The King Is Dead

The King Is Dead

The sentry crow summoned a murder using a series of calls. When they arrived, squawking and complaining, he silenced them with the lift of a feather.

“We have received solemn news.”

“The King is dead, long live the Queen!”

Then the questions and comments began:

“We must avenge him!”

“How did he die?”

“Perhaps the Queen did it.”

Sentry held up the feather again.

“We are summoned to a murder of all crows in the country. We will sit for the mourning and funeral. We leave now!”

“Save your breath for the flight. We can discuss things further at the night rest stops, of which there will only be four,” Sentry advised.

“Follow me!”

In minutes, the flock were on the wing, picking up others as they flew. By the time they arrived at the old castle ruins that had been the seat of their kings for time immemorial, they were thousands strong. They circled the walls and landed in a group, not far from others.

“The Queen!” spread among the crows as a resplendent and glossy female wearing a small crown arrived.

Sentry greeted her as was proper with both wings spread out and a low bow.

“Your Majesty, our condolences for your loss.”

“It is a sad day, ’tis true. My husband had just finished a long feast of carrion as was our custom. When he stood to take his leave, he stumbled and fell off his favorite parapet to his death.”

Sentry nodded, hiding his suspicion. King Black Bart had always been a prodigious eater but had never stumbled in his long life!

“This will need some investigation.”

By the morning of the funeral, they had captured the murderous Queen and trussed her up for the high Crow Court to decide her fate.