“But not to the extent of honouring our desire to leave.”

“Correct!” she says. “You're my local knowledge, Abel. You know your way around these parts.” She gestures upwards and around. “And I've always had a thing about castles; you can give me a guided tour of the place, if you like. Well, let's be honest; if I like. And I do like. You wouldn't mind, though, would you, Abel? No, of course not. I'm sure it would he a treat for you as well. I'm sure you have lots of interesting stories you can tell me about the place; fascinating ancestors, famous visitors, exciting incidents, exotic heirlooms from faraway lands… Ha! For all I know the place even has a ghost!” She sits forward, the fork waved in her fingers like a wand. “Does it, Abel? Does the place have a ghost?”

I sit back. “Not yet.”

This makes her laugh. “There you are. Your real treasures are things the looters weren't interested in; the place itself, its history, the library, the tapestries, ancient chests, old clothes, statues, great gloomy paintings… all still intact, pretty much. Perhaps while we're here you can educate my men; give them a taste for culture. I'm sure my own aesthetic senses have been heightened already, just talking to you and sitting here.” She clatters the fork down on the salver. “That's the thing, you see; people like me get so few opportunities to talk to people like you and stay in places like this.”

I nod slowly. “Yes, and you know who I am, who we are; there are books in the library listing the generations of our family, and portraits of most of our ancestors on every wall, but we don't know who you are. Might we inquire?” I glance at you; your gaze has returned to the lieutenant. “Just a name would do,” I tell her.

She scrapes her seat back, flexing her shoulders, arching her back, and stifling the greater part of a yawn.