The gold rushes atop the bed were worn and
small and faintly visible silkworm holes
littered the bedspread of this dusty keep.
Sir Brandsheel, the third of his name,
sat upright
in an firm oak chair as the grey light
struggled to pour through the filthy spotted glass.

It was a severely neglected keep of the realm
nonetheless.
Surely,
handmaids and duty servants of lesser houses
were on hand,
yet it had been the request of his grace
Okar, the blind King Regent
to "let the dust settle where the God's see fit."

Sir Bransheel had never liked the words
of the blind King,
or any of the decrepit ruler's words for that matter.
After all,
it had been the King himself who had beheaded his sisters
and sweet mother
before his eyes.

He often thought
"What has the realm come to where a blind man
both wears the crown and wields the sword?"
A question unanswered,
much to the chagrin of his conscious.

Yet none of that mattered now
as he had but a grave decision to make.
It would seem that Madame Sulary Stormcree,
faithful handmade to the King's niece
and personal "instructor" in the womanly arts
to the Ladies of the court,
had committed a foul act.

Persuasive and provocatively enticing
was she,. Sir Bransheel even recalled
a time or twelve when he too had caught himself
glancing up the great hall’s winding stone staircase
as the Madame ascended in tightly clung silks.

The murder had been a quick one,
poison was the killer,
he was sure of it.

INTERRUPTION…….

Sir Bransheel
kept receiving these error messages
on his electronic signature software
and it was frustrating him to no end.

He opened up Microsoft Outlook,
put his away message on,
and blocked off three hours of time
that he simply labeled
“busy”, and closed his eyes.

09/22/2014