conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled The King's Witch about Humboldt, County, California with the genre: Christian Books & Bibles, Literature & Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author is the author of more than thirty novels. She lives in Humboldt County, in northern California, where she teaches creative writing.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The King's Witch
  The boy bowed quickly, then scurried from the room, leaving a trail of soot from the brush in his hand. Sir Thomas sighed, and, wincing slightly, bent down to clean it up with a linen kerchief. Frowning, Frances stepped nimbly forward and helped him to his feet.
  Sir Thomas grinned at his daughter. 'Even your skills cannot stave off the effects of age, Fran. Besides, my bones are merely protesting at the sudden cold. Every fire in the privy apartments was extinguished as soon as the queen breathed her last.'
  With a sigh, he turned back to the tapestry that he had been carefully rolling in a fine linen cloth.
  Her father nodded, but kept his eyes focused on the tapestry, the exquisite gold thread catching the light as it moved.
  Frances and her father swung around to see Cecil standing in the doorway of the presence chamber. His mouth lifted into a slow smile, but his piercing black eyes glittered dangerously. Frances felt her father's hand press the small of her back. Remembering herself, she bobbed a curtsey and lowered her gaze, while Sir Thomas swept a bow. She kept her eyes fixed on the silver buckles of the minister's shoes as he stepped silently forward.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The curtains had been drawn across the window, and a solitary candle burned in the sconce above the fireplace. Frances had to stare for several moments before she could make out the small form that lay as still as a statue on the bed. The heavy coverlets that had been placed over her did not move. Frances walked slowly towards the head of the bed. She held her breath as she leaned forward and placed her hand on Elizabeth's forehead. It was icy cold, but when Frances drew her hand away it was covered with beads of sweat. The girl's skin had the pallor of wax, and her lips, which were parted slightly, were tinged with blue. Frances held her hand in front of them for a few moments, but could feel no warmth. Panic began to rise in her chest, and she cast an anxious look at Lord Sackville, who still stood uncertainly by the door.
  Just then, a small sound came from the bed. It was so quiet that Frances wondered if she had imagined it. She listened intently, her eyes fixed on the girl's face. After a few moments, she heard it again, more distinct this time – a dry, clicking sound that seemed to come from Elizabeth's throat. Quickly, Frances reached for the small tumbler on the cabinet next to the bed and, cradling the princess's head, poured a few drops into her mouth. Elizabeth started to splutter at once, coughing and rasping as if she were being choked. Alarmed, Frances lifted her forward so that she was almost sitting. She was as light as a bird, and Frances could feel her ribs through the linen robe that she wore. The coughing fit grew more intense so that her whole body jerked with each fresh onslaught. All of a sudden, she started to retch, and, before Frances could fetch the ewer from the cabinet by the fireplace, she vomited over the bedclothes, the black bile soaking into the soft satin.
  The man hastened from the room, and Frances could hear the urgency in his voice as he issued her directions to Lady Mar.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Shortly before Parliament was due to meet, Lord Monteagle received an anonymous letter warning him not to attend. He showed it to Cecil, who alerted the king. It took little to ignite James's paranoia, and he immediately ordered a search of Westminster. His officials uncovered the plot just a few short hours from it being put into action.
  When Guy Fawkes was arrested and a huge quantity of gunpowder was discovered in a cellar beneath the House of Lords, most of his fellow plotters fled from the capital. But Thomas Wintour held his nerve and went to Westminster to try to find out what had happened. Only when he learned that the King now knew all about the plot and those involved did he too flee north. He joined Catesby, Thomas Percy, John Grant, Ambrose Rookwood and John and Christopher Wright at Holbeach House in Staffordshire for a last, desperate stand against the sheriff's men. Thomas was first to be shot, in the shoulder, followed by the Wright brothers and Rookwood. Catesby and Percy were killed by the same bullet.
  Along with the other surviving plotters, Thomas was taken to the Tower of London, where he signed his confession on 23 November 1605. Much of what is written about the Gunpowder Plot derives from this document, although there is reason to believe that it was forgery drafted by the King's officials.
  The plotters were tried and condemned on 27 January in Westminster Hall, and they met their grisly deaths a few days later. Thomas was the first to mount the scaffold in the Old Palace Yard at Westminster on 31 January. Eyewitnesses observed that he was 'a very pale and dead colour'. When invited to say a few last words, he retorted that it was 'no time to discourse: he was come to die.' He did, though, ask his fellow Catholics to pray for him and declared his undying allegiance to the faith.