“I see. Of course. The news the count brought was so bad?” He was thinking, it could not have been the brother’s death; she showed no sign of grief at that; she did not even speak of it.

“I don’t know, sir. I mean, I don’t know what it would mean to the queen, though one could see she was mightily put out by it. But it was bad for my lady – my own lady, that is, Lady Luned. She knew the count and his brother well, from the old days. One of her maids told me she had been weeping.”

“I see,” said Alexander again, remembering Luned’s silence and reddened eyes. He wished he had known sooner, so that he might have spoken some sort of comfort to her. “Well, my thanks, Peter. Tell your lady that I am sorry for her friend’s death. I’ll speak with her myself in the morning, if she will receive me. Now leave me, will you please? I’ll see myself to bed. Good night.”

Afterwards he was never quite sure what combination of injured pride and jealousy and sheer frustrated curiosity drove him to do what he did that night.

After Peter left him he waited, seated in the window embrasure, watching the stars prick out into the night sky, and listening to the sounds in the castle till they dwindled and at last died into the peace of sleep. Then, not troubling to arm himself, and still in the clothes he had worn at dinner, he let himself softly out of the chamber.

Cressets, set in iron brackets on the walls, gave light enough to show his way. He hesitated at the door that opened on the courtyard. There was still movement out there. Guards – the King’s men and the castle’s own – were set at night, and other sounds coming from the direction of the stables suggested that some groom was wakeful with a sick horse, or maybe with a mare due for foaling. But there was a door which led through into the central part of the castle, avoiding the open court. If it was left unlocked at night …?

It was. He went that way, walking softly. Past the open door of the great hall, where some of the servants were sleeping; snores and the rustling of straw, but no one roused. Then quickly up the great stairway, and there ahead of him was the door that led to the queen’s private rooms – the royal rooms that he had come to regard as his own.

He halted there, disconcerted. There were guards; King’s men, with the Dragon blazon. He should have expected it, of course, though the guard must have been set each night after he and the queen had gone to bed. He hesitated, feeling suddenly foolish, but the guards showed neither surprise nor (what he had feared) amused complicity. The man nearest him drew back his spear as if expecting the prince to knock or enter, but Alexander, after another brief moment of hesitation, shook his head and turned quickly to the right, going swiftly, still soft-footed and now with quickened pulses, along the corridor towards the east tower.