Elesbed said, “If they’ve taken thecity,won’t they already have your sister? There’s no other way, we cannot just run through the streets, there is nowhere to go.”
“No!” said Isabeau. “I won’t be held to ransom, I won’t.”
“Isabeau,” whispered Elesbed, gripping her friend so she wouldn’t run. “Look at the duke’s face. Everything has gone wrong. Why would you be a ransom if they have Rennes already? Come on. We can’t stay here.”
Chapter
30
Anne was taken, courteously butfirmly, to the Guardhouse and locked in her chambers, with only French, none of her own attendants. She had begged Marguerite of France, whose face was blank, with blood on her nails where she had not cleaned it away, to find her younger sister.
Polhaim was dead.
And Henri—where was Henri? A prisoner of the Lost Lands? Anne almost stepped into the shadows to search for him. But if she did, Marguerite would learn of her gifts. She was being carefully watched. Anne didn’t know what would happen to her then. She kept still.
No word came, but then, as dusk was falling, Louis of Orléans startled her by entering her chamber quite openly, with Isabeau and Elesbed running before him. For an instant Anne forgot the conquest beating its steel wings outside; she ran to her sister and clutched her in her arms.
Then she straightened, wiping her eyes. “What has happened?” she asked Louis. “Are you a prisoner?”
Louis looked as tired as the rest of them. “Not yet,” he said. “Though I cannot stay. I got to Charles before Marguerite could get to me, and threw myself upon his mercy. The king pardoned me with the greatest good nature, and we rode into the city together. Isabeauwas hiding with her servant in the shadow of the city walls. Charles took them up. He has always been kind.” He added a little bitterly, “Though there is no telling that I might not be a prisoner tomorrow, if my lady of France has her way. What happened?”
Anne told him. His face grew grimmer as she spoke. Before she had done, Isabeau broke in. “Have you betrayed us, then?” she demanded.
“No,” said Anne, not taking her eyes from Orléans. “For he knows it is better to stay near the king of France than be taken alone to a locked tower.”
Louis made no answer. “Moreau is dead, then?”
“I don’t know. Gone, certainly.”
He added, very low, “Are you contemplating a great escape?”
“No,” she said, understanding him. “If I leave Rennes now it means I have abdicated, and that I will not do. I am watched, I cannot even look for Henri.”
“What happened to him?”
“He isn’t dead,” said Anne, low and fierce. “He isn’t. He’s lost. He’s in the Lost Lands.” She was almost sure that it was true. She willed it to be true. She wanted to cry, but everything was yet cold inside her.
She said, “Are you all right?”
He smiled, without humor. “For now. I am in Charles’s good graces. He has had a soft spot for me ever since he was a boy and I his gallant uncle. Marguerite is angry, but Charles has all the stubbornness of the indolent.” Louis shrugged. “I’d have got out of Bourges sooner if only I could have reached Charles.”
“You told him you would speak with me to urge his suit, didn’t you?” said Anne. “That’s why they let you come in to see me.”
He hesitated and then nodded. “As I said, I cannot stay.”
She couldn’t look at him. She could hardly comprehend how quickly everything had changed. Maximilien was coming. But what could his army do, with Rennes taken and Anne captured? Nothing. Perhaps he would simply turn around and sail home.
“You will do what you can, and so will I,” Anne said to Louis at last.
He nodded gravely. “But I want you to make me a promise.”
She straightened. “What is it?”
“When you go to look for Henri in the shadows, you will take me with you.”
“I am not—” That was a lie. “I promise,” she said.
He nodded once, and left her there.
