“Of course!” Ughtred answered. “I may not be a model of etiquette, but I should never dream of soliciting, of welcoming an interview from even so old a friend as the Countess of Reist under such circumstances. Well, in the midst of our conversation, which I was doing my best to curtail, her brother arrived unexpectedly from Solika and found us together. He chose to consider her presence in my room compromising, and demanded that I should marry her. After that—chaos. As I told you, Reist has given up his command and deserted me. I believe that I have promised to fight him after the war is over.”
“And the Countess?” Brand asked.
The King smiled bitterly.
“She too seems to be my enemy, though why I cannot imagine. She, at any rate, can bear no ill-will to me over that unfortunate affair of the betrothal cup, for she has told me plainly that she loves another man.”
Brand’s horse seemed to stumble, and his face was invisible for a moment as he stooped down to pat her neck. When he looked up there was a curious gleam in his eyes.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I am very sorry that this has happened. I believe that Domiloff is working very hard to induce the Duke of Reist to join in his plot against you.”
The King looked sorrowfully away.
“Nicholas was my one friend here,” he said. “I have only my soldiers now. God grant that their lives may not be frittered away—that we may not lose by treason what we gain in battle.”
They talked for a while of the campaign. Brand, from his brief visit to Althea and Morania, was already conversant with the plan of operations. An old war correspondent, the muttering of the guns was like music to him.
“You should be able to hold your positions for a fortnight,” he declared, “and by that time Theos will be ready for a siege. I see that you are making preparations for a retreat there.”