It might
be wise to wait a bit before making a decision that could be so final.

Jacques bowed, and said hoarsely.

"I await the orders of the Court, Your Highness."

If the Chief Justice noted that Jacques said "await" instead of the more
correct "will obey", he gave no sign of it.

"Very well," he said. "Court will convene in five minutes." He turned so
abruptly that he almost bumped into the Bailiff, who was making a poor
effort to cover his disappointment.

Sir Mallory smiled at Jacques, and said warmly:

"The FBIT is proud of you!"

When they had left the room, the still frightened squire stuttered:

"S-shall we d-dress, Sire?"

Jacques walked without answering to the couch and sat down on the edge
of it.

"Get a move on!" he ordered. His feelings were in turmoil: He was
desperately eager to see this Lady Ann, yet he dreaded the moment. If
this was the Ann....

Fingers trembling, the squire anointed each muscular shoulder with three
drops of perfumed oil, after which he drew over Jacques' head and upper
body the white tunic--white to symbolize the purity of motive in
entering the execution arena. Next came the black breeches and
hose--black for the eternal remembrance of death. Over the tunic came
the flaming red jupon, blazoned on the sleeves with gules and on the
back with a lion rampant argent. On his left shoulder, the squire fixed
a lace of white silk, representing a deed not yet accomplished.
Following the execution, a woman who had won the honor in her plant
lottery would cut it off.

After lacing on Jacques' boots, the squire stepped back, snatching an
instant to admire his handiwork.

"Well done, Squire," said Jacques. "Now, let's be off!"

The squire flushed and beamed in gratitude. He picked up the silver case
containing the two Pistolet du Mort, one for Jacques, one for the
condemned person.

* * * * *

Court was on a portable platform in the center of the Judicial Arena. As
soon as the execution was confirmed, it would be wheeled out of the way.

When Jacques stepped from the tunnel and strode toward the platform, an
abrupt hush choked off the babbling and laughter in the stands. Most of
the hundred thousand capacity crowd was already seated. Behind Jacques,
the squire straightened his narrow shoulders with pride. This was the
highpoint in a life spent among the tapes, circuits and feedback
problems of computer research.

Jacques mounted the platf