Unfit for Duty

Chapter Seven

So in the days that followed Pompadour was kept very comfortable and relaxed in bed most of the time. He read his book (and a few others) and talked to his visitors; though no one was allowed to tell him anything regarding the court or the public or anything related to his work. Sometimes he just sat and thought, which was still something that he was not used to. Even as a child he used to organize colored rocks for the simple pleasure of looking at its structure when completed, but to just sit and think was a tad too random for him until he came up with a system of deciding what to think about when. In his usual firm way once he made a decision, he was quite more successful at it than others might have been, except when he fell asleep during a thought.

By the end of a week he was allowed to leave his room from time to time and join us at meal times. Within the next few days after that he was allowed easy brief strolls along the terrace or in the palace gardens as long as someone was with him. He would also play games of chess with Cornelius and Chinese checkers with Troubadour or myself and Zephir. He got to know Madame better as she was around more often than his colleagues. Besides providing engaging conversations about life on the Other Side, she was an excellent chess player and taught him a few card games that he had never heard of.

When he was not in his room, however, if anyone felt that he was beginning to look tired or strained he was sent back to bed to rest for a while.

If it was me, which it was often enough, Pompadour, though he may have pouted a little, would soon regain his poise and close his eyes importantly to say, "If you feel it necessary, Sire."

And I would reply, "Why, yes, I do, Pompadour."

To this Pompadour would only give a proper nod and allow himself to be led to his room.

One day when he was seated in a parlor with Cornelius after lunch for a time, Troubadour came in rather hastily. It was about work, and he motioned Cornelius away. Pompadour did all he could to bite his tongue from asking about it. He knew they had been trained well not to tell him a thing, but this was the first time it looked so urgent in his presence.

"I'll try to be back in a little bit," said Cornelius.

"Oh, take your time," said Pompadour looking sharply away.

He quickly held up a book of maps they had been looking at together right up into his face to try not to think about what in the world Cornelius and Troubadour might be up to. He did not feel that Cornelius would be back at all as had happened a couple times before and those times had not sounded as important as this did. As soon as Cornelius quietly closed the door and his footsteps padded away alongside Troubadour's trotting, Pompadour lowered the book and turned up the music that had been playing on the record player.

Oh, he was so close to being well, but yet so far!

He sighed, and tried to tell himself that no matter what it was that they would be able to manage without him.

To his surprise, Cornelius returned shortly. By his appearance, whatever it was that had taken him away seemed to have been solved to his satisfaction at present. Again Pompadour had to bite his tongue, nearly literally to keep himself from asking the burning question just on the tip of it, to ask him what had happened.

Cornelius, whether oblivious or pretending not to notice as he probably knew exactly what was on Pompadour's mind anyway, calmly reseated himself across the small table between them and said, "Now, where were we, Pompadour?"

Pompadour sighed miserably.

"I don't know," he said. "I've suddenly lost interest. Perhaps a walk in the far garden might clear my head a little."