A King's Ransom
Such a trifling thing. Such a small matter.
Give me the head on a bright golden platter.
*****
"Your Majesty sent for me," Perdix said, standing before the Queen.
"What have you seen? I simply must know?"
"I have been to anyone who might help. I'm afraid that the news I bear is not good news, Your Highness."
"Is there anything that can be done?"
"I think not."
The Queen paced the room.
"I simply must do something. Money is no object. I will put up my jewels, my half of the kingdom," she said.
"A King's ransom means nothing. They do not want lucre, I'm afraid."
"Then, what can I give them to stop this?" she asked. "Here, take this."
She handed him a small locket on a chain.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It holds a lock of my hair and all my children. Take it. You must."
He reluctantly took the locket and put it about his neck.
"It will not help. You know that as well as I," Perdix said. "There is only one thing the barbarians want, and you know what that is."
"The head of the King," she said.
YOU ARE READING
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