Marlowe’s astonishment at her gentle assault was barely overcome by the ardor of her kiss when the clanging of the village bell broke the silence of the forest. The harsh metallic sound rang cold through the ancient trees.

He sat up, dumping Drunais onto the loam. “The village!”

“My love!” she cried dramatically.

He got to his feet, torn between his duty and his passion.

What was it that heretical German preacher said? Man is a horse with two riders? Queen and country always managed to wrest the reigns from love, Marlowe found. He gave Drunais a last longing look where she lay sprawled in a heap and strode off through the trees without another word.

“That went well,” opined Cat, rubbing his head against Drunais’ thigh in the hope he might be rewarded with a bit of residual cuddling.