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These are my private quarters, not your parlor, Stephen said, hitching himself up. And do not feign offense, dear wife, since you obviously knew what business you would find here. I do not feign offense. Anne eyed him sharply. Only regret, to have interrupted you from such pressing work. So. Stephen rose. By all means, let me know. What's the big surprise? A runner has arrived from Sardoney. He's brought word that your little jester is on the way. Two days out. With his lance. Thisis the news you thought would disarm me? Stephen seemed to yawn, taking another deep bite from his apple. That this poor fool marches on us? Why should this mean any more to me than a bite of this fruit, I say? But come, he said, eyeing the bulge in his hose, as long as the table is set, why not put the little weasel to some work? Anne crept behind him and smoothed her hands across his chest, even though the pretense of such affection was as repulsive to her as kissing a snake. She bent down to his ear and whispered, It is not the fool that I thought would concern you, my husband. She rubbed her hand near his cock. But the thousand men who march along with him. What? Stephen twisted around. He screwed up his face in disbelief. Oh, has the weasel crept back in his little cave? Anne laughed. Yes, my liege, apparently an army follows him that is even greater than before. An army of lost souls,heretics , thanks to you. And thanks to Baldwin, fully armed. Stephen jumped out of his seat, hot with rage. Impossible! They damn their souls to follow him. No, husband, it isyour soul that is damned.