The Princess and The Reluctant Knight

Episode 22

Deep in the heart of the castle, the Great Hall stretched out enormously, its vastness defined by the lofty arches of the vaulted ceilings. The stone walls absorbed the warm glow from the flames of candles in wrought-iron chandeliers Argentine Tango dancing to an unseen melody, casting shadows over the hall.

At the head of the long oak banquet table, King Dave sat in his high-backed, ornately carved chair.

The table was dressed with the evening's feast but the king's attention was not on the abundance before him. Instead, he picked at the roasted pheasant on his plate, his appetite lost in the maze of his worries. His brow was creased with concern. And his eyes were clouded with contemplation.

The quiet clink of his knives against the plate punctuated the hushed murmurs of the courtiers and nobles scattered at tables throughout the hall, all careful not to draw too close to their sovereign's solitude within the crowd.

Across the long oaken table, Lord Heathcliff sipped his wine.

"The queen should have returned from her trip to Silverlake village by now," Dave remarked. "Tis not like my wife to linger when expected back."

Heathcliff kept his tone casual. "Perhaps she desired more time away from court and decided to rest the night at the inn." Inside him, suspicion brewed, for he had not forgotten Elana's piercing questions about his "secret" activities.

Had the meddling woman gone digging for answers?

"Mayhap..." Dave said uncertainly. "Still, I would rest easier with her safely home." He met Heathcliff's eye. "Might we dispatch a few trusted men to inquire after her?"

"Of course, my friend." Heathcliff smiled grimly. Discretion mattered little if Elana had ferreted out his scheme. But he could ill afford Dave's doubts right now. Best to indulge his concern.

While Dave penned a message, Heathcliff scrutinized the hall. If the queen had uncovered his plot, these very knights could soon be at his throat. A delicate situation indeed.

Raucous laughter erupted from the far table. Sir Jack was regaling his comrades with grossly embellished tales of valor. "...so, with one swing of my blade, I felled the giant! My squire can attest the beast was twenty feet tall if he was a foot."

His scrawny squire, Troy, fidgeted as the others turned dubious looks his way. "Er, mayhap fifteen feet..." At Jack's glare, he amended, "Though in my memory he grows larger each time the tale is told!"

Another knight guffawed. "The only growing happening here is Jack's ego!" This sparked more chuckles.

"Careful Sir Guido," Jack warned. "Your jealousy of my heroics shows plainly." He took another swig of ale. "Why, I dare say I have performed feats to rival even the legends of Sir Alvin himself!"

At this, the table erupted in disbelief. "Now see here," Guido objected, "we all know Sir Alvin's deeds eclipse your wildest boasts!"

The good-natured argument faded to background noise as Dave handed Heathcliff the signed parchment. He tried to ignore his growing unease at the speculative looks the knights cast his way. Hopefully Elana had not gone whispering accusations in too many ears. Time was running short to secure his power. With a practiced smile, Heathcliff rose to leave. "I shall see this sent at once and join you when the men return with word." He ignored the guards' stares boring into his back as he exited the hall.

So Elana thought to play games? He would have to act swiftly before she could further undermine him. Seizing the throne required absolute focus and decisive action. Sentimentality toward old friends no longer applied.

When Elana returned, it would be on his terms. The crown would be on his head by then, so she would pose no threat. Heathcliff clenched his fists, tension coiling through his body. Events were coming to a head now. And he needed the dragon under his sway to provide the final checkmate.