Harika I princess of Castela
For Prince, the past few months had been extremely exhausting.
He was like a reserve for any manual work.
Reserves were in short supply in those days.
Blacksmith in the morning, cook at breakfast, carpenter at midday, coachman in the early afternoon, janitor in the afternoon, porter in the late afternoon and dressmaker in the evening.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
In those only 2 months, Prince learned more than he had ever learned and would learn in his life.
He was always at top speed at his greatest potential.
He knew that every little action could save or kill someone.
In fact, as a citizen of Castile, war was something of which history he knew from the moment he saw people.
Hear a single thing that distracted him.
A messenger who arrived that afternoon with a baby in his arms, he was one of the King's elite soldiers.
It happened in the sixth week of the war. Castile was at its peak, victory seemed to be in their hands, they conquered a new city every day. That meant, of course, that the other side was being slaughtered.
In one of these attacks, they found an extremely poor village, there were no soldiers.
They had all been evacuated, leaving the people to die.
An hour before the attack, as a pious act, they sounded the trumpets.
The cowardly people ran away without thinking twice.
When the king's army arrived, everything was empty and silent.
The few belongings were still in the houses, the doors open and the animals were trapped.
The army continued to march through the lifeless streets, there was nothing to be heard but the rhythmic pace of the soldiers.
With the heavy air, the soldiers gained an understanding more than it was war.
Which meant war, for the citizens of a country where the monarchy retains all power.
Suddenly, a high-pitched scream cut through the air.
The soldiers stopped, and in sync, turned towards the sound. As if looking for a spark of life in arid lands, his eyes shone.
Soon the noise followed in a low tone, a sad lonely cry.
It was a child.
The soldiers were filled with grief, all they could do was look forward to their king eagerly, looking for an order to deal with the uncomfortable situation.
The king simply without saying a word, walked towards crying.
The soldiers followed steady paces behind.
The crying came from an abandoned house in a hurry. The king alone, enters the house leaving the troops waiting outside.
The house was poor and had a bad room. Bent over, the king carefully examined the dark room. A pile of potatoes in one corner, straw beds in the other, nothing of much importance. The king's gaze simply wandered without interest. Even, he thinks what he was looking for.
In one of the beds was a little girl, malnourished, bruised and undressed, probably no more than a year old. Next to the straw there was also a note engraved on the wood. Poorly written and almost scribbled, he said.
* Soldier or thief, please take care of her, Harika and you'll be better off anywhere other than Kreg. *
The message was not clear, nor did it have any specific intentions. The child had simply been abandoned. Naked and hungry, alone and cold at night. For parents who simply couldn't afford to give him the love that every child deserves.
Luckily for the girl, for the king, the message had been objective enough for him to take action on the situation. He took the cloth that covered the large scabbard attached to his waist and held it with one hand, while using the free one, he loosened Claymore from the belt and drew it, causing the blade to sparkle over the girl's head and for a moment. finally, in a quick, clean cut, he jerked his sword toward the ground, cutting the red fabric in two.
The girl had no reaction, she had fallen asleep shortly after the king entered the house, as if she knew she was safe in her presence.
He sheathed his sword again and gently lifted the baby that fit in the palm of his hand, while wrapped it with the two slices of cloth.
He snuggles the girl in his big arms and gets up, heading towards the exit, being extremely careful not to wake her.
As he leaves the house, he receives the anxious look of all his soldiers turning to the small figure nestled in his arms.
Like a father who loves to brag about his daughter, he sits her in her arms so that everyone can see her.
The deputy commander approaches while he still has his gaze fixed on the calm girl and inquired as he bowed in the form of respect.
- with your permission, what is the child's situation?
- Abandoned, left to the wolves.
She replied the king in a dry tone.
- and what does your majesty intend to do about it? If I may, we have many married soldiers who would gladly accept you. - The soldier continued after getting up.
The king looked at the sky thoughtfully. As if he expected the answer to fall from it.
After a while he smiled and he looked back at his soldiers, cleared his throat, and prepared his declaration.
- Dear soldiers, I have come to a conclusion. - he pauses while analyzing the reaction of well-trained, static soldiers.
- Misfortune fell on this girl, but fate decided to give her a second chance.
Slowly, the soldiers look up as if asking, is this serious?
- As you know our kingdom does not have a queen, so there is no way to continue the royal line. There is only one way to get an heiress princess. And today we fall on the grace of God.
He announced that as of today she will be called Harika. I will take her on my wings and hope that she will become a beautiful woman.
I present you the new Princess of Castile Harika first of Castile!
The instant the king spoke his last words, all the soldiers knelt to show respect for the new princess.
The little one slowly opened her eyes, still sleepy, as she yawned.
She watched the scene in front of her for a few moments, the soldiers still hunched over, waiting for new orders.
In that phantom zone inhabited only by fear, the little girl laughed gracefully. A laugh that only a baby could have. In that cold climate, the hearts of all soldiers warmed. The girl slowly stopped laughing while falling asleep on the king's chest.
The king snuggled her into his arms again and walked slowly towards the soldiers. These, as far as they are concerned, were anxious they already knew what they would be assigned to and prayed in their minds that they would be chosen.
The king silently walks through the crowd of hunched soldiers until after almost reaching the last soldier, he stops in front of one of them.
The soldier reluctantly raises his head.
He was young, but still as robust as the other soldiers, still confused he points to himself as if he does not believe that such an ordinary soldier had been chosen. All the king does is nod and pass the delicate girl into the soldier's arms.
The soldier receives it as if he were carrying the most precious asset in the entire kingdom, which was not quite a lie. He slowly gets up and goes to his horse. He was the soldier chosen to escort the newly appointed princess to the kingdom and officially speak her appointment on behalf of the king, this was almost the same as becoming his godfather.
He would accompany you for the rest of your life, whether as a butler, bodyguard or simply a counselor for difficult times.
His name was Ronald.
With one last glance at the battlefield behind him, he heads towards the capital.
Ronald was riding only half an hour when he realized that his mission would not be as easy as he had thought.
It was still dark and he had not left the main road that connected the small towns of Kreg when the princess scandalously woke up.
Worried that the girl's cry would delay wild animals that inhabited the fields, he hastily sought a way to silence the child. But his conscience weighed and made him extremely careful when handling his princess.
He changed the cloths around her. He gave you half of all his water through a damp cloth.
He massaged her thoroughly to make sure there was nothing wrong.
And there was nothing wrong, she was in no pain and had all her basic needs met.
Still, she continued to cry.
He slowly bent down to the floor and laid the baby on the floor there, contemplating her pretty face even when she cried.
He was already in the mood to cry with the princess when he had an idea.
He remembered a folk song that his mother used to sing to him to stop crying.
He snuggles her back in his arms and gets up slowly and sings a song in a lullaby, with a slow and fluid rhythm the words took in a low intonation through the cold and dark night veil together with the princess's wails.
It was as if the breeze of the night gradually took the mood of Harika and the wind spread the song of the soldier everywhere.
At some point in the song Harika stopped crying and fell asleep.
This was only the first of many more times that the princess would fall asleep in the soldier's arms, or so he hoped it would be.