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you
     to hurry precipitately from Paris. Better that you should wait for your husband here.’
    She nodded, not allowing a smile, but as the two men backed their way from her room, she was convinced that the air in her
     chamber had grown musty and unwholesome. She was suddenly hot, dizzy, and she gasped, swaying, before rushing to the window,
     throwing the shutter wide and gulping at the air.
    ‘My Lady? My Lady, drink this!’ Alicia said urgently, passing her a goblet.
    ‘Wine, Alicia? Wine? I don’t need wine now!’ Isabella said breathlessly. ‘Do you understand? Did you see what my Lord Cromwell
     was saying? He has moved to our camp, Alicia. Even the head of the King’s embassy here in France has moved to support me!’
    Louvre, Paris
    His mood, always fragile, shattered when the next knock came. Sieur Hugues lifted Amélie bodily from him, stood upand hoiked his hosen up as he walked across the room to open it.
    Amélie couldn’t help but laugh as she watched him. The sight of his skinny little legs, the heavy scarlet robe, and his scowling
     features was enough to make her dissolve. Even when he threw a furious look in her direction, it only served to make the scene
     still more amusing.
    ‘What do you want?’ he bellowed at the poor boy outside.
    ‘Sir, there’s b-been a murder!’ the boy stammered, appalled at the glower on his face and petrified that he might be beaten
     for interrupting.
    Sir Hugues was still for a heartbeat, and then he glanced over his shoulder at Amélie, his face a picture of horror.
    She met his gaze with a blink of surprise. She had no idea why he should look so anxious. He had been here all the time.
    Furnshill, Devon
    ‘Wat! Stop that unholy racket!’
    If it were not for young Wat whistling in that tuneless, foolish manner, Baldwin de Furnshill would have been perfectly content
     as he sat at his table. There was much to be done here, plus he had duties as Keeper of the King’s Peace, which kept him busy.
     It was just good to be here, at home, with his wife. For too much of the last year he had been forced to stay away from his
     family, even undertaking a journey to France to protect the Queen on her way to see her brother, but now he could sit and
     enjoy the simpler delights of his family. Or could, if it weren’t for Wat …
    Baldwin was tempted to tell him to leave the hall – but that would not do. Wat had every right to sit at table, just as all
     his servants did. They were there by feudal obligation: theirs was to serve and support him, while his was to feed, house
     and clothe them. The responsibility of feudal law meant more, soBaldwin sometimes felt, to the lord of the manor than it did to the servants themselves.
    But it was a responsibility which he felt keenly. Any man who had given him his word and hand was fully deserving of Sir Baldwin’s
     reciprocation. Just as Baldwin’s own lords were deserving of his unswerving loyalty, so he was deserving of their support
     and protection. That was the whole basis of English law.
    So, Sir Baldwin must give all aid to the Lord of the Shire, Sir Hugh de Courtenay; through him, Baldwin must support the King
     himself. As must Sir Hugh. And yet Baldwin was becoming concerned that the balance of rights and responsibilities was shifting.
     There was a growing burden on the part of the King’s subjects – all because of Despenser. The rapacity of the man was unwholesome
     and no one in the country could stomach it any more – except, apparently, the King.
    Outside, once he had finished his meal, the air was still cool, and as he waited for his horse to be brought to him he stood
     in front of the house gazing down southwards, a tall man of some two-and-fifty years with the powerful shoulders of a trained
     warrior, the thick neck of a knight used to the weight of a heavy helm, and the slightly bandy legs of a man who had spent
     much of his time in the saddle. His dog walked to him, sitting against his leg and