“Nan?” he asked, gripping the knife.

When a tall youth strode into the clearing, Nan rushed at him. The dagger fell to the ground as she jumped up to embrace him. Her arms were around him, and he hugged her tight, swung her around as a smile brighter than any Gryff had ever seen lit up her face. He blinked at it, adjusting to the plain fact that there was no danger here.

“What fortune is this?” cried the youth. Not truly a boy, but only barely a man. He was tall and fair and full of joy. He planted an exuberant kiss on her cheek, and then another and another. Gryff waited for her to pull a blade and gut him, but she only kept hold of him and, incredibly, buried her face in his neck.

“Who journeys with you, Nan, or will I have to discover his name myself?”

His voice matched his clothes: wealthy and noble. He could have come straight from the king’s court, this handsome boy who was allowed to squeeze her tight in his arms and pick her up without warning. She did not shy from his touch, or stiffen, or require any careful approach.

Gryff felt his heart shrivel with envy. Then he heard her reply, a soft murmur against the stranger’s cheek.

“He’s my Welshman.”

She pulled back, and the boy put her down but did not let go. She turned to Gryff, smiling shyly now.

“This is Robin,” she said. “Robin Manton.”

Gryff thought most men would find it difficult to dislike Robin Manton. He was warm and courteous, never brash or boastful, and eager to please. Fuss adored him as much as Nan clearly did, which spoke well to his character and made Gryff exceptionally churlish.

Robin’s horse, a fat and docile rouncey, was brought behind the tall stones that hid them from the road. Robin was coming from a tournament and had stopped in Chesterfield this afternoon, planning to carry on his journey after a good meal. “But a man at the market did say the fairest maid he had ever seen paid for her supper with her knives, only yesterday.” He smiled broadly. “In faith, I knew it must be you even before he told me you split a reed at forty paces.”

He had ridden south, reasoning she was headed for Morency and wondering why she was so far from Lincoln. Fuss, who had been keeping guard over their hiding spot, saw Robin on the road below, ran to greet him, and now they must share their evening with this boy who sat so close to Nan that their knees touched. Gryff attempted to glare his disapproval at the dog for this betrayal, but Fuss was too busy staring worshipfully at the newcomer.