again,
with no change in voice or delivery.

           "Move on, old man - we tire of you,"
replied the guard having delivered the grand welcoming gesture, and replacing
his helmet. "Enough." He reached forward to give the old man a shove
and-

           As the Sargent watched, the cane snaked out,
hooked the guards leg, and he was tossed up and onto his back. In the same
motion, he stepped forward on his left foot, turning right, swinging the cane,
catching the second guard directly in the face. The helmet protected him, but
the impact flipped him also onto his back, almost directly alongside the first.
As the second was still falling, the old man grabbed the guard's sword and
sliding it from its sheath, clearing it as he hit the ground. Pivoting, the old
man placed the sword tip against the throat of the remaining guard.

           "I am here to see the King," once
more, in the same tone as the first, as if nothing had happened.

           The Sargent was impressed, but dared not say anything.
His men were embarrassed enough. He needed to end this, and quickly. He leaned
over the short wall of the platform just above the guards and called out, "You
there, old man!"

           The man looked up and said simply, again, "I
am here to see the King".

           The Sargent drew his sword, and called out to
other guards in the area, and all came running, quickly surrounding the man and
his embarrassed victim, currently standing on tip-toe to keep the tip of the
sword from penetrating under his jaw. The two downed guards got on their feet,
and quickly back-pedaled to clear the area.

           "Old man, you are amusing, and have
certainly put roses in the cheeks of these guards, but you will put that sword
down now, and surrender yourself."

           The old man complied. As soon as the sword was
surrendered, he was quickly and roughly bound at the wrist. The Sargent noted
the initial guards got a few blows in during the process. Too bad. The old man
shouldn't be wandering around here. After a few hours inside, he probably wouldn't
be wandering back.

           The old man looked at the Sargent. "In my
cloak I have a letter for the King. His eyes only. Be it known that if you or
any other look at it before him, you will forfeit your lives. Not by me, but by
him."

           They all laughed, and the second guard, having
now retrieved his sword, reached inside the old man's heavy cloth topshirt. Sure
enough, there was a letter, sealed with wax, though most of the wax had cracked
and fallen off during the tussle. The letter looked old and worn - it was
surprising that any of the wax had maintained at all. The document was handed
to the Sargent. "Remember," warned the old man, "for the sake of
your wife, your daughter, and your son."

           "Old man, nice try, but you have not
studied enough - every man here knows my wife, and knows my daughter, and each
knows I have not yet a son. You speak again out of ignorance, and have given
yourself away. Silence yourself now before worse befalls you."

           Smiling, the old man replied, "Your wife is
with child, your son. Now, to the King!"

           The Sargent paused, stared at the man. His wife
had told him this very morning that she thought, she might...but, how....?

           "Who are you, old man? Speak quickly - you
are raising my wrath!"

           "As you say, I am but an old man; here
simply to deliver a letter. But," and he looked sharply again at the
Sargent, "Beware my warning, or your wife will be raising two children
begging."

           One of the guards drew his sword, yelling "You'll
not insult my Sargent," and went to run him through.

           "STOP!" The Sargent raised his hand-
stretching it out between the old man and the young shamed soldier looking to
redeem himself with some of the insolent man's blood.

           "We'll soon see what this is all about. When
I return, I will take great enjoyment with you." He looked into the old
man's eyes. "Perhaps we will look inside
YOUR
belly for my son, and
keep digging until we find him!" He nodded to the guard. "Hold him
here."

           The Sargent took the letter and went inside the
gate. The wax seal was broken, and parts were missing, but the letter was still
sealed. Perhaps he should take a quick look before presenting it to the King.
He did not want to look like a fool, bringing, perhaps, a child's cartoon or a
senile man's rambling to the king. However, it seemed there was just…there was
something...just maybe something....he didn't want to take a chance with - who
was this old man, anyway?

           At the entrance to the throne room, he was met
by the Commander of the Guard. He told the story, and the threats, explaining
the warning, but not his concern, lest he appear frightened of the old man.

           "Give me the letter", said the
Commander. "I will see if it should go to the King".

           The Sargent repeated the warning.

           "Enough." The commander held up his
hand, "I don't want to hear any more silliness. Shall I tell our King that
an old man has bested his guards, and now strikes fear into their hearts?"
He turned to enter the throne room, breaking the seal and opening the letter. He
stopped, looked at the letter, and saw only a symbol, some names, some writing
he couldn't understand, and some more symbols, and even a few numbers. Nothing
else. By now he was standing just inside the throne room.

           "Yes? You interrupt me for what?" the
King asked. The commander had interrupted his discussion with his generals, and
he was annoyed. "What do you have for me?"

           "Only this, Your Highness."

           Bowing, he presented it. "An old man at the
gate raised quite a furor to get this to you. I will have him dealt with. I
apologize for wasting your time. If you desire, I will wait."

           "Never mind. You have already disrupted us.
What is so important you needed to disturb me? Bring it to me." The
Commander bowed low, presenting the letter."

           The King unfolded the letter, looked it over for
a moment, and froze. "Who else has seen this?" demanded the King. "The
guards? The messenger? Others?"

           "No, Sire. Only I. The seal was intact,
though damaged. I wished to keep from disturbing you, and wanted to rule out
the rantings of an old and silly man. I apologize for wasting your time,"
bowing even lower.

           "Hand me your sword." Puzzled, the
commander rose and did so, grip first.

           In one smooth motion, the king rose, took the
sword, stepped forward, and ran the Commander through. Wide, shocked eyes
appeared, and not only from the commander, who could do nothing but reach for
the sword, drop to his knees, and fall forward, driving it deeper yet. Shocked,
but prudently silent, faces lined the room.

           The king folded the letter, putting it inside
his garments. "Bring the old man to me, and empty the room."

           When the shocked general staff paused, the King
shouted,
"BRING HIM TO ME AND EMPTY THE ROOM
!"

           This time, people scattered. The room was emptied.
A few very short minutes later the old man was brought to the entrance of the
throne room, and pushed inside. The door was closed behind him.

           "Who are you, old man?" demanded the
King.

           "Ah, but it is not who I am but who you
are," he replied.

           "Anger me not, old man - look before you on
the floor - the commander of my guard. He looked at your letter. You shall be
next."

           "Very good, your Highness." The man
bowed to the floor. "You understand the significance of the letter. Now we
must talk." He paused. Looking around, he spotted a small stool. Turning,
he walked over to pick it up.

           "You have turned your back on me. Your
King!"

           No one - no peasant, no general, no family
member - ever turned their back on the King. One stepped back, bowing as they
did so. Such an affront - the King's patience was wearing thin, and it would
seem this old man was going out of his way to end his miserable life, which
couldn't be much longer anyway.

           The old man picked up the stool, and shuffled
back, setting the stool on the carpet that trailed down from the throne. Satisfied,
he sat down and looked up.

           "We have little enough time, your Highness,
so enough nonsense. Listen closely, for there will be no other, and you must
remember well. If you must put things on paper, take great care, as there are
those around you who would have you fail."

           The directness, the utter disregard for his
station - pulling up a stool a sitting down on the carpet coming down from the
king's throne - the blatant disregard of all propriety - the King was stunned
into silence.

           "There is one coming, of whom it is
written, and he shall one day rule. That man is not you, nor your sons. I know
not when, but I will tell you the signs.

           "Your mother was given a gift, not of this
world, because she was chosen to bear the line of the Protectors. As such, you
shall gain power. Not just wealth, nor land, nor great armies, but personal
power, power beyond that of those around you. And with each generation, this
power will grow. Each will be a vessel that adds his power to that given to
him. 

           "You must take great care to conceal and
protect this gift. At the unveiling, this power will protect the Chosen One and
the Proclaimer. You and your line shall always be rewarded. They will want for
nothing. They will have success in their dealings. But remember, there are
those who would have you fail, those that are opposed to the Chosen One. They will
stop at nothing to prevent what must occur.

           "Use your resources wisely. Always look to
the future. It will be important to have your people everywhere, just as your
enemies will.

           "And watch for the signs. Always watch. The
letter gave you a sequence of symbols. They mean nothing to me, nor to you, but
they will. When the time is right.

           "You have the power to rule as you wish. It
matters not to Him, save that you are ready, prepared, and strong when it is
required. The rest is yours to do with what you wish. Just remember your
loyalties, and all will be yours. You are King here, but a servant to our
Master."

           The King opened his mouth to ask the first of
many questions, but the old man had already stood, turned, picked up his stool,
and was replacing it along the wall.

           "Sire, it is time for me to go. I know you
have many questions, but they matter not. You know what you must know, and the
answers will come. My time is short, and I wish to spend it elsewhere."

           The King, still stunned by what he had heard,
climbed down from his throne, standing directly in front of the old man.
Looking deep into the old man's eyes, he knew he was not in the presence of
just any old man. He held his eyes for several more moments before the old man
turned towards the entrance to the King's chamber.

           The two walked, silently, the King's head bent
in deep thought, following the old man to the entrance. The old man pushed the
door open, and the King followed him out, silently. The others- the Generals,
the guards, the staff- all looked on in stunned incredulity, in silence.

           The King had much to consider. He knew now some
of his history, and some explanation of the incredible fortune and successes he
had had in the past. Now, though, he had been promised even greater things.

           On the other hand, he was not his own man
anymore, and this was troubling. Even worse, he could confide in no man, at
least, not yet.