She merely stared, saying nothing.

He went on quickly: “I’d been planning to seek lodging at the monastery, but the river’s in flood, and there was no way to cross. I’m sorry if I handled your man a bit roughly –”

“No matter. He’s not hurt.” Recovering from her surprise, whatever had caused it, she came forward quickly. “I ask your pardon for the rough welcome, sir, but we were expecting other guests, and my gateman is a fool, and mistook his orders. Pray come in, and be welcome. Leave your horse, the grooms will see to it.”

He followed her into the courtyard. In the light of the torches that flickered and flamed in their brackets on the walls, he could see her more clearly. She was young; so far the adventure held true; but unlike the heroines of the tales he had enjoyed, she was not beautiful. Her face was thinnish, her eyes round and light-blue, with pale brows and lashes, and her mouth was small and close-lipped.

But her smile at Alexander was a sweet one, and her voice was pleasant.

“This way, sir. I’m afraid it will be plain lodging for you tonight, but it’s all we can offer.”

She repeated what she had said about expected guests, and the main rooms of the place already prepared for them, but with no suggestion, which Alexander was already half waiting for, that he should join the company in the hall for supper. She finished merely: “But you will be warm and comfortable, and I will send someone to see to you. So the bridge is down again? It seems to happen whenever the river’s in spate, and we get travellers, parties even, who come seeking a night’s lodging. We could not have taken in a party tonight, but a single traveller, who will be content with a dry bed and a good meal –”

“Of course. I’m only sorry if I’ve come at a bad time.”

“No, no. If you – ah, here is Grif. He’ll look after you.”

An elderly man, a chamberlain by his dress, came hurrying across the court towards them. The lady, still with the smile, but with her mind, obviously, elsewhere, handed Alexander over with a brief, “Be welcome, sir, and God give you a good night,” and hurried away, vanishing through the main door of the castle.

“This way, sir,” said Grif.

Alexander, pausing only to see his horse taken in hand by a groom, followed him towards a small door set near one of the towers. It was apparent that he could not expect the honours due to a guest of his princely standing; she had not even asked his name. But supper and a good bed were all he had a right to ask for, and after the hard day’s riding they were beginning to be all he wanted.

The chamberlain led him along a chilly stone-flagged corridor to a smallish chamber. This was well enough appointed, with a bed, a cross-stool, a small table and a chest for clothing, but the man spread an apologetic hand.