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attentive. “The sister of this extremely loyal knight, from Burgundy, is a virgin?”
    “Sadly, yes,” Jouglet said. “She will not even speak to men when her brother is away from home. But when she does engage in company, she has such a pretty wit, you can see the entire assembly fall in love with her. Not just the local bumpkins, either, sire— high aristocracy passing through the area court her all the time, I hear.”
    “Why hasn’t she married, then?”
    “She is no heiress, as I explained, so she is courted only to be mistress of their hearts, not of their hearths. ”
    “Ah,” Konrad said, with understanding; he had such mistresses himself.
    “She and her brother have resisted stooping to such a thing.” A pause. Jouglet shifted from the crouch to sit cross-legged at Konrad’s feet and began to trace a circle in the humus of birch leaves and fir needles carpeting this part of the unfinished courtyard. “But I suppose her brother will have to hand her over to someone sooner or later. Men make such a fuss over her she’s a bit of a liability— I myself saw a lord so moved by jealousy of her favors that he came to blows against a rival no older than myself. A knife came into play by the end of it!”
    “An impoverished orphaned virgin had that effect?”
    “I suppose Willem will have to yield her up eventually,” Jouglet said with affected offhandedness, still drawing circles. “I think there are rumors some of the higher churchmen have taken an illicit interest in her too. Has your brother the cardinal been in that area of late? He goes so rapidly between concubines, and I’m sure the church would be happy if he accidentally sowed a few ecclesiastical seeds in Burgundy. Bastards make excellent pawns. He likes them blond, doesn’t he?”
    Konrad tensed slightly. “She is not repulsive to look at? And has enough wit to entertain even you?”
    Jouglet nodded and glanced up, looking smitten. “She is the most exquisite creature I’ve ever met. I would choose her over any lady of your court— no insult intended to you, of course, sire. It is such a rare condition, to meet somebody so purely chaste and yet so engaging. She sits, sire, all afternoon at the window— her profile is lovely in the sunshine— and she does the most elaborate needlework while singing in the sweetest little soprano voice. Sometimes we perform the songs of Kurenerg together for her brother, taking turns with the verses, or we might sing a canso together.” The minstrel sighed happily, hand over heart, looking a little dopey. “And truly, sire, she does smell wonderful. And her skin looks like ivory with just a touch of rose dust upon it. None of that unbecoming porcine ruddiness of northern blondes.”
    The emperor was sitting up very straight. For a moment he looked smug about something. “Dole, eh? That’s better even than Besançon, it’s the capital of Burgundy, after all.” He frowned and deflated slightly. “No, the Assembly would never agree.” A small resigned smile. “But go on talking about her. I dare say you’re in love with her yourself.”
    Jouglet blushed. “She is entirely above me. She deserves a higher perch than Fate has given her. She and her brother, Willem, both. If only he had the means to ride in the tourneys more, especially the big ones like the one you’re sponsoring next month.” That was a little too obvious, and Jouglet, concerned, risked a studying glance at Konrad.
    But the emperor had taken the bait. “If her brother could win more tourneys he might, indeed, rise in the world.” Konrad was musing. Distractedly he brushed away a water droplet that had fallen from a tree above. “He could become the first Imperial Knight. And if he rose in status, she would as well. And if she rose enough, perhaps the Assembly would not veto my marrying her.”
    “Your marrying her?” Jouglet looked astonished. “Sire, that’s preposterous, if you will pardon me. Like that French romance