Ring of Dreams

Rainclouds

As she assembled her things for a hasty shower, Jane realized that she was still wearing the ring. No longer heavy and expensive-looking, it was hard to believe that such a cheap, flimsy thing could really be responsible for her dream adventure. Still: the old man had claimed it would work, she had tried it, and she had dreamed an amazing dream. If it hadn't been the ring, then what? She had never had anything close to such an amazing dream before, it was too much of a coincidence to think that it would happen the night she just so happened to wear a ring that allegedly caused fantastic dreams to bed.

All right then, she thought. For now, let's assume it works. I can't take it to school, there's too much chance of losing it, so I've got to put it somewhere safe. She thought about putting it in her jewelry box, but in the end she decided to hide it in a bookend she had, one shaped like a castle. There was a small compartment in the base, and unless you knew it was there, you wouldn't think to check in it. There was no reason it shouldn't be safe there until she got home.

By that time, she really was running late and had to take a very brief, lukewarm shower. Her hair was still wet when Jane printed out her homework and crammed it into her bag, so she just tied it up into a bun, made sure she had her textbooks and pencils, and headed for the door. She was halfway down the stairs before she realized she had forgotten her novel, for once more engrossed by something that was happening in her real life - well, sort of happening, sort of real life - than by what was going on in the book she was reading. Still, she went back up for it; it wasn't likely that anything interesting was going to happen in school that day, and she was probably going to want it.

____________

Classes that day were more excruciating than normal. Jane couldn't concentrate. Who could, in her situation? Adjectives, synonyms, phrasing - who cares? She was reliving her visit to a medieval tavern. Spanish conjugations? Forget it! She was going back over her escape from armed assassins. The process of cell division couldn't hold a candle to sitting around a campfire in the woods with Edward, discussing the deadly political intrigue of his court. 

The one exception was History. Jane was trying to figure out if she could could get away with conjuring up sneakers or possibly hiking boots instead of those flimsy slippers when something Mr. Anderson was saying managed to penetrate her fog.

"...Stephen the Usurper, as he became known. Before King Henry's death, he had promised his uncle that he would support his cousin Matilda's claim to the throne, but as soon as the king died that all went out the window and Stephen decided to seize the throne for himself. Matilda was across the channel in modern-day France and Stephen was able to get to England first, consolidate support, and convince the Archbishop of Canterbury to crown him king before Matilda could return."

Jane's hand shot up almost before she realized it.

Mr. Anderson blinked, probably surprised to have his lecture interrupted. Most of the other students were half asleep or staring out the window at the cloudy gray sky with eyes glazed with boredom. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose and cleared his throat before he responded. "Yes, Jane, what is it?"

Jane hesitated, unsure for a moment how to phrase her question. "If Matilda was the heir to the throne, how did Stephen get crowned king?"

Mr. Anderson blinked again, a slow smile starting behind his bushy brown mustache. "Well, that's a very good question, Jane," he said. "Matilda was not originally supposed to be Henry I's heir, that was his son, William. William died in an accident when he was seventeen - his ship went down crossing the English channel - and Henry was left with only one surviving legitimate child, Matilda." His eyes brightened and he began speaking with true enthusiasm about his subject. "Henry became obsessed with securing the succession for her. There had never been a queen of England in her own right and there was a lot of resistance from the barons to the idea, but in the end Henry got everyone in his court, including Stephen, to swear support for Matilda's claim to the throne."

Jane was indignant. "What, so they swore to support her and then they just - didn't?"

"Matilda was a woman," Mr. Anderson said, shrugging, "and her husband was a count of Anjou, traditionally an enemy of England, so he was very unpopular with the nobles there. Stephen was very charismatic, very well-liked, he was also very rich and powerful and he had a reasonable claim to the throne through his mother, the daughter of William the Conqueror. So yes, Miss Brown," he said, adjusting his glasses again, "Stephen was in England while Matilda was overseas, and he was able to convince the barons that they would be better off under him. All it took was persuading Henry's personal steward to swear that he had changed his mind on his deathbed and wanted Stephen to succeed him, and the entire court was willing to disregard their oaths and support Stephen instead."

"So that was it?" Jane spluttered. "He got one person to lie for him, and he just...he just got to be king?"

"Not at all." Mr Anderson folded his arms, clearly enjoying himself. "England was plunged into twenty years of civil war so chaotic they called it the Anarchy."

The bell chose that moment to ring, splitting the air with its jarring vibration, and everyone sprang from apathy to action at once.

"Okay, that's all for today," Mr. Anderson called over the noise of chairs and books. "Put your papers on my desk on the way out!"

__________________

The bus ride home had never seemed so short: Jane's mind was going in circles. It looked like it wasn't going to be that hard for Edward's uncle to supplant him as the next king, after all. He had already turned most of the council against him, or, at least planted doubts that would be difficult to overcome. It was probably a bit harder to sweep the king's son under the rug than it was to do the same to the king's daughter, but he'd already shown what lengths he was willing to go to for it. Once you've murdered your own brother for power, what's off-limits?

By the time Jane got off at her stop, the heavy gray clouds that had been building all day were ready to begin dumping rain on the fall landscape. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she could feel the wind picking up. The first droplets had already begun to fall - she'd have to hurry to avoid getting soaked on the way back home. Jane pulled her jacket around her as closely as she could, ducking her head and lengthening her stride. She'd have to do some extracurricular reading when she got up to her room, to see what she could learn. She didn't have any idea what to do about Edward's situation, but one thing was for certain: she'd help him if she could, in whatever way she could.