Seffargo

Chapter 9

In his room, he sat on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. Outside, all was silent. But within the castle, there was tension in the air—one which Barcley hadn't felt since the Queen's assassination.

'Was this what father was warning me of?'

There was no one else in the room—the curtains were drawn, his bed sheets strewn haphazardly, the pillows thrown onto the floor with lamps and pens and toppled chairs.

'Was this why he wanted me to break up with Madeline? Did he know what was coming?'

Barcley's mind flashed back to his father's face when the guards carried him from the room, Margaret close at his side. His face had been flushed and sweaty, his eyes lulling to the back of his head. Initially, Barcley thought his rage had made him sweat and pant, but Mother Georgie said otherwise—she said he had been poisoned.

Though the type of poison was unknown to the castle servant's, Mother Georgie was calling every doctor she could. Most scurried away from the call, fearful of what lay in store should they fail their King. But Georgie wasted no time on them—she hung up and searched for new ones. Already Barcley had seen three older men and one woman granted access to the castle, briefcases in their hands. He wondered if one of them would be the savior his father needed.

'If he knew, why wouldn't he tell me? I could have helped. I could have watched over him. I could have told him when he was looking ill.' Barcley clenched his fists and pressed them to his forehead. 'I thought he was getting old. I thought he was going mad. But he was ... he was poisoned.'

A gentle knock on the door stopped his rampant thoughts. He took a deep breath, wiped the tears which had formed in his eyes, and quickly composed himself.

'Come in.' His voice was far softer than he would have liked.

His door opened to reveal Margaret. Gone was the bashful nature from earlier, and in its stead was her usual maid persona; neutrality mixed with a hint of seriousness.

'Your Highness,' she curtsied. 'Mother Georgie wishes to inform you that the doctors have made a discovery regarding the poisons origin.'

Though the news she brought was good, the tone of her voice conveyed the words she didn't speak. 'But they can't find the antidote?' he guessed.

With downcast eyes, she nodded her response.

'Take me to Georgie,' he said.

Margaret curtsied and led the way out of his chambers, waiting patiently beside the door until he was ready to depart. He quickly slipped into a pair of shoes, then followed Margaret blindly as she escorted him through the maze of the castle.

∼

Mother Georgie was waiting expectantly for his arrival in the King's infirmary. The room was large with three beds: one for the King, the Queen, and the Prince. It was made of stone, but felts and rugs of varying textures lined the floor, softening the tones and providing colour for the bland canvas. There was a long table of to the side, with four people huddled around it—Barcley recognized them as the doctors. Sheets of paper and vases of water lined the tabletop between them. Though their discussion was quiet, their words were delivered with an edge.

Mother Georgie was a heavyset woman with frizzy red hair and freckles covering her pale face. She donned the same dress as Margaret, though with a large white apron tied around her waist and a gold symbol emblazoned on her left breast. The symbol was proof of her long service to the Royal's and the trust she had formed along the way, and the apron was proof of her many jobs—currently, she had freed some time to help in the kitchen. Though, with the King out of commission, the kitchen had to wait.