“It is,” said the chamberlain, and paused, gulping like a fish. “It is the baron of Avaugour, with escort upon such—such horses, Sire. And his banner—his banner— Sire, perhaps he might explainhimself?” Marguerite had never seen the man incoherent. Dunois, who had been sitting in hard-eyed silence as they made plans for his country, had flushed up to the roots of his hair.
“Avaugour is dead. It is an impostor,” said La Trémoille.
Marguerite was not sure. Unease stirred in her mind.
“By all means,” Maximilien was saying, “let this man explain himself.”
All eyes turned toward the door and a young man in glittering surcoat walked in. The color of his device was sea-blue and the charges were— Marguerite stared. Azure, ermined sable, quartered with two sea-drakes involved beneath a unicorn couchant. It was not Avaugour’s device, nor certainly Anne of Brittany’s. It was, in fact, like no coat of arms she had ever seen. Nor had anyone else in the room, judging by their faces. Except that a tide of even stronger color was rising in Dunois’s face, and the Breton servants had all caught hands in excitement.
Henri, Baron of Avaugour, doffed an old-fashioned but quite magnificent hat. “I am come on behalf of my sister Anne of Brittany, who sends her best respects to her royal cousins of France and of Austria.”
Charles said, “Oh—delightful—she is not dead after all! Where is she?”
“With the army,” said Henri, composedly.
“What is this crest you are wearing?” demanded La Trémoille.
“It is that of my sister,” said Henri, Baron of Avaugour. “For you see, my good lords, the drowned city of Keris has been removed from the Lost Lands. It is restored to its place in the bay of Douarnenez, under the light of the earthly sun, with all its riches and its people. And,” Henri added idly, “its sorcerers and its men of war. And also, Excellencies, my sister Anne of Brittany has been crowned there, and the people great and small of that ancient city have acclaimed her their queen. She is”—his voice rose a trifle to cut through the hubbub but he went on—“she is styled Her Majesty Anne by God’s grace, Duchess of Brittany and Queen of Keris and Armorica.”
Utter silence in the room. Outside, the cheering had redoubled.The whole city, Marguerite gathered, had seen the azure banner with its absurd charges of unicorn and sea-drake. She said, “There is no Keris.”
“There is,” said Henri gently. “You may ask your honored diviners.”
Volucris came gasping into the room, wild-eyed. Marguerite turned to face him, unease now gripping tight round her heart. Volucris panted, “A city. There is a city now in the bay of Douarnenez, where there was none before. It is a miracle.”
“Keris was drowned,” said La Trémoille. “It was drownedhundreds of years ago.”
“It has been restored,” said Avaugour.
Maximilien said, in the crisp tones of a military man, “What army do you speak of?”
They all hung upon the answer. “Why,” Avaugour said courteously, “the army of Keris, with sorcerers of their Guild and also allies of the korriganed, who have come forth from their long hiding to make common cause with the people of Brittany. It is,” said Henri calmly, “a fair company. And I come from my sister with certain requests that she makes of her honored cousins; that they abandon their claims on all territories of Brittany forthwith.”
“Preposterous!” said La Trémoille.
“I should like to see your lady,” said Maximilien coolly, “if any of this absurdity is true. This lady is my wife.”
A faintly amused curve appeared on Henri’s mouth. But he said, “Certainly, Sire. You may ride back with me if you wish. And the queen awaits an answer, naturally, from her cousins of France.”
Charles was finally—finally—looking angry. “She was to hunt unicorns with me, and then becomemywife.”
Henri replied, with unmitigated politeness, “I will convey your answer, Sire. And I am bidden to say that when you change your mind, you need only signal by diviner. Good day, Excellencies. Majesty.” He bowed to Maximilien.
Maximilien nodded and signaled his aides. To Charles he said,“Sire, when I have plumbed these mysteries, I shall advise on the steps I mean to take.”
“I shall go with you,” said Dunois, and followed Maximilien and his party out.
The door closed behind them and Marguerite and Charles were alone again in the council-chamber with La Trémoille and Volucris and certain of their advisers.
“It is some trick,” said Charles. “Volucris, can you not divine—”
“No, Sire,” said Volucris. “For I have been trying these hours. I can see the city, but not within.”
“Well, then, we shall send a messenger of our own to see if this is not a lie,” said Charles.
Marguerite said, “I will go myself. I would like to know the truth.”
“Yes, of course,” said Charles. “And La Trémoille. I wish to confront the duchess with her insolence and perfidy.”
