But directly below the port-hole there were ripples, ringing out edged with a faint apricot shimmer from the riding-light. A boat lay close under the ship’s side, and, a little way to the right of the port-hole, a rope ladder hung down. A man stood in the boat, holding the ladder steady for the climber. She tried to lean out, straining upward to see, but he must already have reached the deck. The ladder, released, came snaking down, and slid into the water with hardly a splash. The boatman dragged it in, piling it anyhow in a heap, then, with no more than a wave of the arm, thrust the boat away from the ship’s side and propelled it with silent oars to be lost in the dense shadow of the island trees.

Alice snatched up her bedgown, belted it quickly round her, failed to find her slippers, and ran barefoot out of the cabin to seek her father.

The door of his cabin was open. The bulkhead lantern was lit, and showed an empty bed. She ran for the companionway, where the guards ought to be awake and on station.

Someone was coming down the stairs. Not the duke; a tall man, moving carefully, his cloak wrapped round some bulky bundle carried in his arms.

He blocked the stairway. She backed, drew breath to call out, and then stopped as he spoke quietly, under his breath.

“Lady Alice? Little maid?”

As he came into the edge of the lantern’s glimmer she knew him.

“Jeshua!”

He looked weary, and there was a smear of mud on his face. He smelled of sweat and horses and dank water. He was smiling.

“The same. By your leave, lady. This is your father’s bedchamber?” He went past her and stooping, laid his burden, still close-wrapped, on the duke’s bed.

“What are you doing here? What’s happening? Where’s my father? And what is that?”

The questions poured out, as if a dam had broken that had held back the tensions of the last night and day.

He answered only two of them, but they were enough.

“Your father is on deck, talking with the master. And this –” indicating the motionless bundle on the bed – “this is Chlodovald, King of Orleans, whose brothers, as you know, were killed, and who, by your leave, is going home with you.”

22

She stared at Jeshua for a breathless moment, feeling the blood rushing up into her face.

“Chlodovald? Prince Chlodovald? We were told they were all dead!”

“The two eldest are. We managed to smuggle the third boy away. Now if you –”

Her hands flew to her cheeks. She swung round to look at the motionless lump in the bed. “Is he all right? Was he hurt?”

“No, no. He’s asleep. It’s been a long journey and a hard one, and he’s very young. He’s been dead to everything for the last hour or more. Now, Lady Alice, I must go and talk to your father. He’s above, with the master. I’m glad you woke. If you of your goodness would stay here with the boy, in case he should wake, and wonder where he is? He’s a brave little boy, but he must be very frightened.”