Chapter 19 [Whitgate]

The stars twinkled in the dark sky overhead. Watchfires burned atop the city's walls. Knights watched the woods and slopes between themselves and the city. A few hearty souls stumbled home from the Fallen Oaks.

Day's business gave way to Night's Entertainment…save in the palace….

[Royal Dining Chamber]

Kay gulped from his goblet. Wine failed to blunt Anxiety's edge. He chomped a piece of fowl from his fork. Pain stabbed at his temples. A frown soured his expression.

Resistance impeded Policy. Subjects clamored for Justice. Advisors harangued over council meetings. Servants left chambers askew. Neighboring monarchs ignored correspondence. The knights' martial skill fell beneath his standards. Tolerance favored Magic. Governance's Tedium bore him to tears.

Battlefields, Embassies and Pilgrimages called to him. Duty chained him there.

Worse Whispers favoring Mithian reached his ears and bruised his ego still further.

Mithian….

He rolled his eyes. Obstinancy kept Rodor from going to Camelot with a proposal. Father and Son both knew that Nemeth crumbled from within and without. Survival demanded a union with a stronger kingdom. Proposed courtships with Gaul's Prince Bors and Tintagel's Prince Accolon failed. Other suitors turned their noses up at her.

And all because she wanted to play at a man's role and hunting instead of being the Princess….

She'll marry Arthur of Camelot! So help me! He coughed again. His eyes narrowed to slits. He stared at his hand.

Bloody flecks stood out against his thumb and hand.

I just have to hold out. Once Mithian marries Prince Arthur, our kingdoms will be joined. Uther will bring order to this land once and for all! He forced another piece of fowl into his mouth.

Chill numbed his fingers and arms. Fire burned at Nerves' endings. Tinctures held back Disease's symptoms.

"Sire?" A blonde slender maid set the pitcher down on the table. She hustled to his side. "Sire, are you unwell?"

Denial flared in his eyes. "NAY! Leave me! I…." He threw his fork onto the plate. Appetite abandoned his palate. "Constance, can you not do your TASK?"

She nodded without a word. She reached for his plate. Her eyes fixed on a spot along his neck. "Sire! Your neck…."

He scowled. He knew of the dark swellings along his neck's glands. His armpits bore similar marks. "It is nothing!" He spat into an empty goblet. "Fetch Master Wyngate! I…." He wavered on his feet. He braced himself against the wall. He slid along that wall down to the floor.

"SIR KNIGHT! SIR KNIGHT!" Constance's hands went to her mouth.

Two emerald clad knights stormed into the chamber. Shock paled their faces.

"He…he fainted. Help me get him to Master Wyngate!" She trembled.

"Rodney, get the King's shoulders. I will bear his feet. Go ahead, Constance! Alert Master Wyngate!" Sir Matthias motioned for the door.

"Aye, Sirrah!" She rushed from the chamber. Her feet barely touched the stones underfoot.

"Rodney! Look at his neck!" Matthias made a face. "He's got the plague!"

"We have our duty! Now do your part!" Rodney hoisted Kay by his arms. He restrained Impulse. Even as his fingers felt the swelling under the robes, he restrained himself. He led his comrade out the door and into the passage.

Physician and Prayers were needed now….

[Physician's Chambers—A Half Turn of the Hourglass Later]

A balding man stomped across the expanse. Wizened eyes searched the rickety aged shelves for appropriate herbs. Desperation guided fingers toward a bottle on the top shelf. A lower shelf surrendered two more for the King's cause.

"Can you help him, Master Wyngate?" Rodney dabbed Kay's forehead with a damp cloth.

Wyngate shrugged. "We shall use our remedies and hope for the best." He carried the bottles to his worktable. Rosemary, Lavender, Wolfsbane and Hembane went into the bowl. Pestle crushed water into them. Hope wanted this gruel to keep Kay alive until the Coronation.

"You must save him! There is no one else!" Rodney slapped a chair.

Indignity curled Wyngate's lip. "I know that! Of course I am doing everything I can!" A heavy breath gasped through tensed lips. Finality bore down on him with all of its weight. Objections came from his mouth over Kay's strategy. Prognosis had foretold of Kay's rapid degeneration. Best Tinctures held Symptoms in check for three moons. Decline set in over the previous fortnight.

Whisper rasped past Kay's lips. His eyes fluttered open. "I…I will not…."

"Sire? Sire, please. I have your mixture. Hang on!" Wyngate hustled the bowl across the room.

Kay slumped to the bed. Death rendered him still. His eyes stared at the ceiling. Bloody drool ran from the sides of his mouth.

Wyngate frowned. "And so passes the King. May he be welcomed by King Rodor and his ancestors in the goddess' hall." He exhaled a sharp breath. His mind jumped from medicine to administration. Continuity demanded a presence on the throne. Tragedy could not triumph. "Prepare well. You are to ride for Camelot. Lord Aethelwald, Prince Arthur and Princess Mithian must come at once. Not a word to ANYONE!"

"Aye." Rodney agreed.

"Aye. For the kingdom's sake." Matthias bowed to Wyngate. Rebellion lingered in courtiers' minds. Meleagant and Cenred hungered for Nemeth's throne and territory. "We will leave immediately. I wish Sir Galahad was here."

"He will be in Camelot. Make haste. I can stall Lord Edgar and the court for a few days." Wyngate rubbed his forehead. His eyes skirted about the chamber. "Where is that maid?"

Matthias and Rodney stared at each other. "She's gone!"

Wyngate tapped his fingers on the table. "Pack what you can. Be on the road within the hour." He shook his head. He watched the two knights hustle from the chamber. He pushed the door closed. Then he eyed the deceased King.

Turmoil loomed….