Purpleland: Prologue

The bed dominated the room. It was made of pine wood with embroidered coverlet after embroidered coverlet sheltered the occupant. Despite that he shivered with each breeze. He was not quite old, only about forty but his face had all the suffering of eighty and it was clear that he was very ill. His eyes were bloodshot and premature wrinkles had formed a lace work around his eyes. The rest of his body, under the blankets seemed alarmingly thin and his voice, when he spoke was more of a rasping whisper.

“Make sure he gets this. That is all I ask.”

The young man who stood by his bed nodded. He was tall and thin with hair that was almost white. He wore the bright color of an upper house servant but he held himself like a lord.

“You should go now.” The man’s voice was weak and defeated.

“I will not let you die alone.”

“It matters not, while I am alive I can protect you to some extent when I am dead she will kill you.”

“Only if she can find me.”

The sick man smiled. “You are your father’s son.”

The young man nodded, but coldly.

The man saw it. “He was not always as he is now. Once the boy has finished reading ask him to let you read the part that concerns your father. Perhaps you will understand him better.”

The man started to slip out of consciousness. “Tell your father that in the end I was sorry and that I forgive him.” he seemed to fade out then momentarily revive. “and take care of your sister.”

The young man nodded and held the dying man’s hand, counting his breaths. One… two….three then something like a gasp then nothing. The young man laid aside the dead man’s still warm hand and opened the envelope he had been given. He took the letter out and scribbled something on the back. Then he strode out of the room. There was a soldier stationed outside the door. The young man handed him the letter and a ring that he had retrieved from the table next to the dead man.

“Roland, You know who this goes to, now take it.”

“And you?”

“I cannot leave this castle. She has made sure of it.”

“I could try…”

“No my life is not what is important here. You will take the letter to him and tell him of all you have seen. You served his father now you serve him, not me.”

The soldier bowed. “Yes my lord.” And he took the envelope.

Roland rode out of the city gates just as bells began to ring. Seventy tolls for the death of the king. He turned his mount away from the castle and went south.