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a lot,” he replied as his eyes wandered to the chair at the end of the desk.

“Of course, sit, you look terrible.” Somer dragged the chair forward and watched as Richard dropped heavily into it. “There must be a matter of some urgency you wish to talk about if you have arrived like this?”

Richard nodded, and swallowed hard before he began. “There is,” he reached inside the cloak for a small bag slung over his shoulder, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

Somer confused, came forwards. “Please let me help you.”

Richard nodded and dropped back in the chair, Somer opened the cloak and then the leather bag that he found there. He pulled out the folded sheet, but rather than opening it he held it out for Richard to take. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes thank you,” Richard’s voice was hoarse and strained.

Somer cast his eyes around the room, finding what he wanted he rapidly filled a glass with wine and held it out. “Here drink this.”

Richard accepted the glass, raising it to his lips, his hand shaking. Somer waited patiently for him to speak. The glass empty Richard leant forward to place it on the desk, his judgement wrong, the glass tipped off the edge of the wood when his fumbling hand released it. Somer caught the glass and pushed it onto the safety of the table.

Richard swallowed and dropped back again in the chair. “Is Elizabeth still in the Tower?”

“Yes, yes she is. She has been questioned by the Privy Council about her complicity in Wyatt’s rebellion,” Somer supplied quickly.

“Will they release her?” Richard asked.

Somer looked thoughtful, “There is limited evidence against her, everything is circumstantial, however there is a lot of it and, of course, the lady had a lot to gain if Wyatt was successful.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Richard said quietly.

Somer held Richard’s eyes as he replied. “No, I do not believe they will release her.”

Richard let out a long breath, and his eyes closed.

“Richard!” Somer sounded alarmed, “are you unwell?”

Suddenly the dark eyes snapped back open. “Do you believe they will hold her in the Tower, or press for an execution?”

Somer didn’t lie. “There are many on the Privy Council who will press for a permanent solution, and Elizabeth’s execution would secure Mary’s throne.”

Richard nodded, his eyes dropped to the paper in his hand. His voice shaking he said, “Then read this.”

Richard’s hand did not move, it remained in his lap, the paper held between thumb and forefinger. Somer reached down and slid it from his hold, fishing about on his desk he produced a pair of spectacles and moving an oil lamp closer he read the script on the sheet. When he had finished, his mouth open in shock, he looked up and met Richard’s dark grey eyes watching him intently.

“If the lady is not released then that will be made public,” was all Richard said.

Somer looked from the paper to Richard and back again. “Who would do this? Who? And where did this come from?”

“I have nearly died to bring you that, and news of the threat,” Richard’s voice was quiet.

“What is to say that if the Privy Council release Elizabeth that this will not be made public anyway?” Somer asked.

“You have my word,”

Somer looked at him, his expression hard. “Is this your doing?”

Richard remained silent, matching Somer’s stare.

“I think you have shown me your hand,” Somer said, “If I burn this and call for my steward I think I could be fairly sure that there will be no revelation. Am I right?”

Richard still did not reply.

Somer let out a long breath, taking his spectacles from his nose he discarded them on his desk. “Is this the only copy?”

Then when he still did not receive a response, Somer asked again, “Is it?”

Richard’s attention was revived, and he seemed to arrive at a decision. “Yes.”

“Very well,” Somer replied, his voice serious, “I understand what you have entrusted me with.”

“I need to go, if I could borrow a horse I would be in your debt,” Richard said, moving his hands to the arms of the chair and preparing to rise.

“Good Lord man, you’re in no fit state to go anywhere,” Somer said, shock in his voice.

“A horse please, I will return it, I need to get back to my brother,” Richard continued as he rose from the chair.

“Your brother can wait,” Somer said, moving towards Richard who swayed on unsteady legs.

“No, no he won’t. I need to get back to him,” Richard wondered for a moment if Somer had closed the shutters on the window. Why else had the room grown so suddenly dark?

Somer let out an alarmed exclamation as the man before him collapsed in a heap on the carpet in his study.

 

 

 

Here follows a brief excerpt from the first chapter in the next book in the series A Queen’s Traitor.

 

Sam Burnell

 

An Excerpt From The Next Book In The Series

‘A Queen's Traitor: Mercenary For Hire Book 2’

Available on Amazon

 

The servant heard the movement from the truckle bed in the corner as the man rolled over and he knew he was awake then. He’d been given instructions by his master and hastily went in search of him.

“What day is it?” Richard’s voice was weak and broke as he tried to form the words.

“It’s a Tuesday… not that that will be much good to you.” Somer chuckled.

“Tuesday… that means I’ve been here for nearly a week.” Richard said in a hoarse rasp.

“Like I said, that fact of a Tuesday would be no good to you lad; you’ve been there for nearly three. And as likely to stop there another couple I would guess,” Somer said. “God has saved you, he didn’t have to, but he most assuredly did.”

“So long… but it can’t…”

“It was and it is. You’d a bad wound, and you bled a lot. I thought we’d be digging a grave for you the next morning I surely did, or at least the morning after. I prayed for your soul when I saw that there was nothing else that could be done.”

“A drink…” Richard voice managed.

Somer poured one from the pitcher on the table and handed it Richard. A hand behind his head, he helped him raise himself so he could sip from the cup. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he fell back, spent by the effort of sitting up.

Richard’s eye’s focused finally on Somer’s face, and he became aware of who he was talking to. He spoke only one word, but it was filled with foreboding. “Elizabeth?”

Somer smiled and lay a hand on his arm. “She has been released from the Tower.”

 

 

 

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