“My comrades are holding her. She might be a wench belonging to these rebels, with designs to put a knife into my lord’s heart, and then we sentries would suffer. The Empress,” he added simply, “seems to set good store upon my lord at present, and we know the cleverness of her tormentors.”
“Your thoughtfulness is frank,” I said, and then he showed me the woman. She was muffled up in hood and cloak, but one who loved Nais as I loved could not mistake the form of Ylga, her twin sister, because of mere swathings. So I told the sentries to release her without asking her for speech, and then led her out from the bivouac beyond earshot of their lines.
“It is something of the most pressing that has brought you out here, Ylga?”
“You know me, then? There must be something warmer than the ordinary between us two, Deucalion, if you could guess who walked beneath all these mufflings.”
I let that pass. “But what’s your errand, girl?”
“Aye,” she said bitterly, “there’s my reward. All your concern’s for the message, none for the carrier. Well, good my lord, you are husband to the dainty Phorenice no longer.”
“This is news.”
“And true enough, too. She will have no more of you, divorces you, spurns you, thrusts you from her, and, after the first splutter of wrath is done, then come pains and penalties.”
“The Empress can do no wrong. I will have you speak respectful words of the Empress.”
“Oh, be done with that old fable! It sickens me. The woman was mad for love of you, and now she’s mad with jealousy. She knows that you gave Nais some of your priest’s magic, and that she sleeps till you choose to come and claim her, even though the day be a century from this. And if you wish to know the method of her enlightenment, it is simple. There is another airshaft next to the one down which you did your cooing and billing, and that leads to another cell in which lay another prisoner. The wretch heard all that passed, and thought to buy enlargement by telling it.