His glance swept the outlook below. "Heaven watches over monarchs," he added, turning a keen, satirical look on the other, "but through the vigilance of our earthly servitors."
The duke's response was interrupted by the appearance below of a horseman, covered with dust, riding toward them, and urging his weary steed up the incline with spur and voice. Deliberately the monarch surveyed the new-comer.
"What make you of yonder fellow?" he said. "He is not of the guard, nor of the bastard's following."
"His housings are the color of France, Sire."
"Then can I make a shrewd guess of his purpose," observed the monarch.
As he spoke the horseman drew nearer and a moment later had stopped before the emperor.
"A message from the king, Sire!" exclaimed the man, dismounting and kneeling to present a formidable-looking document, with a great disk of lead through which a silken string was drawn.
Breaking the seal, the emperor opened the missive. "It is well," he said at length, folding the parchment. "The king was even on his way to the château to await our coming, when he met Caillette and received our communication. Go you to the camp"—to the messenger—"where we shall presently return." And as the man rode away: "The king begs we will continue our journey at our leisure," he added, "and announces he will receive us at the château."
"And have I your permission to return to Friedwald, Sire?" asked the other in a low voice.
"Alone?"