“The King had another not so good dream,” whispered the soothsayer to the Bishop.
“Oh dear, not again, should we comfort him?” The plump, stout Bishop asked worrisome. “This is the third night in a row.”
“No, I wouldn’t just yet,” said the soothsayer in his calm and pensive manner.
“Do you know what the dream was about?”
“He won’t say,” the soothsayer said, “but I am certain he will tell us soon.”
The soothsayer and the Bishop had been waiting outside the King’s bedroom in the dark and drafty corridor. The door to the King’s room remained closed, no one came out and no one had yet to come in. They waited for the King to summoned them, and they whispered some more about what was not bringing peace to the King, for not even the soothsayer could say what the dreams were about. A few hours went by, and night still covered the land. Most everybody in the palace were asleep, except the soothsayer and the Bishop who had been awaken by one of the King’s personal guards, Joshua. He had been ordered to keep watch on the King while he slept.
The Bishop was about to whisper something to the soothsayer, when the door to the King’s room opened magnificently and Joshua, the kind, and dignified guard allowed them in the King’s chambers.
“Be at peace,” the soothsayer waved at the Bishop to follow him.
The door was shut behind them, Joshua had now stepped outside since he was not privy to the King’s conversations, especially about matters concerning the King’s dreams.
The room was cozy, lit by the light of the fire, that created shadows in all the walls. The room was well furnished, decorated in bright red’s and gold’s, a large four poster bed dominated most of the large room, the currents were drawn open and it’s owner was absent from it. The Bishop and the soothsayer gazed around searching for the King, finding him standing next to a window, with a less than happy countenance, looking out.
“What is it that does not brings you peace my Lord?” the soothsayer, was a tall lean man, with the years etched on his face and his long white hair and beard as white as snow. He carried a large staff that he used as a cane, though it held no special powers as many would assume. “Was it the same dream again?”
The King was quiet for awhile and the Bishop and the soothsayer waited. When the King finally spoke, his voice sounded not so cheery, yet it held its strength that commanded people to listen. “It was indeed, the same dream.”
“Was there anything different about it?” the soothsayer asked.
“Nothing changed,” The King said.
“If maybe, your majesty, you can describe this dream for us?” The Bishop was patient. You never asked the King for anything, at least that’s what the Bishop thought.
“I rather not,” the King did not wish to submit his thoughts to the Bishop. “I would rather not recall, if I could.”
“Then, I can’t help you,” the soothsayer said.
“How could you have helped?” The King turns to face the soothsayer.
“Dreams have many meanings,” said the very much composed soothsayer. “I can help you unravel them. If you let me.”
“What if I choose not to decipher them?” The King was not at peace. He hadn’t slept well, and when he did choose to close his eyes the dream would appear to him over and over again, lest he forget.
“Maybe if you spoke about them,” the Bishop was thinking, “the dreams will become pleasant.”
“I wish they were pleasant to,” the King sighed. “I think for now, I rather keep the dreams where they are. Perhaps, they will go away.”
“Very well,” the soothsayer accepted the King’s wishes, “very well. We will let you to rest, goodnight, your majesty.”
“Yes, yes, maybe rest is what you need,” the Bishop was taking his cue from the soothsayer, “goodnight, your majesty.”
“Goodnight,” the King bid to them.
Once outside the King’s chamber’s, the soothsayer spoke to the Bishop, “let us give the King some time and not speak a word to anybody about this. He will eventually come around.”
The Bishop agreed and they both left, leaving Joshua to guard the King all night. A distant away, the soothsayer beckoned the Bishop to follow him. They walked through dark, quiet corridors, that lead many ways, some corridors had doors to either side of them, others just lead through complete darkness, with nothing to guide both men into which direction to take. The soothsayer knew these corridors so well, he knew where each lead and which rooms belonged to whom. He was very wise, indeed, and very observant, everybody feared the soothsayer, because he spoke the truth. Sometimes, truth was too much to bear, a heavy cross they did not wish to carry. But not all that the soothsayer predictions were hopeless and not so delightful, some were of good things and prosperity, but, lately those were becoming few and far apart.
“Times changes,” the soothsayer would say, “things change sometimes never for the better. It is not mine to say.”