Out of his irrelevance, I gathered the trend of his thought. "I wonder where we go," I began.
Almost as though he had heard my words, a tall, commanding figure stepped into the hall. He was attired richly in damask of a lovely, soft blue with the same slashes of crimson that the servant livery had shown, but in this case of finer material. He was a handsome man of about thirty-four. His beard was pointed and he had a small mustache. His long legs were encased in silken hose and he wore a dagger thrust through his belt.
"De Lacy, at your service, my lord," he announced as he made a deep bow.
I extended my hand, somewhat at a loss to know how to greet my father's steward, who was clearly a man of some importance and who, but for me, would be owner of Rougemont.
Instead of shaking hands, he dropped on one knee and kissed my hand—a proceeding which embarrassed me very much.
On my motioning him to rise, he did so with a lithe grace: "I suppose you want to change your strange clothes, my lord, and see your quarters?"
I nodded and introduced Wrexler. De Lacy bowed. "Monsieur Wrexler would like to be near you?" Then he added, "We have some twenty or thirty suites, my lord."
Wrexler said he would prefer to be close at hand, and together we followed de Lacy up the marble stairway into a new world.
Wrexler was at ease immediately in his doublet and hose. The rich, embroidered garments seemed to suit him as modern clothes never did. He looked handsomer than ever. He also told me that the costume of the Medici was becoming to me, and truly when I caught a glimpse of myself mirrored in the pond—for the château did not possess a large mirror—I was not ill pleased with the result. But, by the end of the week, I still felt strange in my new attire, whereas Wrexler from the beginning wore his as if to the manor born.