—William Shakespeare, Hamlet Still wakeful after midnight, Sidonie got out of bed and threw wide the casement, leaning out into the cool September dark. She felt hot and irritable, and her back ached. I’m stiff from the journey, she persuaded herself; tomorrow I will stay long abed, and rest. But — and the thought brought her wide awake, every muscle tensed — tomorrow she must scry for the Countess. Surely that was the reason her thoughts were all a-jumble and her limbs would not lie still. Clearly, if there was hidden gold at Glastonbury, it was Sidonie’s duty as an Englishwoman to discover it. And yet . . . there rose before her the face of the old monk, faithfully guarding the last of the treasures he held so dear. To serve England and the Queen, she must betray him. Alice had spread a red silk cloth on the library table, and pulled up a cushioned chair for Sidonie. Drawn curtains shut out the morning sun. Sidonie unwrapped the crystal, set it in the centre of the cloth. Then she asked Alice, who was hovering attentively, to light a single candle.
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