They caught each other as men do who love greatly, and for a moment neither spoke. Then Aymery stood back, and picked up his sword.
“Denise? Is she here?”
Grimbald’s forehead became seamed with lines. His short silence betrayed perhaps more than he could tell.
“We came to find her, brother,” he said.
“And she is gone?”
“The cell is empty.”
Aymery’s voice sounded harsh as the rasp of a saw. He swung his sword up and let it rest upon his shoulder. Even in the dusk Grimbald saw that glitter in the eyes, that fierce closure of the lips, that spreading of the nostrils.
“The cell has been empty some days, I judge. I was troubled for the sake of Denise, for I had heard a strange tale from Oswald here. We came, and found nothing.”
Aymery swung to and fro with swift, sharp strides. Then his sword shot out and pointed Oswald away.
“Go. Out of earshot.”