Several weeks after the birth of Hugh the Younger, a summons came from the king. Robert de Belleme, the Earl of Shrewsbury, and his brothers-Arnulf, Earl of Pembroke, and Roger of Poitou, Lord of Lancaster-had rebelled against the king. The king's armies were assembling to be deployed along the Marches of Wales, where the rebels had taken a stand. The marches were an area along the English-Welsh border, and along the southern coast of Wales. Hugh and Rolf marshaled their men, the troop having grown to fifty bowmen now.

"This time," Hugh told Isabelle, "not all will come back, I fear. This time there will be fighting."

"See that you come back," she told him. "And what of Blanca? If you answer the king's summons, you cannot possibly take her to Duke Robert. Will you offend him?"

"Send to the duke a missive telling him that I cannot come but will try to come in the autumn, or the following spring," Hugh told his wife.

Isabelle nodded, and then, kissing her husband, bravely bid him Godspeed.

Robert de Belleme and his two brothers, of the Montgomerie family, were each all-powerful men in their own right. United, they were a forceful trio. Unfortunately, they were disliked by the majority of the baronage, most of whom were far less powerful. The Montgomeries had no support in their rebellion against the king from either their own kind, from the clergy, or the people, who hated them. Why they had dared to face off against King Henry was a mystery to most. Others, wiser, believed the Montgomeries had foolishly succumbed to their overweening ambition.

Driven back into their own castles, they were forced to surrender after only three months. Each of the three lost their lands as forfeit for their stupidity; and they were exiled with their families back to Normandy, where they immediately began to plan another rebellion. Duke Robert, while he had not actively encouraged the disobedience against his younger sibling, had also not actively discouraged it. He had, in fact, very pointedly looked the other way. His wife was shortly to deliver their first child. He was not happy to see the return to Normandy of the Montgomeries, who had always been ambitious troublemakers wherever they settled.

Hugh Fauconier and Rolf de Briard returned home to Langston in late July. Six of their archers had fallen in the fray, a relatively small number, and they felt fortunate. King Henry had been very pleased by their loyalty and their support. Let great lords rebel against his legal authority; it was the small lords like Hugh who would hold England against all rebels and foreigners. He made his childhood friend a baron to reward him, and when Hugh asked if he should go to Normandy, the king said, "By all means, Baron Langston, go, and take the gyrfalcon to my brother. It will reassure him better than anything else I can do that I do not hold him responsible for the bad behavior of the Montgomeries. They are his problem now, may God help him. Poor old Robert. They will cause him more trouble, to be sure, sooner or later. Aye, go, and remain in Normandy until the Duchess Sibylle has delivered her child. Then return, and bring me all the news, both public and private, that you have managed to learn at my brother's court."

"I wish you could come with me, ma Belle," Hugh said to his wife. "If only our son were a trifle older and did not need you, cherie."

"But he does need me," Isabelle replied. "I do not want to give him to a wet nurse yet, my lord." She looked down upon the bed where their little son lay naked upon a sheepskin, kicking and cooing. He was almost four months old now, and each day, Isabelle thought, he seemed to change before her very eyes.

"I have already missed much of Hugh the Younger," her husband said sadly. "It is the way of our world that I must be away so much right now. Once the king has reigned for a while, England will be quiet. Then I shall have but my knight's service each year. I shall be home to teach our son to ride and to hunt." He smiled down at the baby, who grinned up at his sire, a great, toothless grin. Hugh offered him a finger, and the infant grasped it strongly, surprising his father. "By the rood, ma Belle, he has a tenacious grip, our wee lad!" Then he bent down and kissed the child upon his forehead. "Take care of your mother, Hugh the Younger. I'll be home as quickly as I can."

"How long?" Belle asked.

"The king wants me to remain long enough to bring him the news of the duchess's delivery and learn the sex of her child. She is due to have her babe in mid-autumn. I should be home by Martinmas, if the seas are not too stormy."

"The weather is usually best either just before a storm or immediately after one," Belle told him. "Go, my lord, and do what you must. Rolf will be here, and we are well-defended now."

Hugh Fauconier departed his home once again on Lammas, in the company of Alain the falconer and six Langston men-at-arms. He took with him Blanca, the gyrfalcon, who would be given to Duke Robert; and a charming little sparrow hawk he intended as a gift for the duchess. The swallow-sized hawk had a rufous back and tail, unlike any other hawk. The sparrow hawk was definitely a lady's bird. It would find its prey and then hover over it, its elegant little wings beating rapidly, until finally it would swoop to kill.

Isabelle stood upon the walls of the keep, her son in her arms, watching as her husband rode off toward the nearby coast and the waiting vessel that would sail him across to Normandy.

Once again it was time to harvest the crops grown in the fields and orchards at Langston. Grain was threshed, and stored in the granaries. Flour was ground in the lord's mill, some distributed to the serfs and other tenants, the rest stored. Cider, ale, and wine were made to be stored in the cellars of the keep. The fields to be used for the autumn planting of spring wheat were ploughed, and the seeds sown. The animals were gathered from their summer pastures and brought closer to home, where they might be quickly herded into shelters when the weather turned inclement. Michaelmas was celebrated. The weaving of linen began.

Christian de Briard was in his tenth month of life, his nephew, Hugh the Younger, a robust six and a half months old. Alette confided to her daughter that she believed she was quickening with another child.

"So soon?" Isabelle said, surprised.

"I am not young like you, my daughter," Alette responded. "I want to give my Rolf at least two sons before I am unable to conceive."

"What if it is a sister for Christian and me?" Belle teased.

"A daughter would suit me as well," Rolf told the women, overhearing their conversation as they sat together in the hall watching their babies crawl about. He bent, kissing his wife, then turned to Belle. "The manor is ready for winter, whatever it brings," he told her. "Everyone has worked very hard, my lady daughter. I should like to reward the serfs by allowing them a day's hunting in your fields and woods. No more than one deer per village, and two rabbits per family. Will you approve?"

"Aye," Belle answered. "They are deserving. Give them their day. Are the houses all in good repair for winter, Rolf?"

"Two roofs, one in Langston village and one in the outermost village, will need patching before the cold sets in, but I have already arranged for it, my lady. Tomorrow I have said the women and children may glean in the fields and orchards for whatever they can find. Well-fed peasants cannot be urged to any kind of sedition. The winters are hard enough."

Martinmas came, and with it a letter from Hugh Fauconier telling his wife that the duke and duchess had been delivered of a son. The duke, however, wanted him to remain on so they might hunt crane and test Blanca's prowess. The duchess had been pleased with her sparrow hawk. He would be home as soon as he could. Spring, at the very latest. Isabelle sighed, but there was nothing she could do. She was forced to accept her husband's decision. He could have hardly refused the duke's request without giving grievous insult to the king's brother.

The Nativity was celebrated in Langston's new church, which was, as Hugh had desired, called St. Elizabeth's. The church building was of a timber-frame construction, plastered and whitewashed. The roof was thatched. Hugh had wanted a stone church, but they would have had to wait much longer for the stones to be cut and then dragged over the marshes and the hills from Northamptonshire. Later, perhaps, they would have a stone church.

Langston's lord had wanted his church erected as quickly as possible. His serfs had worked diligently all summer and autumn, felling tress, cutting boards, mixing plaster, weaving thatch, in order that they might celebrate the Nativity within their own church. And next to the church was a small cottage especially built for Father Bernard, and a brand new churchyard.

On the eve of the Nativity the interior of the church was decorated with branches of yew and holly. Alette and Isabelle had been busy for days making candles of the purest beeswax for the candlesticks on the altar. The tapestry that Alette had been weaving since the departure of her first husband on his crusade hung behind the altar. It was a scene depicting Christ feeding the multitudes; a lesson, Father Bernard said, as to how a master should treat the less fortunate; a lesson that was practiced nicely here at Langston.

To celebrate the Nativity, every serf and freedman on the manor of Langston was given two measures of beer, a rasher of ham, and a loaf of bread. Each child was allocated a handful of raisins as well. As many as could crowded into the hall, singing joyously of the Christ child's birth. A health was drunk to the absent lord and to his good lady, who had seen to this happy occasion. Then the family was left alone to celebrate quietly. Isabelle, however, was pensive. There had been no further word from Hugh. She had resigned herself to not seeing him until spring. She looked over to her baby brother, Christian de Briard, now toddling with great determination everywhere his fat little legs could take him; his nephew, Hugh the Younger, crawled behind him. It was good that they would have each other as they grew up. She looked to her mother and stepfather, content and happy as they awaited the birth of their second child. Belle sighed.

The winter was a hard one, bitterly cold and wet. There were severe ice storms that damaged many of the trees in the orchards. Candlemas came, and with it the lambing, but it was a poor season. Not as many ewes gave birth as had the year before, and many of the newborns were lost in a wicked snowstorm that struck toward the end of the month. Only sheep, Belle thought, could be so utterly capricious as to have their young at the worst possible time of the year.

The spring was late, the frost refusing to leave the ground. When the planting was finally done, it was washed away by severe rainstorms and had to be done again, which was accomplished with some difficulty, the earth being sodden and difficult to plough. The winter wheat had suffered with the cold and wet. When they were finally able to harvest it, the yield was scant. None of the usual signs seemed to bode well for a good growing season.

"Pray God," Isabelle said to Father Bernard after the mass one morning, "that the summer crops are bountiful."

"Without the lord, lady, little good will happen for Langston," Ancient Albert, the old smithy, said in a quavery voice. "Where be Lord Hugh? We need him."

Isabelle took the rheumy-eyed old man's hand and said to him, "The lord is at Duke Robert's court on king's business, Ancient Albert. He will return soon. I know it."

"There will be no luck at Langston until the lord is safely home," Ancient Albert pronounced. "You does your best, lady, and loves the land, you surely does, but Langston must have its lord. Its luck is in its lord."

Easter came and went. Alette de Briard gave birth to her second son on the fifth day of May. The boy was baptized Henry, after the king. And still there was no word of Hugh Fauconier. Isabelle was becoming frantic. Where was her husband?

"We will send to the king for word of Hugh," Rolf said one evening as he sat with his stepdaughter in the hall. "Surely he will have had some word of him and know when he is to return."

"Nay, I will go to the king," Isabelle said quietly. They were alone, the servants having sought their beds, and Alette in her chamber nursing her newborn son. "A message would be as likely to get lost with all the correspondence the king must receive. He cannot, however, ignore me if I am standing before him, can he?"

"Belle, listen to me," her stepfather said. "You know that Hugh and I were raised with the king. There are things about our liege lord that we have not discussed before you because frankly they were of no import to you. But if you go to court, you must know that Henry Beauclerc is a very lusty man. He has always enjoyed women more than he should. Although it is said of him that his couplings are more for political advantage than passion, I know that not to be true."

"The king is a married man, Rolf," Isabelle said naively, "and I a married woman. He will have no interest in me at all. Besides, I am not going to court for pleasure. I am going to find out where my husband has gotten to, and nothing more."

"The king will look at you, Belle, and see a beautiful woman," her stepfather told her. "You cannot refuse him if you engage his lust."

"Then come with me, Rolf, and protect me." Belle laughed. "I will be a most proper lady. King Henry will not be in the least taken with me. I shall wear a wimple and veil at all times, and pretend to be shy. Besides, he will surely maintain a loyalty to Hugh that will make it impossible for him to seduce me. Shall we take Agneatha with us?"

"Hugh would not want you to do this thing, Isabelle," Rolf said. "He would forbid you, and as your stepfather so must I."

"You are indeed my stepfather, Rolf," Belle said quietly, and there was danger in her tone, a danger Rolf recognized. "You are also, however, the steward of Langston, and I, Langston's lady. You must obey me in the absence of my husband. I do not have to obey you."

Rolf de Briard sighed and bowed his head. There was no place he could imprison her that she could not escape. He tried a final ploy. "Let me go to the king for you," he said. "He will speak with me for our friendship's sake."

Isabelle shook her head. "Nay, Rolf. The king would greet you fondly and invite you to join his hunting party. He would keep you with him when we very much need you here at Langston. Nay, I must go with you. We will learn what we must and return quickly to Langston. Ancient Albert is already muttering of Langston's luck being its lord. The serfs will become discouraged if such talk spreads. We must get Hugh home!"

"Very well, Isabelle," Rolf said, defeated. She was probably right, he thought. If he went alone, Henry would involve him in the activities of the court while Langston languished without him. Perhaps she could play the worried little spouse and engage the king's sympathy, not his lust. Still, Alette was going to be furious. "Your mother will not like this at all," he said to Isabelle.

"My mother is fearful of anything she considers out of the ordinary. She has never been to court, you know." Isabelle chuckled. "She will think me quite disobedient, and you a madman for aiding me."

But Alette surprised them both when she was told of their plans.

"I think it an excellent idea that you go to court and speak with the king," she said to her daughter. "We really must have Hugh home again as soon as possible. And I am pleased, my lord," she smiled at her husband, "that you will escort Isabelle, and keep her from danger. It would be unwise of her to go alone with only her servants about her. Besides, you know the king, and can help her to get an audience with him. It is a good time for you to go. The planting is finally done, and there is really nothing to oversee until the haying." She turned to her daughter. "I will look after my grandson."

Here was something Belle had not considered, and for a moment she faltered. "He is not weaned," she said slowly.

"But he is eating solid foods, for he enjoys imitating his uncle Christian," Alette said. "I have plenty of milk, daughter. I will nurse him, too, when he needs it. He is, after all, past his first birthday. Go and find your husband. You need another babe to care for, and you are past eighteen now." She laughed mischievously.

"As are you, madame, and yet you continue to have children," Belle teased her mother. Then she grew wistful. "I should like a daughter to keep her brother company," she said.

"I should like one as well," Alette said, her blue eyes twinkling as she looked at her husband.

"Madame, you have a daughter," he responded, returning her look of affection and love.

"I would like another," Alette told him stubbornly.

"In time," he promised her, "but first let us find Hugh."

Several days later they departed for Winchester, for Rolf believed, since the king had spent Easter there, he would yet be there, preferring to avoid London in the warmer weather. They took with them Belle's servant, Agneatha, and twelve men-at-arms for protection. Langston was left well-defended. Hugh's squire would serve as captain of the guard, and Rolf's squire would oversee the estate in his master's absence. Father Bernard blessed the little party as it left the keep. As they rode down the hill into Langston village, Ancient Albeit blocked their way.

"Lady," he said to her, his lined face worried, "where goest thou? Will you leave us, too?"

"I am going to the king, Ancient Albert," Belle said. "He will know where Lord Hugh is. My mother is in the keep with my son, Hugh the Younger. Until his father returns, it is he who is Langston's lord, and Langston's luck. We will quickly return, I promise you."

"God go with ye, lady," Ancient Albert said, satisfied. "The little lord is in the keep with his grandma. 'Tis good. 'Tis good." He stepped aside to let them pass on through the village to where the ferryman awaited them to take them across the river Blyth so they might be on the road to Winchester.

Isabelle was very excited. In her entire life she had never been off Langston lands. She had never even crossed the river. There had been no need to do so. Everything she had wanted or needed could be found at Langston. Even if her father had lived and made a marriage for her, she would have probably remained in her home, as it was her dowry. Now, as the ferry took her across the river, Isabelle felt as if she were embarking upon a great adventure.

"I have planned our journey to Winchester, Belle, so that we will be able to shelter each night in the guest houses of convents, and abbeys," Rolf explained. "Because you have never traveled before, you may find the first few days a bit tiring."

"What if the court is not at Winchester, Rolf?" she asked him.

"If the king has moved on to another place, there are those in the government who will have remained behind. They will know where we must go. But Henry will be at Winchester, I am certain. He doesn't like London at this time of year, and it is too early for good hunting in the New Forest."

"How long will it take us to get to Winchester?" she inquired.

"Seven to nine days, providing we can make good time and have decent weather," he told her. "You will get to see London, Belle, but first we must pass through Colchester. It's a small town, and very old, but then, you have never seen a town before. It will be a good start, for London is a large, noisy place such as you could never imagine. We'll not stay there long."

They rode across the countryside until they came to a narrow road. Turning onto it, they moved steadily south. The first night, they sheltered at a small convent, St. Mary's. Agneatha and her mistress were given beds within the convent itself. Rolf and the men slept in the guest house belonging to St. Mary's, just outside its walls. Their supper was spare: a small trencher of bread, a piece of broiled fish, a cup of cider.

"They don't treat themselves too good, do they?" Agneatha whispered to Isabelle as they sat together, separated from the nuns, at their own little table. She pulled a bit of bread off the trencher, remarking, " 'Tis stale, and the fish don't smell that good, I fear, lady." Agneatha was twenty, and very outspoken when it was warranted. "We'll starve before we gets where we're going if this is the kind of hospitality we're going to receive." Her nut-brown braids trembled with her irritation, for Agneatha enjoyed her food, as her plump form attested.

"Shhh, Agneatha, St. Mary's is obviously a poor convent. Look, the good sisters are having only pottage and bread. They've obviously given us their best. We are lucky to have a safe lodging. Rolf tells me that travel is very dangerous, and only our men-at-arms prevent robbers from attacking us. We'll feast grandly when we reach the court."

The next day they halted within five miles of Colchester. They would pass through the town the following morning. All of the Langston people were amazed by the number of people they found on the road as they moved toward the town. There were lords and ladies, with men-at-arms such as those in the Langston troupe. There were farmers driving cattle and geese into the town's market. An abbot on a beautifully caparisoned mule passed them, followed by a double line of brown-robed monks, singing plainsong as they went. And then they saw it, an enormous keep towering over the town. Awed, Isabelle gazed up, mouth open. It was the biggest building she had ever seen in all of her life; far, far bigger than Langston Keep.

Rolf smiled. "This town," he said, "has been here longer than anyone can remember. When there were Celtic tribes in England, this town was here. The people who conquered this land before the Saxons, built temples to their heathen gods when they lived here. The castle is built upon the ruins of one of those temples. Some of the bricks in the castle come from it. The cattle market for the district is here, and always has been. And the finest oysters in the world are found here," he finished.

"I could not have imagined such a place as this," Belle said.

"Do you like it?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "It is too noisy, Rolf."

He laughed. "Wait until you see London," he warned her.

They had been on the road several days, and the weather held for them. The early spring had been too wet, and now it seemed as if it were too dry. Belle could see that most of the fields they rode by were as behind in their growth as were the fields at Langston. It did not bode well for a good year, and she worried that they would not be able to get through the next winter without some starvation. She was becoming angry at Hugh. He should be home, she thought, and not running about Normandy. Langston needed him. His son needed him. She needed him.

Finally, as the roads began to grow even more crowded, she realized that they were nearing the great city of London. She could see the city ahead of them, surrounded by a dingy haze.

"It's from the coal and wood fires used for heating and cooking," Rolf said in answer to her unspoken question.

They passed through Ealdgate, the portal believed to be the oldest of the city's gates. The city surrounded them, and for the first time in her life Isabelle felt afraid. There were too many people. Too many buildings were all crowded together on either side of the narrow streets. She grew very quiet, looking straight ahead as if seeking an exit from this terrible place. The gray day made the city seem all the darker.

"We must cross the river," Rolf said, "to reach the road to Winchester. There is a fine bridge we'll use, not a ferry this time."

They came to an open-air market on the river's edge. Belle breathed a bit easier being out of the grim city streets. She looked about her, astounded. There were stalls selling every kind of merchandise. One displayed bolts of cloth such as she had never seen. It glistened, and there were colors she had never imagined. A poulterer's stall was hung with chickens, ducks, geese, and game birds. A horse merchant had staked his animals out for prospective buyers to see. One booth offered glazed pottery, fine-turned wooden bowls, and spoons. Rolf stopped at the wine merchant's booth to buy them a cup of wine. He called to a pie merchant with a tray of buns upon his head to stop, and selected three buns filled with raisins, paying the man a ha'penny for his wares.

"There's the bridge." Rolf pointed as they continued along.

"I do not like this London," Isabelle said. "I will be glad to be quit of it. It's even dirtier and noisier than Colchester. Will Winchester be as bad, do you think?" She stuffed the last of the bun into her mouth, chewing the sweet raisins until they were pulp.

Rolf laughed. "Winchester will be no worse than Colchester, Belle, and you'll not have to stay long, I promise you. I will get the king to see us. Then we shall be able to return home."

They clattered across the bridge, leaving the city behind. The road they now traveled was called Stane Street. It had been built by the Romans. The weather had held for them, and Rolf thought if it continued, they would reach Winchester in another two days. He was not happy bringing Isabelle of Langston to court. What if Henry took a fancy to her? No matter what she believed, the fact that she was Hugh Fauconier's wife would not deter his lust. Fortunately, Belle, being a countrywoman, had not the elegant clothing the Norman ladies of the court would be wearing. Her glorious hair was relatively well hidden beneath a modest linen veil, her gown simple. She would appear like a sparrow next to the peacocks. With luck, the king would not be intrigued. With luck, he would tell them what they needed to know, and they would depart back to Langston.

The sun shone for the remainder of their trip, and a warm spring wind blew at their backs as if pushing them onward. At last they reached Winchester, which was, Belle immediately decided, not at all like either Colchester or London. It was a far quieter town, its Romanesque cathedral and castle dominating it. No sooner had they entered it than Rolf knew the court was still here. He recognized many faces, and there was an air of gentle bustle about the town. With a deep sigh of resignation, he led his little party to the castle.

"Ohh, isn't it exciting?" Agneatha bubbled. "Do you think we'll get to see the king, my lady? Ohh, they'll not believe the half of it when I tell it back at Langston."

"No," said Belle thoughtfully, noting the elegance of the women's clothing, "they will not." She glanced down at her practical but plain garments. Why hadn't Rolf told her? She'd disgrace Hugh for certain! She would have to make the best of it for she had no other choice, and after all, it had been her idea to come to court and petition the king. She could only hope her appearance would not go against her.

It was the dinner hour, and the king was in the Great Hall. Rolf made Isabelle and the Langston party wait outside the hall. He didn't want their presence announced so dramatically, for he was not certain how much of Hugh's visit to Normandy was public knowledge. There were always spies about, ready to report the most insignificant little bit of tittle-tattle to Duke Robert and to Robert de Belleme, who had sworn vengeance on King Henry for driving him out of England. Seeing a young page he knew, Rolf called him over.

"Go to the king, my lad, and say that Sir Rolf de Briard has just arrived at court and would speak privately with him if he would be so kind as to give him a few moments. Wait until you can address the king discreetly. Do you understand, my lad?"

"Aye, m'lord," the boy said, and he hurried off.

Rolf stood quietly against a wall, waiting, watching for the page to gain the king's ear. A juggler with a small, amusing dog began to entertain before the high board, the dog tossing balls to his master, then snatching them away, to much laughter. The attention of the diners was well-engaged. Rolf saw the king cock his head to one side, and in the shadow of the king's chair he could see the page. The king nodded to the lad, and Rolf could see his lips moving gently. Then he looked back to the juggler, laughing uproariously at the antics of the little dog.

The page hurried back to Rolf. "The king says he will see you in his private chamber. You are to go there now and wait for him. He will come when he can."

Rolf thanked the page and left the Great Hall. "Go into the hall," he told the Langston men. "Say you are with Sir Rolf de Briard, high steward of Langston Keep. You will be fed. Remain there until I come to fetch you, and speak little." Then he turned to Isabelle and Agneatha. "The king will see me, Belle. Come, and I will take you to the chamber where we will speak. I do not know how long it will be before he comes, so we must wait. At least you will have your privacy."

They went to the little room where Hugh had first spoken to the king regarding Langston, and where later he and Rolf had bid the king farewell. They had no sooner entered it when a page arrived with wine and goblets. He deposited the items upon the table and left. Rolf poured Belle a goblet of the liquid. The poor girls were probably starving at this point, but they had no choice but to wait. Belle thoughtfully shared her wine with Agneatha, whose belly was rumbling with a mixture of hunger and excitement.

Isabelle considered her attire. It was painfully plain, though it was one of her best gowns. Her skirts were of an indigo-blue linen. Her grass-green linen tunic was belted with a girdle made from small squares of blue and green enameled copper, each square studded with a single small pearl. The embroidery at the neck and sleeves of the gown was of real gold thread, in a foliage design. Her hair, braided neatly in its single braid, was covered by a fine white linen veil, its hem also embroidered in the gold thread. Isabelle discreetly brushed the dust of the road from her garments. If only she had had the time to change into better garments. If only I had better garments, she thought.

"You look fine," Rolf reassured her.

"I look like what I am," Belle responded, a bit tartly, "a country bumpkin. Why did you not tell me of the beautiful clothing the court ladies wear? I hope I shall not embarrass Hugh with my less-than-fashionable appearance, Rolf. I saw those wonderful materials in London in that market by the bridge. Can I buy some when we return home? Certainly my lady mother would enjoy having something so fine."

"I never thought much about clothing before we left Langston," Rolf admitted. "Besides, you have not come to the court to join it. We have come to find out where Hugh has gotten to, Isabelle."