The captain came across the field even as Nicomedes and a dozen servants dropped his pavilion—the first tent up and the last tent down. He strolled across the parade ground and stopped at Ser Michael’s lance to look at the new archer, Nell’s friend.

The boy blushed. He stammered something.

The captain laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, and Ser Michael made a note on a wax tablet.

Then he walked straight across the soldiers to where all the women and non-combatants waited with their horses. There were not as many as usual. Sukey, Mag’s daughter, now led the contingent. She’d ridden in—alone—a day before with no explanation on why she was late to the column. A year or two ago, Amicia would have assumed that all of the camp women were whores—and ministered to them anyway. But even four days on the road showed that they were the company’s reserve of expert labour—they sewed. They seemed to sew from morning to night, when they weren’t doing laundry, tending to the injured, or helping the pages with the horses. They also—mostly—had their own tents.

Amicia was a woman. Women’s lives interested her more than men’s.

The company had a great many women—in the ranks, and out of them.

Amicia assumed that the captain was coming to address Sukey on some matter of march discipline, but instead, after a bow to his head-woman, he walked up to the nuns. He smiled.

She smiled back.

“I think you have my cup, good Sister,” he said.

She knew she blushed. But she held her smile. “It is the best in the camp,” she said.

“I really don’t mind loaning it to God,” he said. “But He’s got to give it back.”

Sister Mary’s harshly indrawn breath clashed with Sister Katherine’s chuckle.

She handed him the cup. He raised it as if in a toast. “Just give it to Toby tomorrow,” he said. Then he paused. “May I show you something beautiful this morning? Come ride with me.”

If she had been prepared, Amicia would have found it easier to refuse. She didn’t intend to be alone with him—then, or ever again.

But he was smiling…

She found that she had taken her rouncy from Sister Katherine—who gave her a lopsided smile—and walked over to join the captain, Toby, and the trumpeter.

Ganfroy raised his trumpet to his lips a second time, and the call to mount rang out.

The captain vaulted into his saddle while people cheered. Toby met her eye and shrugged.

“He’s a terrible show-off,” she said, loudly enough to be heard.

Ser Gabriel laughed. “I am, at that,” he admitted.

Forty paces away, Nicomedes swung onto a tall wagon next to Sukey, who raised her riding whip and waved it.

Ser Gabriel waved to Ser Michael, who walked his horse over to them.

“The good sister and I are taking a little ride,” the captain said.

Ser Michael nodded to Amicia. “You have a long spoon, Sister?” he asked.