The 18th—19th—20th and 21st of June are known as the Queen's days, a time of quiet in the Palace, while Margaret was sheltered by the love of her servants from all the horrors of the blood-stained world. Outside the guarded walls reason had fled from the earth and our humane civilization seemed to be dying.
On the Wednesday we knew that Brand's council had assembled. On Thursday while we waited for news it rained, on Friday a merry breeze was laughing among the trees. On Saturday great clouds came sailing up from the west, and scattered their sparkling showers through the sunlight; but still we heard no tidings, saw no ships. On Sunday it rained again, and Margaret, with her knights and gentlemen, attended the service of the Eucharist. After luncheon Margaret left the Russian Prince as usual to his wine, and walked with her hounds beside the garden lake. Nobody knew what our Lady thought, nobody guessed how much our Lady hoped, but Sydney found her sitting in the rose arbour. At her feet the rippling lake pawed with tiny insistence on the pebbles, but the Queen was watching the clouds, a squadron of big white clouds which came from Avalon, from Lyonesse.
Trooper Browne, as usual, was with Sydney, but the recruit hung back a little so that my lord was alone when he bent on his knee before the Queen.
"What is it, Sydney?"
"We are sent, madam, to be in attendance on the Queen's Majesty."
"But I want to be alone."
Sydney looked up, and in his grave, grey eyes there was trouble.
"We all know," he said, "that our Lady wants to be alone."
"And yet you come?"
"I can't help it."