“You are writing, my lady?”
Donna was old now. Her voice sounded cracked. But then I had aged too.
“Yes, Donna. I’m attempting to write about my new life.”
“Your new life?”
I looked up at her. Surely she wasn’t that dim. “My life here in Desiderata Valley. It has passed so quickly and what have I achieved?”
“So much, my lady. You have a husband and handsome children. Your daughter will be the new queen.”
“Queen of what, Donna? The local people are not even aware of my existence.”
“That will change, my lady.”
I sighed. I envied my children’s youth. Life was so short.
“The new painting, my lady.” She unveiled it lying against the wall.
I didn’t like it. It seemed unnecessary to include John’s painting of me when I was younger – like a cruel reminder of my ageing.
“Hm, not the best. I’d like a better one. Perhaps John can paint it.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Donna still hovered.
“Yes, Donna? It’s not like you to be shy. What is it?”
“I’m worried about Hano. He is not doing well at the local school.”
“I thought Lucretia helped him out before she left? He’ll be fine.” I looked at her. “They won’t take him away, I promise you.”.
She nodded, evidently quite upset, then left me.
John swanned in, having spent a day at work. I have no idea what he does but it brings in a few Simoleons. He enjoys his painting more and never talks about his life outside the home.
“Lysana, did you hear?”
“Hear what? Birds, wolves, the crying of babes, what?”
John raised his eyebrow at me. “One of those days is it?” John was still young and could tease me. When I didn’t reply, he responded.
“A monastery.” I looked at him with interest. “Really? Here in Desiderata Valley?”
“Yes, it’s just been built. A monk by the name of Cadfael is there, all on his own.”
I smiled. A monastery would do very well. It was a good place for extra offspring if any should arise. I nodded. “Good… good.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.” He saw the painting. “Do you like it?”
“I’ll do a better one.” As he got changed out of his work clothes (which looked so plain and dull – not befitting his status), he continued.
“Are you looking forward to Lukan’s wedding?”
“Rebecca seems well enough for him.” Lukan was to marry a local woman by the name of Rebecca Harris. Lukan would take her name, officially renouncing any claim to the throne, small though it was.
“She’s pleasant enough. Lukan is looking well on it.”
The next day was the wedding. After a dreadful morning of rain, the sun shone on the ceremony which was held outside their small house.
Lukan seemed happy, which pleased me.
Jah approached me later and told me that he found a band which could play the music I loved. I was delighted.
All seemed well with the world that day.