that convent of Saint Peter where Andreas had been strangled a year
ago. And it was here that he was joined by Charles, who came protesting
loyalty, and whom the King received with open arms and a glad welcome,
as was to be expected from a man who had been Andreas's one true friend
in that land of enemies. Of Charles's indiscreet escapade in the matter
of Aquila nothing was said. As Charles had fully expected, it was
condoned upon the score both of the past and the present.

That night there was high feasting in that same refectory where Andreas
had feasted on the night when the stranglers watched him, waiting, and
Charles was the guest of honour. In the morning Ludwig was to pursue his
march upon the city of Naples, and all were astir betimes.

On the point of setting out, Ludwig turned to Charles.

"Before I go," he said, "I have a mind to visit the spot where my
brother died."

To Charles, no doubt, this seemed a morbid notion to be discouraged. But
Ludwig was insistent.

"Take me there," he bade the Duke.

"Indeed, I scarce know--I was not here, remember," Charles answered
him, rendered faintly uneasy, perhaps by a certain grimness in the gaunt
King's face, perhaps by the mutterings of his own conscience.

"I know that you were not; but surely you must know the place. It will
be known to all the world in these parts. Besides, was it not yourself
recovered the body? Conduct me thither, then."

Perforce, then, Charles must do his will. Arm-in-arm they mounted the
stairs to that sinister loggia, a half-dozen of Ludwig's escorting
officers following.

They stepped along the tessellated floor above the Abbot's garden,
flooded now with sunshine which drew the perfume from the roses blooming
there.

"Here the King slept," said Charles, "and yonder the Queen. Somewhere
here between the thing was done, and thence they hanged him."

Ludwig, tall and grim, stood considering, chin in hand. Suddenly he
wheeled upon the Duke who stood at his elbow. His face had undergone a
change, and his lip curled so that he displayed his strong teeth as a
dog displays them when he snarls.

"Traitor!" he rasped. "It is you--you who come smiling and fawning upon
me, and spurring me on to vengeance--who are to blame for what happened
here."

"I?" Charles fell back, changing colour, his legs trembling under him.

"You!" the King answered him furiously. "His death would never have
come about but for your intrigues to keep him out o