Yseult looked at her. “And I can’t absolutely swear that I can’t be fooled into doing something foolish if my mother were to ask, my lady Regent.” She curtsied and then knelt. “You are my Liege and I will obey you of faith and all earthly worship.”

Huon knelt next to her. “Yes, my Liege. Gervais is yours and so are we.”

They held their hands out, palms pressed together. Sandra Arminger took them between hers, and then raised each of them and presented her cheek for the ritual kiss. It was an acknowledgement of homage, and Yseult’s heart leapt.

“Rise.”

The Regent’s smooth voice had a satisfied sound to it, and everyone else did.

“Take them, Jehane, Anne, Delia. Give them a meal in some pleasant but secluded place. They are not to speak with anybody else and must be returned to their cell.”

She looked at Yseult. “But this is for the present in the interests of discretion, to keep the enemy as ill-informed as may be. Enjoy the rest of the day. Mollala, when you leave, take Master Gervais with you. Anne, you take Yseult. When do you plan to go?”

Yseult stood and then sank, trembling, onto one of the hard chairs she had not been allowed earlier. Action swirled around her. When Delia beckoned, she went without a murmur, only pausing to curtsy, once again, to the Regent.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

COUNTY OF THE EASTERMARK
CHARTERED CITY OF WALLA WALLA
PORTLAND PROTECTIVE ASSOCIATION
(FORMERLY SOUTHEASTERN WASHINGTON STATE)
HIGH KINGDOM OF MONTIVAL
(FORMERLY WESTERN NORTH AMERICA)
AUGUST 23, CHANGE YEAR 25/2023 AD

The streets of Walla Walla were crowded, as Tiphaine had expected.

With soldiers, of course, for a beginning. The household troops of the Count, armored and steady. A bristle of pole arms and crossbows from parties of the city’s own regiments, marching on foot behind standards blazoned with the images of the patron saints of their guilds and drummer boys wielding their sticks to a snarling rattle. The menies of those of his vassals serving here were much in evidence, from the plumed arrogance of knight and baron down to the spearmen trotting behind. And simply with people, swarms of them and their bicycles and pedicabs and horses and mules and oxcarts, and bewildered peasants with great bundles on their backs.

Even with the Count’s trumpeters and outriders they made slow headway, the more so because loud cheers broke out after the ripple of bows at the sight of the Crown’s banner, and those of Ath and Forest Grove on the pennants fluttering from the lances of their escorts. Now and then they passed a priest or friar haranguing the crowds; she caught crusade and holy war in their shouts. They broke off to lead the cheers for the Count and the Crown’s officers.