“You could do it?”

“Not for a month, at least, maybe longer. I’ve orders waiting from some of the greatest nobles in the land.” He looked up at the unhappy young man. “Can it wait that long?”

“Probably not.”

“Better hang on to yourself, then.” The craftsman grinned.

Roland departed sadly. He probably couldn’t afford such a thing, even if he could find anyone to make it.

It was almost a day and a half since he had slept, and he was starting to feel light-headed. He hardly knew what to do with himself. Returning to the rue Saint-Jacques, he turned down toward the river. Soon, on his left, he passed the Church of Saint-Séverin. And in the hope that the place might calm his spirits, he went in there to rest.

There was something very intimate about its strange, old, narrow vaults. Though rebuilt from time to time, the church had already been there for seven hundred years, since the days of the early Frankish kings. As he sat on a stone bench, his back to the wall and his eyes on the door, with his dagger concealed in the roll of parchment across his knees, young Roland reflected on his situation.

The facts were all too obvious. He had sinned, and God was punishing him. He deserved it. That much was clear as day. But what could he do? He must repent. He must beg forgiveness with all his heart, though whether it would be granted was another matter.

A terrible thought occurred to him. Could it be that God actually intended he should be castrated? Was God not only punishing him, but saving him from further temptation? Had God decided to ensure that his life was dedicated to religious service as a celibate priest or monk? Surely it could not be. Wasn’t it God’s will that he should overcome temptation, more or less, rather than have temptation removed from him? Abelard might have suffered that fate, but Abelard was a great scholar and philosopher. His own place in the world was far more modest. He wasn’t worthy of so much attention. Plenty of other men in Holy Orders had done the same as he had, and got away with it. If he dedicated his life to serving the Church, he told himself, that ought to be enough. If he truly repented, forgiveness would be granted.

So Roland tried to pray. He tried very hard indeed, for over an hour. And at the end of that time, he did feel a little calmer. At least he’d made a start, he thought. That was something. He got up, and cautiously went into the street.

If only he didn’t feel so tired. He must get sleep. But he didn’t want to sleep at his lodgings. He needed to find another place. Somewhere the men searching for him wouldn’t think of. Where could he go?