One thing my morning with the Queen (ok, the Queen's summer palace) taught me about royalty is that they are not subtle people. Take the story of Mary Queen of Scots. Her husband, jealous of her relationship with her Italian secretary (why was he Italian? She was raised in France, briefly queen of France and Scotland, considered by some to have deserved the English crown- and her secretary is Italian?), plotted for the secretary's murder. Except 'plot' really isn't the right word to use. One day, while the secretary and the Queen were eating, the jealous Lord Darnley (you don't become King if you mary a Queen, only the other way around) barged in with his people and started to drag the secretary away. When that proved difficult, what with the secretary clutching onto the Queen's dress and fighting for his life and all, the King and his people stabbed him right then and there. Lamest murder ever.
Where was the shock? The betrayal? The ingenius getaway? You can't just storm around and stab people in daylight!
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