In all honesty, being a Frenchman in the middle of England was not the most comfortable situation in which to find myself. Our countries may have been at peace for over half a century, but hundreds of years of fighting had clearly resulted in a long-standing grudge. I had gotten more than a few nasty looks during my time here.
President Emile was supposed to be here, not me. But the soon-to-be king had fallen ill with some internal disease that required immediate surgery, and the coronation had been postponed. For over two months.
Finally, however, it was happening, late in August, when the weather was as muggy as it ever got in England.
The queen looked resplendent in her luxurious gown, glittering jewelry hanging from her neck and ears. I was surprised at how good the king looked as well. Aside from a slight limp and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, he looked strong and confident. Just as a ruler should.
Perhaps I wasn't supposed to be here. Perhaps the last two months had been a hellish battle of fighting the prejudice thrown at me at every turn.
But this had been worth it. This magnificent ceremony, the ushering in of a new era.
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Nonfiction/Historical Fiction Contest Entries
Non-FictionA compilation of nonfiction and historical fiction contest entries!
