Secrets - Book 7 - The Frencolian Chronicles (complete)

Chapter 22

Luke rarely dreamed and when he did, he never remembered what the dream was about, just that he had suffered what seemed a sleepless night.

This night, it was different...

Sitting up in his four-poster bed, he climbed out and paced across to the door that opened out on to the balcony. The cool night air woke him thoroughly as he stepped outside. Sparse torch lights flickered beneath him and stars twinkled in the black ocean of sky above. The full moon disappeared behind waves of cloud.

Loran, who slept in one of three spacious cubicles along the side of Luke's bedchamber, jumped out of bed. He took turn-about with Granville to sleep in his clothes. This was his night 'on' and it was the first time the king had risen from his bed in the night. Loran stood in the darkness of the bedchamber, waiting for Luke to return to his bed.

Breathing deeply, Luke recalled his dream. It began with a flash of his incarceration in the Baltic castle and after that, it was a remake of his ride in the procession when he had glanced only briefly at the crowds. But in the dream, he saw them —numerous faces. Everyone everywhere was old —women with white hair; bald-head men, lots of very old men. Toothless old people, shouting at him and shaking their fists. It had seemed a loud noise, unintelligible as if a foreign language. They were angry, furious, —at him. The crowd parted and vanished. He was back in the Baltic dungeon surrounded by shackled, shivering children, dirty and hungry. It was right then that he awoke with a great feeling of anger, helplessness and anxiety...

He recalled the real procession —there were old people, middle-aged people, some younger adults —the majority, perhaps all of them; older than he. Crowds. Crowds of people. Not angry people, just sad or, maybe, afraid. Their faces had shown expressions of sadness at best. He couldn't remember seeing any children, or young adults.

He spoke out loud, "There were no children! I'm sure there were no children. Not one! I didn't even see a mother with a babe in her arms. Or, or a man with a child on his shoulders..."

Striding across his bedchamber and through the vestibule, he opened the door to the corridor and called, "What's the time?"

"Two hours past midnight, Your Majesty," a guard replied.

"I want my uncle, Prince Dorai. I want the scribes, the council, Ruskin and all senior knights who live in the city and include Lord Farey if he's well and awake, otherwise leave him to sleep —I'll send for him. We'll meet in the throne room. Go now and summon these people, oh, and any knights in the castle or anywhere in Frencberg, summon them all. And Ruskin, have him come here now."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Right away Sire."

"What is it, Sire?" Sabin stepped from the second cubicle.

Loran, side-stepping near the wall so as not to be seen, kept himself sideways as he stepped to the third cubicle where Granville slept, intending to wake his counter-part but Granville was already half-dressed.

Luke splashed his face with the cold water in the bowl on the side table. "Light more lamps. I will dress, Sabin... There were no children in Frencberg —there were no children! Did you not see? —on the procession —where were the children? Are there no babes-in-arms?"

"I didn't go to the procession, I stayed here, Luke." Sabin explained, laying out Luke's royal robes as he spoke.

"You haven't found me a valet yet, Sabin? —One for you too would mean he would be bringing your clothes now."

"No, I've not found anyone suitable yet." Sabin did not want to ask what time he had had to do this, but he thought it.

A knock came to the door and it opened to admit a guard, bowing and saying, "Prince Dorai's quarters are locked for the night, Sire..."