The room was taking on a smoky air of unreality. Anne was unimpressed. “What proofs have you of what you say?”
“Of your talents? Did you not survive the sea-drake’s blood? Did you not use the shadows to escape from Nantes? Or are you asking for proof of the existence of Keris? Did you see the sea-drake in the garden in Nantes, wearing a harness twisted by men? Sea-drakes, like unicorns, can travel by shadows and escape into the Lost Lands. That is why they seem immortal. Or is it me you want proof of, my good word and bond? Would you like an earnest of my intentions? What if all the French horses vanished in the night? What if it rained for a week? Only promise me your hand and your help and you’ll have it.” He held his hands out, appealing.
He planned this,she thought, her mind clear, her heart cold.From the moment he told me that the king of the korriganed desired my hand. He meant to frighten me into accepting his help, making him my ally, acceding to his wishes. The advent of the French hastened his plans. But he planned this all along.
“Promise you? How could I trust your word? You lied to me in Nantes. If ever you pledged loyalty to France, you are breaking your oath now.”
His outstretched hands closed hard one upon the other, something glittering between them. “Never mind that.” She jerked back a step, warier still. “I have power already. All I want is a way to the ancient city. I was born a commoner, but that won’t matter when I am crowned king of Armorica. Help me, I beg, and save yourself. Wouldn’t you like to have Marguerite dragged to you in chains?”
She would not like it.
She said, “I am married, I cannot marry you. Nor can I trust an oath-breaker. Take your baubles and leave me.”
His eyes were on the jewels in his hands; slowly his fingerstightened. “I have come to you in honesty, with my heart laid bare. But I could make you help me, Highness,” he said gently. “I do not want to do that.”
“How would you make me?”
“As to that,” he said, “let it be a surprise. I do think that when I come again, you will return me a different answer.”
Without another word, he walked into the shadows, taking the moonlight with him. It felt like waking from a dream. Anne could see the room properly now. Elesbed was stirring on her pallet by the fire, and Madeleine on her cot, lifting her head in confusion. “Go back to sleep,” she told them, shaken. “There is still time before sunrise.” She called softly to the guard and bade them be wary, told them to send for her brother at first light. But she had the sinking feeling that neither guards nor Henri would be of use against a man who could walk an invisible road made of shadows and moonlight.
Chapter
22
When Louis and his escortcame to the road that would take them south to Orléans, a few of his men really did think that the duke meant to be shot of Brittany and return to his own lands.
“He won’t,” muttered one man to his fellow. “Don’t you know? Home’s no sanctuary for him. He was made to marry Marguerite’s saintly cripple of a sister when he was hardly out of boyhood. The old king, that ancient spider, did it; he knew his girl could not carry a child. It was to extirpate that whole branch of the family. He won’t go back there.”
And indeed, when they passed the crossroads, Orléans hardly glanced at the southward road. Except suddenly, to laughter, he snatched a leather bottle from one of his men and drained the wine in it to the dregs.
When they drew rein at last in the courtyard of the castle of Gravensteen in Ghent, Louis was met by a very beautiful courtier with yellow hair, wearing a tabard and a worried expression.
“I am Baron von Polhaim,” said the yellow-haired man. “I was my lord’s proxy in the Breton marriage. Have you come from her?” An idle rain was falling; Louis’s horse shook the rain from its ears when he dismounted.
They faced each other in the courtyard’s mud. Louis consideredthis beautiful young man, with his earnest eyes. He saw perhaps more than Polhaim guessed. Carefully, he said, “A rare woman, the duchess of Brittany.” Men were swarming up to take the horses; Louis handed over the reins and let Polhaim guide him toward the castle.
Polhaim replied, in a burst of unguarded speech, “As I told my liege. And I conveyed to him—all his advisers have conveyed to him—the precarity of his wife’s situation. It seemed he understood it, that he was ready to take ship and go to her.” Polhaim bit his fine red lip in remembered consternation. The Gravensteen castle loomed gray over their heads. Then they passed within, came to an empty anteroom.
Louis demanded, “But why has he not done so?” He sensed that Polhaim’s instinct to shield his master was at war with his knowledge of the risks to Anne inherent in this situation.
Polhaim might have been distressed, but he did not forget all caution. He did not answer directly but said, “We had heard you were a captive of the French crown.”
“No longer, as you can see,” said Louis, with an edge to his voice.
“And yet it is extraordinary that, having been a captive, you would go against French interests to work on the duchess’s behalf.”
There was no rational explanation to give. Louis could sense Polhaim’s wariness deepening. Maybe, Louis thought with grim amusement, this man would accept an irrational one. Polhaim had met Anne too. He said, “The duchess is a woman of great courage.”
Polhaim stared for a moment. Understanding passed between them. “I wanted to help her. This I havetriedto do.” His frustration broke through his court-training. “But an apparition is keeping my master in Ghent. Every night he sees it, and every day he says,Just one day more,and refuses to sail.”
Louis was nonplussed. “He is not ill? Is his mind astray?”
“Not as you could tell.”
“What is this thing he sees?” A chill came over Louis as he said it, a premonition of the answer. But surely not.
Polhaim looked grim. “Why—he sees his dead wife, walkingthrough the palace as she used to. My master will not depart lest he miss her if she comes again.”
