He climbed down, and stood looking up with a grin on his face. There was no light but the light of the fire and the flare of a torch burning in a cresset. Isoult’s red dress showed on the stairs. She descended them slowly, gathering her skirt up with one hand.
The men by the fire stared at her. Their faces looked gaunt and shadowy. Merlin was licking his lips.
“My sister, the truth lies with you. Friend Guy has used his eyes. Speak!”
She stood before them in all her comeliness.
“What truth, Merlin?”
“Tsst! You know well. The King they sent out to us is no King.”
She looked at him, and shrugged her shoulders.
“Is Guy never thirsty?”
“No fencing. Speak out. Was it Fulk Ferrers you saw on the white horse?”
He went near, stooping, and staring her in the face.