He put the sword back into the scabbard, heard Anne laugh with Beatrice, saw Master Nicodemus come through with linens over his arm, and worked the sword a few times—half draw, return, half draw, return.

Just right.

The emperor leaned out of the bedroom. “Go to bed, friends,” he said.

“Almost there,” Anne said. Toby smiled. It was exactly what he had always said. He placed the emperor’s sword in the upright rack near the fireplace. Next to the sword stand was a towel rack, which now held a spotless, newly made arming shirt and braes several sizes smaller than the emperor’s.

Master Nicodemus smiled. “Thanks, Toby,” he said. “I think we’re ready. Anne?”

Anne nodded, her arms full of dirty clothes.

Beatrice curtsied.

“I will wake you all,” Nicodemus said.

He swept out, as regal in his way as the emperor.

Anne dropped the dirty clothes in a hamper by the solar door and tried not to listen to the sound of talking from the bedroom.

Toby gathered up his polishing and sharpening and carried the refuse down the hall to the storeroom. He put the wax back, and wished he had water . . .

Anne came in with a candle. She rose on her toes to fetch another candle from a high shelf. Then she turned, and put her lips on Toby’s. “Don’t go anywhere,” she commanded. She went out. Master Julius came by, yawning; Toby pretended to be fussing with something in the tiny storeroom.

I’m not fooling anyone, Toby thought. She loves me! he also thought simultaneously.

Anne came back. He heard her footsteps, and they seemed to last an eternity of joy; the anticipation warred with a nameless fear . . .

She came in with the stub of a candle, and closed the storeroom door. It wasn’t much larger than a wardrobe. She looked up at Toby, and he leaned down and kissed her. It was clumsy, went on longer than they’d expected, and there was some dripped wax and then they broke apart.

“This is not the love nest of my dreams,” Anne whispered.

Somehow, that seemed very funny indeed.

“If we knock down a shelf in here . . .” Toby said. His hip was resting against all the spare oil lamps.

They both giggled.

“Why did you marry me?” Blanche asked. She was lying on their bed, and her hands were on her stomach. There was a little hardening, as if she’d grown new muscles there. She didn’t really show yet; but her kirtles didn’t quite lace up, and her breasts were tender.

“Because I love you?” Gabriel said. He was looking out the window at the night.