Henry stood outside of the king’s quarters and knocked. A harsh command came from the other side. Smiling, the young boy slid the door open and then pushed aside the thick, well woven red silk curtains. He bowed his head, body bending at a ninety-degree angle. “Your highness, this lowly minstrel hopes to play for you songs of peace.”   CURRENTLY BEING RE-WRITTEN AS ORIGINAL FICTION.

Swallowing hard, Henry stared down at the man who sat on the floor, holding his bruised cheek. “Get out.”