“I have no choice now but to keep the peace,” saidYves, resentfully but resignedly. None the less, he was stillbrooding when a novice of the priory came looking for him, to bidhim to the empress’s presence. In all innocence the youngbrother called her the Countess of Anjou. She would not have likedthat. After the death of her first elderly husband she had retainedand insisted on her title of empress still; the descent to merecountess by her second husband’s rank had displeased hermightily.

Yves departed in obedience to the summons torn between pleasureand trepidation, half expecting to be taken to task for theunbecoming scene in the great court. She had never yet turned hersharp displeasure on him, but once at least he had witnessed itsblistering effect on others. And yet she could charm the bird fromthe tree when she chose, and he had been thrown the occasionalblissful moment during his brief sojourn in her household.

This time one of her ladies was waiting for him on the thresholdof the empress’s apartments in the prior’s ownguesthouse, a young girl Yves did not know, dark-haired andbright-eyed, a very pretty girl who had picked up traces of hermistress’s self-confidence and boldness. She looked Yves upand down with a rapid, comprehensive glance, and took her timeabout smiling, as though he had to pass a test before beingaccepted. But the smile, when it did come, indicated that she foundhim something a little better than merely acceptable. It was a pityhe hardly noticed.

“She is waiting for you. The earl of Norfolk commendedyou, it seems. Come within.” And crossing the threshold intothe presence she lowered her eyes discreetly, and made her deepreverence with practised grace. “Madame, MessireHugonin!”

The empress was seated in a stall-like chair piled withcushions, her dark hair loosed from its coif and hanging over hershoulder in a heavy, lustrous braid. She wore a loose gown of deepblue velvet, against which her ivory white skin glowed with a livesheen. The light of candles was kind to her, and her carriage wasalways that of a queen, if an uncrowned queen. Yves bent the kneeto her with unaffected fervour, and stood to wait her pleasure.