Casimir's Journey by Lisa Manifold Page A

wondering. You look very much like the old king, you know?”
    “Do I? Haven’t seen him in years, although I remember him as handsome. You might be giving me too much credit, friend,” Casimir said with a laugh.
    “No, you do. It’s the face, sort of,” Morely said, tilting his head and studying him. “Not a bad thing, to look like the king. Although I wouldn’t be him now, not for the world.”
    “Why?”
    “His son, Casimir, the one who was staying with the king in Gallivas? The one betrothed, or all but, to Thea, the oldest daughter?”
    “Oh, yes, I know of him. What has happened to Casimir?” Interesting how Morley hadn’t heard that Thea was betrothed to someone else. He wondered if the rest of his countrymen thought he and Thea engaged.
    “He was beheaded less than a fortnight ago. I saw it,” Morely said, with a visible shudder.
    “You saw it?” His own horror was back instantaneously.
    “I did. He was very brave, was Casimir. I should hope to be so brave at my end.”
    “I’d heard that he was taking on the challenge King Aland issued, but have heard nothing since,” Casimir said. He didn’t know what else to say. Speaking of his own death gave him a chill that would not go away.
    “He failed, and Aland took his head,” Morely said flatly. “I didn’t think it would happen, myself. Casimir fostered with the family. I thought for certain that he would be spared.”
    “I guess Aland needed to keep his word,” said Casimir.
    “Perhaps. But what good does it do? Doesn’t help his daughters. Slippers still showing up a mess every morning, and now everyone thinks him cruel. I know my lord expected him to pardon Casimir.”             
    “That’s unfortunate for the family,” Casimir said.
    “Both families,” agreed Morely. “I wouldn’t want to be either king right now. Well, I must be on my way. Keep your head down, Yates.” His last sentence was said with intensity.
    “I generally do. May I ask why the special warning?”
    “With Casimir gone, and his body missing—”
    “What do you mean his body is missing?” Casimir grabbed Morely’s arm.
    Morely looked at him and then removed his arm from Casimir’s grip. “Some old crone took the body, supposedly to King Markellus, and the crone hasn’t turned up as of yet. There’s a big to-do about it. You look like the prince. Not entirely, just an air about you. So be wary. People are on edge.”
    With a last look, Morely turned and packed his small pouch into the saddlebag. He mounted his horse and waved to Casimir before heading back onto the road.
    Casimir sat down. So his body was missing? Well, that made sense. Catrin had sewn it back together. It couldn’t very well be laid to rest anywhere while he was still using it. His mother must be beside herself. The sooner he got to the border castle, the better.
    And the less he met with others, the better. Morely hadn’t seen right through him, but it had been close, closer than he liked. Let the hair grow a bit and the herbs wear off, and he would have no disguise.
    He packed the remains of his own meal and climbed back on the horse. His senses were still on edge. Morely might have robbed him, and Casimir remained convinced that it was only chance he hadn’t. The talk of his body made him distinctly uneasy. For the first time, he felt worried that something would go awry with his plan to reveal himself to his parents. He had no specific thing to touch upon as the reason for the unease, but it wouldn’t go away. He concentrated on making his way to the castle.
    He spent a restless night in a small copse off the main road wrapped in his cloak. He met no one after seeing Morely, and rose early, eating more of the bread while in the saddle, anxious to be at the castle.
    His push was rewarded mid-morning when the turrets of the castle came into view. He could see the pennant indicating his parents were in residence lazily flapping in the light breeze. He kicked the