She had changed for dinner. Her dormouse calpac had been replaced by a velvet rondlet with a band and a muslin liripipe. Her dark blonde hair, now revealed, was gathered on the back of her neck in a golden net. A modest string of pearls shone on her quite boldly bare neck. The white cotehardie worn over the green gown had plunging slashes at the sides, allowing one to admire her waist and the pleasing curves of her hips. Those extremely fashionable slashes were called by their critics les fenêtres d’enfer, for it was claimed they tempted one to mortal sin. There was indeed something in it.

Liebenthal and his company were occupying a bench in the corner behind the fireplace and getting drunk in brooding silence.

The innkeeper moved to and fro, serving wenches hurried busily back and forth with dishes, and the Green Lady’s servants also helped, which meant the food and drink arrived quickly. The food was simple but tasty, the wine tolerable; surprisingly good for an inn of that class.

They said nothing for a time, a taut energy sparking between them, turning their attention to beer soup with egg yolks, local trout from the Piława, wild boar sausages, hare in cream and pierogis.

Then there was caraway cake and Cypriot Malvasia, gingerbread and more Malvasia, the fire in the hearth crackled, the servants stopped interfering and Liebenthal and company went to bed in the stables. It was now very quiet and warm, hot even, the blood pulsed in the temples and burned on the cheeks. The fire was reflected in flaming glances.

“Your good health, dear ephebe.”

“And yours, madam.”

“Drink. Do you want to say anything?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never ravished a woman. Neither using violence, nor magic. Never, ever. Believe me, madam.”

“I do. Though it’s difficult to admit it… You have the eyes of Tarquin, gorgeous boy.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Not a bit of it. Sometimes, neither violence nor magic are needed to seduce a woman.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m a riddle. Solve me.”

“Madam—”

“Don’t say anything. Drink. In vino veritas.”

The fire in the hearth had died down and was glowing red. The Green Lady rested an elbow on the table and her chin on her knuckles.

“Tomorrow,” she said, and her voice vibrated throatily and enticingly, “we shall arrive at Stolz. Whichever way you look at it, you know perfectly well, tomorrow will be for you… an important day. We can’t know or predict what will happen, for God moves in mysterious ways. But… Perhaps this night…”

“I know,” he replied when she paused, then stood up and bowed low. “I am aware, O gracious lady, of the gravity of this night. I know it may be my last. Which is why I wish to spend it… in prayer.”