The Palace of Hampton Court

The equerry knocked discreetly on the door and waited for a reply. Hearing none, he stood for a few seconds and then knocked again, rather more forcefully this time.

'Come in!'

Pushing down on the door handle with his elbow, for he was encumbered by a large box of documents, the functionary entered the room. From behind an elaborately carved ormolu desk His Majesty Alfred II, King of England, Lord of the Isles, Emperor of India, Defender of the Faith and many other titles, most of them purely honorary, looked up. 'More papers, Alan?'

'Yes, sire. I'm afraid so.'

'Put them down there.' The box landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud. 'What does Harold think he's doing, eh, Alan?'

'I could not say, sire.' The equerry read the note which was tucked into the top left-hand corner of the box, tied down with a piece of red silk. 'The PM's office present their duty and entreat your majesty to give his consideration to the urgent matters contained within, sire.'

'Just the usual everyday bumf, then.'

'Quite so, sire.'

'Thank you, Alan.' The equerry left the room, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

'You're too soft on him.' The king's panther-daemon rested her chin on his knee. 'It's his job to sort out the really important stuff, not yours.'

'Take a look at them for me, would you Eleanor?'

With unconscious grace the panther moved to the side of the desk where the box lay, and bit through the tapes which held it closed. 'What's in there?'

'Land reform bill for signing,' she lifted a sheaf of papers in her jaws and put them down on the floor, 'financial stuff from the Admiralty, a petition…'

'A petition?'

'From the people of the village of Much Matchingham who beg your gracious consent to erect a statue in your honour…'

'Granted!'

'And a letter from the PM inviting you to Chequers next month for a long weekend. How on earth did it get mixed up with that lot?' Eleanor dropped the letter in Alfred's lap. 'Are we going?'

'If the queen doesn't object, yes. Harry's a good sort. He just needs to get his office people better organised!'

The king looked despairingly at the piles of official documents which covered the desk. 'Look at all that lot! If I didn't know better, I'd say…'

'I'd say we do know better. Let's go for a walk.'

The grounds of Hampton Court Palace amount to fifty acres or so and are, except for the famous maze, mostly laid to lawn. They make the perfect location for a private talk, among people who would rather not be overheard. It was not at all unusual for the King to walk by himself – without human company, that is – and think over matters of state.

'You were saying, Eleanor?'

'Can we get out of this gale?'

The king and his daemon made for the shelter of a rhododendron bush.

'I was saying that…'

'If you didn't know better…'

'We were being intentionally overloaded with paperwork…'

'To distract us from…'

'What's really on our mind. Yes, You're right. We seem to be getting three or four boxes a day…'

'Instead of only one or two, as we used to.'

'Yes. I'm beginning to wish we'd not said anything to anyone about our reasons for calling this Council. The reception's tonight, isn't it?'

'Yes, Alfred. In the Amber Hall in Westminster, at eight. It's not for hours yet.'

'It's beastly weather. I suppose all the Councillors will be able to get here in time.'

'They're all here now, except for the delegate from Jordan.'

'How do you know that? Did I miss something?'

'Only a chance remark at lunch. Father James said something about academics and their lackadaisical ways.'

'There's no love lost there!'

'Between Jordan and the Church? No, there isn't.'

'Well, never mind. There are plenty of trains from Oxford to Paddington for the Jordan man to take, I expect. He'll be along soon enough. I wonder if they're sending old George, or if it'll be Leonard this time.'

'We'll find out tonight. Let's go back in. You're getting wet.'

The gardener who had been diligently hoeing the flowerbed behind the rhododendron bush thought about what he had overheard. No, there had been nothing so important that it couldn't wait until the afternoon tea break and his regular meeting with his spiritual advisor.