Messenger Boy

Beckett cautiously knocked on the wide bronze door to the king’s advisor’s office. There was a faint rustling inside, and the door was opened by one of the king’s guards. “State your business,” he commanded.

“My name is Beckett Hudson. I believe that the advisor is waiting for me. I’m here for a job,” he replied.

The guard surveyed him for a moment and told him, “We’ll see about that.” The door slammed in his face, and Beckett assumed that the guard was checking with his master to be certain that he was supposed to be there.

After a short time, the guard reopened the door and announced, “He will see you momentarily.”

As he was led into the advisor’s quarters, Beckett stared in awe at the exquisite decorations before him. The tapestries were made of the most beautiful materials, and the chandelier and vases shone wit precious metal and gems. He wondered if the king’s room could look nicer than this.

At the far end of the room sat a mahogany desk with an armchair. Behind the desk sat a man around forty years old, with a strict, cruel face. Beckett bowed to the advisor and was addressed, “You’re the candidate for the job of king’s messenger boy?” The man did not conceal his doubt.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your age? You don’t look much older than nine.”

Beckett looked up. “I’m eleven, sir.”

“The proper age,” replied the man. “Very well, I trust you know the rules? Take this to the king.” He held up a sealed scroll.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Beckett took the scroll, bowed, and was escorted out.

He hurried along the corridors purposely in the wrong direction, toward Queen Danica’s rooms. As he came to the tall, intricate doors, he paused, then pushed through them.

The Queen herself stood waiting for him. “I trust you got the job?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He held out the scroll.

“Thank you, Beckett. You have been an enormous help to me. You are my most loyal spy. Let’s find out what my husband is plotting now, shall we?”