The Queen of Lushland knew she needed an heir, so she needed a stud. Would it be the exotic stallion with strength and experience, the worldly mustang with hedonistic temptations, or the trainable colt with devotion and aspirations? Would her heart, mind, and body agree on the choice to be made?
A testament or supposition,
With embellishment or some omission,
And best intent, with your permission
Here I present my rendition.
The queen always thought of her people first. Tall and strong like her father, she was known far and wide as a capable ruler. Lushland was named appropriately, as it occupied a broad, fertile plain between the mountains and the river. Her kingdom, or queendom as it had been since her father died, was prosperous and peaceful, thanks to good relations with the neighboring countries.
A problem that simmered in the back of her mind was: What would happen when she was gone? Jeena was about to reach her thirtieth birthday with no suitable husband. More than a few kings and princes had made their interest known, but she had found none to her liking. A husband was desirable, but an heir was essential. Perhaps compromises must be made.
All knew of the tragedy of Old Paleoland, a neighboring kingdom that fell into generations of chaos when it was left without a clear line of succession. Her father had helped it recover, and relations with New Paleoland were good.
Her satisfied subjects had planned a celebration for her birthday. Some new and past suitors were making appearances. There were three days of parades, feasting, and dancing.
The last afternoon, there was an odd moment as a long line of subjects brought gifts to bestow. Some wealthy merchants lavished gold and jewels. Some artisans proffered hand-crafted items. A child gave a portrait of the queen she had painted.
Jeena accepted them all graciously. The end of the line brought an old woman before her. Dressed plainly rather than for a party, she bowed respectfully before she spoke. Most in the room were already whispering about the next event and paid no attention to one such as her.
“Dear Queen,” her voice was old but strong and her eyes were bright, fixing Jeena’s attention. “My humble gift can help soothe the irritations that may afflict you.”
She removed something from its burlap wrapping and held it up. Some who were still paying attention gasped; others laughed. It looked to be made of wood; whether carved or natural, Jeena could not immediately tell. It resembled nothing so much as a human forearm and hand bones. A stick about that long ended with a few finger-like extensions.
To demonstrate its utility, the old woman mimed scratching her back with it, before laying it carefully at the queen’s feet.
A page reached for it, but Jeena stopped him, standing and bending to pick up this last gift ceremoniously. “I thank you, one and all,” her voice silenced the room, “for your many thoughtful and generous gifts. I must retire to prepare for the ball.”
Noticing the face of the woman, joyful to see the queen holding her gift, Jeena held onto it as she made her exit. Inspecting it more closely as she walked to her quarters made it no less peculiar. She idly set it on her nightstand as her attendants bustled about, getting her ready for the big ball.
That night, she danced with many princes and narrowed her choices down to three. Ricardo was ten years older, strong, handsome, and well able to rule a kingdom. Geoffrey was her age, dashing, cute and funny. Jason, almost a decade younger, was well-mannered and well-educated.
Without letting the others know, she approached each of the three and suggested he stay on after the celebration. She would arrange a day in the coming week to spend alone with him.
It was well after midnight before she could leave the festivities and head back to her bedroom. Her ladies-in-waiting helped free her from the elaborate gown and jewelry. When they had left, Jeena stretched out in her bed, her feet aching from the evening’s exertions.
As she tried to find sleep, an itch on the sole of her left foot nagged at her. Scratching it with the big toe of her right foot brought a moment of relief, but it returned. The more she scratched, the more it seemed to itch, and the more she tried to put it out of her mind, the more it demanded attention. She was reaching for the bell to call an attendant to come to rub her feet when her hand found the old woman’s gift.
How fortuitous, she thought, to have the solution arrive before the problem.
Eyeing the oddly-shaped implement skeptically, she pointed it toward her foot. Uncertain of its durability, she first drew the fingers along the itching sole lightly. The feeling was strange, more like real fingers than the bony projections, with a touch so light it tickled. Pressing more firmly, she was sure she felt a hand on her foot and she pulled it away in surprise. Unable to resist trying again, she soon concluded that it was no illusion.
This device must be enchanted! she thought. I must remember to find out who that old woman is.
As she used it more boldly, Jeena could feel a second hand join the first, giving her feet a massage as good as the best of her attendants. It was so soothing and relaxing, she was asleep before she knew it.
In the morning, she awoke refreshed and had forgotten the whole episode until she saw the scratcher, as she now thought of it, on her nightstand. She picked it up and gingerly touched it to her foot, but it just felt like a stick against her skin. Confused, Jeena thought perhaps she had dreamt it all, but her feet did feel wonderful, which was surprising given the hours of dancing last night.
With the birthday celebration behind her, she needed to move on to considering her three suitors. Today she would have lunch with Prince Ricardo of Latinia in the North Tower, the highest point of the castle.
His dark hair and eyes, bronze skin, and exotic accent from the far south had caused many a maiden to swoon. The third oldest son of a king, he knew he would not inherit that throne, so he sought another. Skilled as an ambassador as well as a general, he might well make a worthy husband.
The secret meeting, known only to the most trusted and tight-lipped, would allow them to meet casually, without all the pomp. After several days of large and heavy gowns, jewelry and shoes, Jeena felt light in her simple frock and slippers. Ricardo, too, wore a comfortable shirt and pants without medals or epaulets.
Over lunch, they discussed the affairs of the kingdom. From the tower, they could see as far as the mountains of New Paleoland. In the other direction, the wide river was both the boundary and the means of commerce with the domains to the west and beyond. The queen well noted the interest and insights that Ricardo offered.
When the dishes had been removed and the two were left alone, they adjourned to a comfortable couch. The queen broached the subject of his bachelorhood at his age.
“Certainly you understand that I have been available if my father needed to seal an alliance,” he said. “There have been many women who have willingly served my needs in the meantime.”
“Yes,” Jeena nodded, “sex, love, and marriage are often separately decided among our kind.”