An hour before dawn, Vulkan led the exhausted countess back to the carriage. She had already began to succumb to the blood ague; shivering and sweating at one and the same time and would, he knew, shortly be falling into that strange state of violent delirium that Malpurgo had warned him about. Vulkan allowed her to pull a long chemise over her well-used body and discretely prepared the bindings he would need when she entered the worst of the delirium.

Stepping outside again the prince scanned the edge of the woods and easily picked out the short, fat shape of Henrik hiding amongst the bushes. He cupped his hands around his mouth he yelled.

"Get back here now we're leaving!"

When Henrik failed to move Vulkan shouted again, this time injecting a great deal more menace into his tone.

"If you make me come all the way over there to get you I won't like it!"

With obvious reluctance, the footman finally emerged from the bushes and began to trudge disconsolately back to the carriage. The rotund figure looking around him all the while, as if wishing a troop of the king's heavy cavalry might arrive out of nowhere and put an end to his nightmare.

By the time the sun rose the countess had indeed fallen into an agitated, trance-like state, within which, she tossed and turned with remarkable violence against the heavy restraints Vulkan had contrived.

Amusingly, she began to call out all manner of vulgar suggestions and lewd oaths. So much so that the giggling Vulkan had little option but to gag her and confine her in one of the small luggage bins at the rear of the coach. For once, the neurotic Henrik made no complaint, as they were now entering the more heavily populated outer environs of Dashane and were encountering more and more folk along the road. Doubtless, he saw the wisdom of concealing the countess' febrile state from the general populace, not to mention the king's constables.