Gryff opened his mouth to answer, but his friend gave him a look that stopped his words. Then he could only laugh as Hal went down on his knee with hand over heart and declared to his deeply amused wife there were no maidens before her – or if there were, she had eclipsed them all in his first sight of her – and many other extravagant compliments. He ended by begging her to give him a token he might wear as favor while he raked out the mews.

She gave him the porridge-soaked cloth and a kiss, and sent him on his way with a teasing, “Off on your quest, then, Sir Morien.”

Gryff felt an absurd moment of disappointment, as he had when they were boys, that it was only a jest. It had been his own invention, but he had always secretly told himself it was true – or at least that it could be true. He had liked to think that Hal was Welsh too, and both of them descended from Arthur’s knights. He still liked to think it.

In the mews, they fed Tiffin handsomely. The sooner she put on weight, the sooner her feathers would begin to moult. Then, months from now, she would be ready to hunt again.

And during all those months, Hal would be here with his laughing wife and growing children.

“I do not dare to stay here, Hal. Not even for the coming summer months.” He looked up and down the row of perches, valuable birds whose owners might come at any time, any minute, to see their hawks. Most were Norman lords, and some might easily know Gryff on sight. He could risk himself, but he could not risk Hal and his family. “Naught has changed in five years – or all has changed, and I cannot know it.”

Hal paused in cutting the meat he was preparing to feed an impatient goshawk. “Where will you go?”

It had been in his mind, but he had not truly thought of it. Now the choices were clear. “There are two paths, I think. To Edward’s court, and beg his mercy. Or to flee again, to France.” He paused. “Or Aderinyth.”

“Will we pass the day in debating the merits of each path,” Hal asked mildly, “or will you tell me now that you go to Aderinyth?”

Gryff stopped breathing for an instant, transported back to another mews, another time, another man who knew him so well. He let his breath out in a long sigh. “By God, you are like your father.”

Hal smiled at this, almost as if he had expected it. “Nay, my father would have your journey planned already and send you forth without delay. I have not his wit nor his foresight.”

“Yet you know I think to go home, though there be naught for me there and no good reason in favor of it.”