“Comfort yourself. I had word. Richard is in the White Tower in London—has been there all these days.”
“Is he so like?”
“Like enough to trick any but his own familiars, and though this fellow is some five years older, the young king looks more than a lad. It is a marvel.”
Isoult stood thinking.
“Two kings to play with! To use the one, if the other should prove contrary! Yes; but, my friend, this young man, this Fulk of the Forest, is more proud and stiffnecked than any king I ever read of.”
Merlin’s voice was sly and insinuating.
“And Isoult of the Rose surpasses all women——”
She cut in on him sharply.
“Be careful. I am not to be played with. But I might try my wits.”
She stared into the darkness as though trying to see Merlin’s face.