"Alys! Alys! Alys!" cried a clear young voice from above. Alys, muffled to the very eyes in her furs, and stiff from the exposure of her long ride, had been almost lifted from her saddle by strong arms, and carried within the hospitable portals of the grim-looking fortress. She was dazed with the change from snowy darkness to the blaze of light, confused by the number of strange voices and faces around her, and not even reassured by the welcome of Amalric, who was seeking to win from her one of the smiles that had become so much to him.
"Alys! Alys! Alys!"
The call was repeated in clear, imperious tones of bell-like sweetness; and Alys, lifting her eyes to see whence they came, saw the laughing face of the Demoiselle looking over at her from the dimness of the gallery above.
"Amalric, bring her hither to me; she is my lawful prey—my prisoner! Don't keep her standing down there in that crowd! I am waiting for her here. Bring her to me; I will warm her and make her happy. You clumsy men never understand how to do that!"
The next minute the two girls had met half-way up the great staircase, and the imperious Demoiselle, who had changed but little from the day on which she and Alys had last seen each other, dragged off her willing captive to the bedchamber which the little lady had insisted that her friend should share with her. It was lighted only by the glow of a roaring fire of pine logs, but it looked so bright and cheery and comfortable that Alys uttered a little exclamation of pleasure, and sank down before the grateful blaze, chafing her numbed hands and smiling up gratefully at Eleanora as she loosed her heavy cloak and hood and smoothed the ruffled hair beneath.
"It has been such a cold, cold journey!" she said. "Right glad am I that our mother and Edmund did not attempt it. Fifty times I was minded to implore my father to turn back; but I misdoubt me if he would have done so."
"Nay, fie upon thee for a coward," cried the Demoiselle, with uplifted finger, "with me, thine own friend, waiting for thee at the other end! To turn back is but the act of a poltroon! Fight and not flight is the motto of the brave. O Alys, what a world of things have happened since we said adieu! Didst ever think that men would say of my noble father that he was the uncrowned King of England?"
The maiden spoke with a great pride in her voice, and with a flash in her eyes that bespoke a sense of keen triumph. Alys shivered a little at the words; for she had heard them spoken with different intonation by others not very long before, and knew that a leaven was working in the country of which this child knew nothing as yet.
"My father leads the Council of Three, who really govern the realm," continued the Demoiselle, talking in her eager, rapid way. "They say that Gilbert of Gloucester will give trouble; he is showing himself unruly and rapacious. But I trow my father can control him. Oh, it is a wonderful power which my father has gained! All men bow down before him. And yet his heart is not puffed up; he is grave and sober in his bearing. Why was he not born the King, instead of Henry of Winchester—poor puppet, who can never stand alone, but must be propped up by the will of those about him? Why, my father is ten times more a King than he!"
"And so is his own son," said Alys gently. "If any ruled in the place of the King, methinks it should surely be the Prince."