I suppose it is only about thirty hours, yet it looks as if it might be as many weeks, since I sat in the bower with Lady Judith, broidering a mantle of cramoisie for Lady Sybil. We were talking of different things, carrying on no special train of conversation. Lady Sybil had been with us; but, a few minutes before, Guy had called her into the hall, to assist in receiving a messenger just arrived with letters from the Regent. Something which Lady Judith said amused me, and I was making a playful reply, when all at once there broke on us, from the hall, such a bitter, wailing cry, as instantly told us that something terrible must have happened. The mantle was dropped upon the rushes, and Lady Judith and I were both in the hall in an instant.
The messenger, a young knight, stood at the further side of the daïs, where were Guy and Lady Sybil. She had apparently fainted, or was very near it, and he was holding her in his arms, and endeavouring to whisper comfort.
"Oh, what is the matter?" broke from me, as my eyes sought first Guy and then the messenger.
Guy did not answer. I am not sure that he heard me. It was the young knight who replied.
"Damoiselle, if it please your Nobility, our young Lord Beaudouin the King has been commanded to the Lord."
I never wished I was not noble until that minute. Had I been a villein, he would have told me without considering the pleasure of my Nobility, and I should have been out of suspense one second sooner.
Lady Judith's one thought seemed to be for the poor mother, who was utterly overcome by the sudden news of her first-born's death. She actually opened the casement with her own hands, though there were plenty of damsels and squires in the hall, whom she might have called to do it. One she sent for water, and sprinkled a few drops on Lady Sybil's face, entreating her to drink some wine which a squire brought in haste. She appeared to swallow with difficulty, but it seemed to revive her, and her voice came back.
"Oh, my boy, my boy!" she cried piteously. "And I was not there! It was not in my arms he died. My first-born, my darling! I was not there."
Ay, that seemed the climax of her misery—she was not there! I was very, very sorry, both for her and for the child. But another thought soon darted into my brain, and it was too hard for me to solve. Who was the King of Jerusalem now? When I thought it meet, I whispered the question to Guy. He made me no answer in words, but his quick downward glance at the golden head still bowed upon his arm told me what he thought. And all at once the full significance of that death flashed upon me. Lady Sybil was the Queen of the World, and might have to do battle for her glorious heritage.
There was no doubt concerning the right. Only two remained of the House of Anjou: and there could be no question as to whether the elder or younger sister should succeed. Lady Sybil's right had been originally set aside: and now it had come back to her.