In The End

In a deep, expressionless voice the servant announced,” Lady Margaret”, and then stepped back to allow her to pass, discreetly closing the paneled doors behind him. The guards could be heard taking their places again.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Lady Margaret swept into the hall and marched confidently towards the man watching her intently, the hem of her gown sweeping the floor, the sweet scent from the strewn rushes surrounding her.

Surprisingly the hall was empty except for the two of them, all the councilors and courtiers absent. She could hear her own breathing even as she kept a smile fixed on her face, her footsteps muffled.

Bright sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, reflecting off the material of her dress, changing it from blue to grey and then back to blue. The room remained cold despite the sunlight.

“Your Grace”, she whispered seductively, as she curtsied low, her eyes lowered modestly to the ground.

“Lady Margaret’ the King said, his hands resting on the arms of the throne, his fingers tapping, his eyes narrowed,’ I hear that you wish to speak with me alone”.

“Yes, I do’ she said, still holding the curtsey, her back starting to ache, ’ I have to beg for the life of my brother. Please have mercy”.

“Oh, stand up! People think that if they bow or curtsey I will give them everything they want!”, the King snapped, standing and walking the few steps towards her.

“Please”, she whispered, glancing up at him, tears welling in her eyes.

The King looked away from her, not wanting to see the emotion, his own chest feeling constricted.

“Maggie, you know I can’t show mercy. I have to set an example. They're all watching me”, he whispered.

Trying not to sob, she nipped her lower lip with her teeth and looked down. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

“Maggie”, the King whispered, reaching out and gently stroking her face. His fingers brushing her skin.

Closing her eyes, Margaret took another deep breath, turning her head slightly, so the King’s hand moved to the single curl that had escaped from her hood.

“Is there nothing that I can do?”, she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut.

“No”.

Slowly he bent down and kissed her tenderly on her lips. She could smell his perfume and sweat mingled together.

“Maybe we can have one final drink together?”, she whispered, glancing back at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“What do you mean by one final drink? You’re always welcome in my court”.

Sighing, Margaret opened her mouth to answer but he placed a finger on her lips,” You’ll remain a courtier in my court, Maggie”.

Tears welled up in her eyes once again.

“I still think we should have one drink together before….”.

The King stared at her. He could feel his heart beating faster than normal, his palms sweating.

“If you insist”, he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Quickly, Margaret moved away from him, marching towards the table behind the throne stacked high with platters of food and goblets of wine and small ale.

The King watched her for a few seconds and was about to speak when the paneled doors opened again.

“Your Grace….’, another servant started to say, his head bowed, his livery belonging to Margaret.

“ I gave orders that I should remain undisturbed with Lady Margaret!”, the King yelled, saliva spitting out of his mouth and landing on the floor. His face turned a dark red.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace”, the servant mumbled, closing the doors behind him again.

“ Here’s your drink”, Margaret said quietly, appearing next to him, holding two goblets.

Slowly the King sipped from his, the bitter wine dribbling out of his mouth and disappearing into his beard.

Hastily he wiped it away.

“Hmm, must be a different brew they’re trying”.

Margaret watched him over the top of her own goblet as she drank deeply. Her own wine was sweet.

“Another drink Your Grace?”, she asked, smiling.

“Why don’t you call me by my name, now we’re alone? You know I love it when you say my name”.

“Another drink, Henry?”, she whispered, and he smiled, holding out his goblet to her.

He drank, running the tip of his tongue over his lips.

Margaret continued to smile, taking a few sips and watching his face.

The King frowned, his cheeks turning pale and then flushing a dark red.

“Maggie, what the…..’, he started to say and then gasped. With his free hand, he clutched his chest, gripping it tightly.

“Maggie…’, he gasped, dropping to his knees, the goblet crashing onto the ground, the remainder of the wine trickling out.

Slowly, Maggie looked away, and closed her eyes as the King lifted one hand and tried to reach out to her.

His breathing gradually slowed until it came no more. Maggie felt the room become still and silent.

Without looking down at him, she stepped away, back towards the throne, sipping the last of her drink.

“Well I guess my brother will get that pardon after all, won’t he?”, she said to herself, as she ran her hand along the arm of the throne.

The paneled door opened again.

The same servant poked his head around tentatively,” Your Grace’ he said,’ is everything all good?”.

Margaret dropped to her knees, the material of her dress bunching up around her.

“No!’ she screamed,’ Your Grace! Wake up!”.

She buried her head in her hands, sobbing.

The servant ran towards the King, shouting for help.

“No, Your Grace! You must wake!”.

Margaret continued to sob as other servants and courtiers streamed into the room, surrounding the King’s body, pawing and patting it, calling out for some one to race to the next heir.

Slowly Margaret stood, her hands still covering her face, tears streaming down her cheeks in case they turned and saw her, and moved slowly around them until she was near the door.

“Lady Margaret?”, one of the servants asked, as he looked up from where he was kneeling.

Margaret curtsied low, head bowed and eyes cast down modestly and held the pose until no one was watching.

“It’s a pity I already visited the next heir”, she whispered to herself as she backed out of the room, her fingers moving to hide the vial that was poking out of her pocket.