“In this,” said Lord Gro, “as in greater matters, I am thy servant, O Queen. ’Tis yet time enough, though. This half hour the King will not be ready. I left him closeted with Corsus, that setteth presently about his arming against the Demons. Thou hast heard?”
“Am I deaf,” said Prezmyra, “to a bell clangeth through all Carcë?”
“Alas,” said Gro, “that we waked too long last night, and lay too long abed i’ the morning!”
Prezmyra answered, “That did not I. And yet I’m angry with myself now that I did not so.”
“How? Thou sawest the King before the council?”
She bent her head for yes.
“And he nay-said thee?”
“With infinite patience,” said she, “but most irrevocably. My lord must hold by Impland till it be well broke to the saddle. And truly, when I think on’t, there’s reason in that.”
Gro said, “Thou takest it, madam, with that clear brow of nobleness and reason I had looked for in thee.”
She laughed. “I have the main of my desire, if Demonland shall be put down. Natheless, it maketh a great wonder the King picketh for this work so rude a bludgeon when so many goodly blades lie ready to his hand. Behold but his armoury.”