The much loved king is

dead; long live the infant Queen.

Regent lays his plans.

Regent's rich, smooth voice

tells tales of high adventure.

Small girl snuggles close.

Young girl, with long black

curls, plays with dolls and ponies.

Regent rules the land.

Arms Master coaches.

Clash of steel on steel is joined

by high pitched laughter.

Merchants give jewels,

cloth bolts and luscious morsels—

for Queen or Regent?

'You are Queen,' whispers

new ambitious governess.

'But he holds your throne.

'Men bow to Regent.

Should not respect be given

to the rightful Queen?'

Queen rides unguarded

among the people, listening:

high praise for Regent.

Merchant turns away.

None can recognise this girl

without her Viceroy.

The young Queen lashes

out to punish merchant's gall.

Crack of whip on back.

Her subjects quail as

hood cast off reveals black curls

beneath gleaming crown.

'Queen comes of age now.

Let her marry the Regent.

He has served us well.'

Regent climbs the Keep.

'I have no desire to share

my throne,' Queen tells him.

The much loved Regent,

smashed to death on cobbled stones.

The Queen rules supreme.