Read Online The Eyes of a King by Catherine Banner - Free Book Online Page A

“I’m in military school too. But neither of us like it. Especially my teacher—his name’s Markey. Sergeant Markey, that is. He’s really mean. I don’t want to be a soldier when I grow up, and Leo doesn’t either. He could be a—”
    I opened the door hastily, and the girl said, with the faintest smile, “I see by your brother’s face that he thinks you have said enough.”
    She pushed the door open with her free hand and looked in with disdain. “The bathroom’s not very nice either,” Stirling said apologetically.
    “Never mind. At least there is a mirror, and a shower and a sink.”
    “Cold water, though.”
    “Ah, well.” She shifted the baby higher up her arm.
    “Would you like me to hold him for you?” asked Stirling.
    “Your brother will be wanting to get back to bed.”
    “No, no,” I told her. “I’ll just sit here.” I sat down and leaned against the wall.
    “Thank you very much,” said the girl, and she handed the baby to Stirling. “Keep your hand behind his head.” She waited a moment to check that Stirling would not drop him.
    When she shut the door, the baby began to cry. “Shh,” Stirling said, the way Maria had, and jiggled him up and down, but he went on crying. The crying grew so insistent and so mournful that Stirling called, “Is he all right?”
    “I think he’s just hungry,” Maria called back.
    “I’ve got a sweet in my pocket.”
    “Don’t give him that. He’s still on milk.”
    “Oh. All right.” Stirling went on jiggling the baby and put out his finger for him to hold. Anselm caught onto it and stopped crying long enough to draw breath, but then resumed his wailing louder than ever.
    I was beginning to feel dizzy again. And my vision was going strange. My head and the back of my neck prickled sickeningly hot and cold. I looked at the ground, concentrating on the cracks in the paving stones to keep my sight straight. “You all right, Leo?” Stirling asked. I nodded.
    I heard the bathroom door open, and the baby’s crying subsided to a discontented grizzling. “You don’t look well,” Maria said. She was talking to me. I tried to lift my head. “Your face is very white,” she said. “Oh dear. I am sorry to have kept you down here so long.”
    Stirling held out his hand and helped me up. I swayed and caught onto the wall. I held tightly to Stirling’s shoulder as we struggled to the door. Maria held it open for us.
    I could not see clearly where I was putting my feet, especially entering the dark hall suddenly after the yard. But I put one hand on the rail, and Stirling supported the other arm, and I managed to get up the stairs slowly. Maria followed us all the way, saying, “Sorry I can’t help.” And she really sounded sorry.
    When we finally got to our apartment, Stirling had to get out his keys. I attempted to support myself while he did it, but the wall seemed to be sliding away. “Here, hold on to me,” said Maria. She shifted the baby up to her elbow and held her other arm out. I tried to take it gently, but she slid it right around my waist and pulled me in to her suddenly. “I won’t let you fall,” she said. She was strong. I could not look at her face so close, but she was looking at me. I was painfully aware of her fingers, tight on my ribs, and her side, pressed right against mine, so that I could feel every breath she took.
    Eventually Stirling got the door open and I moved over to him, still leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Goodbye, Maria,” said Stirling. “Goodbye, baby Anselm.”
    “Goodbye,” she said. “Wave goodbye, Anselm.” She lifted the baby’s hand into a wave, and he gurgled at us, dribble stringing from his mouth. And then, suddenly formal, she said, “It was nice to meet you.”
    “You too,” said Stirling, and I managed a curt nod.
    “I hope you get well quickly, Leo,” she said, and went breezing up the stairs, but carefully, so as not to drop the baby.

    I slept for the rest of the day. It was