The King’s Council Chambers I pushed myself up with a stiff arm, and looked around. All seemed in order in my chamber, and I wondered if I had dreamt the noise that had awakened me. Or perhaps I had not latched the shutters closely last night, in my distress, and a gust of wind had caught them. I reached for the bell that sat ever at my bedside, and rang for my maid, who always slept in an alcove off my room, except on the nights when William visited. She appeared quickly, as if she had been waiting for my summons. “Mignonne,” I said, throwing back the furs on the bed, “help me to rise and prepare myself. And find a page. I would send a message to my brother.” “Yes, my lady.” And the young thing sped about her tasks with her usual dispatch. I held up a silvered oval to my face, and saw therein the ravages of my quarrels with William, my anger, and my sleepless night. In dismay, I tossed it aside. “Mignonne, as soon as you have found the page, come to my table and help me.
