The old King woke up in a state nearing hysteria. It took him at least a minute to regain his composure. What a nightmare! He thought. In the dream, water was pouring from every window. There was half of a foot of water on the floor. He kept shouting for help, but no one was there to answer his call. The sound of thunder was still ringing in his ears. “Help!” He croaked feebly.
Rubbing his eyes, le valet de chambre rose from his pallet on the floor beside His Majesty’s bed. Pulling the bed curtain aside just wide enough to see inside, he saw the old King trembling with fear. “Brandywine!” He shouted. “Brandywine for the King!” There was an immediate buzz of activity.
“What’s amiss?” Asked the Captain of the Guard who was fidgeting the pommel of his sword.
“His Majesty is suffering from a nightmare,” answered the valet. Then to the King, he asked, “Would Your Majesty care to tell me the nature of your nightmare?”
His Majesty simply stared at the Valet and then said one word, “Deluge!” He croaked. “Après moi vient le déluge!”