Continued from Part One
He stops in the act of dismantling – the raven directly in line with his left eye. Reluctantly, he climbs onto the chair to unhook the left panel of rubberised black fabric that contains the bird’s image. Then, smiling, he remembers the last minute decision to add the raven panels… such an important part of the Queen’s journey.
Somehow, it seems a sacrilege to take them down…
The stream of consciousness that now belongs to the twenty receivers of the told story opens. It is there, again… and alive…
There is a moment when all the power in the room passes from the artful Marlow, who has lived up to his reputation for skirting the edge of Elizabethan acceptable behaviour, to the Queen. Her regal gaze, a generation older than many in the room, fixes him like a serpent.
“Elizabeth, Queen of England and Ireland…” The playwright bows, backing away and leaving the intricate space of the chequered Court Floor for the sovereign. She rises, the gold dress swirling around her.
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