<span style="color: #0080FF">Earl Wylyam Ramsay</span>completed his morning routine and with Alan’s help dressed in his finest winter garments. His embroidered red and black outer coat was underlain by sleeves of the finest French silk, which he wore together with dark trousers (rather than hose) to ward off the chill. His cap in place, Wil made a final check before Alan departed.<br/><br/>“Donna forget th’ Queen’s gift,” he commented in his brogue to his squire. Nodding dutifully, Alan stepped over to collect them both. Within a few moments the servant had returned with the King’s treatise and a small bale of the finest embroidery thread interwoven with delicate strands of gold, intended for the queen. It was clear the King’s friend had spared no expense on his gifts this year. Once satisfied Wil dismissed his squire with an approving nod.<br/><br/>The walk across the palace was uneventful at that hour, though Alan found the passageways too dark and cold for his liking. Before long he arrived outside the King’s chambers. Once there he was not surprised to find a small line of other servants waiting outside the King’s door. Alan nodded respectfully to the others before taking up a position behind the servants from the King’s immediate family. He wound up standing next to a servant of Prince Ewan, the King’s uncle. The teenage boy looked nervous as he held a box in his hands.<br/><br/>“First time to see the King, eh?” Alan asked him. The boy nodded nervously in response.<br/><br/>“Don’t worry, the King is very gracious. It’s<span style="color: #FF4000">Prince Ewan </span>you should be nervous about. What’s in the box, anyway?”<br/><br/>The boy looked away and gulped.  “R-Roman coins. Gold ones…” he answered. “Uncovered during the renovations at Bradstoe Hall. “Quite rare…” he added, trying to convince himself everything was going to be alright. “Shiny…”<br/><br/>Alan rolled his eyes just as the man with Elizabeth’s letter passed him in the corridor. Within a few minutes her messenger had retraced Alan’s path through the dark to Sir Wylyam’s door.<br/><br/>The man was admitted and given a small token for his services before being dismissed. Wil opened the letter without any sign of anticipation in order to downplay the excitement that had welled up inside him. Hidden behind his somber expression was a young man in love, whose heart leapt at the prospect of meeting Elisabeth later that day in private. He walked over to his fire and consigned the message to the flame as soon as he finished reading it. He did this not because he did not wish to keep the letter; but rather because he would never compromise Elisabeth’s virtue by keeping a copy. The palace was filled with those who would happily destroy their rivals if given the chance. The Saville’s recent troubles made discretion all the more pressing for the young would-be couple. In light of that, Wil decided to answer her request in person when they both met in court later that day rather than risk a letter of response.<br/><br/>Quite pleased with his lot in life, Early Wylyam strode out of his chambers and made his way to the great hall. Surely some other distinguished guests were milling about there while waiting for breakfast. Perhaps, if he were lucky, Elizabeth herself and her family might arrive.<br/><br/>As he walked, another of his servants in tow, Wil’s whistling echoed through the halls and up the stairs to Prince Ewan’s chamber. Inside, Ewan angrily rolled over in his bed as an attempt to fall back asleep.<br/><br/>“To hell with all ‘Rik bastards,” Ewan mumbled to himself, knowing full from whom the whistle had emanated.