The last wife of the King was the best of them all.
The fairest, the wittiest, the kindest.
The town had been in an uproar on the day of the wedding.
Some joyous, some envious, some indifferent, some mocking.
It had always been spoken of,
That the one who wedded royalty had gotten the prize.
But it was not so in this case.
For they all exclaimed, “Tis the King who is the prize.”
As Shoshanna was by far, the loveliest woman they had ever set their eyes on.
And again they spoke amongst themselves,
How possible was it that the King would want another wife?
Surely as far as it came to one who were wise and true,
He had picked the very best of the lot.
So King Henry of Discili in that moment was the most envied man on the earth.
And so the days followed in the house of the King.
Forty days of merriment to celebrate the King’s new bride,
And his last wife.
For the commoners in a frenzy had nicknamed her on her day;
The last wife of the King.
And King Henry was merry.
Taking tours around his Kingdom and abroad.
Everywhere in the accompaniment of his lovely Shoshanna.
With shoulders high and a preening stare, he boasted;
That no one could his wife compare.
A virtuous woman she was called. One who knew to be silent when her husband spoke.
The other wives were crazed with spite.
How lovely was she?
How knowledgeable with books and the scriptures was she?
That they be tossed aside from their Lord’s bed and his heart so unceremoniously.
But they didn’t dare do her harm.
For the once valorous King Henry had become so besotted,
He was perpetually joined at the hip of his Shoshanna.
But all was right in the kingdom of Discily.
And even more so in the heart of King Henry.
He had struck gold with this one.
That he knew for a certainty.
But as the months turned slowly into years.
Jealousy had crept dangerously into the heart of King Henry.
Why was her face so fair to all she came across?
And how hilarious was the joke of the gardener that she let out her melodious laughter so unroyally?
Why was she overly friendly with the neighbours?
And why was the smile he thought was uniquely for him,
Callously dispensed to all and sundry.
And so King Henry of Discily grew bitter by the day.
Each day producing a man greener by the minute with envy.
And when he could endure it no more, he accosted her,
Fastidiously he warned,
That she desist from being so classless with her mannerisms and indiscriminate with her smiles.
And the wise Shoshanna unwisely asked her master.
“How is it that you scorn me so, of the same virtues you once adored.”
And when she curtseyed away, the King was vexed and his blood curdled with rage.
Tearing at his garment and then his hair, the audacity of his Queen to advise him so.
Like a knowing teacher to a petulant student.
He remained in his throne room for a day and an hour. No food nor water nor the warmth of his chamber.
And when he was done he called for his trusted men.
For if she keeps taunting me with her words and her smiles,
What better way was it than to let her mind think no more and her lips smile no more?
And so before the break of dawn when the otherworldly stopped roaming the land of the living,
Queen Shoshana breathed her last under the hand of the sword.
And there was uproar in the land of Discily.
For it was the moment King Henry saw the blood, that he realized his folly.
Cursing himself to the ends of the earth,
He wrapped himself in her bloodied clothes and wept to the point of hysteria,
And before the eyes of the soldiers could blink, he seized the very sword that was used minutes before,
And sent it straight into his heart.
A smile on his face as he fell in a heap beside her.
So it was known in the land of Discily, the irony of the nickname Shoshanna was so cleverly given.
And as they were laid to rest beside each other.
The words were inscribed on the headstone.
“No story of tragedy unforseen like that of King Henry of Discily and Shoshanna, His Last Queen.”
My entry to today's Daily Prompt by 
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