People held their breath. The silence was absolute; almost hermetical. No Head calculated.

The silence lengthened.

Finally the short archer shook his head. “No idea,” he said. “I don’ ha’e any basis for calculation. But whate’er it is . . .” He grinned. “Whate’er it is, you can expect that we won’ get as much o’ it as we deserve.”

The last night was an odd one. No one in the emperor’s confidence could doubt that the gates were going to open; there was light coming through the gate as bright as a new dawn, and all the magnificent stained glass burned with colour before the sun set in midafternoon.

They all knew what was ahead of them, or rather, they all shared a legion of doubts about what awaited them.

The emperor stunned his household by attending evensong in the castle chapel. The priest kept looking at the emperor as if expecting him to sprout wings—or perhaps horns. As soon as he had been served dinner, he ordered everyone in the household to bed. Toby appeared as if by magic and led Queen Clarissa’s servants in clearing.

The emperor looked at his former squire and raised an eyebrow.

Toby flushed. “I thought I’d make sure that we were served by the castle,” Toby said. “So the rest of the casa could go to bed. Master Nicodemus agreed.”

“Bless you,” Gabriel said. He glanced at Ser Michael, who was wolfing down little rolls of beef.

Toby saw the tables cleared and the boards pulled and stacked. The emperor took his lady by the hand, and she, attended by her new maid, rose, accepted bows, and went up the tightly twisting steps to their apartments.

The Queen of Arles sat alone. She was in a plain brown gown and wore a knight’s belt as her only jewelry. She sat with her chin on her hand, looking out the great double window that dominated the upper hall.

Toby was the only other person there by happenstance. His purpose had been to find Anne, but he’d been too successful in organizing dinner, and she’d already gone up to help the emperor with his clothes and weapons. Toby knew how much needed to be done to prepare the man for dawn.

Toby was afraid. He was afraid to go up the stairs and help Anne; afraid that this would be too much of an admission. Afraid she didn’t want him, as a man and as a squire.

He found the queen’s eye on him.

“Wine, Your Grace?” he offered.

She smiled. “You are a knight now, are you not?” she said in her curiously accented Alban.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he said, and when she held out a silver goblet, he filled it.

“So you will ride with them tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Toby answered.