At least times had moved on from such issues as a dowry having to be found and trade alliances and so on being written into the contract of any royal betrothal. Now all he had to worry about was his bride having blue blood.
He’d always found blue so cold.
He turned his attention on the English children and answered a host of questions from them, including, ‘Is it true your toilet is made of gold?’
His personal favourite was ‘Is it true you carry a sub-machine gun wherever you go?’
In answer to this he pulled from his pocket the penknife his grandfather had given him on his graduation from Sandhurst; an upgraded version of the one he’d been given on his tenth birthday. ‘No, but I always carry this.’
As expected, the children were agog to see it. It was termed a penknife only in the loosest sense; on sight anyone would recognise it for the deadly fighting instrument it truly was. Children loved it when he showed it to them. Their basic human nature had not yet been knocked out of them by the insane political correctness infecting the rest of the Western world.
‘Most Agonites carry knives with them,’ he said to the enthralled children. ‘If anyone wants to invade our island they know we will fight back with force.’
Their teacher, who had looked at the knife as if it had come personally from Eurynomos himself, looked most relieved as she glanced at her watch. Immediately she clapped her hands together. ‘Everyone into their pairs—it’s time for our tour.’
Today was Thursday... Amy was taking on some of the tours...
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. He looked over at the museum entrance. A slender figure stood at the top of the steps. Even though she was too far away for him to see clearly, the increasing beat of his heart told him it was her.
He straightened, a smile playing on his lips. Only two days had passed since she’d called his bluff and walked out of the boardroom, leaving him with an ache in his groin he’d only just recovered from. He would bet anything she had suffered in the same manner. He would bet she’d spent the past two days jumping every time her phone rang, waiting for his call.
Her pride had been wounded when she’d learned he was taking a wife, but she would get over it. She couldn’t punish him for ever, not when she suffered as greatly as he did. Soon she would come crawling back.
After a moment’s thought, he beckoned for one of his courtiers and instructed him to pass his apologies to his brothers. They could handle the meeting without him.
The time was ripe to assist Amy in crawling back to him.
* * *
The Agon palace dungeons never failed to thrill, whatever the visitor’s age. Set deep underground, and reached by steep winding staircases at each end of the gloom, only those over the age of eight were permitted to enter. Inside, dim light was provided by tiny electrical candles that flickered as if they were the real thing, casting shadows wherever one stood. Unsurprisingly, the children today were huddled closely together.
‘These dungeons were originally a pit in which to throw the Venetian invaders,’ Amy said, speaking clearly so all twenty-three children on the tour could hear. ‘The Venetians were the only people to successfully invade Agon, and when Ares the Conqueror, cousin of the King at the time, led the uprising in AD 1205, the first thing he ordered his men to do was build these pits. King Timios, who was the reigning King and whom the Agonites blamed for letting the Venetians in, was thrown into the cell to my left.’
The children took it in turns to gawp through the iron railings at the tiny square stone pit.
‘The manacle on the right-hand wall is the original manacle used to chain him,’ she added.
‘Did he die in here?’ a young boy asked.
‘No,’ said a deep male voice that reverberated off the narrow walls before she could answer, making them all jump.
A long shadow cast over them and Helios appeared. In the flickering light of the damp passageway in which they stood his large frame appeared magnified, as if Orion, the famously handsome giant, had come to life.
What was he doing here?
She’d seen him only an hour ago, standing in the gardens talking to the school parties, as at ease with the children as he was in every other situation. That had been the moment she had forgotten how to breathe.
It will get better, she kept assuring herself. It’s still early days and still raw. Soon you’ll feel better.
‘King Timios was held in these cells for six months before Ares Patakis expelled him and, with the consent of the people, took the crown for himself,’ Helios said to the captivated children. ‘The palace was built over these dungeons so King Ares could have personal control over the prisoners.’