The Tale of Sir Teller

A story of a king.

            The year was 1809, and it was mid-day in a quaint little valley where the Royal Teller family lived.  The King of the land, Sir Alfred Teller, watched with a quirked eyebrow as his twin, six year old, sons ate like little piglets.  A regal march was playing from the live band in the castle’s courtyard.  The King’s wife, Lady Mary Teller, came into the dining hall carrying their young daughter, who still had sleep in her eyes.

            “Dear, has the news arrived yet?”  Mary asked the King, sitting down at the table.  A maid walked in with a tray of food made specifically for the King’s wife.  The maid placed the wooden tray on the large, hand crafted, table, and then bowed as she left the room.

            “No, I am still waiting for the butler to bring it to me.”  The King replied, leaning back in his luxurious chair, many would say that all his furniture was “fit for a king”.

            Just as if he was called, the butler entered the dining room and bowed, the daily news was still fresh in his mind.

            “Sir, the town crier spoke of a wrong doing in the Smith household, the man’s wife is apparently with child, and the man does not remember such events occurring to produce said child.  They wish to have their vows removed.  That is all.”  The butler finished, bowing out of the room.

            “That’s a pity.  The entire Smith household must be ashamed.”  Mary spoke, setting down her spoon.  “Did they not have several children already?”

            The King merely nodded, twirling his black moustache around between his thumb and forefinger.  Suddenly, the King’s brother, Charles Teller, burst into the room, he looked worn out and winded.  It took him awhile until he could speak coherently.

            “Alfred, brother, sir, my horses have broken free, could I possibly be bothersome enough to borrow several of your men to help gather them?”  He was leaning against the door frame, gasping onto the front of his rather dirty brown cloth shirt.

            “Of course, dear brother.”  Sir Alfred stood, his long purple cloak falling over his shoulders, and brushing along the ground as he removed himself from the room.

            It took the King’s men and the King’s brother several days to gather every single one of the horses, and put them securely into their paddock.  The King paid for the damage and repairs to his brother’s farm, from the kindness of his heart.  They were brothers after all.

            One day, during the time that Charles Teller was out working, Sir Alfred visited his home.  The King was disappointed that his brother wasn’t home, but he didn’t want to be rude and just leave.  He assured Charles’ wife that their debts would be removed while they talked over a cup of tea.  However, the sun was setting, so the king headed home with his escort to the main castle.

            There were no exciting events for several weeks and the king was beginning to get annoyed at his sons' animalistic behaviours.  They would butt heads like moose and run like wild deer.  He sent them to work on Charles Teller’s farm, it was harvest season and Charles needed as much help as possible.  The King took walks often down to his brother’s farm to watch his boys work.  He was proud of them.

            It was the middle of the night, and Sir Alfred lay in bed, eyes wide open and unable to sleep.  He heard a knock on the door, so he got out of bed to see who it was.  The room was elegantly decorated, with real fur rugs.

            The force behind the door was stronger than the king was, and he found himself dazed, lying on the floor.  His brother sat on top of him, reaching for the King’s throat.  His nostrils were flaring with anger, and his eyes were wild.

            “My wife is with child and I know it was you!”  Charles Teller snarled at his brother, squeezing tighter around his neck.

            “No...  Not... Me...”  The king tried to say, his voice cut off by his angered brother.  After a few more seconds of the King’s squirming, everything went eerily still and silent.  Charles removed his hands and stared down at his dead brother.  Someone gasped behind him, but he paid no attention to them.

            “Guards, guards!”  Screeched the late King’s wife, backing up against the opposite wall, trying to desperately get away from the site of her dead husband.  The guards came running, and dragged Charles away.  Later, he was hung, for the murder of the king, Sir Alfred.

            Eight months later, Charles Teller’s wife gave birth to a son, who looked remarkably like the valley’s baker.

 

Author's Note

This is a fictional story I wrote for my english class. I smile everytime I read that last line. :P