The youth jumped to the pier and cried, "I've been sent for you, my lady, to come to Kennington. You're to come back with me at once!"

"No - -" said Katherine, unsmiling. In the shadow of her hood her face gleamed hard as pearl, her eyes were cooler than the mists.

Robin was dismayed that the lovely laughing girl who had been his most precious charge was transformed into a stern woman with a stranger's eyes. He stammered, "But, my lady - 'tis a command - you are summoned to Kennington Palace."

" 'Tis kind of His Grace," she said. "You may tell him that I know he has never been lacking in courtesy when he thinks there's cause for it, but in sending you to warn him I did nothing that his lowliest varlet would not have done."

Robin blinked, and looking down at the toe of his leather shoe, said unhappily, "It is not His Grace who summons you."

The bells ceased their ringing and there was silence on the pier. "Who does then?" said Katherine.

"The Princess Joan, my lady - she commands in the name of Prince Richard that you shall come at once."

"Whyfor?" said Katherine, in a less sure tone. "I've never met the Princess, what could she want of me? Robin, is His Grace not at Kennington too?"

"Ay - he was - locked in a chamber with Percy, I believe. I've not seen him since we crossed the river last night. Lady dear - I beg of you to hurry, the Princess was most anxious."

Since there was now no queen in England, Princess Joan was sovereign lady and must be obeyed. Katherine reluctantly let Robin help her into the waiting barge. The oarsmen bent their backs and pulling sturdily against the current moved their craft upstream. They passed Westminster and crossing to the Lambeth bank landed at the Kennington pier.

They went up a terraced path to the fair small country palace where the Prince of Wales had died. Robin led the way through a courtyard and upstairs to the Princess Joan's bower, where a waiting-woman admitted Katherine at once, then left her alone.

The room was gaudy as a jewel box; the walls hung with painted silks, the floor covered with bright woven flowers in a Persian carpet. The furniture was gilded, and in a gold cage studded with crystals two white birds twittered.

As Katherine looked at the birds the Princess entered hurriedly, in a rush of pink velvet and a wave of heavy scent, crying with warm impetuosity, "Welcome, Lady Swynford, I've been awaiting you!" She held out a fat dimpled hand so loaded with diamonds that Katherine, as she curtsied, could scarce find space to kiss.

"I have come, madam, as you commanded," said Katherine distantly, and rising, she waited.

"Take off your mantle and sit down, my dear," said the Princess, while she settled her billowing hips into a canopied chair. Katherine obeyed, wondering what was wanted of her, and her pride hardened still further, for she thought that she could guess.

The Princess was like a large blowzy rose. Katherine noted the dyed hair, the excessive plumpness of the rouged cheeks, the charcoal blackening the scanty lashes, and thought how the nuns of Sheppey Convent had admired this fair maid of Kent, and of how she had once heard a knight say that when Joan had married the Prince of Wales she was "la plus belle femme d'Angleterre - et la plus amoureuse."

Perhaps his brother thought so still.

The Princess cleared her throat and leaning forward said, "My dear, you're not at all as I expected. I see now why - yes - I'm glad I summoned you." The girl looked high-born and well-bred, Joan thought in surprise, with most lovely features. The firm cleft chin showed character too. She was relieved at this new view of Lancaster's mistress, for gossip had it that the little Swynford was an upstart strumpet, and some said that she kept him from the Duchess by the use of black arts.

Joan smiled, the gay confiding smile which had won many a heart, and said, "I have something to ask of you, Lady Swynford - 'tis a delicate matter."

"Perhaps I may save you embarrassment, madam, by telling you that I intend to leave the Duke's service tomorrow, and shall go to live permanently in my own manor in Lincolnshire," said Katherine. "Is that far enough away?"

The Princess' eyes grew round as turquoise discs. "Blessed Saint Mary!" she cried. "Did you think I asked you here to beg you to give up the Duke? Great heaven, child, it is quite the opposite!"

"What!" cried Katherine sharply. "Madam, you are jesting." For the Princess was laughing in small muffled spurts.

"Nay, listen," said Joan wiping her eyes on her pink velvet sleeve. "Forgive me, I don't know whether I laugh or weep, for I am frightened - -frightened - don't stare at me with those great angry eyes - my dear, I need your help." The Princess rose and walking to Katherine cupped the girl's chin in her hand and gazed down earnestly. "Do you really love my brother of Lancaster?" Katherine looked away, and her colour rose. "Ay, I see you do."

"He loves me no longer," said Katherine very low. "He's had no thought of me in months - there are many signs - it is finished."

The Princess sighed and wandering to the carved mantel absently traced the pattern of acanthus leaves with her finger. "I believe you're wrong," she said, "and for two reasons. I lived fifteen years with his brother and in many ways they are like as two cockleshells. Edward never ceased to love me and come back to me, and yet when the dark violent fits were on him."

She shook her head. Her hand dropped from the mantel and she sat down again. "And the other reason is this. Three weeks ago we held a Christmas mumming here for my Richard. John came, of course, with many others to do Richard honour, and late that night when we had all retired I could not sleep for missing my own dear lord and fearing for the future of my little son. Then I heard a strange noise in the State Chamber which is next to mine, and where John slept. It was a sound of outcry and struggle. I opened the door between and listened fearfully, meaning to shout for the guard, and then I knew that he was in the grip of some frightful dream. He choked and panted and cried out your name. 'Katrine! Katrine!' He cried it with a frenzy that would wring your heart. I went to him and woke him, and he was angry with me and bade me get out. We did not speak of it again."

The hardness in Katherine's breast dissolved a little, and she said with a faint smile, " 'Tis something to know that he yet thinks of me in dreams. But what is it you would have me do, madam?"

The Princess, gripping her chair arms violently, cried, "Go to him! Go to him - and somehow, make him listen - -make him stop these dreadful things he's planning - Christ's mercy! I think he has gone mad!"

The girl got up and ran to kneel by the weeping Princess. "Dear lady, he is not mad, I know he's not - but he would never listen to me, never has he told me his plans."

The Princess clutched the girl's arm. "All morning I pled with him, Sir Simon Burley - Richard's guardian - pled. I even summoned the old archbishop here, John would not see him, do you know what he means to do?" She shuddered, and her tear-blurred eyes grew fixed. "He means to muster an army, his own people and Percy's from the north, he means to march it on to London! Civil war! Worse far than what my dear lord dreaded. There'll be no England left for Richard."

"And this gathering of an army is not all," cried the Princess. "He proposes this night to violate sanctuary - to seize some prisoner who has fled to St. Paul's - to drag him out from the altar - hang him."

"Jesu, no!" cried Katherine in horror. For this sacrilege seemed to her the worst of all that the Princess had said. The right of sanctuary was God's most sacred law and to violate it meant damnation.

"Ay," said the Princess with a groan. "Every man's hand would be against him then. John will be killed. He was saved last night, Katherine, but after this nothing could save him. As surely as his grandfather was murdered in Berkeley Castle, so will John be killed and thousands of others with him."

"This prisoner," cried Katherine, "who is he?" In the blackness of her confusion, there was a glimmering. An intuition.

"Some knave who did write placards about the Duke, so Percy said." The Princess spoke with weary impatience. She thought this a foolish question indeed when the welfare of her son and England was at stake.

But Katherine's intuition grew stronger. In some way the prisoner held the key to John's unreason. All these things which he had done to so inflame the people dated from the time he read the placard at St. Paul's. Suddenly prideful hurt and anger vanished, and her love flowed back on a wave of pity, while she felt in her own breast a vibration from the wild submerged pain he had been suffering. She saw that the Princess Joan was right, and that she alone had love enough for him to wrestle with his demon.

The bower door opened and a child walked in, a lad with curling flaxen hair and a face so delicate that but for his particoloured hose and royal blazoned surcote he might have been a girl.

"Dickon!" cried the Princess holding out her hand. "Come to me, love. Here, Lady Swynford," she said as the child stood by her knee, "is England's hope." She looked at Katherine with pleading, praying that the girl's hesitation would be finally resolved by the sight of this fair royal child.

Katherine started from her thoughts and curtsied. Richard bowed to her in a courtly manner, and said, "Mama, my lord Uncle John is leaving - he's on the stairs - I thought you didn't wish him to go."

"Dear God!" cried the Princess jumping up, "he must not go. If he leaves here - Katherine - can you stop him - for I know that I cannot."