Read Online A Tale Without a Name by Penelope S. Delta - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Penelope S. Delta
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fat, with swollen, sagging cheeks, and such an enormous belly that he could never go through a doorway or near a piece of furniture without stumbling and bumping.
“Cartwheeler,” said the King imperiously, “call immediately the General-in-Chief.”
“My lord,” Cartwheeler replied, struggling in vain to bend at the waist in order to bow. “My lord, we have not had a General-in-Chief for these past two years.”
The King almost choked with furious indignation. The blood flooded to his head, he turned a deep, dark purple.
“What are you saying?… What are you saying?” he faltered, before his voice broke, and he could not utter another word.
“My lord,” Cartwheeler repeated, unperturbed, “our last General-in-Chief was Master Rogue. It has been two years now since he sold his house and went abroad, where he is known to everyone as the most prosperous banker.”
“And where might he have got the florins to do that?” bellowed the King.
“A great mystery, that, my lord.”
“Summon the Admiral-in-Chief, then,” ordered the King nervously. And again he began to pace up and down the room.
But as he made to turn, with hands crossed, his forehead bowed and clouded, he instantly collided with thebarrel-shaped belly of Cartwheeler, who had had no time to remove himself from his path.
“So what are you standing there for? Summon, I said, the Admiral-in-Chief!” he said angrily.
His equanimity intact, the Lord Chamberlain attempted once again to bow.
“We have no Admiral-in-Chief, my lord,” he said calmly.
The King collapsed upon the sofa. His knees had buckled under him, his voice too was broken, and he remained there utterly devastated.
“What became of the Admiral-in-Chief?” asked the Prince.
“He is a mighty merchant abroad, my lord,” answered the Lord Chamberlain. “He trades in iron.”
“And how did he come upon so many florins as well?” asked the King, fuming with rage.
“He came upon them only recently.”
“But by what means? Tell me that!”
“With the iron from the naval fleet.”
The King received the news with a great staggering shock. He sprang up with a leap, and ran to the door.
“Mad! Mad, they are all mad! All of them!” he yelled. And seeing Polydorus the equerry at the door:
“Sound the call to arms immediately,” he commanded. “Muster the troops at once, from every corner of the kingdom!”
And he rushed out running, his mantle flying behind him like the swelling sails of a ship.
The Prince followed him; far behind, panting and round as a ball, scampered the Lord Chamberlain. From the highest turret Polydorus sounded the call to arms with the great trumpet.
The King and his son ran without stopping to the barracks.
By the doorway, they found the old garrison commander, only half-awake and half-dressed, stupefied and bewildered. He struggled to make sense of the purpose of the trumpet call, which he had not heard for so very many years.
“Where are the soldiers? Summon them all here at once!” ordered the King. The knees of the old garrison commander buckled under him, and he landed sitting squarely upon the ground.
A second time the equerry sounded the call to arms from high up on the turret. And then, all of a sudden, from the corner of the square, out of a tavern, there came a single, solitary, one-legged man, who hurried to the barracks, drew from under a mattress a rusty lance with no head, and hobbled his way to where the King and the Prince stood; pulling himself up to attention before them, he presented arms.
“Who is he?” asked the King.
“The army, my lord,” answered the one-legged man.
“I am in no mood for pleasantries,” said the King. “Do you know whom you are addressing?”
“My liege and king,” replied the one-legged man, without changing his position.
“Well, then, be lost with you, before I have time to get cross. The troops will be coming out any time now, and ragamuffins such as yourself have no place in
“Cartwheeler,” said the King imperiously, “call immediately the General-in-Chief.”
“My lord,” Cartwheeler replied, struggling in vain to bend at the waist in order to bow. “My lord, we have not had a General-in-Chief for these past two years.”
The King almost choked with furious indignation. The blood flooded to his head, he turned a deep, dark purple.
“What are you saying?… What are you saying?” he faltered, before his voice broke, and he could not utter another word.
“My lord,” Cartwheeler repeated, unperturbed, “our last General-in-Chief was Master Rogue. It has been two years now since he sold his house and went abroad, where he is known to everyone as the most prosperous banker.”
“And where might he have got the florins to do that?” bellowed the King.
“A great mystery, that, my lord.”
“Summon the Admiral-in-Chief, then,” ordered the King nervously. And again he began to pace up and down the room.
But as he made to turn, with hands crossed, his forehead bowed and clouded, he instantly collided with thebarrel-shaped belly of Cartwheeler, who had had no time to remove himself from his path.
“So what are you standing there for? Summon, I said, the Admiral-in-Chief!” he said angrily.
His equanimity intact, the Lord Chamberlain attempted once again to bow.
“We have no Admiral-in-Chief, my lord,” he said calmly.
The King collapsed upon the sofa. His knees had buckled under him, his voice too was broken, and he remained there utterly devastated.
“What became of the Admiral-in-Chief?” asked the Prince.
“He is a mighty merchant abroad, my lord,” answered the Lord Chamberlain. “He trades in iron.”
“And how did he come upon so many florins as well?” asked the King, fuming with rage.
“He came upon them only recently.”
“But by what means? Tell me that!”
“With the iron from the naval fleet.”
The King received the news with a great staggering shock. He sprang up with a leap, and ran to the door.
“Mad! Mad, they are all mad! All of them!” he yelled. And seeing Polydorus the equerry at the door:
“Sound the call to arms immediately,” he commanded. “Muster the troops at once, from every corner of the kingdom!”
And he rushed out running, his mantle flying behind him like the swelling sails of a ship.
The Prince followed him; far behind, panting and round as a ball, scampered the Lord Chamberlain. From the highest turret Polydorus sounded the call to arms with the great trumpet.
The King and his son ran without stopping to the barracks.
By the doorway, they found the old garrison commander, only half-awake and half-dressed, stupefied and bewildered. He struggled to make sense of the purpose of the trumpet call, which he had not heard for so very many years.
“Where are the soldiers? Summon them all here at once!” ordered the King. The knees of the old garrison commander buckled under him, and he landed sitting squarely upon the ground.
A second time the equerry sounded the call to arms from high up on the turret. And then, all of a sudden, from the corner of the square, out of a tavern, there came a single, solitary, one-legged man, who hurried to the barracks, drew from under a mattress a rusty lance with no head, and hobbled his way to where the King and the Prince stood; pulling himself up to attention before them, he presented arms.
“Who is he?” asked the King.
“The army, my lord,” answered the one-legged man.
“I am in no mood for pleasantries,” said the King. “Do you know whom you are addressing?”
“My liege and king,” replied the one-legged man, without changing his position.
“Well, then, be lost with you, before I have time to get cross. The troops will be coming out any time now, and ragamuffins such as yourself have no place in
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