The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Thirty One Part Two

The King's gaze roamed over the boys' gawking faces, he then looked to Elizabeth and whispered, "We have enticements to lure them out."

"Where is our basket?" The King spoke over his shoulder to his men.

Two of the King's men still stood at the rail either side of the gangplank. Two more had halted at the bottom of the gangplank, set as guards upon the dock.

The other two men came forward, each with a handle in his hand, the large, rectangular basket between them.

"Over this way would be best." Elizabeth directed the men to the barrels that lined the rail.

The King's men deposited the basket atop two barrels, then returned to the dock to fortify the King's guard.

Elizabeth turned, "Davey, come here please, I need your help."

Davey would do whatever he could to help Miss Lizbeth, it went without saying, convincing, or wheedling.

Davey snapped his spine up straight, he stepped up to the deck, marching his way stoically, in deference to Elizabeth and the King.

Davey's face was dead serious, his legs straight and ridged, his straightened arms swinging opposite his legs, he came to attention in front of her.

"Thank you, Davey." Betsy said appreciatively, "Now bow to the King." She whispered to him.

Davey's eyes opened wider, he about faced as a good little soldier, and nervous as could be, he shot one arm front of his waist, one behind and bowed to the King, before chancing a look at the monarch's face.

The King winked at Davey, and the boy grinned, showing his big, gapped tooth smile.

The King chuckled, "Davey, I presume...... also known as Harpy."

"Yes, my King, that is me." Davey warbled loudly.

The King suppressed his laughter, "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Davey."

"For me too!" Davey screeched in his nervousness.

The King could not hold back any longer, Elizabeth had tried to tell him, yet his laughter erupted just the same.

Elizabeth had even attempted to recreate Davey's screeching, yet she had not come even remotely close to the real thing. The King could not contain his mirth at hearing the boy for himself.

Though they had a good laugh over Elizabeth's attempts to sound like a young, warbling lad, Davey, in the flesh, had her beat by a country mile.

"Davey," Elizabeth was barely able to keep her own composure, as she gave the King a look that made him hold any further laughter.

For if he did not stop laughing, she was ready to dissolve into it herself. She was also thinking of when she had tried to tell him what Davey's voice sounded like.

Davey gave up being stiff and turned to her, "He is a tall one, is he not?" Davey whispered.

"Yes, he is, very tall." Elizabeth ruffled Davey's hair, trying to help him stay relaxed. "We have warmed chocolate from the castle, would you and the boys bring all the mugs we will need?"

She opened the basket to reveal the dedication of a practiced, french pastry chef. "Look Davey, he brought this for you boys."

Davey stood on his toes and looked over the brim of the large basket, his eyes widening at the rows of desserts.

There were things he had seen before when gazing in bakery windows. That had been when he was orphaned and alone, when hunger had ruled his days. He remembered looking longingly into the shop windows, the food just beyond his reach. Confections he had coveted, yet never thought he would ever be blessed enough to receive.