“I will find out what has been happening. As it is, she can do nothing more until morning.”

He went to the chapel where she secluded herself, but not to speak of her little sabotage. The desire to merely see her and hold her for a brief spell drew him there.

He found her praying. She knelt on the plank floor, wearing the same garment as the day before.

She did not acknowledge his approach. She remained immobile, as if she had not heard his step.

When he saw her expression, he knew there would be no conversation or stolen embraces today. It occurred to him that there might never be any, ever again.

Perhaps it was the dim light from the candles, but he thought he had never seen her so weary, nor so sad. Her face wore both regret and resolve. He had seen that look before, on old, seasoned warriors as they left their tents to do battle.

Her eyes were closed, and she did not open them. He decided he was glad for that. He was not sure that he wanted to see what those eyes might reveal.

He wanted to touch her, so that maybe she would know that he understood. The gesture was not necessary, however. She already guessed that he understood far too well. After all, she might have chosen to walk down the path laid years ago, but he had been the one to remind her that the journey must be made now.

He did not leave immediately, despite the way she ignored him. He stood to the side, watching her. Loving her. Saying his own prayers that their betrayals could be forgotten one day.

Finally, he tore himself away. As he walked down the nave, he noticed that no parchment lay on the little table. Thick wax covered the old plank that had held the candles, and only a few low stubbed wicks rose from it now.

Paul shared a tiny chamber with four other knights. When Marcus visited that night, they threw the other men out so that they could speak privately.

After the door closed, Paul reached into his tunic. “If she sends Carwyn information, it must be with words, Marcus. Any of the servants who have left could have brought them. This is the only thing of hers that I have found, and it was not going west, toward her father’s men.”

He handed over a parchment. Marcus knew what he would see even before he opened it. A tapestry design. It depicted four angels blowing horns, and a lamb in the center surrounded by rays of light.

Marcus laid it on a trunk and positioned a candle so he could study it. “Who had this?”