A HERO RETURNED“Who?”
“Belvedere, Your Majesty. He has returned.” Monk rubbed his hands together and licked his chapped lips. “Again,” he added as an afterthought.
“Who?”
“Sir Belvedere.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Sir Belvedere Magnanimous Wainthrop, Your Majesty.”
“Stop blathering, Monk, you’re worse than that snivelling cockroach Somerset.”
Somerset scowled and took a step away from the charcoal spewing smogs of the Queen’s portable throne.
“I wonder if you’d recognise him if I said that git had returned?”
“What? What are you mithering at, Monk?” Queen Victoria gurgled through the oils that lubricated her vocal cords.
“Oh, nothing, Your Majesty,” Monk grovelled, “just a nickname.”
“Well, you might as well show him in.”
Queen Victoria rapped her newly repaired right hand on the t
