GarGar was always a gentleman famous for his bonhomie and cheerful demeanor. Sounds of music and laughter usually came from his room in an endless stream. Recently however, that stream had run dry. Even for one as optimistic as GarGar, the future looked dark and dismal. Now that Princess Pirouette was barely even talking to him and the King was looking askance at him, his situation was beginning to look hopeless. Usually visitors to his suite in the palace tore in and out endlessly, but that river of humanity seemed endless. Now it had dwindled into a mere dribble. Those who did come to visit appeared to do so merely out of curiosity. That is, they wanted to be there when the le comte des Deux Chats finally surrendered to fate and gave up his pursuit of Princess Pirouette.
GarGar’s ill-advised decision to wear white to court had been a bad one. He’d hoped to prove to his enemies that his position in court was unassailable. The fact that the King didn’t just throw him into the dungeon, surprised many, so it was possible that he was fairly unassailable by most everybody at court, except the old King. What he needed was another plume in his hat, like another victory against enemy armies. He was certain that another victory of this sort would put him back in a high place in the Princess’ esteem. A nice victory parade through the heart of the city would put things aright, all things aright.
Mama Cormier’s Thursday Trios photo challenge.
When GarGar entered the old King’s private boudoir, he made certain to bow low. The King, who was sitting in an overstuffed chair with his foot resting on an ottoman, didn’t see GarGar. “Tell me, Monsieur le comte, please do tell me what you when you came to my court thus attired?”
“I’m not sure I understand, Your Majesty,” replied GarGar.
When the King twisted in his chair to get a better look, pressing an eyepiece to his eye, he saw that GarGar was wearing an emerald green surcoat embroidered with silver stitching that depicted various wildflowers. He satin trousers were a lighter shade of green. His white powdered wig was obscured somewhat by a plain tricornered hat with a single feather protruding from the band. What kind of feather is that? Mused the King, who suddenly realized that GarGar was not dressed in white as he had been told. “What is the meaning of this!” He shouted. “I was told you came to court dressed entirely in white from head to toe!”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is true. Fortunately I always carry a spare suit of clothes with me wherever I go, so it was with little difficulty that I changed my garments as soon as the Chamberlain told me that I had broken a serious rule of court etiquette.”
The King let the eyepiece fall into his lap. He harrumphed and couple of times and then snapped his finger. “Sir Edward! Come quickly! My wine glass is empty. Fill one for Monsieur le comte as well.” Sir Edward nearly jumped out of his skin as he sprang into action, bringing a bottle of wine for the King, producing a second glass for GarGar to drink from, bowing copiously as he did so.
“I tell you, GarGar, that if you are playing some kind of game with me, then you are sure to lose. Life at court is a contest of wills. My will is the strongest. All I have to do his move a hand over a piece of paper, and anyone that I chose will be incarcerated in a dark, dank dungeon until I say he can leave. That is power, my boy. Shall I be required to move my hand over a piece of paper with your name on it?”