THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Emilie knocked on the door of the large bedchamber in the royal couple's section of the castle. The duchess Anne was at a table, overseeing a group of ladies-in-waiting at work threading a tapestry. You called for me, my lady, said Emilie.

Yes, Anne replied. The quintet of women stopped work and looked up for a sign to leave. Please, stay, she said. I will speak with Emilie in the dressing room.

The duchess motioned her into the next room, adjacent to the bedroom, where there was a large dressing table, bowls of perfumed water, and a mirror.

Anne sat on a stool. I wish to speak of the health of your new red squire, she said.

He recovers well, Emilie replied. And please, he is not my squire. In fact, he is already married and seeks to find his wife.

His wife! And that was where he was heading when we found him so neatly trussed in the woods? A curious courtship. Anne smiled. But, now that he is well...

Not quite well, Emilie cut in.

But now that herecovers , it is fitting he should be on his way. Anyway, the doctor tells me he has a will to leave.

He has suffered great injury, madame, which he seeks to right. The owner of his offense is Baldwin of Treille.

Baldwin. Anne grimaced as if she had swallowed spoiled wine. Surely Baldwin is no friend to this court. But this man's affairs, lowly as they are, are no concern of ours. Your heart is............