Here, in my pocket.”

He handed over a thick envelope.

“Thank you, Sandoval. I’ll go and read it up in my room. Meanwhile you may entertain my father.”

After a long search the Duke produced a netsuke from his pocket—a little button carved from stone and used for clasping the kimono at the shoulder.

“Marvellous,” he commented. “Fifteenth century.”

They talked at length about the netsuke and other things Japanese, the Duke leading him with uncertain steps through room after room, bringing out his treasures to show them off. Sandoval made tactful but persistent attempts to introduce the subject of what was to happen the following day, but even the most oblique mention of any such topic produced a display of violent irritation.

“All these stupid claims to the throne,” he muttered. “Don’t say one word about any of that. Nothing will come of it, I’m quite sure. In my late brother Simon’s reign I was next in line three times … or was it just twice? … and nothing ever came of it. All the better for it, too.”

A full half-hour or more passed in this manner, before signs of fatigue began to show on the Duke’s face. Princess Clodia and a footman came for him soon after, and made him lie down on a divan.

Clodia and Sandoval went through into another room.

“He’s interested in nothing but his collections,” she complained. “But he always was like that. He’s spent his entire fortune on them, and he’s run up so many debts he won’t be able to pay them even if he does become king. Oh well, never mind. It’s lucky I’m here. It’s not that I have an especially high opinion of myself, but I could run this country every bit as well as that daft cousin of mine, Oliver. Even when we were children he was completely useless. He used to write poetry … ”

“Your Highness, the people are always happy to be ruled over by a woman. Because the male monarchs are always swayed by their women, and the women by their men.”

For a moment the Princess frowned at this extreme impertinence, then she smiled. She thought of those exemplary women whose lives she had studied with such care: Elizabeth of England, Catherine the Great … Yes, Sandoval was right.

“The Duke will have to be shaken out of his apathy,” Sandoval continued. “Tomorrow is the day we’ve all been waiting for. For a little while at least, he ought to show some enthusiasm and appetite for the job in hand. By this time the day after tomorrow, assuming all goes well, he’ll be king—and he still won’t let us mention it in his presence.”

“You are quite right. His lack of interest could be very damaging when he comes face to face with his supporters. It might even turn the Nameless Captain against him.”

“The Nameless Captain? Does Your Highness believe in such a being?”

“Of course. I don’t understand how you could think otherwise. Who do you imagine is funding the revolution? You don’t think it’s us, in Algarthe? We haven’t a penny to our name … ”

“True, true. But then who could this Nameless Captain be? Who in Alturia has that sort of money? And is it possible that Your Highness really doesn’t know?”

“Well, that’s how it is: even I don’t know. I have speculated about various foreign powers and interests, but none of them seems very probable. I simply cannot imagine who would have anything to gain from my father’s taking the throne.”

“Delorme insists that the Nameless Captain will declare himself at the critical moment. Perhaps we’ll see him tomorrow.