The peers, the High Council and those nearest the throne wavered and swerved from the man, leaving him to face what was to come.
Whatever was to come he would have met nobly.

He was of those infrequent folk of some upper air who exhibit a certain purity even in error, or in worse.

He stood with his exquisite pale face uplifted, his white hair in a glory about it, his white gown embroidered by a thousand needles falling in virginal lines against the warm, pure colour of that room with its wraiths of hue and light.

And he opened the heart of the green jewel that burned upon his breast.
"Not for me the wine of youth," he said slowly, "but the poison of age.

The poison which, without me to unlock the secret, all mankind must drink alone.