As the roan trotted off, Humphrey slowed their advance, to give Bruce a chance to catch up. Isabelle turned to him, her face suddenly serious. "Humphrey," she said. "Tell me why it is we are running from my home."

He looked down at her and still saw the face of his young princess, but there was something else visible in the way she held his gaze; the stern authority of a young queen, seeking answers which she deserved to have. Softly, he said, "You are aware that the king, your father, is most like now dead."

It was a statement, not a question, and after a moment, Isabelle nodded her head. "Yes," she said, just as softly. "For some years, my mother has prepared me for the fact that my father could possibly die in battle. That is one of the many dangers of being king." She turned her face toward the trail, no longer looking at Humphrey. "My father was rarely at the castle," she said, quietly, as she stroked Chestnut's mane with her free hand. "And when there, I saw him little enough; the king is usually quite busy with affairs of state, it would seem." She was quiet for a moment, perhaps searching for a faint memory of a father who was larger than life, yet rarely a figure in her own. "Even so," she said, "to hear of his death, so far away from everything he knew and loved; it is hard to grasp."

"He died protecting his land and his people, whom he loved indeed," Humphrey said.

Isabelle turned back to face him, and there were tears glistening in her eyes. "If he indeed loved me," she said with a faint hint of anger in her voice, as she barely held back those tears, "why did I not feel it?" It was the young, child princess who now asked of him a question he could not adequately answer. Humphrey knew that Harold had loved his daughter--he did not doubt that fact for a moment; but how could he convey this feeling to a grieving child?

"Your father was a brave man, my lady," he finally said, reverting back to her title for the nonce. "But he was need be a King before he was a father," he added, giving her a stern but kind look. "Knowing that he would never be able to be the father he wished he could be to you, he did the only thing left to him--Harold made sure that you would always be protected, so that you might one day take his place as ruler of this realm."

"Ruler?" she asked, seemingly unsure of what he was getting at. "But, my mother is still queen."

"Aye, she is queen, and in King Harold's absence, Frances now be the rightful regent of this realm."

"She is still alive, then?" Isabelle asked, a small glimmer of hope brightening her eyes.

"We received no message from her for three days," he admitted, "but most like she still lives, possibly held captive in the south."

"Then we must return and save her, Humphrey! She will need our help."