He stopped, with a question in his voice. He did not quite know why. Instantly the white figure leapt up and ran to him.
‘Giles! How did you know I—’
‘Madame,’ he broke in (the harshness in his voice silenced her), ‘the King has sent me to you.’
She came a step nearer still, hesitatingly. Even in that dim light Giles could see the glorious beauty of her face puzzling over this awkward greeting, this unfriendly manner of his. He half turned his head and, looking away towards the distant sea, spoke on quickly.
‘His Majesty wishes you to return to the castle at once.’
Over his shoulder he heard her answer, low yet clear.
‘But I do not wish to come.’
Giles’s jaw set a little firmer still.
‘Your Ladyship must please understand. My orders were to find you and bring you back.’
‘Bring me back!’ Her voice rose slightly, both pride and annoyance in its tone. ‘Am I then no more than an old coat or something, that the King’s Finder has been sent out to fetch me in? I have journeyed here to enter the nunnery of Saint Bridget. I will not come with you.’