After devouring his second feast of the morning; a feast of whole roast boar accompanied by roasted green, red peppers, garlic and herbs, Lord Nepheshia died while half-way through his favourite pomegranate and cherry pie dessert.

Courtiers, stunned by the sudden demise of their thirty two year old Lord, made hasty preparations for a grand funeral while his loyal servants managed to roll the dead ruler’s massive bulk onto a wide,lead bier.

After cleansing their master’s body with essence of lavender, Lord Nepheshia’s body was draped in yards of pure white linen while the Royal Canary sang a beautiful dirge from its golden cage.

Seria, a black puma, watched the proceedings from her red velvet cushion that lay beside a pink marbled fire place and as she watched, she observed the ritual with certain knowledge that past royal pets were slain and laid to rest beside the bodies of their dead masters.

Eji, her young keeper, had grown fond of the puma and was proud that Seria permitted only him to tend to her needs and as he caressed her silky ears, she wound her sleek body around his legs, her thick platinum collar, studded with one ruby the size of a man’s fist, richly glinting in fire light.

‘Unleash me after Lord Nepheshia’s body is taken into the inner sanctum and the ruby will be yours,’ Seria purred to Eji.

Startled by the purring voice but not having the heart to carry out his duty by slaying the beautiful feline, and lusting after the precious jewel, Eji promised the puma that she would be saved.

When the time came, Eji unleashed Seria and as he released her, the cat leapt upon him killing him with one snap of her jaws. Then crawling beneath white linen, she nestled between her Lord’s obese legs where she remained.

On the following afternoon, as the funeral cortege emerged from the dark confines of the inner sanctum, eight white oxen harnessed to the bier, began to haul their heavy load through gilded palace gates, and as they did so, millions of rose petals poured down from roof tops, creating a flood of reds and pinks on cobbled ground.

Amid the sounds of grief, Seria crept from her hiding place and, jumping down, slunk off into a dark alley, unseen by thousands of weeping eyes.

Three hours later, the cortege arrived at the Lord’s opulent resting place.

‘Slay Seria and the royal canary!’ The Lord’s Chancellor cried out to the now silent crowd.

High up on a cypress clad hillside overlooking the city, black storm clouds loomed and growled with ominous intention as Seria purred her future revenge.