Excerpt: The Twelve Brothers

The Twelve Brothers

Chapter One
The field hands paused in their work to watch the sun rise above the palace on the hill. It was going to be a beautiful day for those living there, for certain, and for the smallest of the children, who were still sleeping at the edges of the field. For the rest of them, it was going to be work, work, work. And the sun would beat down on them mercilessly.
But this is not their story! This is the story of the palace dwellers, though it may not be as sweet a story as the field hands would think.
The king that lived in the palace on the hill was King Fernando, along with his queen, Gloria, and their twelve sons. Yes, I said twelve sons. The king and queen would put a pack of bunnies to shame, and shame on you for making me say it!
Anyhow.
King Fernando and Queen Gloria were, in general, wonderful parents. Their sons wanted for nothing. They had the best private tutors, the strongest and fastest horses, the best toys of any and every kind. And the feasts they had every single day! Well, with twelve of them, any meal would become a feast, I suspect. King Fernando was a wealthy king, and his country was a wealthy land, and the peasants were… well, maybe not wealthy, but far better off than the peasants of other kingdoms. All in all, not a bad place to live.
At least, it was good until Queen Gloria became pregnant with the thirteenth child.
Usually a pregnancy in (country), particularly a royal pregnancy, was celebrated happily. Queen Gloria’s pregnancy started out that way, too. There was an even larger feast than usual, and many of the courtiers brought presents and well wishes for the royal couple and their future child. There was much speculation of the gender of the future baby, as well. People wondered if their king and queen would finally have a girl child, or if they would have yet another boy.
The queen had been not so secretly been wishing for a girl for many years and many, many of her previous pregnancies, and this pregnancy was no different. She knew, though, that she had no choice in the gender of the child. She was, after all, fairly wise. An easy mark for her husband when he was in the mood, but otherwise… wise.
King Fernando, however, was used to getting his own way. He had wanted all boys and expected all boys. And every night, as the royal couple crawled in bed, he reminded Queen Gloria that she was to have a male child, and a male child only.
“It must be a boy,” the king would say, removing his crown and setting it on the table beside the deep feather bed. “You will make it so. I command it.”
“But, my darling! There is no possible way for me to control what sex the baby will be,” the queen would say in response.
“Then you will find a way, my love. You have done an excellent job so far.”
The queen would sigh, and say “Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear. But I really can not promise a thing.” Then she would kiss him, lay back on her big, fluffy, feather pillows, close her eyes and go to sleep, listening to King Fernando grumble about his word being law.
This conversation repeated itself, practically word for word, every night for the first six months. Personally, I think it was just a habit. Kind of like their way of saying good night, I love you, see you in the morning, dearest.
Near the beginning of the seventh month, though, the king became more forceful with his demands of yet another son. He became angry when Queen Gloria would “Yes, dear,” him. He would raise his voice, shouting that he demanded another son, and she had better do her damnedest to give him a boy. Queen Gloria, ever the diplomat, told him one night that enough was enough.
“I am sick of your constant demands!” she shouted back. “If you want a boy so damn bad, you have one! If I could control the gender of this child, I would make certain to have a girl, just to spite you!” Queen Gloria did something then that no one had ever done to King Fernando. She pulled the pillow from under his salt and pepper head, hit him hard with it, then tossed the pillow across the room. “If you are the least bit intelligent,” she told him coldly, “you will follow that pillow before I make you follow that pillow.”
King Fernando was in shock, and so it did not occur to him to do anything other than what the queen told him to do. He crawled rather swiftly out of bed and, grabbing his pillow on the way, he went to the sofa by the fire. He started out bewildered, but slowly became more and more angry. He had to find a way to force his wife into giving him son number thirteen. There had to be a way! And, ever so slowly, as he drifted off to sleep, a plan began to form in his mind.
Chapter Two
As the day dawned at the outset of Queen Gloria’s eighth month of pregnancy, she felt all was right with the world. Her baby was growing well inside her bulging belly, and it kicked hard and moved and stretched. And, although she had a hearty breakfast sitting before her yet again, she had not put on too much weight. And it was great to have a fleet of nannies to take care of all those rambunctious boys!
Life was good.
And then King Fernando came in.
Well, life was still looking pretty spiffy. The king was in a very good mood, and didn’t seem to be quite as ornery as he had been. He was still sleeping on the sofa in the royal chambers, so it was a bit of a surprise to the queen to see him smiling. He had a bounce in his step that had not been there for a couple of weeks.
Good, thought Queen Gloria. He has finally come to his senses. She smiled at her husband. He smiled back. Life will be so much easier now.
“I have wonderful news,” the king said.
“Excellent! Here, darling, have some eggs and bacon and tell me all about it,” the queen said with a big, bright smile. She motioned for one of the serving girls to fill a plate for the king, pointing to the various platters of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, sausage, and toast. If he wanted fruit and muffins, too, she thought, he could ask for them himself. More for her if he did not notice them.
“Mm, well!” the king said around a mouthful of two slices of bacon. “I made a decision.”
Queen Gloria waited while the king chewed and swallowed half a piece of toast covered in a thick layer of ginger orange marmalade.
“I have made a decision,” he repeated. “About our forthcoming child.” He beamed at his wife, showing off a large piece of bacon stuck in his teeth.
“Ah, yes! You have finally decided that you will be happy with what ever sex the baby will be. Am I correct?”
“Yeeeessss… in a manner of speaking, I suppose it can be looked at that way. All right, yes! No matter if our child is male or female, I shall be happy with it.” The king smiled and nodded, looking as if this was the most brilliant idea he had ever had.
“Well, good!” the queen said. She did not feel that all was quite as well as it had been, though. “But it seems to me that that was not the happy news you have to share with me, my love.”
“Oh, I never said I had happy news. I said I have made a decision. Something important regarding this baby business.”
The queen regarded her husband closely. He seemed to be up to something.
“What are you up to?” she asked warily.
“Nothing, my darling wife. I will not be doing the work myself, obviously.”
“Work? What kind of work? What are you talking about?”
“I am speaking of the coffins.”
Queen Gloria’s eyes grew as large as the sunny side up eggs sitting uneaten upon her plate. “Coff… coffins?”
“Yes.”
“Coffins, plural?”
“Yes.”
“How… how many coffins?”
“Oh, about a dozen,” the king said with a mysterious smile.
“Whose coffins?” The queen had an uneasy feeling about this. It did not make sense, and she was afraid that her husband’s answer would make even less sense than she feared.
“Twelve coffins for our twelve sons,” the king said, taking a deep drink of apple juice. King Fernando did not like coffee. Perhaps that is what made his thinking so fuzzy about all of this.
Queen Gloria dropped her fork with a loud clatter as it hit the china plate.
“What has happened to my boys?” she cried, rising from her seat.
“Oh, no, dear wife! Nothing has happened to them! Not yet.” King Fernando came around the table to help his wife back into her chair, then returned to his own seat.
“I… I do not understand,” the queen said, gripping the arms of her chair tightly. “What do you mean, not yet?”
“My decision,” he said, his voice suddenly losing any kindness and light that had been in his voice. “Is this: If you give me another son, the coffins will remain unused until the natural deaths of our twelve sons, each in their own time.”
“And if I can not provide a son, and give you a daughter instead?” the queen asked in a low, trembling whisper.
“A daughter will bring about the demise of all twelve of our sons. All twelve of the coffins that are being crafted right now will be filled with our sons.”
King Fernando rose slowly from his chair, dropping his napkin onto his plate. He looked at his silent, stricken wife. He looked past her pale face and into her wide, shock filled eyes.
“I would suggest,” he said, “that you figure out how to do what you have said you can not. I suggest you give me a son.”
Chapter Three
Daniel peeked over the low stone wall at his eldest brother. Gregar was nineteen, tall, dark, handsome, and very strong. He looked every bit of the prince he was, as did the other ten of Daniel’s brothers. Daniel, on the other hand, was pale, with light hair and eyes, and was small for his age. Sure, he was only eight years old, and had a whole lot of growing to do, but even for eight he was very small. All of his brothers teased him without mercy, but Daniel was used to it. His mother told him that was what brothers were for, and it would help make him stronger inside. Which would help make him stronger on the outside.
He was not convinced of that last part, but it made his mother happy.
Daniel ducked as Gregar looked around, checking to see if anyone was watching. He waited a moment, then slowly peered over the wall again, barely letting his eyes go above the top edge. He did not want to be seen. Gregar would pound him to a pitiful pulp if he caught Daniel spying on him. Daniel did not really think of it as spying, though. He called it research for growing up. But everyone else called it spying.
There! Gregar finally felt comfortable enough to remove his shoes and shirt. Daniel watched as his brother pulled up the legs of his pants, then gingerly dipped the toes of his right foot into the chilly water of the stream. Daniel suppressed a giggle as Gregar let out a high pitched squeal. The water must have been much colder than either of them expected. Gregar hopped back on one food, his dry foot, then fell back into a bush. Daniel could not stop a single, loud laugh from escaping his lips.
He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop any more sound, but it was too late. Gregar had turned to look for whoever had laughed, his face turning a bright red. There was no use ducking back behind the wall now, either, because Gregar had seen him already. So Daniel did the one good thing he know how to do. He ran for it.
He had tons of practice at running. I remind you that he was, after all, the youngest of the twelve brothers. At various points in his eight years, every single one of his elder brothers had had reason to chase him. The good reasons and the I am so bored and there he is reasons. Mostly the latter, though. Ah, brothers!
Gregar was no where near as fast as his youngest brother, and he did not want to run without his shoes, so he let Daniel go, merely yelling threats after the boy. Both Gregar and Daniel knew that Gregar would find him later at the palace and take care of the youngster in the way only an older brother could get away with.
Daniel ran as fast as he could through the open fields and then the palace gardens, finally reaching a small door at the base of a tower. He pulled a chain with a small golden key from under his shirt and, panting hard, inserted it into the lock. He twisted the key and heard the lock click. Checking over both shoulders to make sure no one was watching him, Daniel slipped inside the base of the tower.
The gift of the little golden key had been a blessing. His mother, Queen Gloria, had given it to him after a particularly tough week of chases and pummelings. The door led into a small chamber. There were no windows here, and the only exit besides the door to the outside, was a set of stairs that led up several floors. At the top of this staircase was a secret door that led into a corridor, and this is where Daniel headed. He peeked out of a set of eyeholes. The other side of the eyeholes was a portrait of a great great grandfather, King Gregar, whom was the namesake of Daniel’s eldest brother. Daniel was grateful that they had run out of male family names before reaching him. Some of them were quite horrid, like the fifth oldest brother, Horace. There just was not a nice nickname for that.
The corridor was clear. Daniel pushed the portrait open, slipping quietly out, and shut the portrait door with a very soft click. The sun streamed through windows on either end of the corridor, with dust motes flitting in and out of the light. Daniel headed left, into the castle proper. He wanted to go visit his mother. If Gregar decided to hunt him down, sitting with his mother would most likely postpone a pummeling long enough that Gregar would become distracted by one on the ladies in waiting and forget to beat Daniel up. What the hell, it had worked before, so why not give it another shot.
When Daniel reached his mother’s sitting room, he found her sitting at the window, embroidery laying unheeded in her lap. The queen stared out the unshuttered opening in the wall, her brow furrowed and tears in her eyes.
“Mother?” Daniel rested his hand lightly on her arm. The queen started out of her reverie, dropping her stitching.
“Oh, Daniel! My son, you should not sneak up on me like that!” Queen Gloria tried to smile as she gave a small, half hearted laugh.
“I’m sorry, mother. I did not mean to scare you. It is just… just that you look so sad! Has something happened? Is father all right? My brothers?”
“It is nothing that concerns you… Well, not right now, anyhow.” The queen gave a slightly stronger smile. “But you are all flushed! Are you ill, or sunburned?” Queen Gloria reached out and gently touched her son’s forehead.
Daniel reached up and took his mother’s hand. “Oh, no, mother. Nothing like that! I was just… playing outside.”
“Ah. Spying on one of your brothers again?”
“Researching, mother! Researching! I would never spy on my brothers. That would mean that there was something interesting to report.” Daniel gave his mother a sly smile.
“Mm, yes. You and your brothers are so innocent. None of you--” The queen stopped in the middle of her thought, looking quite stricken, as if she had just been slapped. “Oh!” she cried softly, turning quickly away from Daniel, trying to hide a fresh flow of tears.
“Mother! What has happened? Please, tell me!”
“It is truly nothing to worry yourself about, Daniel. Please, let us not talk of sad things.”
“Is there sad tidings then? I will not give you rest, mother, until you tell me what is wrong. Is it something to do with my new brother or sister?”
Queen Gloria’s face paled, and she turned to face her youngest son.
“It is. Tell me, mother. You yourself have told me I am almost a man. As such, I can handle whatever news you would tell me.” Daniel stood taller, puffing out his scrawny chest. He saw the hesitation in his mother’s eyes. “Really, mother. Tell me.”
Queen Gloria bit her lip, furrowing her brow even more. Then something in her seemed to release, and she heaved a large sigh.
“All right,” she said. “But there is something I would show you first.”
A week had passed since the king had informed his wife of his terrible decision. In that time all twelve of the coffins had been completed, and stored in a room a few doors down from the queen’s sitting room. That room was where she now led Daniel.
“You must not tell your father that I have shown you this room, or told you anything of its contents. I am afraid of what he would do if he knew I had shared this with you or any of your brothers.”
“I can keep a secret, if that is what you want of me, mother. You know that,” he said seriously. The queen had never seen her son look so grave. It saddened her that she was about to burden him further.
Yet, she knew she must. She had to try to save her sons, any way that she could. If they had a warning of what was to happen if a girl were born… Well, perhaps they could all escape before the death sentence was carried out. She took a large key from her apron pocket as they approached the coffin chamber. She unlocked the door and slowly opened it.
Daniel walked slowly into the room, looking around. It was a confusing sight.
“Mother? Are these coffins?”
“Yes. There are twelve of them.”
“Twelve. But… There are twelve of… us. Me, and my brothers.” Daniel turned to face his mother. “What are these for?”
“They are for the twelve of you. Oh, Daniel! Your father has told me of a terrible, horrible plan! He thinks he can force me to have another boy child. No woman can do that, can choose to have a boy over a girl. But your father believes it is my choice. His choice, really. He is so used to getting his own way.”
“But why would there be a need for twelve coffins?”
“The king has told me that if I should have another boy, there will be no need for any coffins,” the queen replied, unable to look directly at her son.
“And should you give him a girl?” Daniel asked. He was afraid of the answer, but still needed to hear it.
“The king has ordered that all twelve of his sons be killed.” The queen sank slowly to her knees, and finally looked at her son, letting out a deep, shuddering sob. “You have to leave, Daniel. You and your brothers have to leave tonight. The baby will come any day now. You have to leave.”
Chapter Four
Queen Gloria took Daniel back to her sitting room, and together they came up with a plan to save him and his eleven brothers. Gregar would lead them all into the nearby forest, and they would camp there until the queen gave birth. Each boy would take his turn watching the highest tower of the palace, waiting to see a flag that would be raised when the child was born. A white flag would tell them that it was safe to return, as a boy was born. A red flag would tell them to run and hide far from (country), as a girl was born and they would be killed if they were discovered. It was not, perhaps, the best or most elaborate of plans, but it was enough for the queen to know that hers sons would be safe from harm.
The queen called for Gregar, and she and Daniel explained the plan and the reason for it. After his initial shock and fear, Gregar stood stiff and tall before his mother.
“I will do as you ask, mother. I will take care of my brothers, and we shall return safely when a son is born.”
“I can not control the gender of the child, Gregar,” the queen reminded him. “If I have a daughter, you will have to care for your brothers until they are all grown and able to fend for themselves out in the wide, wide world.”
“I can do that, too, mother. If I must.” Gregar looked at his mother, his face serious. “But I hope and pray that you have a son. It will not be easy to raise my brothers on my own.”
“You have me to help,” Daniel said.
“You, pipsqueak? I suppose you could be of some help,” Gregar said. He smiled at his brother, then turned back to his mother. “I will do my best, mother. Both of us will.”
“Thank you, my son. I think it would be best if we waited to tell your other brothers until after dinner tonight. I think it would be difficult if all of you knew your potential fate, and had to sit through a full meal and not let your father find out you know. And you will all have to pack lightly, I am afraid, since there is no telling how far you will have to travel, and how fast. You will have to leave after your father and I have gone to bed. And…”
“Mother?” Gregar said. “We just went through all of that. Twice. Daniel and I will be able to take care of everything. I promise.”
Queen Gloria looked back and forth between her youngest and eldest sons. Though she smiled at them, tears escaped from her eyes.

Dinner was, indeed, difficult for the three conspirators. Because that is what they had become, with their plot to defeat the king’s plans. The queen avoided looking at any of her sons, especially when they tried to speak with her, as well as avoided the gaze of her husband. She did not want him to read in her eyes any of the secret plans that had been made to thwart him.
It was slightly easier for Gregar and Daniel. They hardly spoke normally, their ages being so different, so it was not apparent to the king or their brothers that anything unusual was afoot.
After the feast like meal was through, Gregar quietly gathered his brothers in the school room. He quieted them with difficulty, then explained what they had to do. Several of the boys refused at first to believe Gregar, and Horace was the loudest protestor. After a quick punch to his stomach, though, Horace was quieter, and more willing to listen as Daniel confirmed what Gregar had said.
“Mother showed me the twelve coffins,” Daniel said, his face serious and his voice grave. “It is true. If our mother gives birth to a little girl, all of us will be put to death.”
“But he is our father,” someone complained.
“Yeah, he would never really do it,” said someone else, someone who sounded like a wheezing Horace.
“He is the king, remember. Not just our father,” Gregar reminded them. “And that means that his word is law. You have to admit that he is terribly used to getting his way. If he wants another son, he believes he will get one. No matter what it takes.”