"What time is it?" Time to die...
|"You were my love."
"I was never your lover!"
"No ... never your lover ... you were my love."
"Then why do you mention this now? You die tomorrow."
Harold Magnus and Charles Regus sat across from each other at the old oak table as the fragrance of sandlewood filled the room. There was no breeze. It was thundering outside and the windows were shut.
"What time is it?"
"Does it matter? It's always a good time to die."
"Why do you sneer? I came to you because you are dying and should know that someone loved you."
"How so? I'm not dying but you will be at dawn."
"You'll know soon enough. You sentenced me to die. Why?"
"You refused to support my execution of the queen. That I can forgive. But you refused to bow to me and that I cannot."
"I'll never bow to you."
"You will when you're on your knees begging for mercy tomorrow."
"I never beg."
"Maybe I should torture you first."
"That's acceptable. I'll cry out your name with each scream as if you were ..."
"Yes, enough. Life has been good to us."
"Speak for yourself."
"You had two beautiful queens who gave you two bright-eyed sons. Your daughter adores you. It's for them I mourn."
"Why?" Charles Magnus asked weakly.
"Who will hold them tight now? You're almost dead."
They stared at each other. One in anger. One with a smile.
"Well, maybe we should die together," Harald Magnus said as he took a sip out of a blue cup, "I've poisoned the tea. It takes awhile. We'll go to sleep. It's painless."
No one answered as Charles Regus slumped.
"Poison is the choice of women and cowards," he whimpered.
"And also of those who love."