"I'm not," Barbara said. "But I've got to get some sleep tonight, if I'm going to be any good at all tomorrow."
You're pretty good right now, Malone thought, but he didn't say a word. He felt the Queen's eye on him but didn't turn around. After all, she was on his side—wasn't she?
At any rate, she didn't say anything.
"Perhaps it would be best," Barbara said, "if you and I ... Your Majesty ... just went home and rested up. Some other time, then, when there's nothing vital to do, we could—"
"No," the Queen said. "We couldn't. Really, Lady Barbara, how often will I have to remind you of the duties you owe your sovereign—not the least of which is obedience, as dear old Ben used to say."
"Ben?" Malone said, and immediately wished he hadn't.
"Jonson, dear boy," the Queen said. "Really a remarkable man—and such a good friend to poor Will. Why, did you ever hear the story of how he actually paid Will's rent in London once upon a time? That was while Will and that Anne of his were having one of their arguments, of course. I didn't tell you that story, did I?"
"No," Malone said truthfully, but his voice was full of foreboding. "If I might remind Your Majesty of the subject," he added tentatively, "I should like to say—"
"Remind me of the subject!" the Queen said, obviously delighted. "What a lovely pun! And how much better because purely unconscious! My, my, Sir Kenneth, I never suspected you of a pointed sense of humor—could you be a descendant of Sir Richard Greene, I wonder?"
"I doubt it," Malone said. "My ancestors were all poor but Irish." He paused. "Or, if you prefer, Irish but poor." Another pause, and then he added: "If that means anything at all. Which I doubt."