A Flock of Sheep

***Start of the year 1773.***

The King was immediately by the Queen’s side. Despite his eccentricity, he had always been dearly attached to her. Even I, poorly as she had treated me, felt some sort of sadness about her passing immediately. The King was the essence of the country, but a Queen was the beating heart of a court. Without her, chaos would surely ensue amongst the Ladies, eager to bind themselves to the now single King, gathering around him like a flock of sheep.

Among the chaos, I heard a familiar voice boom through the crowd.

‘‘SHE HAS BEEN POISONED,’’ said the dismissed General.

I looked at Peyton’s back, now neatly clad in a simple navy cravat, combined with a matching pantalon. I had to admit that he looked as handsome as he looked plain.

‘‘Look at the floor where her glass fell,’’ said Peyton.

I walked towards the dais to take a closer look, ignoring the protests of the other guests.

Among the shattered glass of her cup were holes in the wall, in the shape of which the liquid she had been drinking must have fallen.

Peyton looked around sharply, his eyes widening when he noticed the condition of most of the courtiers. They could hardly stand on their feet, and some of them were vomiting. Others were coughing. When Lady Brimstree removed her white glove from her mouth, big dark red spots came into view.

‘‘WE ARE BEING MURDERED,’’ cried Lady Silverton.

Several other voices were shouting in panic. My heart beat loudly in my chest, looking around for Frederick. But he was nowhere to be found.

However, I felt the strong arm of my husband around my shoulders, guiding me away from the noises. He walked towards the guards, who were watching what was happening in confusion.

Peyton walked towards an officer with an abundance of golden decorations on his red coat.

‘‘Are you the head officer,’’ he barked.

The officer nodded furiously.

‘‘I am General Thomas,’’ he said quickly. I want you to watch every single courtier that leaves the palace, and make sure each one of them is escorted to their rooms by one of the officers. Look for any strange behaviour, and report it back to me.’’

The officer had barely saluted to him before my husband started shouting.

‘‘No one should take a sip of that punch!’’ He shouted, his eyes clouded by fanaticism.

He didn’t look at me, but he took me by the arm nonetheless as he walked again towards the dais where the queen was. One of the guards was already pulling up the Queen.

‘‘Bring her to Mr. Podrige,’’ said the General, referring to the Queen’s physician, ‘‘he will announce with more certainty whether the Queen was poisoned or not.’’

‘‘No,’’ cried the King, ‘‘I will not leave her.’’

I watched in amazement as my husband let go of my arm to embrace the King.

‘‘You will see her again soon, Your Majesty.’’

The King fell into my husband’s arms like a weeping child. I, meanwhile, tried to stay standing despite the shock. I was certainly glad of Peyton’s paranoia now. If he hadn’t taken me from the ballroom, I might have suffered the same fate as Lady Brimtree. The Queen had always been a drinker, and the overdose of the poisoned punch must have taken its toll on her and Lady Brimtree.

‘‘Have the court physician see to all others,’’ my husband shouted at a lost servant, while holding the King in his arms, ‘‘and make sure that no one leaves the palace tonight.’’

"As you wish, General," said the servant immediatly before dashing off.

Now that chaos had ensued, I had to admit that my husband took great care of everything. Everyone had seemingly forgotten that Peyton had retired from his service as a General. Including Peyton himself.

As the guards took the King away, he remained in the room. Almost all the guests had left, and he strode towards a silver bowl, filled with golden liquid.

"This needs to be examined by someone who knows about poison," murmured Peyton.

"That would be a toxicologist," I said without thinking.

The General turned around, surprised at my contribution.

"Yes," he said dumbfoundedly, "do you happen to know any?"

I grimaced, thinking about the Queen's and Lady Brimtree's preference for certain substances, which had to be examined by a toxicologist before they were allowed to use them.

"Unfortunately, I do."

"That's fortunate, then," said Peyton, "I will leave it to you to contact him."

He looked at the holes in the beautiful marble floor in silence.

"Whoever did this must have prepared this very thoroughly," he mumbled, "perhaps this toxicologist of yours also aided them. By being aware of the Queen's habits, that is certainly a possibility."

"It must either be someone with resentment towards the Queen. Or someone who perhaps doesn't agree with the choices of His Majesty," I said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps," my husband agreed, "or perhaps this is only the begining. There may be other targets involved."

I shivered.

''What sort of targets do you mean?"

Peyton's dark eyes seemed to be lit on fire by sudden passion.

"We once had an assasin in our midst, on the border of the country when we were about to step into enemy territory. He didn't fight, but one by one, the soldiers fell dead. They all were talented individuals. If I have learned one thing, it is that victims always have something in common. And if we cannot find the perpetrator tonight, his victims will reveal their identity sooner or later."

I nodded, mulling it over.

"It could also be a woman. There are plenty of envious Ladies out there. And with the King dead, one of them could propose themselves as the new Queen."

He shook his head.

"It could be, but such a Lady would be a very obvious suspect."

I frowned at his dismissive tone.

"Maybe she works together with someone else," I insisted.

Again, he looked at me in surprise at my defiant tone.

Once again my husband's warm fingers folded themselves around my arm. His grip, however, was more gentle now.

"I will escort you to your quarters before looking into this. The murderer might still be out there."

I blushed when I saw that same passion spark in his eyes again.

"Will it not interfere with the investigation?"

"I will not abandon you this time, Clarice."