“Here, let me,” said Alice, reaching into her reticule for the scissors she always carried.

Theudovald snatched the tangled lock out of her reach. “No! I can do it!”

“But your hands, they’re bleeding! If you’d let me look –”

“No, put those things away! I tell you, you mustn’t cut it! Never that!”

“Why not?”

But even as she spoke she remembered something else her father had told her about these strange people, the Franks. “Their kings never cut their hair,” he had said. “The long hair is a sign of royalty, the lion’s mane. To cut it short is shame and humiliation. It could mean the loss of a kingdom.”

She put the scissors away hastily. “I forgot. My father did tell me about it. He said that the long hair was a royal symbol. I’m sorry. Can you do it?”

“Yes. There, it’s done.” He threw the twig down, and carefully smoothed the long hair back. “What’s a symbol?”

“I – I think it means that it stands for something. A sign. Like, well, like a cross.”

“Or a crown?” The heir of the Merwings, wiping his scratched hands down the front of his tunic, invited Alice, with a gesture, to sit down beside him. She hesitated again, looking doubtfully at the dusty stones, but the prince was her host, and manners were manners, so she kilted the long skirt up again and, choosing the cleanest part of the wall, sat down.

“Where were we going? What was the hurry?”

He nodded downhill, and Alice saw where, coming up through the archway, were four men. The sun flashed on weapons. One of them, apparently the leader, raised a hand in salute and called something. The men came on up the track. Theudovald stayed where he was, kicking his heels against the wall. “If we’d been quicker we could have gone on into the wood and hidden. There are places where they’d never find us, but you couldn’t get there in those skirts.”

“I suppose not. I’m sorry. You wanted to hide?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Do you need to ask? Look there! It seems it’s the same for you.” And only then did she see that Mariamne, skirts kilted up like her own, was toiling uphill in the wake of the soldiers.

“Don’t you ever want to get away, just by yourself, with no one telling you what to do?” asked the boy. “Do they ever leave you to be alone?”

“At home, yes, sometimes. But it’s different when you’re travelling. My maid’s supposed to stay with me.”

“What harm do they think you would come to here?”

“I don’t suppose they think about it.” Alice was not sure if the question had masked resentment. “They just follow orders. I expect it would be different if I were a boy.”

“Not if you were me.” The men had halted some yards away, apparently awaiting the prince’s pleasure. Their weapons were still in their hands.

They were out of earshot, but Alice lowered her voice. “Well, it’s different for you, you’re a prince. But this is your home! Your grandmother’s home, anyway. What harm do they think could come to you here?”