“The King! The King is dead!”

Leading Horace, they fought their way through the surging crowd as people tried to move closer to get a better view. Sean saw them coming and signaled for them to move to the front of the stand, where he leaned down and helped haul them up onto the raised platform.

“What happened?” asked Halt.

Wordlessly, Sean gestured for them to take a closer look. Ferris was in his throne, a surprised expression on his face, his eyes wide open. Finally, the royal steward found his voice.

“I don’t know. Nobody saw it in all the excitement of the duel. When I looked back, there he was, dead. Perhaps it’s a stroke or a heart attack.”

But Halt was shaking his head. Gently, he tried to move the King forward and felt resistance. Peering behind the throne, he saw the flights of the crossbow bolt protruding from the thin wood. The missile had gone through the back of the chair and into Ferris’s back, killing him instantly, pinning him to the chair.

The Kings of Clonmel, Chapter 45