“I am glad to have men such as you under my command. Come, let us leave these matters behind and share a sip of something stronger! The vines of the southern scaffields were a great success last year. Our Arborian wine is maturing well.”

Grasp almost heaved a sigh of relief as he drained his cup. An hour or so of dull small talk was little price to pay. The date was soon approaching when the old man would finally be out of his way.

Several cups later, Grasp had to be lifted onto his horse. As the drink had flowed, Quercus’s jokes had become raucous and rather hilarious. For a second, Grasp almost felt a prick of conscience. Then it was gone, dissolved by the thought of Fenestra’s promises. This once visionary King had built little but castles in the air. It was time for something more substantial.

As the sure-footed horse plodded its way through the last of the evening light, Grasp felt a sense that history had a place reserved for him. In a few days, the halfhearted moon that rose palely in the sky would soon be shining on a very different country.

The horse suddenly reared up as a shadowy figure planted itself in the roadway. Who would dare to step out in front of the High Councillor? But his pride covered a deeper fear. Salix and Alnus were no doubt playing dice in the guardroom of the house around the corner. They were near, but not near enough. If it was a thief, Grasp’s purse was heavy, and the drop to the stinking earth below, a long one.

“Who would block my way?” He tried to keep his voice from shaking.

A mass of clouds scudded across the sky, clearing for a second to reveal an excited face, pale as the moon itself. “It is I, Father.”

“And why does my son need to crawl about in the night like a snake?” Relief gave way to fury.

But his son ignored the anger and the question. “Listen! We have succeeded! I have the girl!”

For a moment, Grasp’s drink-addled head thought Petronio was talking about Fenestra. Then his mind cleared. This was welcome news. “Good … good.”

“And where the girl is, the brother shall surely follow.”

Grasp almost smiled. Loose ends were being tied up. “Take my horse. And ask the servants to bring me food. Immediately.”

Petronio could think of several answers to his father’s demands that would have got him in instant trouble. Why bother with servants when he, the son of the house, was treated no better? But this night was his. He wouldn’t let it be ruined. He kept his mouth shut and led the horse away.