All courts and Kingdoms have secrets, yet few are kept. Arabia was no different. Before long, ladies and lords whispered Rostevan’s plans between themselves until even commoners were discussing the coming event. Soon the news reached a particular young knight named Avtandil.
Tall and graceful as a cypress, his face was flawless, as if sculptured from marble. Of all the Knights, he was most favored among the people and loved as a son by the King. Though still beardless, he was a general of the armies, commanding hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Yet he carried a secret only he knew.
He was lovestruck by Tinatin. Every time he looked at her, the hosts of her obsidian eyelashes overcame his defenses. No matter what he did, the thorns of devotion pierced his heart, though he could not tell her. She was the jewel of the Kingdom and kept hidden.
Yet, the news of her coronation lit a fire in him. If appointed Regent, she would sit beside her father. His duties as general would invite him to gaze daily on her crystal face. He hoped seeing her more often might lead to a cure for his ailment, for he was slain with heartache. Such is the pity of love unspoken.
When the royal decree was announced, he read it with trembling hands.
“Hear me, for I am King Rostevan. One week from today, I will appoint my daughter Tinatin as Regent. You are all invited to praise and extol her virtue. May her wisdom and grace illuminate us!”
The city’s people were overjoyed at the announcement and spent the next seven days preparing to receive visitors. They set up banquet tables and hung flowers everywhere, welcoming guests until the castle and courtyards were overflowing. Everyone wanted to witness the first woman crowned as King.
One day before the event, servants brought the new throne to the square. The crowd gasped at its beauty. None had seen such craftsmanship. It was a work of art, wrought of gold and inlaid with pearls, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. Yet it was a mere shadow compared to the King’s daughter, for she had no equal. Jewels and riches were in every Kingdom, but one might find an angel feather before seeing another woman like her.
With the throne placed and only one day until her Regency, the citizens could not contain their excitement. People began celebrating in the streets as guests continued arriving from across the land. Some had even come from the distant borderlands beyond the frontier to pay their respects.
At the hour of the ceremony, everyone kneeled to give homage. Rostevan stood before his people, smiling as he raised his arms. He turned to Tinatin as she came out, radiant as the morning sun. Her rays kissed those gathered as though they were dew drops changed to diamonds by her gaze. Those who fell beneath her stare basked in the aura of her presence.
She walked towards her father with timid steps, smiling and waving to her people. He took her hands and seated her, removing his crown, and placing it on her head. The people shouted their approval as he handed her the scepter of rulership. By these acts, he showed her the devotion of a King. With the love of a father, he draped the royal robes around her shoulders.
Arms raised, he announced her as his heir. Everyone cheered as he bowed to his daughter. General Avtandil and his armies beat their shields, swearing allegiance to their new Regent. People blessed her and pronounced her as their Sovereign. They blew trumpets, clashing cymbals and ringing bells as they sang her praises throughout the city.
She turned from her throne and back to the people, and her heart filled with happiness. The praise and pride of her father lifted her spirits beyond her wildest dreams. His hand was the one she had been raised by, and now she was crowned by him.
Though full of joy, her thoughts unexpectedly turned to the day he would no longer be there to guide her. Overcome with emotion, she could not contain her sadness as she considered the meaning behind her Kingship. Silver tears glistened on her cheeks, drooping her eyelashes like the tail feathers of a raven. She could not imagine herself taking the throne from her father if it meant one day losing him. Yet, he understood and consoled her with words of wisdom.
“Do not weep, my daughter. Every father has a peer in his child. Until today I have not been able to extinguish the fires in my heart, for I worried no one would come after me to protect and shepherd our people. However, now you are our future King. From this day forward, our people are entrusted to your care. Be modest, discerning, and discreet in your actions.”
“Never forget the sun shines alike on roses and dung heaps. Knowing this, do not grow weary in your mercy to classes and castes of people. With only your hand, you can bind the free, and they will obey. But to rule well, you cannot hoard wealth. Remember, you must spread the bounty of your Kingdom for prosperity to flow throughout the realm. For do the seas not also pour forth the floods they receive?”
“Be excessive in all you do to benefit our people, as generosity in Kings is like the aloe planted in Eden. All, including the traitor, are obedient to the generous. Everyone takes joy in eating and drinking, yet none profit from hoarding. What you give to your people is forever yours, while what you keep is lost. Be mindful of your responsibilities, and your people will always remember their duty to you.”
Rostevan shared all these words and more with the young maiden. Though newly appointed as Regent, she listened to her father’s advice, never growing weary of his instruction. When he finished speaking, they embraced. Her tears were gone, replaced with the resolve she would one day rule with.
She smiled as she watched her father leave to sport and drink with his Knights and advisors. He was joyful as a young lion and filled with pride in her. Though happy for his joy, she did not join the celebration. The depth of Rostevan’s wisdom had ignited a fire in her, and she summoned her servants.
“Bring me what I have been given over the years as the daughter of Arabia. Find every one of the jewels we have sealed away and place them before my throne.”
All she owned was brought out, and she gave everything she had to the people. Those gathered for the coronation received gifts she cherished since childhood. Colorful gems and golden goblets were handed out like pastries until she gave away the last of her possessions. When there was nothing left, she called the Master of the Horse and issued orders to him.
“Now, I will do what my father taught me. Go, and open whatever treasure rooms we have! Lead in droves of asses, camels, horses, and mules. Bring the army to help you and take all you find to the square. Let the wealth of our Kingdom be distributed to her people. Do not keep back any part. Give to all and let none go without!”
Soldiers came and helped, emptying gilded vaults like pirates raiding ships. Treasures unlike any seen before or since were given away, yet her hands never tired of giving. There appeared to be no end to her generosity.
Jubilant youths rode away with her delicate and sleek Arab steeds. At the same time, silks and sculptures were carried away from the palace corners and walls by young men and women. Priceless paintings, baubles, and an endless stream of riches flowed into the hands of the populace. She showered wealth down on her people like a snowstorm. Not a youth or maiden went without.
Thus was the first day of Tinatin’s rule. The people sang praises to her and loved her as no other King before. Their joy was so great they held a banquet in her honor on the following day. The feast was overfull with food and drink, including fruit, wild game, pies, pastries, and the finest sweet wines in the Kingdom. A host of lords and ladies sat in attendance, flanked by the bravest warriors in the land. All rejoiced, save one, whose brow was furrowed with sorrow.