“Me, Sire.”
“What for?”
“Your Majesty told me not to let him harm her.”
“Harm her! Did he try to?”
“I was there. She wants to see you.” He turned to me. “And you, sir.”
We three hastened to her apartments, where we found her lying on a couch and attended by a number of frightened women.
“Lentala!” the king anxiously said; “what is the matter?”
She forced a smile, held out one hand to the king and the other to me, gave mine a quick, tight squeeze, released our hands, in a weak voice bade us be seated, and with a wave of her hand dismissed the women.
“What has happened, child?” the king insisted.
“Gato came. I was alone. He didn’t know that Christopher was behind him.” She was speaking with difficulty, often pausing. “He was impatient. He said he loved me and wanted me. And if I wouldn’t marry him, he’d... he’d strangle me here and now.... That his men were waiting in the Council Chamber to kill you, if I refused him, and then they would kill the queen.... I said no. I trusted Christopher. Gato’s fingers hooked like that,” she showed with her own hands, “his eyes glared terribly, and he came at me.... Christopher crept up, said to me, ‘Don’t scream,’ and leaped on Gato. They grappled, and rolled on the floor. Gato roared like a wild beast.” Lentala covered her eyes with her hands. “I heard things crack and break. I couldn’t look. Then came an awful squeak. Christopher said again to me, ‘Don’t scream.’ It meant he was safe. I felt myself falling.... When I saw again, I was lying on this divan, and my women were with me. Gato was gone. Christopher was standing in the door. I asked him where Gato was. He said, ‘In the dungeon.’ He would say no more, and I sent him for you.” She looked at him, and added, “Dear old Christopher!”