Danaë stopped suddenly. In the Lady Zoe’s eyes there was a look of dawning comprehension. Was it possible that the scandals agitating Therma had reached her ears, and that she was within an inch of guessing the truth? The girl plunged wildly into further invention. “He was her youngest child, lady, and she had children enough before. She desired to make a long journey with the great lord her husband, and they did not wish to take the child, for they were to be away for two whole years. So she sent for my sister to Czarigrad, and entrusted the little lord to her, with money for his food and clothes, and started with her husband. That was how the little lord came to us.”
“And how long ago was this?”
Danaë embarked on elaborate calculations with the aid of her fingers. “Eight—nine weeks, my lady.”
“But you told me you had been with him from his birth!”
“Well—almost from his birth, lady,” conceded Danaë pleasantly.
“And where is his mother now?”
“I know not, my lady. How can I tell?”
“But were you not to write to her?”
“Nay, my lady. Who of us could write?”
“But she could not leave her child without making some arrangement—What is her name?”