The door opened to the king and Christopher. His Majesty, anxious and broken though he was, gave us an approving smile,—perhaps from what he read in our faces.
“My maddened people are gathering,” he said. “It was wise of you to lock the gates, my child. When the crowd grows larger it will begin an assault. That will be the time for me to appear. I will call out the soldiers from the crowd and put them under your command.”
That surprised me. “Pardon me, Sire. I understood your Majesty to say an hour ago that Lentala was to have command.”
“So I did.”
“But your Majesty has just said that Beela is to have it.”
“Beela? I couldn’t have said that, as I don’t know any such person.”
I was dismayed at the king’s apparent condition, and Beela in great perturbation was trying to speak. The man must be roused from his shaken state.
“This is Beela, Sire, Lentala’s sister.”
“She has no sister,” he answered clearly, and turned sharply on Beela. “Lentala, have you been playing one of your pranks?” He hurried her away as she was trying to speak.