When at last only the King’s carriage was left to join the procession, Albert was having a lunch of bread, cheese and watered wine—which were the remains of his lord’s lunch—he watched with considerable consternation as the King’s carriage drew up behind his own, and the King disembarked. There was no possible way that his lord ought to be in front of the King. On most journeys, sucking the King’s dust and breathing the heady fumes of the King’s horses’ manure would have been too great an honour. This was not going to go well.
“Good Sir.” King Ethelred said in a voice filled with anger. Albert jumped to attention, eager to avoid displeasing the King anymore than he already had. “I see from the heraldry upon your carriage that you are in the employ of Lord Merovine. I remain impressed that he can afford so talented a manservant as yourself and this resplendent carriage, while gambling and carousing his fortune away.”
“A fact that baffles me as well, your highness,” Albert bowed deeply.
“Indeed. Are you aware that your dissolute lord’s carriage is in the wrong location, and should be the last before the supply train?”
“I had thought so as well; however, the Chancellor insisted.”
Ethelred’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Do you believe in an afterlife, Albert?” He screamed, “if you are among those who do, you may wish to reconsider your position, because you clearly feel that your mistakes in life shall be of no consequence!”
“My King, I assure you that I was but following instructions. I shall move my carriage to the side and rejoin at the appropriate position.”
“Excellent. Do reconsider your foolish ideology that excuses proper behaviour. I cannot abide the uneducated philosophies of the underclass. Now, be gone.”
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