Anthony Blackshaw, 12 Jul '12

        Raghnall Claus stood at the head of a long rectangular table glaring at those assembled around it.

        “And then what?”
        
        He spoke the words in such an austere tone that everyone immediately stopped talking and turned to look at him. His eyes were as wild as the rest of his appearance and he glared at each of the assembly in turn to ensure he had their full attention.

        “And then what?” he asked again. “Are you suggesting that we should have helped her to assassinate him! Is that how we behave now? Well?”

        To his right a short and rather stocky woman, who in contrast to Raghnall was impeccably dressed and groomed, nervously started to speak.
        
        “Of course not Raghnall, but what are we to...”

        Before she could finish Raghnall spoke again.

        “I was not asking a question Cornelia!”

        Chided Cornelia did not respond but shrank back into her chair.

        Raghnall paused, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he had lost his composure. When he opened them again he looked at Cornelia with a weary expression.

        “My friend, forgive me...” and then turning to the rest of the assembly “...let us not lose our heads, all is not lost there is hope that we might find her yet, and before they do.”