“So you say. I’ll not ask again if it displeases you.”

“Nay, don’t scold me, Sanglant. I’m still reflecting on my sins. What do you think happened to Wolfhere?”

“What has that to do with your sins?”

“I’m not sure, but I feel sure there is a connection. Do you think he’s dead?”

“If he is, I will not mourn him overmuch, considering he tried to murder me when I was an infant. He was taken with Blessing, though. So much so that he tried to kidnap her.”

“Blessing said otherwise, so you also said.”

“That he protested against her being taken? She can’t be expected to have understood the whole.”

“Brother Zacharias ended up with Hugh. So I must wonder, where did Wolfhere end up? Will we ever know?”

“A mystery,” he agreed, but he was getting restless again. His legs had a way of getting twitchy when he needed to move. “Do you mean to stay down here all night?”

“The griffins have left.”

“What?”

“So I believe. They made their farewells, and flew east.”

“Why would they desert me now?” he demanded, thinking of Mother Scholastica’s words.

“Spring is come. They’ll want to rebuild their nest and mate.”

“So do all creatures! This one not least among them!”

She laughed but, infuriatingly, did not move forward to where he could see her. He thought he caught the fine scent of her now. He smelled the bouquets and wreaths that had surrounded her before: a tincture of violet, the earthy aroma of bracken, the comfort of woodruff and heal-all. She liked to wash her hair in water scented with lavender, to make it shine, and she had always a clean, dry smell about her that reminded him of the way stones smelled on a hot summer’s afternoon when the sun’s light has glared down on them all day. It was a good scent, an arousing scent.

“Go on, Sanglant,” she said, as if she could feel his desire through the air, which perhaps she could. “I’m trying to find the tomb of St. Kristine of the Knives. I want to place all the offerings there, in thanks.”

“That was a miracle. She rose in a time of great need. You won’t find it tonight.”

“Maybe not. But I have to look.”

He knew enough of her now to know when she could not be swayed, and he respected her well enough to let it be as she wished. Even if it irritated him a little. Even if it made him think.

“God be with you on your search,” he said, and turned away to climb up the steps.

Outside, his escort waited. He caught them yawning.

“Your Majesty!”

“I have a wish to see the river gate.” He did not offer to let them return to their beds. He knew they would not go back to the palace without him.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Fulk, who seemed amused. Hathui hid another yawn behind a hand. The soldiers—tonight it was Sibold, Surly, Lewenhardt, and one of the new men, Maurits—set out with lanterns raised to illuminate their road.