A Clash of Spheres by P.F. Chisholm

Author:P.F. Chisholm [Chisholm, P.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786696199
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2017-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

“Not so fery gut, but I vill look,” said the girl and took the paper from Anricks with a big smile. Anricks started looking anxious again.

The girl scanned the text, raised her nicely plucked eyebrows and read, “My dear bruder, quickly this is for say your…your plan, your idea of killing Solomon cannot verk and iss wrong and you must instantly stop. I know you my husband betrayed, which I do not forgive, but still my bruder you are and I must try. Do not kill Solomon. My love.”

Lady Widdrington blinked at the page. “What does that mean?” she asked.

Carey was looking thunderstruck and also pale. “Solomon?” said Anricks, “Who is Solomon?”

“It could mean the King,” he said slowly, “Also of course, any wise man, but it could…”

“Solomon?”

“Well, the King is very wise of course…”

“It iss zee old rudeness,” said the girl, looking haughty, “Zat my Royal husband is truly the son of David Riccio, Queen Maria’s secretary.”

“Your…” began Anricks and then found Carey’s hand on his shoulder, pressing him inexorably down to the rushes as Carey himself knelt on one knee.

“Your Highness,” said Carey, with his head bowed, “please forgive my intrusion and my stupidity…”

“Stuff ond silliness,” said the girl, looking highly delighted, “I made Lady Viddrington bring me with her for she should haf a woman and I vont see the man vat steal her heart and make her sad for she cannot haf you.”

Both Carey and Lady Widdrington had gone bright red.

“Now ve should talk, yes? I vil go back, put on a robe and come out viss my dear Lady Schevengen wot speak Deutsch gut.”

She grinned at both of them and slipped through the door.

“We were playing cards,” said Lady Widdrington, a little helplessly. “Unfortunately, I got a bit drunk on flower-water last week and…”

Carey was smoothly on his feet again. Anricks stood up and then turned aside as Carey stepped across the space between himself and Lady Widdrington and took her shoulders gently in his hands. “Please…” he breathed. “Please…” The man-at-arms was tactfully staring into space.

Lady Widdrington put her hands up to Carey’s neck and pulled his head fiercely down to hers. Anricks didn’t know what happened next because he made sure he didn’t see and stood staring at a painting of some Greek gods in the Italian style and thought longingly of his Rebecca with her plump belly and stretch marks and wonderful soft dark hair.

“Well,” said Lady Widdrington half laughing, “that tastes much better than last time…mmmm…”

Carey hadn’t spoken and they were busy again until Anricks heard some loud thumps on the other side of the door and coughed loudly.

By the time the Queen came through the door in a magnificent purple velvet gown with her hair up and her cap arranged to show some of her smooth blond hair, followed by a stout matron in cramoisie who seemed to be complaining at length in Danish, Carey and Lady Widdrington were again at a decorous distance. There was only a distinct nibblemark on Carey’s lower lip to show that anything had happened at all.

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