“’Tis I, Sir Horland, knight of the kingdom of Prater.”
The guard, whom Horland recognized as Michal, peered down at Horland.
After several moments of being studied, Horland threw up a hand and said, “’Tis I, Michal, raise the gate.”
“Ah, aye, it is you.”
“That is what I said, and now are you going to open the gates.”
“Aye, aye, Sir Horland.” He circled his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Open the portcullises. Allow Sir Horland through.”
The sound of chains rattling told Horland the first of the portcullises was about to open. The heavy metal and wood gate creaked and rattled as it rose, following the vertical grooves in the sides of the stone wall and into the stone wall spanning the road.
The second portcullis was raised in the same way, and Horland rode through and made his way to the castle steps.
He dismounted and the reins were immediately taken from his hands by the stable mate.
“Take good care of him,” Horland said. “He has toiled long.”
“Aye, Sir Horland. We will give him our utmost care.”
Horland had enjoyed his years touring the kingdom, meeting the people, and helping defuse any dissent that had arisen before his arrival. However, he was looking forward toseeing his friends and family. But first he had to report to King Pradwick. He made his way up the stairs to be greeted at the open doors by the king's man, a gray-haired, broad-shouldered man of indeterminate age. As far as Horland remembered, the man had always attended the castle. He couldn’t remember a time before Carson.
“Sir Horland, so good to see you back,” Carson said, bending his head in a bow.
“Thank you. Is the king available?”
“Yes, sir, this way.”
Horland followed Carson through the reception area and into the great hall. Horland took in the high ceilings filled with murals of clouds, sky, and birds. His gaze spanned the walls of framed paintings of kings, queens, princes and princesses, all ancestors of King Pradwick.
The usual long tables and chairs had made way for rows of chairs either side of a walkway forming an aisle.
A large red and blue carpet filled the aisle between the door and the thrones. King Pradwick sat on his throne listening to his people’s problems, while his eldest daughter, Princess Leeta, her long blonde hair in braids, stood to the side of the throne beckoning the next citizen forward with a smile when warranted. Her gaze found Horland, but she didn’t smile as he expected she would. Instead, she averted her eyes and waved at a citizen, her hand movements quick and succinct, her brows drawn together in impatience.
Horland surmised she must have been tired, and that once the hall was empty and she could relax, she would be more her friendly self. It was getting late and the king would not close the meetings until the last citizen had been heard.
Horland thought it must be Wednesday because that was the day the king greeted his people. He had forgotten what day it was until that moment.
He waited until the last of the people left the great hall.
The king looked up and Horland caught a frown appear on his brow for a second before he smiled. “Sir Horland, it is good to see you. How does my kingdom fare?”
Horland strode to stand before the throne and bowed low. “Your Majesty, it is good to be back, and you will be happy to hear that all fares well in the kingdom.”
“Good. I will peruse your reports but right now, I am in need of some comfort. Leeta? Is the afternoon repast prepared?”
Princess Leeta stepped back until she was almost out of the side door, and Horland had the distinct impression she was again trying to avoid his eyes. “Yes, Father.” She clapped her hands twice and immediately, four servants appeared carrying platters and placed them on the long table nearest to the dais.
“Will you join us?” the king asked Horland.
“Thank you, yes.”
Once they were seated and filled their plates, Leeta turned to withdraw from the hall.
“Join us, Leeta,” King Pradwick said.
Her shoulders slumped and Horland frowned. He decided as soon as he was able, he would talk to her and find out what was amiss.
