Lyons was its capital, and on the hill of Fourviere, overlooking
the city below it, rose the marble palace of the Burgundian
kings, near to the spot where, to-day, the ruined forum of the
old Roman days is still shown to tourists.
It had been a palace for centuries. Roman governors of "Imperial
Gaul" had made it their head-quarters and their home; three Roman
emperors had cooed and cried as babies within its walls; and it
had witnessed also many a feast and foray, and the changing
fortunes of Roman, Gallic, and Burgundian conquerors and
over-lords. But it was no longer "home" to the little Princess
Clotilda. She thought of her father and mother, and of her
brothers, the little princes with whom she had played in this
very palace, as it now seemed to her, so many years ago. And the
more she feared her cruel uncle, the more did she desire to go
far, far away from his presence. So, after thinking the whole
matter over, as little girls of ten can sometimes think, she told
her good friend Ugo, the priest, of her father's youngest brother
Godegesil, who ruled the dependent principality of Geneva, far up
the valley of the Rhone.
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