My dear brother!
Tragedy has struck my castle. My husband the King is dead.
The servant (who had discovered my letters) found him lying under his favorite oak tree.
He is dead. My husband the King is dead.
I am in shock. I ought to weep and wrench tear-laden handkerchiefs, but the tears will not come. My husband is dead.
Ahh, but it was a natural death. There were no wounds anywhere on him. No outward signs of…No. It couldn’t have been murder.
It couldn’t have been his brother.
It was a natural death.
I have not seen his brother for the past couple days. Therefore, he couldn’t have done it.
He wouldn’t have done it.
He knew how I felt about his devious plans. He would have honored my wishes.
I know it.
Please, dear brother. Tell me that I am not wrong. Tell me that I am not deceiving myself.
Your sister the Queen