Elegy for Francis, Duke of Dukes | An Alternate History

A Knife in the Dark

THIRD STANZA, VERSE I

The room was dark, but not so dark that nothing could be seen through the black haze. Rough outlines of the walls and furniture propped against them could be seen. My young and imaginative mind often turned those shadows from the moonlit windows into forms of men and women, engaged in various activities and adventures.

One night, the shadows became real, the dangers materialized. A figure approached silently, knife in hand. I had barely noticed him by the time he was at my throat. Who was it other than the Regent Governor of Malta! "Help! Somebody help me!" I cried.

"Nobody's coming to save you," muttered the madman, "Just like nobody came for me after you killed the king of Spain!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! Please don't hurt me!"

"Don't play innocent with me, you little brat! You are to blame! You know it! You and your good for nothing duke! You robbed me of my livelihood! And now you'll pay." I kicked him in the face, grabbing a candlestick to defend myself with. He reeled back and cursed under his breath. "Now you've gone and done it!" This time I swatted his blade away from him, which called back certain ancestral memories of days at sea.

"I did some thinking, and now I think I know how you did it. He sent you to go stab him in the—" At that moment he screamed before pulling a blood-drenched dagger from his neck. The man stared at it with a curious amount of finality, fully conscious of the fact that his life was soon to come to a close. With the last of his energy he laid down and curled into a sorry little ball, bawling all the while. I still think of that man sometimes, and how his hatred turned him inside out and drove him to insanity.