just a short distance outside the camp, I . . . that is, we . . . that is, the troop commanded by Captain Tench, of which I am a member—'
'Oh, for pity's sake! Could you please get to the point?'
'Of course, your majesty. I was attempting to do so.' He cleared his throat again. 'Just a short distance outside the palace, we came upon the scene of a massacre . . .'
Yes! Septimus had to restrain himself from punching a celebratory fist into the air, but managed to keep his expression grim.
'A massacre, you say. Oh no, please tell me that my beloved niece was not present.'
'She was there, your majesty. I saw her with my own eyes.'
'Oh, woe!' cried Septimus. He slapped a hand against his forehead and rolled his eyes heavenwards. 'Oh, that such a young and fragile beauty should have been snuffed out so prematurely!'
'Er . . . your majesty, she was—'
'No, don't tell me! Spare me the awful details of her untimely demise.'
'It was more the demise of the lupers, your majesty'
'The lupers?' Septimus glared at the man. 'What lupers?'
'The ones that attacked the caravan.'
'Lupers attacked the caravan? But . . . what of the Brigands?'
'Brigands, your majesty?'
'Yes. Didn't you say that she had been attacked by—?' Septimus checked himself with a jolt of alarm. No, nobody had actually mentioned Brigands. Bad move. He was aware of the eyes of the courtiers burning into him. 'Oh, lupers ! You know, I could have sworn you said Brigands. They, er . . . they have a similar sound, do they not?'
The soldier was staring up at him blankly. He clearly didn't think so. But Septimus pressed on regardless.
'Now then, let me get this straight. You're telling me that Princess Kerin . . . my poor beloved niece . . . has been killed by lupers?'
'No, your majesty.'
Septimus winced. He glared down at the man. 'Then what the blue blazes are you telling me, you imbecile?'
The soldier flinched. 'Your majesty, I am telling you that Princess Kerin was attacked by a pack of lupers—'
'Yes, yes, so she was ripped to shreds! That's terrible, terrible!'
'My lord, she wasn't harmed. She has survived and is alive and well.'
'Oh, the tragedy, the . . . the . . .' Septimus's face went through a whole series of contortions as he tried to find an appropriate expression for the news. He initially went for the look of sadness that he had been practising upstairs. Then, realizing it was totally wrong, he tried for one of relieved delight, baring his teeth and popping his eyes; but judging by the way the soldier flinched away from him, what he had actually managed was an expression of total insanity.
'Alive?' he screamed. 'Alive! I . . . I can hardly believe it!' He looked around at the courtiers, aware now that his eyes were filling with tears of frustration. 'Look at me!' he cried. 'I'm so pleased I'm actually weeping tears of joy!'
He returned his attention to the messenger. 'So how did the . . . how did my beloved niece come to survive?'
'She was rescued, your majesty. By two travellers. The self same men who rescued her from the Brigands you spoke of.'
Septimus felt like kicking the man in the teeth, but this really wasn't the time or place. 'I spoke of no Brigands. That was you!'
'Er . . . no, your majesty. I spoke of lupers; you—'
'So where is my niece now?' bellowed Septimus, drowning out the irritating whine of the man's voice.
'She approaches the palace, your majesty, under armed escort. And, of course, bringing her saviours with her.'
'Oh, then I . . . I must make ready to . . .' He clenched his fists and made an effort to control himself. 'To receive them,' he hissed. He walked past the messenger, taking the opportunity as he did so to 'accidentally' stand on the fingers of the man's hand, feeling a satisfying crunching sensation under his foot. He addressed the court. 'Make ready for a celebration!' he announced. 'My niece, your future
'Oh, for pity's sake! Could you please get to the point?'
'Of course, your majesty. I was attempting to do so.' He cleared his throat again. 'Just a short distance outside the palace, we came upon the scene of a massacre . . .'
Yes! Septimus had to restrain himself from punching a celebratory fist into the air, but managed to keep his expression grim.
'A massacre, you say. Oh no, please tell me that my beloved niece was not present.'
'She was there, your majesty. I saw her with my own eyes.'
'Oh, woe!' cried Septimus. He slapped a hand against his forehead and rolled his eyes heavenwards. 'Oh, that such a young and fragile beauty should have been snuffed out so prematurely!'
'Er . . . your majesty, she was—'
'No, don't tell me! Spare me the awful details of her untimely demise.'
'It was more the demise of the lupers, your majesty'
'The lupers?' Septimus glared at the man. 'What lupers?'
'The ones that attacked the caravan.'
'Lupers attacked the caravan? But . . . what of the Brigands?'
'Brigands, your majesty?'
'Yes. Didn't you say that she had been attacked by—?' Septimus checked himself with a jolt of alarm. No, nobody had actually mentioned Brigands. Bad move. He was aware of the eyes of the courtiers burning into him. 'Oh, lupers ! You know, I could have sworn you said Brigands. They, er . . . they have a similar sound, do they not?'
The soldier was staring up at him blankly. He clearly didn't think so. But Septimus pressed on regardless.
'Now then, let me get this straight. You're telling me that Princess Kerin . . . my poor beloved niece . . . has been killed by lupers?'
'No, your majesty.'
Septimus winced. He glared down at the man. 'Then what the blue blazes are you telling me, you imbecile?'
The soldier flinched. 'Your majesty, I am telling you that Princess Kerin was attacked by a pack of lupers—'
'Yes, yes, so she was ripped to shreds! That's terrible, terrible!'
'My lord, she wasn't harmed. She has survived and is alive and well.'
'Oh, the tragedy, the . . . the . . .' Septimus's face went through a whole series of contortions as he tried to find an appropriate expression for the news. He initially went for the look of sadness that he had been practising upstairs. Then, realizing it was totally wrong, he tried for one of relieved delight, baring his teeth and popping his eyes; but judging by the way the soldier flinched away from him, what he had actually managed was an expression of total insanity.
'Alive?' he screamed. 'Alive! I . . . I can hardly believe it!' He looked around at the courtiers, aware now that his eyes were filling with tears of frustration. 'Look at me!' he cried. 'I'm so pleased I'm actually weeping tears of joy!'
He returned his attention to the messenger. 'So how did the . . . how did my beloved niece come to survive?'
'She was rescued, your majesty. By two travellers. The self same men who rescued her from the Brigands you spoke of.'
Septimus felt like kicking the man in the teeth, but this really wasn't the time or place. 'I spoke of no Brigands. That was you!'
'Er . . . no, your majesty. I spoke of lupers; you—'
'So where is my niece now?' bellowed Septimus, drowning out the irritating whine of the man's voice.
'She approaches the palace, your majesty, under armed escort. And, of course, bringing her saviours with her.'
'Oh, then I . . . I must make ready to . . .' He clenched his fists and made an effort to control himself. 'To receive them,' he hissed. He walked past the messenger, taking the opportunity as he did so to 'accidentally' stand on the fingers of the man's hand, feeling a satisfying crunching sensation under his foot. He addressed the court. 'Make ready for a celebration!' he announced. 'My niece, your future
Similar Books
