Saturday, April 27, 1991
KING CHARLES III made the final
decision.
The election had duly taken place as
decreed by royal proclamation. The
polling
... [Show More] booths had been closed, the
votes counted, the computers turned off-,
and the experts and amateurs alike had
collapsed into their beds in disbelief
when they had heard the final result.
The new King had been unable to
sleep that Friday night while he
considered yet again all the advice that
had been offered to him by his courtiers
during the past twenty-four hours. The
choice he had been left with was by no
means simple, considering how recently
he had ascended the throne.
A few minutes after Big Ben had
struck 6 A.M., the morning papers were
placed in the corridor outside his
bedroom. The King slipped quietly out
of bed, put on his dressing gown and
smiled at the startled footman when be
opened the door. The King gathered up
the papers in his arms and took them
through to the morning room in order that
the Queen would not be disturbed. Once
he had settled comfortably into his
favorite chair, he turned to the editorial
pages. Only one subject was wortfiy of
their attention that day. The Fleet Street
editors had all come to the same
conclusion. The result of the election
could not have been closer, and the new
King had been placed in a most delicate
position as to whom he should call to be
his first Prime Minister.
Most of the papers went on to
give the King their personal advice on
whom he should consider according to
their own political affiliations. The
London Times alone offered no such
opinion, but suggested merely that His
Majesty would have to show a great
deal of courage and fortitude in facing
his first constitutional crisis if the
monarchy was to remain credible in a
modern world.
The fort y-three-year-old King
dropped the papers on the floor by the
side of his chair and considered once
again the problems of which man to
select.
What a strange game politics
was, he considered. Only a short time
ago there had been clearly three men to
consider, and then suddenly one of them
was no longer a contender. The two men
remaining-who he suspected had also
not slept that night – could not have been
more different – and yet in some ways
they were so alike. They had both
entered the House of Commons in 1964
and had then conducted glittering careers
in their twentyfive years as members of
Parliament. Between them they had held
the portfolios of Trade, Defense, the
Foreign Office and the Exchequer before
being elected to lead their respective
parties.
As Prince of Wales, the King had
watched them both from the sidelines
and grown to admire their different
contributions to public life. On a
personal level, he had to admit, he had
always liked one while respecting the
other.
The King checked his watch and
then pressed a bell on the table by his
side. A valet dressed in a royal blue
uniform entered the room as if he had
been waiting outside the door all night.
He began to lay out the King’s morning
suit as the monarch went into the
adjoining room where his bath had
already been drawn. When the King
returned he dressed in silence before
taking a seat at a small table by the
window to be served breakfast. He ate
alone. He had left firm instructions that
none of the children were to disturb him.
At eight o’clock he retired to his
study to listen to the morning news.
There was nothing fresh to
report. The commentators were now
only waiting to discover which man
would be invited to the palace to kiss
hands.
At nine-fifteen he picked up the
phone.
“Would you come up now,
please,” was all he said. A moment later
the Kini ‘s private sccretary entered the
room. He bowed, but ,,aid nothing, as he
could see the monarch was preoccupied.
It was several moments before the King
spoke.
“I have made my decision,” he
said quietly. [Show Less]