The next day, Adrien awoke to a great sound of commotion. Her tiny cell had no window, only a grating in the ceiling that opened to the sky and gave her no view but of the clouds above. She heard people bustling through the courtyard and sharp cries ringing in the air, but she tried in vain to discern their purpose, and at length decided she must wait for the arrival of her gaoler to discover the news.
She had grown sore impatient by the time Ned opened the door of her dungeon. Beside him in the gloom she could make out the shape of a slender figure in a monk’s hood.
“What news, good Ned?” she asked, accepting the hunk of bread and mug of ale he gave her. “For I can hear the castle is in uproar, but I know not why.”
“They are preparing for your wedding,” the gruff soldier said, whilst F
