"There is artistry and poetry in the movements of the queen -- even when she's deadly."
The old soothsayer mused aloud.
“If I didn’t know better, I would have been jealous at your observation of my wife.” The king drawled in amusement.
“Ha!”, The soothsayer muttered as he and the king continued to observe the queen, who was practising sword fighting, vigorously but gracefully.
“What lays on your mind about the queen?” The king asked, knowing the old soothsayer never says anything or observes anyone for naught.
“You sire.”
“I?” The king turned and looked at the other man in astonishment.
“Aye”
“Do explain.”
“My king, you are the reason the Queen is restless, for she feels the need to protect you. If you will work with her more and listen to her more often, she will be more at peace.”
“I see.” The king narrowed his eyes slightly, “Has she told you anything?”
“My Queen, needs not to. Tis plain to see, for one such as I.”
“I see” The king repeated with a renewed understanding of his wife’s anxiety — the enemies within his kingdom.
“See that you do, sire” He scolded the king with fatherly concern.
“When you two have finished muttering about me, do join me for a picnic at the pavilion gardens.” Queen Indira said as she walked past them without looking at either of them.
“Aye, my Queen” the old man bowed slightly.
“She sounds…miffed,” the king said as he watched the queen walk towards her quarters.
The other man straightened, “That she is. And I believe we are about to hear how much, before the picnic is over.”
The King groaned.
“Do not despair.” He said a bit merrily and the king gave him a side eye at his choice of words. “The queen won’t eat you.”
He smiled at that. “I wish she would. In a romantic way.”
The old man refused to mention that the queen was feeling anything but romance. For anxiety over her husband.
“Well, shall we? We can’t keep the Queen waiting.”
“My king is wise.” The old man nodded as they began walking.
“Do not flatter me, old friend.”
“I do not, sire. You do know what to do. But your kind nature makes you hesitate, hoping your leniency will make the traitors repentant. But think of your Queen, sire. Your hesitation may put her in harm’s way.”
“I love her.”
“That you do sire — as a man and a king. But as a husband, you need to love her the way she needs to be loved, starting by putting out her fears, as far as her husband’s life is concerned.”
The King pondered on that.
Musings of a Sanguine Christian Woman 