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after the Queen, the second cleverest woman in England, Sidonie’s father had said. Sidonie remembered those words, because he had added, only half in jest, that if Sidonie kept on with her studies she might one day be the third. I lief would have this lady’s good opinion , Sidonie thought. But her tongue felt thick and unmanageable. She regretted that large goblet of wine, so hastily quaffed.
    â€œCome, I will take you to your brother,” said the Countess. “And afterwards, you shall have a good supper, and mayhap we will talk.”
    She set off at a lively pace, Sidonie following a little unsteadily, through galleries and passageways and up a flight of stairs. At length the Countess paused at a half-open doorway and glanced in.
    â€œAh, I see you are expected,” she said with a faint smile. “Go you in, Sidonie. I will send my maid to fetch you by and by.”
    Kit was lying propped up on silk pillows in an immense bed with gold-embroidered curtains and fluted posts. His head was wrapped in bandages, but a healthy colour had returned to his face, and as Sidonie tiptoed into the room, he gave her a faintly sheepish grin. He sat up, pushing back the velvet coverlet, and she saw that he was wearing a splendid white linen nightshirt lavishly embellished with lace. A black damask dressing gown lay across the foot of the bed. “See what a popinjay I have become,” he said. “Methinks, Mistress Sidonie, I could become well accustomed to this life.”
    â€œOh, Kit, don’t jest, I have been beside myself. What says the physician? Will you mend?”
    Kit laughed. “He says it’s God’s mercy my skull is so thick. It’s naught but a scalp wound, quickly healed, and such a headache as I never wish to have again.”
    â€œAnd all for my sake, who brought you on this ill-fated journey,” lamented Sidonie. She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. Kit reached out and seized one of her hands in his.
    â€œGrieve not on my account, fair lady. Have a sugar-plum instead.” He nodded towards the bedside chest, where candied fruits and flower petals were arranged on a silver tray.
    â€œYou would comfort me with comfits,” observed Sidonie, reaching for a slice of pomegranate.
    â€œExactly so.”
    â€œBut Kit, it is worse than you know, all our money is gone, and the red powder besides.”
    â€œThe money I expected, but the powder? It would seem to a beggar no more than common dirt.”
    â€œDid you not wonder if it was chance meeting with that beggar? Why should he waste his rogue’s tricks on travellers as poor and footsore as us?”
    â€œWhat mean you, Sidonie? That we were singled out?”
    She said, “Do you remember at the inn in Salisbury, I had a fancy we were being watched? Suppose it were no fancy?”
    â€œThat is a weighty supposition, for a man with his brains already curdled.”
    She leaned forward impatiently, as the notion caught hold of her. “Kit, you must be serious. You know nothing of plots and palace intrigues, they have not concerned you. But the day my father was summoned to court and made promises he could not keep, he and I were drawn willy-nilly into that world.”

C HAPTER T WELVE
    O wonder!
    How many goodly creatures are there here!
    How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world
    That has such people in’t.
    â€” William Shakespeare, The Tempest.
    A little dark-haired maid-servant, clad as sombrely as her mistress, came to fetch Sidonie from Kit’s room. No more than twelve or so, with wide, guileless eyes, she announced all in a rush, “I am called Alice, and Lady Mary has directed that I take you to your bedchamber, where I have prepared a bath, and after that I am to bring your supper, because you will wish to rest after such a misadventure.”
    â€œName of mercy, Alice,” exclaimed Sidonie. “Is my misadventure common knowledge, then?”
    A grin,