at the far end of the hall. An attractive couple was descending, but it was the young lady behind them who caught his eye. Even from this distance he recognized the intelligence and sensitivity in her face, and the glow of her eyes. In the torchlight, the lady's hair was a mixture of gold and fire, and though her gown was fine, Andrew found himself staring at the graceful curves hugged by the velvet.
"M'sieur!" Anne exclaimed, pretending to pout. "Have you forgotten me?"
"Hmm? Oh no, of course not." He gave her a distracted smild and inquired, "Can you tell me the name of the unaccompanied young lady who is at the bottom of the staircase?"
Anne narrowed her eyes at Micheline and demanded, "Why do you ask?"
"The lady has an interesting face. It's not as beautiful as yours, of course, but it might be a challenge to paint."
"Oh." She tried to decide if she'd been complimented. "Well, that is Micheline Tevoulere. She's betrothed to a countryman of yours—the Marquess of Sandhurst."
"Really!" Andrew exhaled slowly. "That's very interesting...."
Part II
The knight knocked at the castle gate;
The lady marveled who was thereat.
To call the porter he would not bin;
The lady said he should not come in.
She asked him what was his name;
He said, "Desire, your man, Madame."
She said, "Desire, what do ye here?"
He said, "Madame, as your prisoner."
—William Cornish 14?-1523
Chapter 9
February 21-28, 1533
Before Sandhurst could contrive some means of meeting Micheline Tevoulere, the king came up to them and put a possessive arm around Anne's waist.
"I'm pleased to see that my Anne has been entertaining you." He smiled. Clad in cloth of silver, black velvet, diamonds, and ermine, Francois cut a splendidly royal figure. "We shall sup shortly, but first..." He scanned the crowd distractedly. "First I would like to introduce you to your first subject."
"Ah!" smiled Sandhurst, feigning surprise. "Very thoughtful of you, sire."
As if the king had sent a silent message, Micheline became visible among the chattering assemblage.
"Madame Tevoulere!" Francois called. The sound of his raised voice caused others to fall silent, and Micheline looked around immediately. "Will you join us?"
When she came smiling out of the crowd, Sandhurst thought that she was even more radiantly beautiful close up than she'd appeared to be on the distant stairway.
"How may I serve Your Majesty?" she inquired respectfully.
The king was satisfied that Micheline truly wanted to go to England and marry the Marquess of Sandhurst, but he hadn't liked the shadows that had appeared under her eyes and in her manner these past few days. Anne assured him that it was probably just a case of nerves, so Francois hoped now that the fresh new presence of this artist might lighten her mood.
"I would like you to meet a guest at our court, ma chere," he told her kindly. "Allow me to present Andrew Selkirk, a gifted painter from England who has agreed to make some portraits while he is with us." Turning to Sandhurst, the king smiled. "M'sieur, you have the honor to meet Micheline Tevoulere, a true gem among the ladies of my court."
"It is a pleasure, m'sieur," Micheline murmured. For the first time in days she was conscious of something penetrating the fog that surrounded her: Andrew Selkirk's compelling gaze.
"The pleasure, I can assure you," he said smiling, "is all mine." Lifting her slim hand, Andrew pressed a kiss to her fingers, wondering at the sudden flutter of her pulse.
"Perhaps you would sit with M'sieur Selkirk when we sup," Francois was saying to Micheline. "Since he's just arrived, he knows no one else."
"Certainly, sire," she replied obediently. For some reason her cheeks felt flushed, and she glanced downward so that the stranger from England would not misunderstand.
* * *
The boards had been laid and the court wandered over to be seated. The sight was impressive. The huge hall was paneled in walnut and hung with panoramic tapestries depicting King Francois during various triumphant moments throughout his reign. Servants were lined up beneath the tapestries, holding flaming torches, wine vessels, and golden dishes. The sound of musical French voices filled the air as the splendidly garbed lords and ladies found their places.
Sandhurst took it all in with his usual casual curiosity. He'd supped with King Henry at various castles in England, so his sense of awe had melted away long ago. A servant poured wine into his silver goblet from a pewter vessel with a long spout. Sandhurst sipped it and turned to look at the girl everyone meant him to marry.