Revolution

Two guards stand attentive outside Lady Coverly's bedchamber as the church bell tolls twelve times. Is't midnight already? Asks one in a biting tone. I'd've thought our duty had just begun, so fascinating has this night been thus far. Bored are you? Asks the other. Then I have some news to tell you, in hopes it may entertain your underused brain. Not two nights from now shall there be a revolt upon the king, a usurpation of the highest degree, a part in which eight of our fellow sentrymen shall play. Usurpation? Asks the other stupidly, and the second guard nods gravely. Tis true, he replies. Will you not take part in our scheme to rid our kingdom of its most unjust ruler in nearly a century? Ay no, says the other hastily. If this be a test I stand firm in my loyalty to the king our majesty, and thus have passed. Tis not a test, spits the second guard. And if you be not with us you be against us. We will not see the uprising fail. What mean you to do? Cries the first, a worried tremble running through his coarse voice. Are we not friends? Shall we fight each other when the fateful day arrives? Not then says the second. There shall be no fight, comrade, as I have just now decided to end your life this moment, lest news of the revolution spill from between your cowardly lips. And with that the second guard spears the first through the heart, just as Lady Coverly screams from the depths of her bedchamber, that instant waking from a horrible nightmare.