He passed from the room without any formal leave-taking. Reist looked after him thoughtfully.
“An enemy! Well, at least we are forewarned. Prince Ughtred, there will be no rest for you now, or, I fear, for many days. Domiloff has gone without doubt to the barracks. We must forestall him. I have ordered fresh horses to be brought to the door. Marie, some wine! We are thirsty! Wine from the King’s cup!”
A servant, whose livery seemed but a slight modification of the native dress, brought some dust-covered bottles. Marie, with her own hand, unlocked an oaken cabinet, and produced some quaint horn cups, emblazoned in gold, with the Reist arms. One larger than the others she set before the Prince.
“They were a present,” Reist said, “from Rudolph the Second to my great-grandfather. The cup you have is called the King’s cup. No one who is not of Royal birth has ever drunk out of it. Permit me!”
He filled it to the brim, and Ughtred, who was thirsty, raised it gladly to his lips. Reist and Brand waited.
“To Theos and her King,” Reist said, gravely. “This is our ancient toast. May her sons be ever brave, her rulers wise, and her soil fruitful! God save the King!”
They drank together. Marie stood at the head of the table, her dark eyes full of silent fires, her fingers nervously twitching. Ughtred turned towards her.
“You, too,” he said, “must drink with us. Nay, I will have no refusal. You will honour me.”