Murder Most Royal

‘What will Flora do? Visit her father in some common jail? How could she survive it? What about Ladybridge? Don’t you care?’

The Queen felt she had already said more than enough. The skittish horse, sensing its rider’s nervous energy, reared up in fear. More than ever, the Queen felt very small and very alone. How stupid she had been to let her passions get the better of her. She stretched out an authoritative arm to calm the animal, but Hugh dug in his heels and backed the horse up, as if lining up for a charge.

‘You’ve had a good life, ma’am.

But this is all your fault. You bloody interfering, old . . .’

He had lost all reason. The horse reared again, nose flared, eyes wide, panicking now under his unsteady guidance. In two seconds, it could mow her down. The look in Hugh’s eyes was implacable.

‘Stay back! Police!’

The rider turned to look at him, just as a figure streaked past him and headed for the wall.

‘Stop or I’ll fire!’

Depiscopo wondered if he was overreacting. He was trained for terrorists and nutters going after ministers.

Nothing in his training had included a large and frightened horse in a muddy field and the Sovereign of the Realm. He aimed his weapon at the rider’s head and hesitated.

Rozie, meanwhile, had vaulted the wall and now she flew across the tussocks of grass to reach the Queen. All she could think was that the Boss had to be safe. She had no weapon to make that happen, so she placed herself bodily between the Boss and those terrifying hooves.

The rider glanced back at the policeman who stood at the field’s edge, weapon in hand, then at Rozie.

He seemed to make a decision. His body rocked back and forward in the saddle. He lifted a hand and Depiscopo fired before he had the chance to reach whatever weapon he might be going for. But the policeman missed. In the time it took him to correct his aim, the rider wheeled the horse around, undid his chinstrap and threw off his hard hat. Depiscopo fired again and missed again as the horse moved off at speed.

The rider gave the Queen one last, brief glance over his shoulder. Then they all watched as he turned back and headed at a gallop for the furthest corner of the paddock, where the hedging was highest. There was no way he would make it over. He flicked the horse’s flank twice with his crop and leaned forward in the saddle. Two paces from the hedge, he took off with all his strength, but it was an impossible task. There was a sickening scream, and then silence.