Standing in line, Simon’s heart was beating. He had a vague recollection of the King’s father coming here many years ago, when he was just a boy, but he had never even seen his son, the new King Julian. The whole county had been buzzing all week long in anticipation and Simon, along with his two older brothers, had bathed and dressed in their finest clothes in preparation. The King was coming to dine at their house, and they would most certainly be ready.
Simon did not know what to expect from the King. Handsome by all accounts, ascending to the throne at the age of only eighteen, he had produced three male heirs before his wife, the Queen, had died at the age of twenty-two. Would he be a sad and melancholy soul as a result? Simon didn’t know what he would say to him, if he even got the chance to.
A carriage arrived amidst more men on horses than Simon had ever seen in these parts. He wondered if his father had accounted for this many horses in the stables. Then, stepping out of the carriage, came a very well dressed and handsome man. The rumours had been right. King Julian was a beauty to behold. Taller than any other man by his side, Julian’s long, dark blonde hair framed his handsome, masculine face. Below, even his fine clothes could not distract from the impressive stature of his body underneath: broad chested, muscular and slim around the waist; it was a wonder that maidens did not faint at the sight of him.
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