Francis had lost his appetite. Not only for food but for the competition.
To make matters worse, when King Omar did join them for supper, he was once again concealed by a screen, and guards.
Shrouded in mystery.
Francis began to wonder if there was something amiss. Not that he was likely to get any answers.
He went to bed that night, in his sumptuous guest room, unable to sleep from thinking too much.
After much tossing and turning, Francis got up and went for a stroll out on his very own balcony. The air was warm, no danger of catching a chill. And at least in the moonlight, he wouldn’t become sunburnt.
His poor nose and cheeks were rosy and sore from oneday in the sun.
As Francis gazed out on the moonlit garden below, he spotted some small dots across the lawn playing under a blossom laden tree.
He watched and realised with delight it was a trio of cats.
They scampered around the tree, one bouncing halfway up the trunk before jumping back down, chased each other for a bit, then darted away into darkness.
A shame they were far away. Francis would like to see the cats up close.
Maybe tomorrow.
* * * *
If Francis had had any inkling of what the day ahead would bring him, he never would have gotten out of bed.
Nay, he would not have boarded the ship bound for Istanbul. He would’ve stayed in Stormburg.
After a morning much like yesterday’s, meeting with Gustav and Archie for his breakfast, they went downstairs to find the rest of their party and wait to be told what to do and where to go.
“Any ideas what you’re competing in today?” Maddie asked him.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Francis said. “Hopefully a solo activity. I’ve had quite enough of partners here.”
“I sketched this yesterday, sir,” Christian said, offering his sketchbook to Francis. “Just a scribble, but I had to immortalise the moment.”
Francis happily observed a pencil drawing of two men fencing and recognised himself standing over Wittensbach in victory.
Francis allowed himself a smile. “Excellent work,Christian. I should like to get this framed.”
They all shared a chuckle at Wittensbach’s expense.
It was the last chuckle Francis would have that day, before Yusuf with the long grey beard announced to the gathered assembly that today’s activity would be wrestling.
Francis was not fond of wrestling, but had been forced to do it with his brothers when they were younger. Mostly as an excuse for them to rough him up.
“Wrestling?” Maddie said. “How strange.”
“I think the king just wants to see you all at it,” Archie put in, which broke the tension and made them laugh.
“He’s right,” Christian said. “This is just a game, sir. Don’t take it too seriously.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Francis said.
Hopefully his opponents wouldn’t either.
With his best foot forward, Francis separated from his party, they to the spectators’ tent on the lawn, Francis to the gathering competitors.
