Sir Trevor would be missing from the castle for most of the day. He was kept truly busy by the Lords of the Privy Purse.
Already great thought was being given, as to how to honour them at the the end of the year festivities. A delicate matter indeed. Not too much nor too little for each.
Our Lady, Cheryl in the meanwhile, was ensuring that her beloved pet, was groomed, bathed and powdered. Called Sorrocco, after the wind that blew off the Arabian Desert, he certainly put one in mind of the desert. With coat coloured like the desert sands, grey tipped ears and paws. A tail plumed in grey, reminiscent of a shimmering mirage. Lastly, eyes of azure blue as penetrating as the desert sky, he was as royal a cat, as any yet born.
He had been a gift from Sir Trevor to our Lady on the day celebrating her birth. It was often asked if our Knight had aquired him from a Bedouin on one of his many quests.
No comments:
Post a Comment