“Do you swear on oath, on your soul and hope of salvation, that you believe your mother the Lady Mary Liu, Dowager Baroness Gervais, to be guilty of conspiracy against the Throne and hence of High Treason?”

“Y-” Yseult cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Huon echoed her, misery in his tone.

“Do you swear on oath, on your soul and hope of salvation that for this your lady mother deserves death?”

A second, and then they both answered: “Yes.” The word blurred as their voices overlapped.

“Very well,” Sandra said. “That is unequivocal enough. Let it be so recorded.”

The Grand Constable spoke: “You are taken in ward by the Lady Regent and will be assigned guardians who will stand in loco parentis to you.”

Her voice was like winter water running over river stones. Yseult frowned at her, again.

Cold, she’s so cold. Brrr! I wonder how Lady d’Stafford can bear to be her Châtelaine? She’s so pleasant, and such a good mother.

Huon asked, his voice suddenly deeper. “We understand. And I do see why you must doubt us, my lady Regent, my lords, my ladies. Do we stay here in cells?”

“No,” said the Lady Regent, leaning back slightly in the high carved chair, and putting her hands under the cloak. “I need you out of the way, hard to find, and constantly watched. On the other hand, should this all be resolved and we defeat the CUT and Boise, then I wish you to be able to take your place in society without having to compensate for years imprisoned.”

“Thank you!” Yseult blurted, and then hastily added, “My lady Regent. We thank you for your gracious courtesy and mercy to us.”

The Regent smiled and shrugged. “If we are defeated, then I have no interest in what follows. I will be dead.”

Yseult shivered. “Don’t, my lady! Don’t! We must trust the Princess and the Mackenzie to bring the Sword of the Lady to rescue us in time.”

The Regent started to move her hand and then paused, looking as if she were struck by a sudden thought.

“You know, child, you may very well be right. Marvelous are the works of God. Very well. Mollala, will you and your mother harbor Huon, knowing that he might be a Trojan horse?”

The heavy-shouldered dark-skinned man stood and bowed.

“Yes, my lady Regent. I have grown fond of this boy, Gervais. I’ll keep him in ward and teach him well, and watch his very deeds and words. My mother spoke with me before I came here. She also will swear to watch this boy. Right now, she’s a little tied up with the hospital.”

Huon stood straighter; it occurred to Yseult that he’d been nerving himself to be brave as he was led away to something like her own imprisonment, possibly for years.