Yseult gulped. The cart moved forward and she gasped, the gulp turning awry and she choked and coughed and wheezed desperately. Lying on the cobbles, in a pool of blood was the hapless, headless body of her much disliked Uncle Guelf.

“Oh, poor Layella; lost her babe and now a widow,” exclaimed Romarec. She crossed herself and then grabbed Yseult as she swayed.

“Where’s his head?” asked Yseult.

Her voice sounded distant, beyond the heavy surf roaring in her ears. That makes three, spoke an unruly voice in the back of her mind.

“Taken to be displayed on the traitor’s wall at Todenangst.”

She decided that must have been Adolphus speaking, for Betancourt spoke right afterwards.

“Sit her down. Romarec, pack for the girl. Include a set of court clothes, but mostly what I told you for her mother. She will need an attendant in Todenangst; not you, who?”

Sparks danced before Yseult’s eyes and she concentrated on not throwing up. “Mistress Virgilia, the Lady Governess,” she heard. “Or the old nurse, Carmen Barrios. Her own maid is inexperienced.”

“Not the nurse. I remember her; she’s very old. Virgilia . . . Would that be Virgilia Santos? A collateral of Baron Jacinto Gutierrez?”

“Yes,” breathed Yseult.

“She’ll do. Where is she?”

Romarec patted Yseult on the shoulder. “I’ll bring her with the bags. Will you take Yseult away in a tumbrel as well?”

“No; she’ll ride. She has two horses, I believe. I’ll send them with her, and one of the undergrooms.”

“Goodwife,” said Yseult.

Romarec stopped and looked back, “Yes, little one?”

“If the captain allows, pack the books on my nightstand. There are several and they are my special favorites.”

Sir Garrick gave a quick nod and Yseult wondered why none of the other men had taken off their helmets or gauntlets. She caught his eye.

“What happens to my Aunt Layella, and her sister, poor Aunt Theresa, who was supposed to marry Uncle Jason? What will they do now? Can they stay at Loiston Manor? All the house of Gervais is gone or under arrest; we can’t protect them. Will you protect them? And where are Odo and Terry Reddings? And Sir Chezzy?”

Sir Garrick grimaced. “All good questions. I don’t have answers for every one. Sir Harold Czarnecki was wounded on September fifteenth during the retreat from Pendleton.”