I was silent for a few moments, reflecting on what he had said. Specifically, I was berating myself for being so selfish in my thinking, of only considering the consequences to me in my decision of whether or not to marry Queen Hemlock. Even when I had been thinking of my friends and colleagues, I had been looking at it in terms of my loss of their friendship, not what it might mean to them.
“Then again, perhaps I was wrong in my assumption.”
The General’s words interrupted my thoughts, and I was suddenly aware that he had been waiting for a response from me.
“Forgive me, General . . . Hugh,” I said hastily. I had to think quickly to recall his first name. “I was simply lost in thought for a moment. Certainly I have no objections. I’ve always held you in the highest regard, and, if Massha is amenable, I would be the last to stand between her and happiness. Feel free to proceed with my approval . . . and best wishes.”
Badaxe seized my hand and pumped it hard . . . unfortunately before I could pull it away in alarm.
“Thank you, Lord . . . Skeeve,” he said with an intensity I had only seen him express in battle planning. “I … Thank you.”
Releasing my hand, he strode to the door, opened it, then paused.
“Were it not for the fact that, assuming she agrees, of course, I expect Massha will ask you to give the bride away, I’d ask you to honor me by standing as my best man.”
Then he was gone . . . which was just as well, as I had no idea what to say in response.
Massha and Badaxe. Married.
Try as I might, I couldn’t get my mind around the concept . . . which is a comment on the limits of my imagination and NOT on their respective physical sizes, individually or as a twosome.