Then she remembered. He was not here. He had gone to Saint-Gilles or Montpellier, she couldn’t quite remember. Guilhem too.

“So where were they?” Ranier hissed, her voice greedy for scandal.

“In the orchard, right down by the brook by the willow trees,” replied Alziette. “Mazelle’s oldest girl saw them go down there. Bitch that she is, she rushed straight back to her mother. Then Mazelle herself came flying into the courtyard, wringing her hands at the shame of it and how she didn’t want to be the one to tell me.”

“She’s always been jealous of your girl, e. Her daughters are all fat as hogs and pockmarked. The whole lot of them, as plain as pikes.” Ranier bent her head closer. “So what did you do?”

“What could I do but go and see for myself. I spotted them the moment got down there. It’s not as if they’d made much effort to conceal them-elves. I got hold of Raoul by his hair-nasty coarse brown hair he’s got- and boxed his ears. All the while he was pulling at his belt with one hand, his face red from the shame of being caught. When I turned on Jeannette, he wriggled out of my grasp and ran off without even so much as a backward glance.”

Ranier tutted.

“All the while Jeannette was wailing, carrying on, saying how Raoul loved her and wants to marry her. To hear her talk, you’d think no girl had ever had her head turned by pretty words before.”

“Perhaps his intentions are honest?”

Alziette snorted. “He’s in no position to marry,” she complained. “Five older brothers and only two of them wed. His father’s in the tavern day and night. Every last sol they’ve got goes straight into Gaston’s pocket.”

Alais tried to close her ears to the women’s mundane gossip. They were like vultures picking over carrion.

“But then again,” Alziette said slyly, “it was fortunate, as it turned out. if circumstances had not taken you down there, then you wouldn’t have found her.”

Alai’s tensed, sensing the two heads turn toward the bed.

“That’s so,” agreed Ranier. “And I dare say I’ll be well rewarded when her father returns.”

Alais listened, but learned nothing more. The shadows lengthened. She drifted in and out of sleep.

By and by, a night nurse came to replace Alziette and Ranier, another of her sister’s favored servants. The noise of the woman dragging the cracked wooden pallet out from under the bed woke Alais. She heard a soft whump as the nurse lowered herself down on to the lumpy mattress, the weight of her body pushing the air out from between the dry straw stuffing. Within moments, the grunts and labored snoring, wheezing and snuffling from the foot of the bed announced she was asleep.

Alais was suddenly wide awake. Her head was full of her father’s last instruction to her. To keep safe the labyrinth board. She eased herself up into a sitting position and looked among the fragments of material and candles.

The board was no longer there.

Careful not to wake the nurse, Alais tugged open the door of the bed-side table. Its hinge was stiff from lack of use and it creaked as she eased it open. Alais ran her fingers around the edge of the bed, in case the board had slipped between the mattress and wooden frame of her bed. It was not there either.

Res. Nothing.

She didn’t like the way her thoughts were tending. Her father had dismissed her suggestion that his identity had been discovered, but was he right? Both the merel and the board had gone.

Alais swung her legs over the bed and tiptoed across the room to her sewing chair. She needed to be sure. Her cloak was draped over the back. Someone had tried to clean it, but the red embroidered hem was caked with mud, obscuring the stitching in places. It smelled of the yard or the stables, acrid and sour. Her hands came up empty, as she knew they would. Her purse was gone, the merel With it.

Events were moving too fast. Suddenly, the old familiar shadows seemed full of menace. She felt threats all around, even in the grunts coming from the foot of the bed.

What if my attackers are still in the chateau? What if they come back for me?

Alais quickly got dressed, picked up the calelh and adjusted the flame. The thought of crossing the dark courtyard alone frightened her, but she couldn’t sit in her chamber, just waiting for something to happen.

Coratge. Courage.

Alais ran across the Cour d’Honneur to the Tour Pinte, shielding the guttering flame with her hand. She had to find Francois.

She opened the door a fraction and called his name into the darkness. There was no answer. She slipped inside.

“Francois,” she whispered again.

The lamp cast a pale yellow glow, enough to see that there was someone lying on the pallet at the foot of her father’s bed.

Putting the lamp on the ground, Alais bent down and touched him lightly on the shoulder. Straight away she snapped her arm back as if her fingers had been burned. It felt wrong.

“Francois?”

Still no reply. Alais grasped the rough edge of the blanket, counted to three, then ripped it back.

Underneath was a pile of old clothes and furs, carefully arranged to look like a sleeping figure. She felt dizzy with relief, although puzzled.

In the corridor outside a noise caught her attention. Alais snatched up the lamp and extinguished the flame, then tucked herself in the shadows behind the bed.

She heard the door creak open. The intruder hesitated, perhaps smelling the oil from the lamp, perhaps noticing the disarranged blankets. He drew his knife from its sheath.

“Who’s there?” he said. “Show yourself.”

“Francois,” said Alais with relief, stepping out from behind the curtains. “It’s me. You can put your weapon away.”

He looked more startled than she felt.

“Dame, forgive me. I didn’t realize.”

She looked at him with interest. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d been running. “The fault is mine, but where have you been at this hour?” she asked.

A woman, she supposed, although why he should be so embarrassed about it, she could not fathom. She took pity on him.

“In fact, Francois, it is of no matter. I’m here because you are the only person I trust to tell me what happened to me.”

The color drained from his face. “I know nothing, Dame,” he said quickly in a strangled voice.

“Come, you must have heard rumors, kitchen gossip, surely?”

“Very little.”

“Well, let us try to construct the story together,” she said, mystified by his attitude. “I remember walking back from my father’s chamber, after you had summoned me to him. Then two men came upon me. I woke to find myself in the orchard, near a stream. It was early in the day. When next I woke, it was to find myself in my own chambers.”

“Would you know the men again, Dame?”

Alais looked sharply at him. “No. It was dark and it all happened too quickly.”

“Was anything taken?”

She hesitated. “Nothing of value,” she said, uneasy in the lie. “Then I know that Alziette Baichere raised the alarm. I heard her boasting about it earlier, although I cannot for the life of me understand how she came to be sitting with me. Why not Rixende? Or any other of my women?”

“It was on Dame Oriane’s orders, Dame. She has taken personal charge of your care.”

“Did not people remark upon her concern?” she said. It was entirely out of character. “My sister is not known for such… skills.”

Francois nodded. “But she was most insistent, Dame.”

Alais shook her head. The faintest recollection sparked in her mind. A fleeting memory of being enclosed within a small space, stone not wood, the acrid stench of urine and animals and neglect. The more she tried to chase the memory down, the farther it slipped away from her.

She brought herself back to the matter in hand.

“I presume my father has departed for Montpelhier, Francois.”